Tuesday

Day ten of our voyage. I awoke early this morning, just as it was starting to get light. James was sleeping deeply, but I felt strangely disturbed, and after lying there for a while, I slipped out of bed, put on my robe and walked to the window which provides a panoramic view. The weather had changed during the night and the wind was whipping spray from the long lines of choppy waves. I glanced up at the sky which was leaden in colour. I remembered a phrase from a favourite poem - ”a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking”. I shivered despite the warmth of the cabin, and slipped back into bed. James half-awoke and put his arm around me and I snuggled against his warm body.

The trip has been wonderful and exceeded my expectations. It doesn't matter how many films and photos you see, there is nothing like actually being in a place, and what a place New Zealand is, with some of the most spectacular scenery anywhere in the world.

We've visited Fjordland, seen spectacular Aoraki/Mt Cook, New Zealand's highest mountain, and called at Dunedin which in many ways resembles a Scottish city. Stopping at the port of Lyttelton, we were taken to Christchurch, which is very English in appearance. This is all due to the influence of the early British settlers of course. The small river flowing through Christchurch is even called the 'Avon' and there is a statue of the explorer Robert Falcon Scott who left from Lyttelton on his ill-fated final voyage to the Antarctic.

Heading to the North Island, yesterday we visited Wellington, the capital city, and we are now heading north to our final destination Auckland, before sailing back to Brisbane. The North Island is very volcanic and we are to visit Rotarua which has some spectacular thermal activity. It's a very different place to the South Island.

James is a good table tennis player and has been taking part in a tournament which winds up tomorrow, so today he is playing in the semi-finals and I will be going to watch him, which he says will give him inspiration to win. What a sweet man he is. Despite being surrounded by several hundred other people, in some ways it's been like a holiday on our own. We laze around each day, reading or playing deck games; if the weather is cool we can take in a movie in the ship's theatre/cinema. We dine spectacularly in the evenings, and sometimes take in a show. I can understand why some people get addicted to cruising. Then of course there are the nights, and what can I say about them? Being married seems to have added a whole new dimension to our intimacy, and we are enjoying getting to know each other even more.

Wednesday

James was into the final of the table tennis tournament to be played this morning. I was going to watch him play - he calls me his 'good luck charm' and while he went to the games deck after breakfast, I returned to our cabin to pick up a cardigan as the day was cool. Slipped under the cabin door was an envelope addressed to Mrs L. Taylor. For a moment I thought it had been left in the wrong place, and then smiled to myself. It takes a while to get used to a new surname. I opened it and my heart sank. The stark capital letters read as follows:

REGRET TO INFORM YOU TOM PASSED AWAY MONDAY NIGHT. FUNERAL FRIDAY. ELLEN.

I don't blame Ellen for how the message sounded. Doubtless it had been shortened for radio transmission. I didn't have a computer with me and mobile phones are no use while at sea, so this was the only way of reaching us. I sat down on the bed and stared into space for a while. Of course it wasn't totally unexpected, but somehow I'd fooled myself into thinking that it wouldn't happen, or at least not yet.

I couldn't bring myself to go and watch James play. He'd know immediately something was wrong and it would only distract him, so instead I walked to the upper deck and stood at the rail staring down at the waves, and no longer holding back the tears. Dear Tom. He had been like a father figure to me, especially since John passed away. Now my three dearest friends from my early years in Australia were all gone.

James found me of course – somehow he always seems to know where I am. When he saw my face he put his arms around me and said “Tom?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice still a little shaky. “Monday night.”

“Poor darling,” he said. “I know how fond of him you were.”

“The funeral is Friday. Can we get back in time?” I asked.

“We dock in Auckland tomorrow morning. I'll go and check with the ship's administration department. I'm sure they can radio ahead and book us a flight back.”

“I'm sorry James,” I said. “I know how much you are enjoying New Zealand.”

“We can come back,” he replied. “New Zealand will always be here. Now how about I take you back to our cabin. You can have a hot drink and a lie down and I'll fix up about our return to Hey.”

