Golton Island

Golton Island

A Novel by

Douglas Gellatly

Copyright © 2013 by Douglas Gellatly

Smashwords Edition

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The novel Golton Island is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, incidents, organisations, and dialogue in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Some characters, although historically factual, have been included fictitiously and information regarding them has come from the public domain or from the author’s personal experiences with them. Certain parts of the Wimmera have been altered for the purpose of this story.

Cover photography and design by Douglas Gellatly

The cover photograph is of an old Eucalyptus tree in the Ballarat district. From the first time I saw it, the arching branch always reminds me of a nurturing arm over a shoulder.

Email: qncfarm@gmail.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/doug.gellatly

Twitter: www.twitter.com/#!/DouglasGellatly

Dedicated to the memory of

Anne Gellatly

During my research for this novel, and after I was well into its second draft (and having already written Lake Brambruck which also included the same island), I discovered from an old Parish Map that the piece of land that I have heavily fictionalised and called Golton Island was selected, when land was being made available for selection in Victoria in the eighteen-seventies, by one Anne Gellatly.

She was my Scottish migrating great-grandmother. The island has changed hands since, but little would she have known that about one hundred and forty years later the land which she selected would become the focus for two novels written by one of her descendants. –D. G.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1 - Adelaide

Chapter 2 - Ubud

Chapter 3 - McPherson and Clark

Chapter 4 - New Beginnings

Chapter 5 - Max’s Dimboola Relatives

Chapter 6 - The Shave

Chapter 7 - Decision

Chapter 8 - The Opening Ceremony

Chapter 9 - The Party

Chapter 10 - Tragedy

Chapter 11 - Stalked

Chapter 12 - Toot

Chapter 13 - The Victoria Range

Chapter 14 - Dierdre

Chapter 15 - Beehive Falls

Chapter 16 - A Crisis

Chapter 17 - A Delicate Matter

Chapter 18 - Achievement

About the author

Acknowledgements

The author wishes to acknowledge assistance given in the preparation of this novel by the following people and organisations: Retired sergeant Robert Le Breton for information regarding Victoria Police rankings; Paul Natoli, solicitor, for information regarding guardianship; Ni Wayan Murni, Ubud, Bali, Indonesia for allowing me to include her in a cameo role in one scene; Jonathan Copeland, Ubud, Bali, Indonesia, for general advice; Victoria Police Pipe Band; Sue Devlin, author of Longerenong Homestead: 150 Years and Beyond: 1862-2012; National Library of Australia; State Library of Victoria; Brambuk Cultural Centre, Halls Gap for information regarding Aboriginal heritage; Special Collections, Baillieu Library, the University of Melbourne for information regarding the university graduation scene; Wesley Performing Arts Centre, Horsham; Adelaide Zoo, South Australia; Adelaide Botanic Garden, South Australia; Ballarat General Cemeteries Trust; Jon Lock, my partner, for his support, forbearing and general advice.

Chapter 1

Adelaide

There’s a letter here from a firm of barristers and solicitors in Adelaide addressed to your father, Mr. Duncan McPherson, Max announced as he came through the door with the day’s mail. He gave Richard his usual returning-home kiss and handed the letter to him.

Richard took the brown envelope and turned it about in his hands. It’s strange that someone should write to my father, he said, curious to understand, because he died eighteen years ago.

Richard opened the envelope and perused the letter. Hmm, this is certainly from a legal firm in Adelaide, who are called the wonderful name of Wilton, Walton and Waters, Richard said. I’ve never heard of them, but it seems that my father may be in line for an inheritance. That would be fine if he was still alive. He paused for a moment, then continued, "However, on having a closer look at this, it’s intended for my father or whomsoever it may concern."

Richard spent further time reading the letter and said to Max, "This is intriguing. My father had a cousin, George McPherson, who established a quarry and concrete pipe making business in the suburbs of Adelaide in South Australia. I can remember Dad talking about him, but I never met him. He was an only child, and I don’t know if he ever married. His father was my grandfather McPherson’s younger brother. Dad talked about him now and then and I do know that my own father, Duncan, and his brother, Edward, and their two sisters, Elizabeth and Jane were George’s only cousins, and he would have had no other family."

Where is this leading? Max asked.

Well, it seems that George died not long ago and has left an estate of some sort, as it is put here, ‘to all of his cousins or their next generation children should such cousins predecease George.’

Plainly, from that information, you would be able to lay claim to being one of the next generation heirs then, Max said. Have you got any first cousins yourself? I’ve never heard you speak of any.

