Previous Chapters: 1&2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
2023 - 2029
After having served in the Royal Air Force for many years as Physical Education Trainer, Aunt Agatha was in superb physical condition and enjoyed her daily exercise routine.
Recalling that under the terms of Rolly’s Will she was responsible for Priscilla’s training and health, Aunt decided that Priscilla would undergo a daily fitness programme to improve her circulation and heart condition and to develop any unused muscles (not that there were many: with all the hard chores, scrubbing floors, bending, using the hand mangle, scaling ladders to clean windows and mowing lawns, Priscilla had become quite strong).
While Aunt was enjoying her soft-boiled eggs and hot buttered toast in bed, Priscilla stood against the bedroom wall, with head lowered, waiting until Madam finished so that the tray and plates could be taken away. Hence, one morning Aunt advised her of her intention:
“Peters, starting tomorrow at 7am you will commence a physical fitness programme that I used while in the armed forces. You may find it a little strenuous at first, but you’ll soon get used to it and might even enjoy it.”
“Thank you, Madam; that would be lovely; it would get my blood pumping before I start my chores.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought. You will recall that some time ago Madam treated you to a gym slip, blouse and a pair of knickers from the Salvation Army jumble sale.”
“Yes, Madam.”
“You will wear them tomorrow and you’ll meet me at the end of the Lower Field, next to the sheep pens. Don’t be late.”
The following day was cold, with low rain clouds looming overhead as Priscilla jogged down to the designated rendezvous, dressed in her maroon gym slip (the colours of the Little Shipton Secondary School for Girls – clearly this uniform had belonged to one of the girls from this prestigious academic institution), maroon fleecy knickers with elastic around the bottom of the legs, white cotton blouse, striped tie, white ankle socks and gym shoes.
Madam had already arrived and was doing some warmup exercises, dressed in a navy blue sweat suit and Nike gym shoes. Priscilla curtsied, wished Madam a very Good Morning and took her place facing her gym Mistress.
“Ready, Peters, then we’ll begin with jumping jacks – first you’ll follow what I do.” Then she started jumping up and down, alternately spreading her legs and then closing them.
“Out, one two, In one two,
Out, one two, In one two,
Out, one two, In one two,
Out, one two, In one two,
Out, one two, In one two,
Out, one two, In one two…it continued for ten minutes
Priscilla started puffing.
“Now running on the spot. Start…lift those legs up, No! Higher, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right…”
A few raindrops started to fall so Madam sheltered under the overhang of the sheep pens. Priscilla was out in the open of course, beginning to inhale and exhale loudly through her mouth.
These warmup exercises were followed by 40 sit ups in the wet grass, then 40 press ups, and 40 squats. Madam was getting a little tired, so she stopped but continued shouting out orders. “Don’t slow down! Down, Up, Down, Up, Down, Up, Down, Up, Down, Up, Down, Up, Down, Up, Down, Up…”
Priscilla was gasping for breath.
“Right, now your blood is flowing nicely, start to jog around the field. Off you go!
Madam, being the trainer, remained under the eaves of the sheep pen in the dry.
“Go, go, go! --- faster, faster. You run like an old lady.” she shouted out across the field. “Come on! Faster, Peters!”
It was now raining steadily – a cold, winter rain - and the ground became muddy. Priscilla sloshed through the puddles, mud splattering over her gym shoes, socks and legs. Soon the cold water flooded into her shoes and made squelching sounds as she ran. Her gymslip was soaked and flapped heavily around her knees.
Three laps around the field and Priscilla was exhausted, gasping for air and beginning to slow down.
40 minutes of harsh exercise had been torture.
“Right! 40 more sit ups and off you go to get cleaned up ready for your chores, Peters.”
Sitting in the cold, wet mud and heaving her aching body up and down brought Priscilla to her limit: completing the 40 sit ups, she flopped back down face up in the mud, the rain beating down steadily on her body. Her heart was pounding.
