White Feathers
Authors: Deborah Challinor
This one is for my nieces,
Rachael and Rebecca.
Contents
Other Books by Deborah Challinor
Joseph
1914–1916
August 1914
J
oseph Deane’s strong brown hands gripped the ship’s rail as the trans-Tasman steamer
Dolphin
eased into dock at the port of Wellington. The salt-spiced wind, blustering aggressively through Cook Strait, blasted his heavy dark hair back from his forehead. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, savouring the smell of his homeland. He had been away for well over two years this time and was very much looking forward to seeing his family again, although a growing sense of unease and nervous excitement lurked beneath his anticipation.
Below him on the quay a small crowd milled and jostled, necks craning to catch a glimpse of the
Dolphin
’s passengers. Joseph looked for his mother, who would no doubt be wearing the latest fashion and looking as young and as lovely as ever. As the gangway was lowered ponderously on creaking chains, he hefted his bag over his shoulder and moved to join the queue waiting to disembark.
‘
Joseph
! Joseph, darling, over
here
!’
He looked up to see his mother, Tamar Murdoch, waving wildly with one hand while the other clutched the edge of a very wide-brimmed hat that threatened to take flight in the strong
wind. No, he thought, smiling to himself, she hasn’t changed at all. He was, however, surprised to see the tall, elegantly dressed figure of his father beside her, a proprietorial hand at her elbow and a look of amused fondness on his dark face. Attractive and fashionably attired, they appeared the perfect couple, except that Kepa Te Roroa, his father, was obviously of the Maori race while his mother was European, and they had never been married, and never would.
Joseph dropped his bag at his feet and stepped forward to hug his mother enthusiastically, dodging the long peacock feather adorning her hat.
‘Joseph, you look more handsome than ever!’ she exclaimed, her eyes moist with tears. ‘Damn, I’m going to cry,’ she muttered as she blotted her eyelashes with the tips of her gloved fingers. ‘I said I wouldn’t, but it’s been such a long time. I’m sorry, darling, but I’m so pleased to see you home at last.’
Joseph glanced at his father, who smiled indulgently. They shook hands and
hongi
-ed, forehead to forehead, nose to nose.
‘I didn’t expect to see you here today, Papa,’ Joseph said.
‘No, but Parehuia wanted to shop for something or other in Wellington, so we decided we might as well come down to meet you. I deposited her at Kirkcaldie and Stains earlier. I expect she has bought half the shop by now,’ he added, looking faintly disconcerted. ‘It is good to see you, boy.’
Joseph nodded. ‘It’s good to be back,’ he said, and turned to Tamar. ‘Is Andrew here as well?’
Andrew Murdoch was Tamar’s husband of twenty-seven years. A wealthy Hawke’s Bay station owner, he adored his wife and, even though together they had produced four wonderful children of their own, he had never begrudged his wife’s love for Joseph, her illegitimate and half-Maori first-born.
‘Yes, but he’s at a meeting this morning. Something to do with
increasing wool exports to Britain because of this new war, I gather. He’s promised to meet us later at the hotel and we’re all to have dinner together. But there’s someone else here to meet you, Joseph.’
He raised his brows enquiringly.
‘But you have to close your eyes,’ Tamar added mysteriously. ‘It’s a surprise.’
Joseph did as he was told, and immediately felt a pair of small, cold hands slide into his own. ‘Can I look now?’ he asked, smiling broadly.
‘Yes!’ crowed a jubilant voice.
Joseph opened his eyes and laughed in delight. He snatched up his half-sister, swinging her around and hugging her tightly before depositing her gently on her feet again. ‘Keely!’ he cried. ‘I thought you were busy learning to be an angel of mercy!’
‘I am, but I’ve got a day off! Oh Joseph, it’s so
lovely
to see you!’
Joseph stepped back and took a long and appraising look at his sister. She had been away at school the last time he was briefly home and the young woman in front of him bore little resemblance to the thin, rather flighty girl he remembered. They had corresponded fairly regularly but he’d had no inkling she’d grown into such a beautiful young woman. She looked remarkably like her mother with her heavy auburn hair and wide laughing mouth, except she had her father’s blue eyes. Of all of Tamar’s children, only Joseph had inherited the brilliant near-emerald of her eyes.
‘God, you’ve grown up,’ he said, surreptitiously eyeing her curvaceous figure and the slim ankles revealed by her modern, daringly short skirt. ‘You’re quite the young lady now, aren’t you?’
‘Well, no, not according to Da,’ replied Keely, smiling mischievously. ‘Apparently young ladies don’t clean bedpans and hold bowls for people to be sick into!’
Tamar frowned. ‘There was a slight fracas when Keely told Andrew she wanted to train as a nurse,’ she explained, biting her
lip at the memory of the bitter and protracted fight between her husband and daughter, ‘but Keely had her way in the end and she’s nearly finished her training now. Andrew had hopes of her marrying and starting a family after she finished school but, well, you know your sister.’
