Tears of the Moon (59 page)

The loud blast of the steamer’s whistle interrupted them and Tyndall suddenly appeared from where he had been chatting to the captain about ensuring Olivia’s comfort on the voyage. Olivia looked at him in his white pearling master’s suit, the unbuttoned narrow high collar giving him a rakish air, his old skipper’s hat tucked under his arm. He was smiling broadly, his face full of love.

He crushed Olivia to him. ‘Be strong, my precious. If you want me to come down, cable me. I won’t be able to sleep, eat, relax until I have you back. I’ve waited for you, Olivia. I’ve known since the moment I first saw you that you and I are meant to be.’

Olivia swallowed and brushed away the tears. Looking at him she thought her heart would burst. She nodded and bit her lip and Maya took Tyndall’s hand. ‘We’ll be thinking of you.’

‘Every second, my precious one.’ Tyndall kissed her and he and Maya went down the gangplank.

Olivia kept her eyes on the two of them standing on the end of the jetty until the steamer was far out in the bay and the curtain of a soft night shadowed them from sight. The other passengers moved into the brightly lit lounges and cabins but she took a deep breath and stayed at the railing watching the lights of Broome recede. She felt so loved, so lucky and so hopeful. Sadness touched her too, but in her heart she knew Tyndall was right, Gilbert only wanted her to be happy. Somehow things would work out.

She finally turned to go inside, and went to her cabin thinking how very different this departure was from the last time she left Broome. She hoped Hamish was watching over her; much as he had liked and respected Gilbert, the boy had worshipped Tyndall. She remembered Hamish saying to her once ‘He’s every boy’s hero come to life.’

‘Mine, too, Hamish darling,’ she thought.

Olivia knew something was amiss the moment she stepped in the door of the house, yet she couldn’t put her finger on why. Maybe she should have gone first to Shaw House. Mollie, a younger plump version of Minnie, rushed downstairs to greet her, clearly distressed and wringing her hands, her words unintelligibly tripping over each other.

Olivia dropped her bag in the hall. ‘Mollie, what is it? What’s happened?’

‘Mem, oh mem, we try get you. Doc Shaw at hospital. Something terrible happen. No good, no good … ’

‘What has happened, Mollie, please? Speak slowly and tell me … what has happened?’

The young woman swayed from side to side as she continued, her hands wringing. ‘Mem, it Doc Shaw no good. Him sick. In hospital.’

Olivia felt faint for a moment, then drawing breath she grasped Mollie by the shoulders. ‘Tell me what is wrong with him. Was there an accident?’

‘I dunno, mem. He fall down and no can move. He in hospital.’ Olivia turned and headed out the door feeling like she had been winded by a blow from a fist.

She rushed to Fremantle Hospital and a sympathetic matron took her to Gilbert’s bedside, explaining that he had suffered a serious stroke. ‘It happened two days ago and he is still unconscious. At the moment we have no idea how serious the effects will be. He may recover quite adequately … or … ’

‘Or he may never come out of his coma,’ finished Olivia.

It was a shock to her to see Gilbert lying in the hospital bed, his skin greyish white. Suddenly he looked so frail and thin and very old. As she sat by him, taking his hand, the medical superintendent whom they knew well, came into the room. ‘My dear Mrs Shaw … this is a dreadful state of affairs. Not good at all. So glad you’re here, it will surely help.’

‘Doctor Harrington, please tell me what happened and what’s the outlook.’

‘It’s looking a bit grim at the moment. But you never know with these cases. Seen fellows just open their eyes and they’re perfectly all right. It seems he got out of bed during the night and was struck down. Your girl found him in the morning in the middle of the floor. Seems he regained consciousness for a moment after they got him here, just briefly. He called for you and lapsed back again.’

Olivia tightened her grip on Gilbert’s hand and stared at the apparently sleeping man. Although, studying his face, it appeared more that he was floating in some dreamless state. She leaned close to him. ‘Gilbert, can you hear me? It’s me, Olivia. I’m here, dearest.’

