We lived in a house where the road forked three different ways. Dad did general work for different ones and we milked a few cows.
Mum generally milked, and as us kids got older we helped her. We milked about 12 cows. The rest of the farm ran sheep, Dad looked after them.
On our corner was the communal mail box. The mail truck went up one road on Tuesdays and the other road on Fridays. The roads weren’t named, but three big sheep stations were on one road, and three on the lower road, also three more farms on the lower road.
Someone took turns to come down the road on Tuesdays and meet the mail truck from The Top Road ... and someone came down from The Lower Road on Friday.
So the mail box was the meeting place every Tuesday and Friday.
The mail truck arrived about midday and on it on Tuesday was very often someone who had been away for a weekend, or longer. On Fridays anyone going away caught the mail truck going out.
There was no charge for fare on the truck but the passengers helped the driver to unload posts, wire, wheat ... all manner of things, and also helped the driver to load up wool and anything that was sent out.
Several places sent cream out on the truck to the factory, us amongst them, so we had to go along and take the cream over to the truck and bring the empty can back as well as the groceries. The bread came on Tuesday and Friday, also anything else that was wanted.
We lived up a hill a bit and couldn’t actually see the mail box but we could see the truck coming and going, if we were watching, which we generally did.
So the mailbox was the focal point. We knew who was coming and going, when a new shepherd or station hand was coming, or another going, but several of the shepherds had their own horses and rode in and out, very often cutting across country. They were somehow different to the station hands, more independent, somehow mysterious.
Mum warned us about the shepherds and station hands, in her opinion they were all a very bad lot, drifters, boozers, shiftless, etc, etc. So us kids were pretty scared of them.
Although Dad did a lot of work on the stations and got on with them alright, Dad often used to arrive home a bit under the weather in the evening and Mum didn’t like that. We did, Dad was always funny when he had a few in and made us laugh.
Mum told us all sorts of things these station hands did, and I being a girl was terrified of them. They often rode past our place, often driving stock or just going somewhere and Mum always made us keep out of sight.
We were on the party line telephone, so everyone knew everyone else’s business. One night a station manager’s wife rang up and I being inside answered the phone, a parcel had been mislaid, would I mind having a look in the mail box and ringing her back later. No trouble. It was summer and I enjoyed the stroll.
I got to the mailbox and sure enough there was a parcel there. I had to crawl into the mailbox to get it, the mailbox was like a small room on legs. While I was inside, I heard horses coming. “Oh Lord, who could it be!” I peeped out and Oh Lord again. Two of the shepherds were right outside the mailbox. I was petrified. All sorts of things came into my mind, being ignorant of the facts of life but being carried away and made to do all sorts of wearisome duties, tied up like a dog at night, were just a few things, Mum had instilled some ideas into my head.
Then I heard the creak of leather and they were both getting off their horses. I’d pulled the door nearly shut. I had the wit not to shut it as the latch was on the outside and it was a latch that locked when the door was pushed shut. I was petrified. They were both rolling cigarettes, there were dogs everywhere. The dogs looked far more savage than our two, some looked really mean.
Then one of them spoke. “Yes, she’s quite a nice little bitch, she needs a lot of work. I’ve seen her go and she really has some style, but Doug (my Dad) says he can’t handle her, she’s just a nuisance around the place. He’d be please to get rid of her”.
Oh my God, my dear old dad wants to get rid of me, I just can’t believe it. I’m a nuisance around, just because I’ve got a gammy leg. It’s not my fault, I was born with it.
“I’ll see him tomorrow, he doesn’t want much for her but he’s short of a few bob. At a tenner she’d be good value. Up where you are going, there’s no one around, you could knock her into shape in no time. Her mother is a good worker, not a hell of a lot up top but she can do a good day’s work”.
How dare they talk of Mum like that. What sort of demons are they?
Then the other one spoke, he talked more slowly. “Yeah well, she sounds alright to me, I’m not going for another fortnight and if I get her soon I’ll get her used to me before I go. Has she been bred from yet?”
“No, she’s still a maiden”.
“We’ll see Doug and if he really wants to get rid of her, you can let me know and I’ll pick her up. He’s not home now is he?”
“No, I doubt it. The cook has been making wine and Doug likes his wine. He won’t be home for awhile yet”.
They both mounted their horses and moved off, one up the Lower Road and one up the Top Road.
As soon as they had gone, I hobbled home, Mum still wasn’t inside and the boys were outside too. I rang Mrs Scott and told her the parcel was in the mailbox and went to bed, and sobbed and sobbed.
Why don’t Mum and Dad want me? I do my best. I know I couldn’t go to school much but when I was doing correspondence lessons I helped as much as I could. Now I was 16 I thought I was a good help. I do most of the cooking and the garden, help Mum with the cows. Now for a lousy ten pounds they were going to sell me to a shepherd who was going to take me away and knock me around.
I heard Mum come in and I made out I was asleep. Not long after Dad came in, he was happy. I heard him say to Mum, “I was talking to Jim, he said he knows someone who will give me 10 quid for that young bitch. She’s not much good around here, only eating good tucker. There’s not enough work here for her”.
Mum agreed with him, “Yes, she’s only a hindrance really, she’ll never be any good if she stays here and ten pounds is ten pounds.”
