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Chapters (68)
  1. Dedication
  2. Clancy of The Overflow
  3. Chapter 1
  4. Chapter 2
  5. Chapter 3
  6. Chapter 4
  7. Chapter 5
  8. Chapter 6
  9. Chapter 7
  10. Chapter 8
  11. Chapter 9
  12. Chapter 10
  13. Chapter 11
  14. Chapter 12
  15. Chapter 13
  16. Chapter 14
  17. Chapter 15
  18. Chapter 16
  19. Chapter 17
  20. Chapter 18
  21. Chapter 19
  22. Chapter 20
  23. Chapter 21
  24. Chapter 22
  25. Chapter 23
  26. Chapter 24
  27. Chapter 25
  28. Chapter 26
  29. Chapter 27
  30. Chapter 28
  31. Chapter 29
  32. Chapter 30
  33. Chapter 31
  34. Chapter 32
  35. Chapter 33
  36. Chapter 34
  37. Chapter 35
  38. Chapter 36
  39. Chapter 37
  40. Chapter 38
  41. Chapter 39
  42. Chapter 40
  43. Chapter 41
  44. Chapter 42
  45. Chapter 43
  46. Chapter 44
  47. Chapter 45
  48. Chapter 46
  49. Chapter 47
  50. Chapter 48
  51. Chapter 49
  52. Chapter 50
  53. Chapter 51
  54. Chapter 52
  55. Chapter 53
  56. Chapter 54
  57. Chapter 55
  58. Chapter 56
  59. Chapter 57
  60. Chapter 58
  61. Chapter 59
  62. Chapter 60
  63. Chapter 61
  64. Chapter 62
  65. Chapter 63
  66. Chapter 64
  67. Author’s Note
  68. About the Author

Yet as he looked at the catalogues, and the magazines that Maria forwarded to them too, he began to see their contents were not merely fripperies for the women who would read them. The magazines spoke of civilisation in the wilderness, of comfort and, yes, of fashion. But more importantly they offered ways to express love and partnership: how a woman could create a home from a bark hut, and a man show his love by providing the means to buy a gilded clock for the mantelpiece, or a beaded stool.

It was only after weeks of trying to get his wife to show interest in any of the objects on the pages that she finally looked — really looked — at a set of china dogs, Mama, Papa and six puppies barking, sneaking, heads resting on their paws. Finally she spoke. ‘Really, Clancy, those are totally bourgeois. No one with any taste could even think of buying anything from catalogues like these.’

She stood and left him then, to wait for him in their bedroom, where he would undo the buttons on the back of her dress so she could change for bed — she needed assistance to wear even the simplest of her country dresses, faded now by sunlight and washing with coarse soap.

He sat, staring at the magazines, then put the whole lot out in the pile to be torn up for lavatory paper and hooked onto the wire in the dunny. For the first time he realised that even though his wife liked Maria, perhaps even loved her, had never recoiled from her deformity, she had not respected her.

Bourgeois. Maria was bourgeois. This house, at its best — whether under Maria’s past care or Flora’s in the future — would be bourgeois.

And any house that — rain willing — he might provide for her in Sydney? That must be middle class too. The Clancys would not, could not, aspire to live like aristocracy again, or even the squattocracy of the Drinkwaters. There would be no butlers and no lobster puffs.

Ezekiel was already snoring. Clancy checked on Clementine, smiling in her sleep, then went to help his wife undress.

Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Kangaroo and Pumpkin Stew

The tail and back strap of the kangaroo, or the haunch, provide the best meat. Chop into small pieces. Cover with water. Boil for part of the morning. If the kangaroo is an old one, replace the water to remove the strong flavour. Add pumpkin pieces a short time before serving. Onions, parsnips, potatoes, chokos, pumpkin tendrils, dried corn or other vegetables on hand may be added too.

OVERFLOW, 1881

FLORA

Ezekiel gazed at Mrs Taylor’s kangaroo and pumpkin stew — much the colour and texture of the mess Clementine used to make in her napkins. One of Mrs Taylor’s sons had the croup, and she had let the stew burn when she went to check on him. He said, without looking at Flora, ‘You could at least learn to cook, woman.’