"Yes, but I have no idea where they are or even if they are still alive. Our branch of the McPherson clan produced few offspring; Dad was the youngest, and he and his siblings, Edward, Elizabeth and Jane all got married and all four each had only one child. So, I have, or at least had, three cousins of my own. There was never any contact that I was aware of as I was growing up, and as far as I know all of my father’s siblings lived in New South Wales or Western Australia. Because Dad was the youngest in his family, all of my cousins, whose names I don’t even know, are much older than me."

Where does this letter leave you then? Max asked.

"It goes on to explain that other same such letters were being sent out to all the last known addresses of George McPherson’s cousins—and that would be how this letter came here. Also, public notices have been placed in all of Australia’s State daily papers, plus the nation-wide The Australian, regarding this matter. It then goes on: It may be of benefit to all those who can lay bona fide claim to any evidential relationship to George William McPherson, deceased, as mentioned above, to attend a meeting at the offices of Wilton, Walton and Waters in Adelaide at ten o’clock on the morning of Tuesday…, and it gives the date, which will be next week. Today is Thursday, so that will be in five days. The letter is then signed by Samuel Waters, Partner."

Something tells me that you would be wise to be at that meeting, Max said. At worst you may end up with a quarter of whatever George McPherson’s estate amounts to. It may be next to nothing, but who knows? Are you able to go to Adelaide next week?

Even though it is fairly short notice, yes. All I would need to do is let Tony Wilson know that I will be unavailable for a few days. But what about you? Would you be able to come along with me? Do you have any shearing lined up for next week?

All that is booked up is a one-day job on Friday of next week, and we’d be back again by then, wouldn’t we?

Yes, we will. Oh, that’s good, and that means we can take a short break together in Adelaide. How does that sound to you?

Dearest, it’s ages since we had any sort of a break together. Let’s do it!

Okay, Richard agreed, and that leads to the next question—shall we drive to Adelaide or go by train?

"I’ve never ever travelled on a train, so my vote is for the train, The Overland Express. When I was living in Horsham, I would hear it go through the town in the middle of the night, one division each way at different times of the night every night."

All right then, let’s book our train tickets in Horsham when we go to do our shopping tomorrow, Richard suggested.

***

At the time of receiving the solicitor’s letter, Richard McPherson and Max Clark had known each other for thirteen years, and had lived together for almost as long. They first met by coincidence when they went independently to Lake Brambruck to observe the end-flow of a one-in-fifty-years flood across the Wimmera district which had flowed, ultimately, to that lake, the third and last lake of the Wimmera River system. Now in their mid-forties, the couple’s relationship, strengthened by love and respect for each other over time, has deepened. They still live on Golton Island, a property inherited from Richard’s parents, which has become a bushland paradise with pathways meandering amongst a comprehensive collection of Australian native trees, shrubs and grasses that they have planted, and past ponds and frog bogs that they have constructed here and there in their own botanic paradise beside the Wimmera River.

Being all those years into their relationship, Richard and Max have become a well established couple and, in their district, also a well respected couple. Richard is still propagating Australian native trees and shrubs and distributing his seedlings all over Australia by rail and air. He is also still working on a part-time basis with Tony Wilson as a funeral director, and in reality is now doing a lot of work for Tony. Meanwhile, Max is still shearing and has developed a faithful clientele of local sheep farmers.

Over the years, the couple have maintained their friendship with Ivy Pasco since they met her when they purchased the Russian wedding bands that they each wear, and look upon her almost as a mother-figure in their lives. She, in turn, keeps them informed about Anne Coyne, the widow of their farming friend and neighbour, Lester, who died an early death from cancer. Tony Wilson’s business was engaged to perform Lester’s funeral; Richard was the funeral conductor on the day and, because of a staff shortage, Max was the hearse driver for the same funeral. In the year following Lester’s death, Anne let the farm out and moved with her three children into Horsham, which was more convenient for the children’s education.

One day recently, at his funeral home, Tony Wilson mentioned to Richard that he and his wife were thinking of selling up their funeral business and moving to Queensland where they planned to go into retirement and the weather would be warmer for both of them, especially for his wife who now increasingly suffered asthma in the cold, frosty winters of the Wimmera.

When Richard arrived home from Horsham with this news, he and Max discussed how such a change may affect them.

Would that mean that you will be without your part-time job? Max asked Richard.

I guess so, Richard replied with a blank expression.

Therefore, will your tree propagation business be enough to keep some money coming in?

