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For Lucy, looking back in latter years, it seemed to her that the period from 1921 to 1927 represented the hardest time for living on the smallholding. During those years the market price for primary products continually fluctuated and especially so in 1921/22 when there was a serious depression in the dairy industry. Even though government was forced to actively participate in subsidising farmers financially through the local co-operatives as prices for primary products dropped, the constant worry of endeavouring to make his limited resources stretch to cover increasing liabilities, coupled with an inability to meet his total borrowing costs, began to affect Robert’s health. But there was little he could do but soldier on. He was producing more but receiving less in the sum total for his farm products. What he received for his produce was beyond his control he simply had to manage as best he could on the amount he received.
By 1923, although Bob at the age of 15 was helping him all the time, Robert was no longer capable of carrying out a full day’s work. He was 73 and it was as though his physical strength had literally drained away over night. He could not summon up enough energy to complete all the labour necessary to keep the farm turning over, and some three years after re-stocking on his cows he was forced to sell some of the animals.
Reducing his stock also reduced his income and turned his situation into a downward spiral. With an income that was steadily declining through reduced production turnover combined with the economic downturn in the price available to him for his farm products, there was no money available to see to repairs and renovations. Within a period of eighteen months the appearance of the farm began to deteriorate and gradually turned into something of a rural slum. Vegetation grew over the smaller sheds clutching the wooden buildings in a strangulation grasp, and weeds pushed their way through the cracks in the concrete floors. The leaking roofs became a more significant feature of the cowsheds and other outbuildings and bits of timber from discarded crates were used to patch the offending holes. Anything that was to hand or could be purloined from neighbours was used to crudely mend the buildings where they were repairable. Broken windows were disguised with plastic sheeting through which the wind ripped when they split. Gradually over the years the whole farm became a symptom of rural poverty and neglect.
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Robert had never had the resources or the physical energy necessary to get the farm into the sort of condition he had envisaged when he first purchased it. His aspirations had always been more substantial than his ability. Gorse, ferns, the odd dead tree trunk and blackberry bushes still monopolized some paddocks. Perhaps its gradual deterioration was not so noticeable to him, or perhaps knowing that there was little he could do about the situation he settled into an acceptance of aging decline, both for himself and the property. There could be no better tomorrow only a need to preserve what there was now.
Vinnie remained living at the farmhouse, but she now cycled to the Girls High School where she was teaching. She also taught both the piano and the violin to a number of private pupils who came to the farmhouse. The time she had available to help with farm chores was limited, and in any event she had never been overly keen on helping with the animals. She much preferred to help in the house if she had to. Although her income contributed towards their survival, Robert was forced to further encumber the property. They lived on the food they produced themselves from the vegetable garden with some meat and not a great deal more.
Peter continued to help out financially with essentials for their survival, but he could see that the condition of the farm itself was now beyond Robert’s control. He thought there was little point in throwing good money after bad. Funds that Robert had received in the past had not borne any visible substantial returns and Peter decided to reserve his money. He would provide Lucy with essentials that were useful to their everyday lives only, but he was no longer prepared to give Robert money which he knew would not be wisely spent. He could see that the property was aging with Robert.
What a disappointment it must have all seemed to Lucy. She had spent years battling away on the land with Robert endeavouring to make some sort of living that had gradually been eroded by economic circumstances and the aging process of time. And what did they have to show for all their effort? They held limited respect for each other. A mutual affection that was constant and unvarying. They had the very real friendship of a few people who sympathised with their plight. With a bit of help from Peter they could just about feed and clothe themselves. Their participation in community life was narrow and confined to their local neighbours and little more, though for Vinnie it was wider ranging, and they were living in poverty in a rural slum and as near to squalor as one could get. Robert had had his dream, but at what a cost.
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For three further years they continued at the farm, overseeing its decline, and then one morning in 1927 when he was working with Bob in one of the back paddocks and was halfway through a conversation Robert suffered a massive heart attack and died without recovering. He had been unwell for some time and in view of the state of his health it was not surprising though it did not lessen the sadness of the event. As to how much, the constant worry of surviving and working beyond his physical ability contributed to his cause of death, it is difficult to know. But he was a fair age for those times going on for 77, not an age that many people would quibble about as being unacceptable.
Bob ran back to the farmhouse and told Lucy. Then he took the horse and cart to the Greening’s farm to get one of the Greening boys to help carry Robert’s body back to the house. He was laid in the front room.
Lucy stood on the front porch of the farmhouse awaiting the arrival of the doctor. Sixteen years they had been there, it had been their farm, and shortly it would be no more. Robert had not told her of the true financial situation of the farm. He would not discuss the matter with her, but she was no fool she knew that things were bad, and had got worse since 1920. “It was a shame that he had been so stubborn,” she said to herself. “If he had accepted that buying the farm was a mistake in the first few years it might not have been too late to change to something else,” she sighed. He had done what he wanted in life at the expense of everything and everybody else. Nothing else had mattered to him only his view of what he wanted. Looking around her at the dilapidated state of the farm, she thought, there was scant proof to show for all his labour, and she wondered whether there would be anything left to hand on to Bob. Turning the farm into a reasonable livelihood had all been beyond his capability and a dreadful failure. A terrible sadness came over her.