Joseph did indeed. Keely had always been very good at getting her own way, and he could imagine Andrew’s dilemma at trying to reconcile his dream of a happily married daughter with the idea of her racing about the countryside, professionally trained, unfettered and thoroughly independent.
‘Are you enjoying it?’ he asked. He had also had to battle for the right to do what he wanted with his life and knew that such victories were not easily won.
His
father and his late great-uncle Te Kanene had plotted to orchestrate his own future from an early age, grooming him for an illustrious life in Maori politics, but he had rebelled and gone to work as a drover instead, then volunteered to serve in South Africa during the Boer War. After returning home he had been restless and unable to settle down, and he’d left New Zealand again almost immediately. He’d visited England for a time and been back to South Africa, but had found no antidote to his wanderlust there, and had finally settled, if settled could be considered the right word, in Australia where he’d been droving for the past six years on huge outback sheep stations. But now he was home again. At heart he was a New Zealander, and by all accounts New Zealand would have her work cut out in the very near future.
Keely answered enthusiastically, ‘Yes, I love it. It’s so rewarding. Erin loves it too.’
‘Good, I’m pleased,’ said Joseph as he kissed her quickly on the cheek. ‘And how are our brothers?’
‘James is still in the army of course. He’s a full lieutenant now, and absolutely loving the life, but then he’s always been good at bossing people around. He’s here at Trentham but he couldn’t get
away today. Thomas is in his last year at Otago. Did you know he isn’t doing medicine any more? He decided he didn’t want to wallow in blood and guts for the rest of his life after all and swapped to the new law school. And Ian …’
Tamar interrupted. ‘Ian is at home, trying to decide what he wants to do with himself. He’s only eighteen, of course, and has plenty of time to make up his mind, but Andrew’s hoping he’ll take over Kenmore eventually. He loves the station and seems quite happy to potter about mending fences and chasing sheep day after day, so I expect he will. Uncle Lachie’s no spring chicken either now, you know, and someone will have to pick up the reins when he and Andrew retire, which I constantly hope will be sooner rather than later.’
At the age of sixty-three Andrew Murdoch was eleven years older than Tamar, and she had been on at him for some time now to slow down and put his feet up. But sheep farming was his passion and he refused to budge. Tamar suspected he might concede to semi-retirement when Ian had learnt the ropes, but she feared that until then he would continue driving himself as if he were twenty years younger.
‘And what about Huriana and Haimona?’ Joseph asked Kepa, referring to his half-sister and -brother from his father’s marriage to Parehuia.
Kepa pulled his well-cut coat tightly about him against the sharp wind. ‘Haimona is still at sea, and Huriana is teaching at Gisborne. She married eighteen months ago, as you know, but there is no sign of children yet. God only knows whether Haimona will ever settle down.’
Joseph could hear the grumpy note in his father’s voice; none of his children had obliged him yet by providing the
mokopuna
he wanted, and he seldom let it be forgotten. At fifty-four he considered it his right to be blessed with grand children, but was
on the verge of giving up hope. Huriana was too immersed in her teaching, Haimona seemed wedded to the sea and Joseph was still wifeless at thirty-three.
‘Still, it is good to have you back, boy,’ Kepa said again. ‘Perhaps you will stay this time?’
Joseph didn’t answer immediately, and bent to pick up his bag. As he straightened up he said, ‘I need to talk to you both about that, but not here. Do we have accommodation in Wellington tonight?’
Tamar and Kepa looked at each other uneasily, wondering what their errant son was about to spring upon them this time.
‘Yes,’ said Keely, rubbing her hands together briskly to restore the circulation. ‘But I’m back at the hospital tomorrow and Mam and Da are
motoring
home, in their new
automobile
, the day after that.’
Joseph looked to his mother who smiled and said, ‘You know Andrew and his machines. He had to have one.’
‘We are returning home tomorrow,’ added Kepa, ‘providing your stepmother has finished her shopping, but we will be travelling by train. Shall we get off this quay before we freeze solid?’
That evening, in the vast dining room of Lambton Quay’s luxurious Club Hotel, Joseph watched with interest as the two very different sides of his family chatted and laughed together. Andrew was looking as distinguished as ever, although the grey in his light-brown hair had spread noticeably and the lines on his tanned face were deeper. His father’s wife, Parehuia, had also joined the group, wearing a smart new outfit and looking very well-preserved for her age, if considerably plumper than she had been two years ago. Joseph thought his father was ageing very handsomely too. There was a definite slash of silver at each temple now, and lines about his dark eyes, but he had retained his youthful physique and the
years had only enhanced his charismatic good looks.
But, as usual, it was his mother who astonished him most. At fifty-two she looked close to ten years younger, the auburn of her hair as vibrant as it had been in her youth and her figure still slender and firm. There were distinct laughter lines on her face now, and the faint scar on her brow had never quite disappeared, but Tamar wore both as if they were badges of honour. The first testified to the contentment of her years with Andrew; the second was a physical legacy of what had come before that, her marriage to the unfortunate Peter Montgomery and her adulterous liaison with Kepa. Joseph knew the story of his birth intimately, but still he marvelled at his mother’s remarkable strength of character.