Yeah, I think it will; I’d have to increase my output though. But, you know what? I’ve begun to think that I’d rather not be doing trees and shrubs commercially. Don’t get me wrong—I’d still be wanting to plant trees, but just for ourselves as a maintenance thing for this little paradise that you and I have developed here.

Strange that you should say something like that, Max responded, because I’ve also wondered how much longer I can keep going with shearing. Mentally I’m okay, but physically, I feel as though I’m starting to fray at the edges, not to mention the few white hairs that are starting to show up on my head.

Those white hairs on your temples make you look very dignified, my dear, Richard commented. Not that I can talk, because I’ve got my share coming along too.

Did Tony tell you how soon this move to Queensland may be? Max asked.

No, and I am not sure that he and his wife have really made up their minds. We’ll just have to wait and see.

***

For their journey to Adelaide, Richard and Max caught the Overland Express at about one o’clock in the morning. They were the only passengers to get on the train at Horsham. Soon after sunrise, it stopped at Murray Bridge for a breakfast break just after it crossed the Murray River, Australia’s longest river. When the train got rolling again for the winding journey through the Adelaide Hills before descending into Adelaide, Richard said, You know what, I’ve just remembered a man who stayed with us when I was a kid, who later went on to become the Governor of South Australia.

Oh? And who was that? Max asked.

He was Australia’s first Aboriginal State Governor, Pastor Doug Nicholls.

How did that come about, that he stayed at your place, I mean?

"Oh, my parents were both heavily involved with the Murtoa branch of the Aborigines Advancement League, and he, at the time, was the League’s Field Officer. A couple of times when the Murtoa branch of the AAL had its Annual General Meeting, Doug Nicholls came to address the meeting, and he stayed at our place."

What sort of a guy was he? Max asked.

Oh, he was really nice. He was always cheerful and kind, he wasn’t very tall and he had really chubby cheeks. Each time he stayed with us it was in the winter, and we would all sit around the open fire in the lounge room together. As we were doing that he would hold the palms of his hands out to the fire till they got quite hot, then quickly place his palms onto his well-rounded cheeks so as to warm his own face. I’ve done it now and again since, and it’s quite a nice feeling to have that warmth straight onto your face.

Did he do anything else to entertain the little Richard?

"Yes, he would get me to go out into the garden and collect some gum tree leaves for him. He would then place a leaf somehow between his held-together thumbs, then put his cupped hands up to his mouth with his thumbs against his lips and play a tune on the gum leaf. That was a skill I could never master, but he played things like, Once A Jolly Swagman, Click Go The Shears, those sorts of Australian songs, and I loved it, just sitting there listening to him make that sort of music."

That would have been great!

Yeah, it was, and something else happened on his last visit to us that turned my attitude—as a child, and for life—right around about dark-skinned people. Just before breakfast on his last day with us, he came into the kitchen holding his bleeding finger in a handkerchief. He had cut himself with his razor while he was shaving. It fell to me to put a band-aid onto his finger, and as I did so I thought, hey, his blood is exactly the same colour as mine.

That rather explains why you accepted me so readily, with my dark skin, when we first met at Lake Brambruck, then.

Richard smiled and said, "Yes, my dear, of course there was that element in it—that is, apart from the fact that you are drop dead gorgeous. By then in my life I had well and truly accepted that we are all one people on the one planet, and whoever thinks otherwise is truly ignorant as far as I am concerned."

Now I know even more why I love you so much, Max said quietly and reached across for Richard’s hand.

Still holding hands as they sat in their twin seats on the train, Richard went on, Going back to Doug Nicholls, he became Sir Douglas Nicholls, the first Australian Aboriginal person to be knighted. However, he was not the Governor of South Australia for very long, though. I think he was only in that position from about late nineteen seventy-six until the end of April nineteen seventy-seven, when he became too ill to carry on in that role. I think he had a stroke, and then lived in a nursing home until he died.

When the train reached Adelaide, the couple checked in to the Grosvenor Hotel on North Terrace. They spent the rest of the morning wandering around the inner city, then in the afternoon they went to have a look at the Adelaide Botanic Garden at the eastern end of North Terrace, near the Royal Adelaide Hospital.

The area of just over one hundred and twenty acres near the centre of Adelaide had been the botanic centre for South Australia for over one hundred and thirty years. Apart from the vast plant collection, which fascinated Richard, they visited the Victorian style Tropical House known as The Palm House near the lake, which was imported from Germany in the eighteen-seventies. They also visited the newly opened Bicentennial Conservatory, which was being referred to as ‘The Crystal Pasty’ because of its resemblance to a very large semicircular pasty.

