Julia lives on the other side of the world
, he’d written.
She has a family of her own. Under no circumstances is she to be given cause to worry or feel duty-bound to rush to my bedside.
Stan had found the note irritating. ‘God almighty, Dad, if you cark it Julia’ll come over for your funeral anyway,’ he’d bluntly stated, but Bartholomew’s response had been a shrug that said what will be will be, and the subject had been discussed no further.
Kate studied her grandfather now, so serene in his sleep. She wanted to kiss him, but she didn’t. Instead, she walked quietly away, turning back at the door.
‘Goodbye, Grandpa,’ she whispered, just in case it might be for the last time.
To her surprise, his eyes opened. He smiled to see her standing there, and raising a frail hand to his lips he blew her a kiss. Then he closed his eyes once again and went back to sleep. Kate left feeling inexplicably happy.
‘Hello, Kate. What an amazing coincidence.’ Venner was propped against the partition of the alcove when she returned carrying the armload of books she’d ferretted from the library’s shelves. ‘Fancy bumping into you like this,’ he said in wide-eyed innocence.
Kate couldn’t help but smile. Sydney University’s newly completed Fisher Library was a well-known assignation point. Students would leave their recognisable belongings in the one-person alcove they’d chosen for their study time in order that the intended person of interest would know where to find them. This had not been Kate’s aim at all, but Venner had clearly sought out her voluminous trademark worn-leather shoulder bag and had been lying in wait for her return.
‘What do you want, Venner?’ She kept her voice down, respectful of the several other students who were studying in similar open cubicles nearby.
‘I was wondering if you’re going to tomorrow’s SRC meeting,’ he said.
‘Of course I am. I always do. You know that.’ She dumped the armload of books onto the desk.
‘Just thought I’d check to be sure because we’re going to be bringing up the subject of union amalgamation and I know how important that is to you.’
The Students’ Representative Council consisted of male and female members, but the student unions were gender based. The women’s union held little sway, all things pertaining to union issues being virtually run by the male students, a fact which the feminists naturally considered the height of inequality. There had for some time now been attempts to amalgamate the two unions, but as yet to no avail.
‘Yes, I know we’re going to be discussing the possibility of amalgamation,’ Kate said, studying him suspiciously. Of course she would know such a thing, and of course he would know that she would know: she was one of the prime advocates. What was Venner after?
‘I intend to offer you my full support, Kate.’
‘Excellent, that’s great.’ She was pleased – quite a number of the male union members were coming on board lately. Good, she thought, it’ll be only a matter of time. ‘I’ll see you at the meeting then,’ she said and she sat, opening one of the library books.
‘You’re not going to study now, surely.’
‘Why not?’
Venner checked his Omega wristwatch, as always so out of keeping with his tattered T-shirt, which Kate suddenly noticed bore the slogan
Equal Rights for Women
.
‘Because it’s one o’clock and it’s lunchtime,’ he said, ‘and I think we should discuss a plan of action over fish and chips at the refectory.’
He’s making a play, Kate thought. How typical of Venner and how silly of me not to have realised. The whole thing’s a line. The SRC meeting, the union amalgamation, and above all the T-shirt. He doesn’t give a damn about women’s rights.
‘I take it Isobel’s no longer on the scene,’ she said drily, recalling that she hadn’t seen the two of them together for some time.
‘That’s right. She’s a lovely person, Izz, really lovely, but not quite the right sort of girl for me, I’m afraid.’ He’d dumped Izz way back in early October and there’d been another girl since then, but he’d dumped her also. No one matched up to Kate Durham. ‘So is it lunch and a plan of attack?’ He gave the charismatic smile that had once caused Kate’s heart to skip a beat, as it still did many a female heart.
But Jeremy Venecourt’s charisma no longer worked on Kate. You’re such a phoney, Venner, she thought, not without a touch of affection for the old days, but with no interest at all in rekindling the passion. She was about to say a simple ‘no thanks’ and return to her studies when an idea crossed her mind. Venner had always made a point of knowing everything about everyone connected with every imaginable cause. He would surely know something about the mystery surrounding Frank Madigan.
