Daughter of Darkness

By Christine Gardner

In 1944, during the Second World War, Clara and two other young women work on a farm, as part of the Women's Land Army. Clara enjoys the lifestyle and the hard work helps her get through each day. No matter how busy she is though, she can never forget the horror she faced seven years earlier.

Her family was a happy one, with Clara and Ruth gradually taking over the running of the teashop in Lindari, a pretty country town set in beautiful green hills. Their father died when Clara was only four but she remembers him still. When their mother died they still managed to keep the business running and their life was quiet and pleasant, until one night everything changed and Clara was left alone and devastated.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christine Gardner
• Release date: Dec 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201722067

Christine Gardner

Christine has had a fascination for history most of her life. When the youngest of her five sons started school Christine went back to school as well. After several years at TAFE, studying both visual arts and writing, she went to university and eventually graduated with a BA in History/Philosophy of Religion, with Honours. She's written all kinds of books since then, most with at least some history included.

Book preview

DAUGHTER OF DARKNESS

CHAPTER 1

Clara 1944

It looked as if it was going to rain, but Clara had nearly finished ploughing the paddock, so she kept going, her thoughts elsewhere. No matter what she was doing her thoughts were always elsewhere. Her memory of that dreadful night, so long ago now, was not exactly clear but neither could she forget it; her life had changed forever. Working out here on the farm helped her concentrate on something else, which was why she kept as busy as possible. The wind was blowing red dust all over her, and she was thankful she’d at least tied a scarf over her head. By the time she got to the gate the spitting rain had become a deluge; she parked the tractor in the shed and ran to the house. The door opened just as she reached for the doorknob.

Come in, love, you’re drenched! And covered in mud.

She took her boots off and Mrs Woodruff took her coat. Off you go to the bath, love, and I’ll fix you a cuppa.

Thanks. She smiled and hurried off to the bathroom. Mrs Woodruff treated all the girls like family, but she could talk nonstop for hours and Clara needed a bath and some dry clothes right away. She hurried to the bathroom, which fortunately was vacant, turned the taps to full bore and stripped off her muddy clothes. The water was deliciously warm and she breathed a sigh of relief as she felt it cover her, like a silky warm blanket. Someone knocked on the door and she sang out. I’m in the bath! She wasn’t too concerned though, because there were no men around apart from old Mr Woodruff, who was probably somewhere in his huge shed, pottering around with his machinery. It was bound to be one of the girls.

Gracie opened the door and grinned. I just need to grab my face cream, Clara. How was your day?

It was fine until the dust came up and then the rain. What were you up to?

Helping Woody with the sheep. Dipping.

Ugh. I’d rather drive the tractor.

You get used to it. Better than working in the factory back in Melbourne.

Clara nodded. It’s nicer here, that’s for sure. Now go away and let me have my bath in peace.

Gracie grinned again and grabbed some face cream from the cupboard under the hand basin. See you when you get out of there. I wouldn’t hurry—you’re the last one in the ranks.

Clara waved at her and sank down under the water, which was already cooling down. Her tranquillity spoiled, she decided she may as well get out. A cup of tea wouldn’t go astray.

There were three girls at Woodruff’s farm and enough work to keep them busy without overdoing it. Mr Woodruff, who preferred to be called Woody, was very respectful and treated them all as ladies—not just ladies, but perhaps the daughters he never had. There were two sons, both fighting in Europe, as were so many of the young men from Australia. The Women’s Land Army were doing as much as they could to help the farmers whose sons and other workers were fighting many miles away from home. Of course they had neither the knowledge nor the experience of those who grew up on farms, but they worked hard and did the best they could.

Mrs Woodruff was already cooking shepherd’s pie for tea, which was one of Clara’s favourites, along with roast lamb. She wasn’t fond of lambs fry, but since she didn’t like to say so, managed to eat it anyway and had become used to it. The Woodruffs were good to the girls and, hard work or not, Clara was very glad to be there and knew she’d never forget the experience. The isolation of the farm, along with the easy-going calm of the Woodruffs, made her feel safer than she’d felt for years.

Tea will be a while yet dear, but it’s not too late to have a cuppa.

Thanks, Mrs Woodruff. I could really use one.

Just top it up then. The other girls have just had theirs.