‘I would suggest you stay with him, talk to him, touch him, as much as you can. Just in case he can hear you or sense you’re here. It’ll help. One of my cases, when he came to, said all the time he seemed to be out of it, he was totally aware of what was going on around him. But he couldn’t see, move or speak. Very frustrating.’

Olivia looked from the doctor to Gilbert, a feeling of despair, pain and pity enveloping her. ‘Of course I’ll spend as much time as possible with him.’

The doctor patted her shoulder. ‘Don’t neglect your other duties, or yourself, my dear. We are doing all we can … but, I’m afraid, in these situations we have to let nature take its course.’

The hours passed slowly and Olivia began to feel she was caught in a time warp. Her emotions were in turmoil and she tried not to think of Tyndall, but when she did the sight of Gilbert wrenched her heart and caused pangs of guilt.

She read to him, talked to him and gently rubbed his arms, legs and feet. Two days after her return from Broome—which now seemed another world—when she feared Gilbert was going to waste away, she looked up from the book she was reading aloud to find his eyes open and staring intently at her.

Olivia started and gasped, ‘Gilbert! Can you speak, can you hear me? How do you feel?’

He didn’t move. She took his hand and leaned close but the limpness in his grip, the rigid set of his face and unblinking gaze caused her initial joy to quaver. She rushed for a nurse.

They fed him and bathed him and carried out tests but none elicited any physical or emotional response. Olivia let his fingers he in the palm of her hand hoping for some flicker in answer to her questions. And while he couldn’t make any movement, not even to blink, Olivia knew to the depths of her being that behind the intense staring grey eyes, that Gilbert was fully aware of everything about him.

They worked on his shrunken muscles and sat him outside in the sun in a wheelchair. He was able to swallow so they fed him slightly more substantial
foods. Olivia now felt free to take breaks from her bedside vigil to spend time at Shaw House overseeing administrative and personal matters.

Then came the hardest task of all—writing to Tyndall.

My darling John,

This is the hardest letter to write … we have all been struck a cruel blow. I do not understand how it is that when I have happiness in my grasp it is snatched away from me. I wonder if I am being punished …

Gilbert has suffered a dreadful stroke and is totally incapacitated. He needs me and, although he appears as a vegetable, I know inside he is fully conscious. So I cannot turn my back on him. Even if I believed he was not aware I could not abandon him. If I was to do so I believe our own guilt would destroy our love. You have Maya now, and our beautiful shared granddaughter, so it comforts me you aren’t alone. I long for your arms, your lips, your laughter, and you know that you are the love and light of my life. But I have a moral responsibility to Gilbert and I don’t believe you would ask me to cast this aside. Maybe some day, somehow, you and I will be together. But for now and the unforeseeable future it is not to be.

Always,
Olivia

Weeks passed. Gilbert settled into a routine and Olivia began to think about taking him home. Tyndall sent a brief broken-hearted note …
I wanted to rip the stars from the sky, I wept at the injustice of it, but much as my heart breaks and I, too, long for you, I
recognise your predicament and respect your decision. I suppose that is one of the reasons I love you so much—you are good, honest and loyal, my darling. My love will never waver and I am always here. As always, my beloved, if you need me I will come at once …

Maya offered to come back and help nurse Gilbert but Olivia said it was better if she could help Tyndall with Star of the Sea. Toby and Mabel also sent kind thoughts.

After talking to the doctors, Olivia eventually came to a decision. She would look after Gilbert herself and hope there might come some sort of ‘re-awakening’.

It was a detailed process but Olivia slowly worked her way through the necessary steps. She could not run Shaw House on her own and, while medical colleagues of Gilbert’s had been on call, it was his inspiration that had been the driving force. She went to see the hospital board and persuasively argued the case for them to take over Shaw House as a kind of alternative clinic. Church and political leaders agreed to support it. The volunteers would continue, funding was assured thanks to the wise investment money from the original benefactor. Following newspaper stories about the tragedy of Doctor Shaw and the determination of his wife that his work not be lost, even more donations flowed in, assuring the home’s future.