Kate continued to find Frank baffling. Twice in the latter half of the previous year she’d created ‘chance meetings’, both of which she’d sensed Frank had found as pleasurable and stimulating as she had. Upon the first meeting he’d again invited her into his shop where Alice had served coffee and they’d talked. The second time, she’d boldly suggested they save Alice the trouble and go to a nearby coffee shop, which they’d done, again very much enjoying each other’s company. But on neither occasion as they’d parted had he suggested another meeting. She’d decided to stop being pushy: it wasn’t dignified. The man was not interested and was obviously just being polite. She should leave him alone.
But then there’d been the meeting that really had happened by chance, the week before she’d left on her Christmas holidays. He’d invited her back to the shop, clearly eager to talk, and that was when they’d had their passionate discussion about Harold Holt and the Migration Policy and she’d been left intrigued all over again. Why was Frank Madigan, who obviously found her interesting, keeping his distance in such a manner? Was he married? Was that it?
Kate had never been one to choose the devious path, but the thought now occurred that perhaps two could play at Venner’s game.
‘Lunch and a plan of attack it is then,’ she said, and they left the study area together, each with a different agenda in mind.
Kate signed the library books out at the front counter, piling them into the large leather shoulder bag, which Venner gallantly insisted upon carrying.
‘Are you sure?’ she queried as they stepped outside into the courtyard, where on the opposite side of the car park huge Moreton Bay figs faced off the impressive jacaranda that stood beside the library. ‘I have to warn you, you’re bound to be noticed. That bag may not be a thing of beauty, but it’s distinctly female.’
He tapped his chest. ‘I’d say given the T-shirt it’s rather apt,’ he said.
They crossed the broad lawn that fronted the grand sandstone edifice where lion statues guarded entrances, and once inside the portals they cut through the main Quadrangle with its grassy central square, its towers and paved walkways and surrounding stone buildings. So much of Sydney University was so very beautiful.
Taking a short cut through the Vice Chancellor’s Quad, they headed for the sprawl of buildings known simply as ‘The Union’, one of the major student venues that housed several eateries. They decided against the refectory, however. The refectory and the buttery, both popular dining places, were crowded, so they opted to eat outside in the courtyard instead, greeting and being greeted by others they knew, but refusing offers to join them. Venner quickly seized upon a table for two and they settled with their choices of fare, his being fish and chips and Kate’s a pie with tomato sauce. At home she dined for the most part on salads and fruit to make up for all the rubbish she ate at Uni.
Venner dropped the pretence of a discussion about student union amalgamation. There was no particular ‘plan of attack’ they could follow anyway, as both well knew, and he presumed her agreement to join him for lunch was a definite display of interest on her part.
‘So tell me, Kate,’ he said casually enough, but with obvious intent, ‘any particular person in your life?’
‘Nope,’ she replied, concentrating on her pie, ‘not interested.’
‘Right.’ He noted the briskness of her tone and took it as a warning. Don’t come on too strong too soon, Venner, he told himself. ‘All work as usual, I see.’ He gave her a friendly smile and tucked into his fish and chips.
They chomped away in comfortable silence for a minute or so before he made further conversation. ‘This is your final year, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘What are your plans when you leave? Join a veterinary practice?’ He grinned cheekily. ‘Open one of your own with a little help from sugar-cane-king daddy?’ The remark was not a dig, but rather a reminder of their familiarity.
Kate was not in the least offended, but familiarity was not a path she wished to pursue. ‘No, I’ll go on to a PhD. I want to specialise in livestock. How about you, Venner? What are your plans when you finish your Masters this year?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ He really wasn’t sure. He seemed to live in a constant state of marking time, waiting for something to happen. ‘Do a post-graduate tutor course maybe. I wouldn’t mind teaching, preferably here, I like Uni life.’
‘Yes.’ Kate smiled. The answer was so typically Venner. ‘It suits you.’
He found her response most encouraging, and pushing aside the fish and chips that no longer held appeal, he leant towards her, elbows on the table, eyes gleaming with the old intensity. ‘Tell me what’s going on, Kate – what are you up to? I didn’t see you at the anti-war rally in the Domain.’ Venner himself was still a committed member of the Vietnam Action Campaign. ‘Apart from the feminist student union movement, which particular cause claims you these days?’