Clara went to the stove, carefully picked up the kettle and poured about two cups of water into the teapot sitting on the edge of the wood stove. Mrs Woodruff put two cups and saucers on the table along with a jug of milk from the refrigerator. I’ll have another one. She smiled. No such thing as too much tea.

Clara turned the teapot around six times and poured the hot black tea into the two cups before she sat down. She added a drop of milk and sipped her tea slowly. Mrs Woodruff drank hers so quickly Clara wondered how she didn’t burn her mouth.

It seemed she read Clara’s mind and Clara realised she might have been staring. Yes, I like my tea hot, Mrs Woodruff said. You city girls are a bit soft compared to us country women. She smiled. You’re damn good at all the work you’re doing though, I have to admit. Damn good. And by the way, you can stop calling me Mrs Woodruff. That’s my mother-in-law and she doesn’t like it either. I’m June.

Clara returned her smile and finished her tea. Can I help with anything, June?

She shook her head. No you can’t. Go and have a natter with the other girls and tell them what my name is. You can all stay out of my way here, just like my sons when they’re home. You’re doing their work, not mine. She went very quiet just for a few seconds and Clara could see she was worried about her sons. Of course she was; they were on the other side of the world, risking their lives every hour of every day. She put her hand on June’s, resting on the table, and she immediately pulled away and stood up. Off with you. I’ve got work to do.

After she washed her cup Clara went to Marge’s room. She had a bedroom to herself, while Gracie and Clara shared their room. Clara was happy to share; she felt safer when someone was nearby. Gracie wasn’t bothered about sharing a room and neither of them snored, so they got on pretty well. Marge had a bit more space so when they were all together they tended to be in her room.

There you are, Gracie said, as Clara poked her head around the door. About time. I thought you must have gone to sleep in the bath.

I just had a cup of tea with Mrs Woodruff. She said we should call her June now.

Marge nodded. Good. She’s such a nice woman, isn’t she?

And Woody’s a sweetheart too, Gracie said. We were so lucky to end up here.

Fresh air and all, Clara said, as she flopped down on Marge’s bed.

Oh help yourself, Marge said.

Clara grinned. I am, thank you. Marge’s bed was a double, which the eldest Woodruff son, Jake, slept in. The mattress was a bit more firm than Clara was used to, but it was nice to spread out, until Gracie and Marge both flopped down beside her. Better not go to sleep, girls, she said, before she shut her eyes.

June’s knocking on the door woke them all up at once. She stuck her head around the door. Anyone hungry?

They got to their feet very quickly and Gracie noticed a photo on the wall beside the door, as they were on their way out. It was Jake, she knew, because they’d seen a photo of the two Woodruff boys together, in the loungeroom. He was dressed in uniform in this one and looked different, serious, but very handsome. Both his hair and eyes were dark but she couldn’t tell what colour of course; something about his eyes made him look kind. A nice bloke, she was sure.

Clara, did you see this?

Clara turned around and walked the few steps back to the bedroom. What?

Gracie grinned and grabbed her arm. Take a look at the bloke whose bed Marge is sleeping in!

Marge was still close enough to hear that and smiled. He does look nice, doesn’t he?

He can put his shoes under my bed any time!

Gracie! Behave yourself. Clara looked up at the photo and nodded. He looks like a very nice man and since he’s the son of Woody and June I wouldn’t expect any different. Right now he’s fighting a war and you’re going to have to wait till he gets home.

Yes, Mum, Gracie grinned. You have more patience than me though. Maybe I’ll find someone else a bit closer to home.

All the good ones are over there though, Marge said.

Gracie shook her head. There’re some blokes who had to stay home because they’re essential workers.

"Girls!’ June was calling out.

Oops, Marge said. Better get a move on before Woody eats our tea.

Woody was waiting at the table and they all sat down and passed the shepherd’s pie around. June had cooked two pies because she knew, ladies or not, they were all good eaters and loved her shepherd’s pie.

If it’s raining tomorrow there’s not much you ladies can do, Woody said.

Is there anything in the shed we can help with? Gracie asked and he shook his head.

Not that I can think of, but let’s wait and see.

They had rhubarb and apple crumble for dessert, with cream, followed by another cup of tea.

There’s some dessert left. Anyone still hungry? June asked.

They all shook their heads, even Woody. No thanks, love. I’m full as a boot and I think we all are. Might be nice for breakfast though.

June nodded. Or a midnight snack. It’ll be in the fridge, so help yourselves if you feel like it later.

"Thanks,