That evening Richard and Max dressed up and went out to dinner in a restaurant not far from their hotel and warmly shared each other’s company as they wined and dined, then strolled along the night streets of Adelaide for a while before returning to the hotel.

***

On Tuesday morning Richard and Max walked the few blocks to the Halifax Street offices of Wilton, Walton and Waters. Carrying his compendium, Richard approached the receptionist and introduced himself regarding the ten o’clock meeting.

Please take a seat over there for a few minutes Mr. McPherson, the receptionist said pleasantly, indicating some chairs, and I will call you when Mr. Waters and Mr. Wilton are ready for the meeting.

They took seats in the carpeted foyer. There were two women in their late twenties sitting across from them who averted their gaze when the men looked toward them. After a short while the receptionist came out from behind her desk and announced, Ladies and gentlemen, will you come with me to Mr. Waters’ office please.

As the small group entered the room, two men stood from where they had been seated on one side of a large polished wooden table. Hello, I’m Sam Waters and this is David Wilton, and we will ask you to introduce yourselves please, and he swept his friendly eyes across the two young women, then Richard and Max.

I am Richard McPherson, Richard said, taking the lead, and this is my partner, Max Clark.

We are pleased to meet you, Sam Waters said, and he and David Wilton shook their hands across the table.

Turning to the two young ladies, Sam Waters asked, And you are?

One of them said, I am Samantha Carter, and this is my sister, Lauren Nelson. We are the granddaughters of Jane McPherson, and we thought we would come along and get our share of the pie.

The two lawyers shook the women’s hands, looked to each other, and Sam Waters said, Everyone, please take a seat, because the first thing we have to do is to establish each person’s right to be here at this meeting. They all sat and Sam Waters continued, Presumably, you are here because of letters this office sent out or you have seen a notice in the paper regarding the late Mr. George McPherson.

David Wilton took over by saying, Richard, did you receive the letter, and what is your relationship to Mr. George McPherson?

Yes, I have the letter here, which was addressed to Duncan McPherson, my late father, who died in nineteen-seventy. He was George’s first cousin. By the way, Max is not related at all. He is accompanying me as my partner.

That is quite okay, David Wilton said without any hesitation, then turned to the women. And which of George McPherson’s cousins are you the children of?

"Oh, we are the grandchildren of Jane McPherson, Samantha said. Her daughter Evelyn, our mother, only died five months ago, so we thought as she died just before George’s date of death that would be close enough for us to get our share."

Ladies, Sam Waters interrupted, do you have with you the letter that we sent out?

Yeah, it’s here, Samantha replied, and feverishly dug into her large, black, pseudo-leather chrome-spangled bag, withdrew the letter and spread it on the table.

If you look closely at that letter, Sam Waters continued, it reads, ‘that Mr. George McPherson’s estate was left to his first cousins or their next generation children should cousins predecease Mr. George McPherson.’

Samantha looked up from her copy of the letter and asked challengingly, So?

You have just told us that you are the grandchildren of Mr. George McPherson’s first cousin; that makes you both the next generation again.

Yeah, Mum was the child of the cousin, as you put it, but she only died recently. Isn’t that close enough to qualify for all this money?

With respect, Samantha and Lauren, no.

Do you mean we have flown all the way from Sydney this morning on the early flight to be told that we have missed out on a fortune? Samantha flared.

I don’t know where you got the idea of the fortune from, but I am afraid so. Therefore, I’m sorry, but there is no further reason for you to remain here. We will continue this meeting with Richard after you have left the room.

Samantha and Lauren looked at each other, stunned, and turned to glare at all four men in the room. Shortly, the two young women stood in unison. I can’t believe this, Samantha said as she tightly clasped the shoulder strap of her bag and flashed her eyes from lawyer to lawyer. "You bastards! You fucking bastards!" The two offended sisters then stormed out of the room loudly muttering obscenities.

Sam Waters allowed a moment of quietness then looked across to Richard and asked in a low, level voice, Can you further establish your relationship to Duncan McPherson, who was George McPherson’s first cousin?

Yes, I can. I took the liberty of bringing with me my father’s death certificate and my own birth certificate, and he opened his compendium to give the documents to Sam Waters. The two lawyers perused the certificates and then David Wilton asked, Do you have photo ID? Do you, perchance, have your driver’s license with you?

Yes, and Richard showed them his license.