Olivia sold her house in Fremantle and also Gilbert’s family home. With the proceeds, she bought a large one storey house on a hill on the outskirts of Perth surrounded by several acres of unkept garden, open ground and a few trees. It had beautiful views
over the city to the river which she thought Gilbert would enjoy. She remained convinced that, despite his inanimate appearance, under the surface he could see and feel and think.

After the weeks of activity she welcomed the quietude that came with settling into the new house. She had a nurse’s aide come each day and, with Mollie’s help, Olivia was able to move Gilbert from bed to his bathchair. She hired Mollie’s boyfriend, Stan, a shy, strong-shouldered Aboriginal, to help in the garden.

Olivia designed a small gazebo which Stan built in the central part of the garden, a shady retreat near the house where Gilbert could enjoy the garden and views. Stan also laid out paths so Olivia could easily push the bathchair.

She tried to stave off occasional bouts of sadness and self-pity when they struck. But she could not ignore the fact that she was still a relatively young woman with desires and needs and that far away was the man she knew could fulfil them and make her happy. But always there was the constant reminder of the man she had married and her loyalty to him.

So what began as a distraction became an absorbing occupation for Olivia. She plunged into gardening and became absolutely fascinated by the wildflowers of the west.

‘Gilbert, just look at this extraordinary bush orchid. It’s such a lovely blue and this one, it’s just like a leopard’s coat. Stan has collected some kangaroo paw plants and so many others that I’ve yet to
learn about. Some of them are like little daisies, growing in a carpet over the ground in the spring. They harmonise with the land, Gilbert. Have to if they’re to survive in such inhospitable circumstances. They seem to thrive in the worst possible soil. Mollie doesn’t think I can cultivate these bush flowers, but so far we are doing well, don’t you think, dear?’ She stood beside his bathchair as they looked out at the informal garden beds and terraces Olivia had designed. Arbours sheltered plants and other flowers encircled the base of the shady trees. There were also splashes of colour from beds of English flowers, for Olivia loved her memories of English gardens in the spring. Cut and arranged indoors, they made the house seem so much brighter.

Crossing from the laundry, Minnie watched Georgie sitting in the garden playing with the wooden pegs, pushing them into the ground, lining them up in rows and addressing her troops with a frown and a shaking finger.

‘Giving back some of the medicine she gets herself,’ thought Minnie.

She found Maya in the kitchen, put her pile of clean linen to one side, and announced, ‘Maya, time you went to your mob. You gotta take that girlie, too. Yep, it’s time you saw your people. They know you is found, they be very anxious, wondering why you not go t’see them.’

‘My mob? You mean my mother’s people?’

‘Our people. We is all one mob, one way and t’other.’

Maya pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table looking thoughtful. Minnie began making a pot of tea, realising a talk was coming. ‘Don’ you ever think about your people? Your real people, eh love?’

Maya didn’t answer for a moment. She found she was struggling with years of mission education, white culture and lifestyle that forbade this ruminating. She had been trained to forget so much—her language, her culture, her beliefs, even her people, her family. Layers of another life had been papered over her, concealing who she really was. When she spoke, her voice was a whisper. ‘I’ve never been allowed to talk about this. And I trained myself not to, it made it easier to deal with things that way. But since I’ve been back here there’s been a lot to deal with—my father, Olivia and Hamish, all of you, trying to help Georgie understand and settle. I’ve been feeling confused and, while I’m so happy to have found my way back, something has been worrying me.’ She drew a breath, her voice stronger. ‘I suppose it’s having to come to terms with who I really am. The Barstows hid the fact I was part Aboriginal and I only have vague memories of my early years here and of my mother.’