few months longer and then discharge them into the main stream. Next year the fishing should be very good indeed.
We paused by the pools, in the rippling sound of running water, and he began to ask me questions about my time in England. I had taken my degree in Law at Oxford, but I hadn't enjoyed it much. 'It was a bit like Rip van Winkle, Dad' I said. 'I was so much older than the others, and things had changed so. It would have been different if I'd gone back straight after the war, in 1945 or '46, when there were other Service people up. There was no one there like me in 1948, or hardly anybody, and nobody at all when I went down in 1950. They were all boys straight from school on Government grants. The people I got along with best were the young dons.' I paused. 'I want to get one or two of them out here on a visit, but it's difficult because they're all so hard up.'
He nodded. 'That's always a difficulty. But you never can get people to come out from England on a visit. It's not only the money.'
I went on to tell him about my time in chambers, in Lincoln's Inn. 'I don't know that I haven't wasted my time' I said quietly at last. 'I don't know that being called to the Bar is going to help me much in running Coombargana.'
He smiled. 'Do you think you'll want to go back and live in England?' he asked.
'I don't think so' I said. 'I think I've got that out of my system. I'd like to go back again some day for fun, say in about ten years' time, and see how it's all getting on. But I won't want to live there again. I don't think so.'
'Not like Helen?'
'No.'
29
'What's Laurence really like?' my father asked. He had never met him, for with their increasing age my mother and father had not felt equal to leaving Coombargana to travel to England. It was one of my secret irritations with my sister that she had not thought fit to bring her husband out to Australia on a visit to let Dad and Mum meet him, though perhaps it was better so.
'He's all right,' I said. 'I've not got a lot in common with him. Dad, and I don't think you would have.' My father had served all through the First War in Gallipoli and France, and had spent three years of the Second War organising truck transport in the heat and sweat of the Northern Territory when he was over sixty years of age, while Laurence had had trouble with his health and had served his war with the BBC. 'There's nothing wrong with him. He's getting very well known as a dramatic critic - people think a lot of him.' I glanced at my father. 'I'm not sure that he's not a bit of a passenger in this world, but he probably thinks that of us.'
'He's making her a good husband, is he? Not a lot of other women, or not more than a reasonable number?' My father grinned.
I laughed with him. 'I don't think there's any trouble of that sort.' There wasn't likely to be, either, because Helen has quite a lot of character and she kept control of her own money. Laurence wasn't the type to sacrifice all for love.
'What about you, Alan?' my father asked. 'Did you ever think of getting married?'
I shook my head.
'You ought to think about it' he said. 'You're getting on, you know. Thirty-nine, isn't it?'
I nodded. 'It's never happened to come my way.'
'You ought to think about it' he repeated. 'It's going to be mighty lonely if you try and carry on this place alone after our time.'
'It's not so easy when you're a cripple' I said. 'It needs special qualities in a girl to settle down married to a chap that's got no feet.'
'Well, think it over' he said irresolutely. And then he said, 'You never thought of flying again, I suppose?'
'As a matter of fact, I did' I told him. 'Not in Typhoons,
30
of course. I did quite a lot of flying at the London Aeroplane Club, at Panshanger, on Tiger Moths and Austers. I didn't tell you in the letters because I was afraid it might worry Mother.'
'Are you going on with it here?'
'I doubt it,' I said. 'I just wanted to show myself that I wasn't afraid of it and that I
We paused by the pools, in the rippling sound of running water, and he began to ask me questions about my time in England. I had taken my degree in Law at Oxford, but I hadn't enjoyed it much. 'It was a bit like Rip van Winkle, Dad' I said. 'I was so much older than the others, and things had changed so. It would have been different if I'd gone back straight after the war, in 1945 or '46, when there were other Service people up. There was no one there like me in 1948, or hardly anybody, and nobody at all when I went down in 1950. They were all boys straight from school on Government grants. The people I got along with best were the young dons.' I paused. 'I want to get one or two of them out here on a visit, but it's difficult because they're all so hard up.'
He nodded. 'That's always a difficulty. But you never can get people to come out from England on a visit. It's not only the money.'
I went on to tell him about my time in chambers, in Lincoln's Inn. 'I don't know that I haven't wasted my time' I said quietly at last. 'I don't know that being called to the Bar is going to help me much in running Coombargana.'
He smiled. 'Do you think you'll want to go back and live in England?' he asked.
'I don't think so' I said. 'I think I've got that out of my system. I'd like to go back again some day for fun, say in about ten years' time, and see how it's all getting on. But I won't want to live there again. I don't think so.'
'Not like Helen?'
'No.'
29
'What's Laurence really like?' my father asked. He had never met him, for with their increasing age my mother and father had not felt equal to leaving Coombargana to travel to England. It was one of my secret irritations with my sister that she had not thought fit to bring her husband out to Australia on a visit to let Dad and Mum meet him, though perhaps it was better so.
'He's all right,' I said. 'I've not got a lot in common with him. Dad, and I don't think you would have.' My father had served all through the First War in Gallipoli and France, and had spent three years of the Second War organising truck transport in the heat and sweat of the Northern Territory when he was over sixty years of age, while Laurence had had trouble with his health and had served his war with the BBC. 'There's nothing wrong with him. He's getting very well known as a dramatic critic - people think a lot of him.' I glanced at my father. 'I'm not sure that he's not a bit of a passenger in this world, but he probably thinks that of us.'
'He's making her a good husband, is he? Not a lot of other women, or not more than a reasonable number?' My father grinned.
I laughed with him. 'I don't think there's any trouble of that sort.' There wasn't likely to be, either, because Helen has quite a lot of character and she kept control of her own money. Laurence wasn't the type to sacrifice all for love.
'What about you, Alan?' my father asked. 'Did you ever think of getting married?'
I shook my head.
'You ought to think about it' he said. 'You're getting on, you know. Thirty-nine, isn't it?'
I nodded. 'It's never happened to come my way.'
'You ought to think about it' he repeated. 'It's going to be mighty lonely if you try and carry on this place alone after our time.'
'It's not so easy when you're a cripple' I said. 'It needs special qualities in a girl to settle down married to a chap that's got no feet.'
'Well, think it over' he said irresolutely. And then he said, 'You never thought of flying again, I suppose?'
'As a matter of fact, I did' I told him. 'Not in Typhoons,
30
of course. I did quite a lot of flying at the London Aeroplane Club, at Panshanger, on Tiger Moths and Austers. I didn't tell you in the letters because I was afraid it might worry Mother.'
'Are you going on with it here?'
'I doubt it,' I said. 'I just wanted to show myself that I wasn't afraid of it and that I
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