That is fine, and all in order, David Wilton said. "Now we can reveal to you that under the instructions in Mr. George McPherson’s will, it was necessary for any relatives who may have qualified to benefit from his estate to personally be here at this meeting. It now transpires that you, Richard, are the only beneficiary by way of relationship, of George McPherson’s will, and we can now let you know that there is indeed a fortune. Did you know George at all?"

No, I only knew of him because my father used to speak of him now and again. Are you able to tell us anything about him?

Well, he operated a very successful quarry and concrete pipe making business, David Wilton replied. He made most of his money from government contracts—roadworks, railways, the airport, that sort of thing.

What about his personal life? It would seem to me that he may not have had children of his own, because if he did I don’t imagine we would be sitting here right now. Did he ever marry?

No, he didn’t ever get married, Sam Waters joined in, and he had no children. He spent a lot of time with theatre people, and had you not come forward today, his estate would have gone in that direction. He owned a large, solid-brick mansion in North Adelaide, and he employed a house keeper and a gardener. It could be said that George lived very well as a single man, and he used to entertain some of the higher society of Adelaide and people from the theatre world. But at the same time, he was almost semi-reclusive.

I knew almost none of this, Richard said. I wish I had known him.

Now, gentlemen, Richard specifically, we have some news to reveal to you. Under the terms of Mr. George McPherson’s will, Sam Waters announced, you are to receive the residue of his estate. Before we get to that, though, I need to explain to you that some things have already happened with Mr. McPherson’s estate. As his executors and under the instructions of his will, we have sold off his business interests, we have sold his house and shares, and we have distributed small legacies to Mr. McPherson’s house keeper and gardener, all according to his wishes. This now brings us to the residue of his estate, which you will receive. After our legal fees, which is a small percentage, it will amount to about three million, eight hundred thousand dollars to be distributed to you, Richard, as his sole beneficiary.

Oh, my God! Richard said, clutching his hands to his face in surprise. He turned to Max and saw that he was staring at the two lawyers wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He turned back to Sam Waters and David Wilton and quietly said, If anything, I was imagining perhaps fifty-thousand dollars or something like that, and certainly nothing of this magnitude.

You have our congratulations, Sam Waters said.

This has taken me by utter surprise, Richard went on, shaking his head slightly. It’s going to take me a while to absorb this news.

Despite our profession, we don’t often get to make announcements of such a sizeable estate to the beneficiaries, Sam Waters said, but may I ask, if you don’t mind, what are your first thoughts?

Richard looked around to Max, who was looking back at him with his eyebrows raised as though waiting for his response, then turned back to Sam Waters and said, I’m going to need to think a bit more about this, and discuss it with Max. On the one hand, with that amount of money, we could probably both stop working right now, but I would not want to do that. On the other hand, I have worked part-time for a funeral home in Horsham for some years now and the owner informed me recently that he is considering putting the business on the market and retiring soon. Until now for me, or us, to purchase a funeral business would have been well beyond our means—Max and I will need to talk about that because in my mind, I would want to invite him to be part of that too. This made Max sit straighter and look at Richard with an expression of surprise.

Well, whatever you make of this, we at Wilton, Walton and Waters wish you all the very best.

Indeed, David Wilton added. Now, do you mind if I ask you another question?

Not at all, Richard replied.

Did you know those two sisters who were here earlier, Samantha Carter and Lauren Nelson?

No, I didn’t even know my father’s cousins—even though he spoke of them occasionally—let alone any of those cousins’ offspring.

I got the feeling that was the case, David Wilton concluded. Those young women made an error that they will never forget, by simply not reading our letter correctly. They should have phoned us first, and they could have saved themselves a trip from Sydney.

The lawyers then went through the formalities of ultimately transferring the money to Richard before he and Max left to walk back to their hotel.

***

I was going to suggest that we make a trip from the city to Glenelg on the tram this afternoon, Richard said to Max back in their hotel room, but I’d rather now just go for a return quiet stroll in the Botanic Garden and sit and think about what to do with so much money. Would that be okay with you?

Of course! Max replied, went up to Richard and embraced him. What we have learned this morning may have turned your, and our lives around—and hey, thanks for including me in your vision for the future. The Botanic Garden will be the best place around here to go and consider what lies ahead for us. But before we do that, let’s make a reservation at a quality restaurant somewhere to celebrate tonight this unexpected turn of events.

They asked the hotel concierge about restaurants, and on their way to the Botanic Garden they called in at the one he suggested to book a table for two for that evening. They then went on to the garden.

As Richard and Max walked around in the garden, they found that their thoughts were more on the news of that morning than on anything botanical, but the quiet setting gave them the degree of quietude and privacy that they needed. They took a seat near