Here was the opening she’d been waiting for, Kate thought and she followed his lead, pushing her plate with the half-eaten pie to one side. ‘I’m still involved with Charlie Perkins’s fight for Aboriginal Rights,’ she said.
Oh that tired theme, Venner thought. Since the referendum there was really little mileage to be had from the Aboriginal question, but he maintained an appearance of avid interest.
‘As a matter of fact, there’s something I wanted to ask you,’ she continued.
‘Fire away.’
‘Charlie is manager of the Foundation for Aboriginal Affairs, as you know . . .’
‘Absolutely,’ Venner gave an enthusiastic nod, ‘a great organisation. Without them I doubt the referendum would have had such an amazing result.’
‘Well I went to a meeting they held in Redfern a week or so before Christmas and Frank Madigan was there.’
‘Oh yes?’ At the mention of Frank Madigan, Venner was on instant alert.
‘Yes, he moved up from Melbourne about six months ago.’
‘That’s right. I’d heard that he’d shifted back to Sydney.’ She’s trying to sound casual, he thought. Why? ‘Don’t tell me you’re interested in the bloke, Kate,’ he said teasingly.
She found the comment and its innuendo annoying. ‘I’m not interested in the way you’re inferring, Venner, no, but I do like him as a friend . . .’
What a load of bullshit, he thought, recalling the night in Bondi when she’d been hanging on Madigan’s every word, but he didn’t say anything, merely raising a facetious eyebrow.
‘We have a great deal in common,’ she added icily, the eyebrow irritating her further.
Venner gave an abrupt bark of laughter. ‘I hardly think so.’ She obviously doesn’t know the truth, he thought triumphantly. ‘Frank Madigan’s not exactly your type, Kate, believe me.’
The comment this time was more than annoying, it was downright insulting. ‘How the hell would you know what my type is?’ Angry though she was, Kate hissed the words, keeping her voice down, aware of those seated nearby. ‘Frank’s a man with a genuine commitment, Venner, unlike some I could name,’ she added scathingly. ‘He believes in the fight for Aboriginal rights –’
‘Of course he would. He’s black.’
Brought to an instant halt, she stared at him in wordless amazement.
Well that’s shut her up, he thought. ‘Or his mother was black,’ he said, ‘black or half black, I really can’t remember, but whether he looks it or not Frank’s a blackfella all right.’
Kate’s mind was reeling. Little wonder indeed that Frank was passionate about the Aboriginal cause. Little wonder too that their conversation about the Migration Act and its effect upon the White Australia Policy should have been so vigorous. Everything was starting to fall into place.
‘Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings.’ Venner gathered by her continued silence that he’d successfully frightened her off. ‘Although you really should have known,’ he added gently. A well-meaning word of advice wouldn’t go astray, he decided. ‘That’s the trouble with you, Kate,’ he said, ‘you’re always so carried away with the cause you don’t bother getting to know those involved.’
Kate stood. ‘And that’s the trouble with you, Venner. You’re so busy gathering data on people that you lose sight of the cause altogether.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It’s supposed to mean that you’re shallow. You always have been.’
She heaved her bag over her shoulder and marched off, leaving him wondering how things had gone so very wrong.
As she walked along Science Road towards the Vet Science Centre at the far end of the campus, Kate pondered this surprising new discovery. It certainly explains Frank’s passion about many things, she thought, but does it explain his reticence in asking me out? She had a distinct feeling it did. Well she’d have to do something about that, she decided.
K
ate called into Madigan’s Plumbing Services mid-morning on Saturday, but Frank wasn’t there.
‘He’s out on a job,’ Pete said. ‘Shouldn’t be all that long, he left pretty early. I’d say he’ll be back by midday.’
‘Thanks, Pete.’
She returned on the dot of twelve.
‘G’day, Kate.’ He was pleased to see her. ‘Dad said you’d called around. Want a coffee?’
‘Why don’t we grab a sandwich and go to the park? It’s lunchtime. I’m starving, aren’t you?’
‘Yeah, sure, good idea.’
After buying ham and salad rolls and takeaway coffees from the milk bar on the corner, Kate insisting upon paying for hers, they walked into Prince Alfred Park, where they sat on a bench looking at the view of the city skyline.