James is amazing. I am so used to sorting out other people's problems and it is a real treat to have someone sort out mine.

I did as he suggested and in no time he was back to tell me the ship was docking at seven in the morning and he had arranged for us to be booked on a flight which leaves at ten a.m. We would be back in Brisbane just before noon. It's nearly a four hour flight, but New Zealand is two hours ahead of Brisbane, so we pick up that time. James had also managed to get a message through to Archerfield telling them we were coming back early and to please have the Cessna ready by early tomorrow afternoon. The man is a genius! But there was more.

“I hope you don't mind, but I sent a message to Ellen on behalf of both of us, expressing our deepest sympathy to the family and telling her we are returning late Thursday.”

“Of course I don't mind darling, you've thought of everything.”

He smiled “Well that's what husbands are for.”

“I forgot to ask you how the table tennis final went.”

“Oh I lost,” he said, “But it was a close thing and Dave's a very good player.”

He didn't seem at all concerned. I wondered if he had been distracted wondering where I had been.

I had a quiet time for the rest of the day. We had a meal in our cabin as I didn't feel like facing the restaurant with its cheerful chatter.

Thursday

I packed most of our things last night, and we got up at five-thirty for an early breakfast. The crew were very good and arranged for us to leave the ship as soon as we had docked. We were hurried through Customs who had been notified of the situation, and then we took a taxi to Auckland Airport. I'm sure emergencies happen to other people too, but I must say everyone has been so kind and thoughtful.

We were at the airport just after eight o'clock and in good time for boarding the aircraft. We settled into our seats and were ready for a snooze after getting up so early. I've often wondered what it would be like to fly a big airliner, but for now I was content to have someone else at the controls. The flight passed quickly enough and after a light lunch and a doze it seemed no time before we were descending to land in Brisbane.

I cannot praise James enough. When I heard the news about Tom I was so emotional, but he had taken charge and dealt with everything and now I was feeling quite calm. In a way I even felt a little ashamed. Was I being selfish to have Tom's death affect me so much. How must it be for his family? I was a good friend but they are his relatives, and I thought of poor little Danielle and how she must feel losing her Grandpa. Speaking of family, it did occur to me that Brad might have needed a lift back to Hey, but when I dialed his home and mobile numbers I could not get an answer, so I deduced that he must be on his way to Hey, or perhaps was already there.

We took a taxi to Archerfield and true to their word the Cessna was ready for us and already rolled out on the tarmac. It felt comfortable to be at the controls with something to concentrate on, and it wasn't long before we were back at the Station. Jack met us when the aircraft rolled to a stop. His face was serious. Of course like so many people he had known Tom well.

“I'm so glad you were able to get back in time for Tom's funeral,” he said. “I took a message from Ellen. She asked if you could ring her when you got back.”

“Thanks, Jack. I know it wasn't entirely unexpected, but it was still a shock to get the news.”

I don't think anyone is comfortable contacting someone who has just suffered a bereavement; word seem so inadequate. I dialed the number and Ellen answered. She sounded very calm and that helped me.

“Ellen, it's Lesley. I just got back. I was so sorry to hear the news about Tom.”

“Lesley, thank you for coming back early. I know Tom tried to tell you not to come back, but when he saw it was upsetting you, he said he backed off.”

“Oh Ellen, I couldn't have not come back. I know Tom understood that. How are you all managing, especially Danielle?”

“She's very upset of course, but she had a good cry and she's settled down now. In fact we all had a good cry. Tom passed very peacefully though and that is a blessing. It was about four o'clock in the morning.”

I caught my breath. That would have been about six o'clock in New Zealand, the very time I had woken up on Tuesday. Ellen didn't seem to have noticed anything because she continued “Could I ask a favour of you Lesley? I know what great friends you and Tom were, and I wondered if you would speak at the service tomorrow?”

“Yes of course,” I replied.

“Thank you,” she said, “I really appreciate it.”