“Up you get and off you go now, Peters. Tell Master Clive to drive down here and pick me up, there’s a good girl. Oh yes, tell Flo to make me a nice big mug of hot tea to warm me up, and have clean towels ready for my bath.”
This Training Routine was performed three times week.
Priscilla’s work routine never ceased: mopping, scrubbing, washing and ironing, interspersed with having her knuckles rapped with a wooden ruler for minor offenses, her backside thrashed with Tickler 2 for medium offenses, and beatings with the strap for what Madam considered to be serious breaches of etiquette, cleanliness or impunctuality. Being two minutes late was considered a serious lack of respect and deserved the strap being applied to her bare bum by an obliging Fred.
Three years had passed since Priscilla’s new life at the Hall had begun, and she was now accustomed to the work schedule, which she could usually finish easily by about midnight.
Once a year, on a Sunday afternoon, after servicing Master Clive, she would dress neatly and walk down the hill to the graveyard at St Michael’s church and place two roses on Grandpa Rolly’s grave – one red rose to recall the happy times she’d shared with him, and one white rose to mourn her present situation – situation that he had caused.
Meanwhile, in the antipodes, Kevin and Irma continued feeding, watering, vaccinating, shearing and slaughtering sheep – they already had quite a large flock.
But things were not at all happy in the wooden shack they called home. Irma yearned for the intellectual and cultural stimulation of Sydney – the orchestral concerts, the shows, the music festivals, thought provoking, and intelligent conversations with educated people. Irma particularly enjoyed watching the annual Sydney Gay& Lesbian Mardi Gras.
She’d been in the outback working hard for three years but she’d finally had enough and told Kevin that she was going to return to Sydney. She wanted to go to university and study: maybe mathematics, or science, or chemistry, or perhaps, botany.
Kevin was sad but knew that if he returned, he’d be hounded by the press and again exposed as a convicted criminal – guilty of a shameful series of acts. They parted ways amicably.
Kevin couldn’t keep up with the demanding workload alone and had to hire a local stockman of aboriginal origin who went under the name of Gurumarra, which in his native tongue signifies “Lightning with no thunder”.
Gurumarra, for his part, referred to Kevin as Boss Man.
Now that he was alone, Kevin had to do all the cooking and cleaning himself; the dust blew in under the door and through the broken windowpanes, and required constant sweeping, dusting and cleaning with a damp cloth. After Gurumarra had come in to receive work instructions, Kevin had to get down on his hands and knees and scrub the wooden floorboards clean, then Gurumarra would often return for further clarification, so the scrubbing and mopping had to be repeated. Kevin did all the washing up and the clothes washing, including Gurumarra’s work clothes.
Nasty insects and venomous spiders would crawl in under the doors and get into the bedlinen, so Kevin had to shake them out frequently and wash the sheets daily.
Deadly Eastern Brown snakes and Inland Taipans would often slither in at night and sleep in the cupboards, so Kevin had to empty the cupboards, dressers and wardrobes daily, scrub them, disinfect them and replace all the things.
As soon as he’d finished, the wind would howl over the dusty plains and blow more dust in, requiring Kevin to sweep and clean once again.
Life was one long grind of chores and cleaning but in a strange way Kevin enjoyed it; he seemed to have found his true calling in life.
Kevin had to wash all his clothes out every afternoon, so while they dried, he took to wearing a few items of clothing that Irma had left behind in her haste to go - panties, skirts, blouses, dresses, pinafores and even her bras. He lived alone, so nobody could see him, and who cared anyway? He was 1,000 miles from civilization.
He even wore summer dresses during the day; it became his New Normal.
But Gurumarra noticed Boss Man’s new choice of clothes and started calling him Bindi instead: not as you might think, to imitate Bindi Irwin, daughter of the late Steve Irwin, the crocodile man, but because Bindi in the Noongar native language means Little Girl, or Butterfly.