I heard every word and was terribly hurt. Why do they call me a young bitch, they never used to. Only lady dogs were called bitches. They never used to use that word around here. I couldn’t understand at all. Dad had given my brother Ralph a really good hiding because he called me a bitch, and now both Mum and Dad were calling me one.
Next morning Mum said to me, “What’s wrong with you Missie, you look awful. Did you have some nightmares, young girls often do. Probably too quiet around here for you now you are growing up. I suppose we should do something about it”.
For the next three days I was very depressed. It was terrible not to be wanted. I wondered if that slow speaking shepherd would want me after he had knocked me into shape. Probably not, just like a dog or horse, knock me into shape and sell me to someone else.
My bedroom was just off the kitchen and at nights when I’d gone to bed I’d often heard Mum and Dad talking. Mum wasn’t given to talking much, just “Do this Missie or don’t do that”. So with no girl friends I was very naive to say the least. My brothers were younger than I was by four and six years and they didn’t like girls.
We didn’t have many visitors, and Mum had her own ideas of ‘what was what’. Knowing what I do now she didn’t know much, she didn’t have much up top.
Three days later I went over to the mail box in the evening. I don’t know why, just in case someone would come past and I could wave to them and make out I was doing some chore.
I had no sooner got there when I heard horses again, so I dived into the mailbox again and pulled the door shut, but I pulled it too hard and it latched. I really panicked, I was locked in.
The horses stopped and I could hear them dismounting. Then voices. “Jesus Christ, what are you dogs looking at, do you think there’s something in the mailbox. Ha, be funny if it was a possum”.
I was panic stricken then the door opened. “Christ it’s a girl. Where the hell did you come from?”
I was too scared to open my mouth. “Has someone posted you somewhere lass”.
He was as astonished as I was scared. He slammed the door shut again. “Holy hell Bill, did you see what I saw”. It was the one called Jim, the one who was making a deal with Dad. Bill stuttered, “I thought I saw something, a pair of feet”. Slowly the door opened a fraction. “Hey there lass, who locked you in the mailbox, or did you lock yourself in?” I was too terrified to say anything. “Who are you anyhow”, Jim asked.
“Baa baa raa”, that’s all I could get out.
“Now, now lass, you aren’t a sheep so don’t make out you are. I know a sheep when I see one, I see thousands a day as a rule”. Hell and Tommy, who would believe it, a fine looking girl making out she’s a sheep. She doesn’t look daft either. Now girl, what is your name and where do you come from?”
“Baa baa raa” I stammered again.
They were both looking in the door now. The one called Bill said “Even Ripley wouldn’t believe this”.
Another voice chimed in now. “What the hell are you two looking at”. I knew that voice, it was the slow drawling one that was going to buy me.
Jim replied, “There’s a pretty young girl in there, trying to make out she’s a sheep”.
Bill chimed in, “Where do you live”. I pointed at our house, I was still too scared to speak properly.
“Hell, Doug lives over there, “ Jim broke in. He looked at me, “Are you Doug’s daughter?” I nodded. He said “Hell I think he has got a daughter too, what’s your name?”
“Baabaara” I replied.
“Barbara” Jim asked. I nodded again, they all laughed. Then, “Come on, get out of there” Jim ordered.
I got out and Bill asked me how I came to be in the mailbox. I told them that Dad and Mum were going to sell me.
This caused a bit of concern. They all rolled another smoke, Bill spoke up. “The old Bugger eh! Fancy doing a thing like that. I always liked Doug, not that I know him very well, but I’ve heard his wife is a bit strange.
But people can’t sell their kids, or can they?”
“Chinese and Indians do,” Jim said, “but Doug isn’t a china-man or Indian. I have heard though of “The White Slave Trade””.
Bill cut in “Are you sure of this girl, you aint pulling our legs”.
“No. No, I was/am certain”.
“How do you know?” from Bill.
“Well I heard Mum and Dad talking one night after I’d gone to bed, they said I wasn’t any use, I was just a nuisance and if they could sell me and get a few quid, that would help them out a lot”.
“Well you wander off home Barbara and we’ll have a look at this”.
So I took off home.
Mum was milking so I started getting tea ready. When she came in she just glared at me, “Been loafing and dreaming again missie. You’ll have to mend your ways, believe me”.
Later Dad came in and said “that bloke will pick the young bitch up about ten tomorrow morning”.
I never slept much at all that night, just felt numb and planned there was a loft in the cow shed that I often crawled into out of sight. Mum didn’t know I could get up there.
So next morning about nine, when Mum wasn’t looking I crawled up and watch. Awhile later the slow speaking shepherd rode up. I liked him. He talked to Mum for half an hour or so then they went over and got Dad’s young bitch. He gave Mum something, then he put a chain around Tess’s neck and rode away, as he rode past the shed he looked up as if he knew I was there, waved his hand , smiled and said “Good luck Barrbarra”.
What a fool I felt. I sat there for a long time, until I heard Mum calling out, “The mail truck will be here soon Barbara, time to get the cream ready”.
I slowly got down in a daze, got the cream ready and went over to the mail box.
I never saw him again for well over a year. He called in to tell us Tess was a really hardy dog, as he was going he told me that although Tess was good he thought I was better.
We were married a year later and now have four children. We often laugh together over the ‘misunderstanding’. He never ever knocked me into shape, but is the loveliest husband any woman could have.
The Eavesdropper © Ken Bishop
The Eavesdropper.