Friday

James and I arrived at the church half an hour before the service was to begin. Some rows of seats were set up outside and loudspeakers to relay the service The church was already filling up so it had been a good idea to allow for an overflow. The ushers led us up to the front and seated us in the second row which would be directly behind Tom's family. His casket of polished wood was already in position before the altar, and before taking our seats we took a moment to stand beside it and lay a hand on the surface in a silent farewell.

Harry, the vicar came out and greeted us, telling me when he would call upon me to say a few words. The organ began to play – Bach I think, and at the stroke of eleven, the family walked up the aisle and took their places in the front pew. I looked particularly at Danielle as she walked by, her little face very pale. Poor mite – it was only two weeks ago that she had walked down this same aisle happily scattering rose petals at my wedding, and now she was here to farewell her grandfather.

Harry reappeared, now in his vestments and we all stood as he welcomed us to the celebration of the life of Thomas Welsh, or Tom as everyone knew him.

We began with that magnificent Welsh hymn “Guide Me O thy Great Redeemer”, followed by a scripture reading and an Eulogy by Harry. He hasn't been at Hey for very long, but had obviously been well briefed by someone as he gave a great account of Tom's life. He was followed by Tom's daughter Angela who walked up to the lectern holding Danielle's hand. I saw her looking at the casket as she passed it.

Angela spoke well about her father, and then, somewhat to our surprise she said that Danielle had something to say too. Someone had thoughtfully provided a small box for her to stand on so she could reach the microphone.

“My Mummy says that Grandpa has gone to Heaven to be with the angels,” she started in a clear voice, “He was the best Grandpa I could have and I miss him already, but Mummy says to try not to be sad because he is happy in Heaven......” she faltered, “but I still miss him.” At this point she burst into tears and Angela picked her up to comfort her and carried her back to the pew. I confess that I was not far off tears myself, but now it was my turn to speak.

From past experience I know that it doesn't matter how much you rehearse a speech, it almost always comes out differently in the end, and so it was now. Standing at the lectern and looking down at all the faces, I took a deep breath and concentrated on just one face, that of little Danielle who now sat with her mother's comforting arm around her.

“Your Mummy was right, Danielle. Grandpa Tom is now with the angels and I'm sure he is so proud of you for being such a brave girl.”

Then looking around at the packed church, a testimonial to the esteem in which Tom was held, I continued. “Tom was my friend, and more than that, he was my teacher and very much a father figure to me from the first day I arrived here all those years ago. Only a couple of weeks ago he did me the honour of walking me down the aisle on my wedding day, and now it is my turn to return that honour.

“It is of course a convention to only speak well of someone when you come to farewell them, but that's not hard in Tom's case because he was such a genuinely nice man. I never heard him speak ill of anyone, nor anyone speak ill of him. He was the lifeblood of the community for so many years, and a friend to everyone, driving his truck around the Stations and outlying dwellings, delivering and picking up mail and other items. Everyone knew Tom and everyone liked him. We will miss him so much.

“You've already heard a lot about Tom's life, but there is something not everyone knows; Tom loved poetry – especially the Australian bush poets. He could recite “The Man from Snowy River”, and “Clancy of the Overflow” by heart, and required very little prompting to do so at various functions. (That brought a smile of remembrance to many faces.) What you may not know is that his favourite poem had nothing to do with the bush at all. Tom spent most of his life out here, and told me he only ever saw the sea on about a dozen occasions, yet his favourite poem was “Sea Fever” by John Masefield – the one that starts

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by,”

It was Tom who taught me that the magnificent words of that poem was a metaphor for life itself, which Masefield describes in sea-faring terms as 'the long trick', so it is most appropriate for me to quote the final lines which are as follows:

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream, when the long trick's over.”

Sweet dreams to you Tom, my dear friend.”

In the silence that followed I stepped down from the lectern, but on my way back to my seat, I paused and pressed my lips to the polished wood of the casket and whispered “Goodbye old friend.”

When I sat down, I reached for James's hand and held it tightly.

Harry then led us in prayer and benediction, and we sang the final hymn “The Day Thou Gavest, Lord is Ended” as Tom's casket was wheeled out of the church.

Outside the church Ellen kissed me on the cheek.

“Thank you Lesley,” she said “Short and sweet – exactly what Tom would have wanted. Would you like to come with us to the cemetery?”

This I had not expected, but of course I agreed, and James and I drove up in the funeral procession, our headlights on in the time-honoured way.

When we arrived I was pleased to see that Danielle was not there, as it might have been too much for her. Apparently the friend of Ellen's who was looking after baby Tom had taken her to the church hall where the refreshments would be served.

Then Tom was laid to rest beside his beloved first wife Jenny as I knew he would be.

Later we drove back to the church hall where the CWS ladies had provided refreshments. I was pleased to see that Danielle had brightened up and was chatting animatedly with some other children. Ah, the resilience of childhood!

It's been nearly a week since Tom was buried. About once a fortnight I have been taking flowers to the cemetery to lay on the graves of John and Jenny. This time I took a third bunch for Tom's grave. After I parked and left the car I realised that Ellen was sitting beside Tom's grave. I didn't wish to intrude on her thoughts, but she looked up and saw me before I had a chance to quietly walk away, so I had no option but to approach her.

“I usually come here every two or three weeks and put flowers on John's and Jenny's graves,” I said by way of explanation.

“That's a lovely thought,” she replied.

“I brought some for Tom this time as well. I hope you don't mind,” I said, looking at his grave which was already covered in flowers.

“Of course not,” she replied. “It's very thoughtful of you.”

I carefully laid the flowers on each of the three graves – John's a little way off, and Jenny and Tom's side by side. We both stood for a moment looking at them. It's such a beautiful and peaceful spot there – the big river red gums swaying gently in the breeze, and the murmur of the little creek that runs along the boundary of the cemetery.

As we walked back to the cars, Ellen said to me “Now they're together again”. She sounded a bit wistful, and looked as though she was trying to make up her mind about something, and finally she said.

“You know when I told you what time Tom died, I heard you draw in your breath as though it had significance for you.”

I suppose I could have said it was nothing, but I felt she deserved the truth. “It's just that you said it was four o'clock in the morning – you know, that time they call 'the hour of the wolf', when most babies are born and most people die. Well that was six o'clock in New Zealand and for some reason I woke at that time and looking back it was as though I felt something significant had happened. When you told me it was the time that Tom passed away it all made sense. I don't know how you feel about such things but in my lifetime I've had experiences......well lets just say I think there is more to this world than just the things we can see. Does that sound crazy to you?”

“Not at all,” said Ellen, “And since you've shared that with me, I will share something with you. I haven't told anyone else because I thought they might laugh, but I know you won't.

“In Tom's last few minutes when his eyes were failing, I was leaning over him when he quietly, but distinctly said “Jenny”. I looked at him, and was about to say “It's Ellen, dear” when I realised he wasn't looking at me but past me. I said to him 'Yes Tom, Jenny's here too and she's come for you.' I said it because I thought it was what he wanted to hear, but now I can't help thinking that perhaps she really was in the room after all. Tom's face broke out in the most wonderful smile, and he lifted a hand off the bed as though he was reaching out, and then a few minutes later he quietly slipped away.”

I reached out and took her hand. “He did love you very much you know, he told me that,” I said to her.

She smiled “Yes, I know that, but Jenny was the love of his life. I knew that when I married him, and I never resented it. We can count ourselves lucky if we have one great love in our life.”

I didn't know how to reply to that. Was Tom the great love of her life? It didn't seem appropriate to ask. Was John the great love in my life, and if so, where did that leave James? No, in my case I am so fortunate because I've had two great loves in my life, each so special in his own way.

“I'm going to stay here,” Ellen said in answer to my unspoken question. “I've grown to love the country, and I have many friends here now.”

“I felt the same way when John died,” I said. “It's a land that can enter your heart, and you know you will never be happy living anywhere else.”

To be continued

Image credit: Australian cattle station by Harris Walker reproduced under Creative Commons license with attribution.