Vinnie came out from the house her eyes red and puffy. “Are you going to ring Dad Auntie, or do you want me to go over to the Greenings and use their telephone?”
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“No, I’ll go,” said Lucy. “Ask Bob to bring the cart round would you?” She would have to go and sort matters out.
Bob brought the horse and cart to the front porch and handed the reins to Lucy with his large broad hands, his widespread face forlorn.
“Will you see to the doctor when he arrives please Bob? Tell him I won’t be long,” she said. He nodded.
From the Greening’s farm she rang Peter. “Peter?” she said. “This is Lucy. Robert has died. I’m waiting for the doctor to come. I’ll have to arrange the funeral, probably for Thursday week. I’m uncertain whether Vinnie and I will be able to stay after the farm accounts are squared. We might have to move out.”
Her conversation was stilted. She felt almost too numb to speak. Too detached to accept the reality of the situation. She knew that Robert had not been well and that he had recently been working at a slower pace, but the end had been so sudden and abrupt that she still couldn‘t quite believe the reality of the situation. Only that morning he had been chatting over breakfast, saying he would repair the farm gate in the afternoon, and now he was gone.
“I’ll come down immediately. I have a couple of things to attend to but I should be with you by the beginning of next week,” said Peter. “Don’t do anything until I arrive. I‘ll speak to your brother. He‘ll attend to the funeral. Don‘t worry about it. Things will be sorted out,” he said, and he hung up.
She felt a sudden feeling of relief. She felt suddenly old and she didn’t want to have to manage anymore. She was 66 and today she felt 100.
Amelia fed her a strong hot cup of tea laced with brandy then she rang her brother and spoke to Jane who was saddened, but not surprised at the news. One of Amelia’s sons, John, took Lucy back to the farm in the horse and cart. Robert might be dead but the cows still had to be milked and all the animals fed. Farm life had to go on. Farming couldn’t stop because a person had died. Farming didn’t take account of the fragility of humanity. John set about helping with the milking and an hour or so later Dan Philllips another neighbour’s son arrived to help. The two men would continue to assist Lucy and Bob with the farm until it was taken out of her hands.
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Early the following morning Robert and Jane Mascall arrived in their recently acquired motor vehicle. Peter had spoken to Robert and he had set in train the legalities required to assess the extent of his brother-in-law’s indebtedness together with the funeral arrangements. Lucy occupied herself by sorting out items of clothing that would be of no use to Bob and could be put in the second-hand shop in the town for sale. It kept her mind off future concerns. Jane helped.
When he arrived from Auckland Peter took over complete control of the financial situation. He had wisely refrained from spending any more money on projects connected with the farm in recent years since he knew the benefit would not come back to his family. Peter had long since realised that Robert knew the farm was bankrupt and in that respect he was better appraised of the financial situation than even Lucy.
But, it could be said, that in 1927 Robert was slightly more fortunate than the hundreds of ex-servicemen who in 1920 spent their cheap government rehabilitation loans on the purchase of farms and in the following year walked off the land unable to service their debts when the economy slumped. At least in 1927 Robert could not be turned off the land because he could not meet his commitments for the farm, in that respect government was now subsidising the smallholder farmers. However in the long term it simply meant that, as in Robert’s case, when he died, all chattels and effects together with the mortgaged property were seized in payment of the outstanding debts and the dependents were without any rights whatsoever.
The farm was taken under the control of the Public Trustee and within a few days it was quickly seen that every single item and animal would need to be sold, including all furniture and effects in the farmhouse, to meet the sum total due to creditors. The farm was totally bankrupt, and indeed more was owed than could be obtained from the sale of the property and its effects. All Lucy’s personal possessions including her precious china that had been given to her by Jack and Edith and was of great sentimental value would be taken, and she and Vinnie would walk off the land in the clothes they were wearing, with nothing more, without a penny and be destitute.
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When the full extent of the bankruptcy was realised Peter went to the office of the Public Trustee to see what could be done about the position. He wasn’t a hard nosed businessman for nothing. He was good at tactical negotiations and perhaps he might have hinted to the Public Trustee that adverse publicity (he had a vested interest in the newspaper business in Auckland) would not benefit the position of the government. After all it wouldn’t look too good for the government to be seen as “grasping” and to be turning helpless women out onto the street to beg in order to obtain it‘s “pound of flesh”. Morally such a move would be seen as an indication that government was impervious to the needs of its population and unjust in its tactics. Such publicity might unseat a government at the next election if used with subtlety and skill.
It took a few days of careful bartering, but in the end Peter paid off a certain amount of the debt owing to creditors in exchange for Lucy being able to keep her precious china and personal possessions, a few items of furniture that were most dear to her, and for Vinnie being able to retain her personal possessions unsullied by debt. He could afford the money. He was paying Lucy back for raising the children that he had not cared enough about to raise himself, and probably he was doing it for Maggie as well. He was salving his conscience under the pretext of generosity.
Lucy was given a month’s notice to quit the premises. The farm was to be put up for auction and the proceeds would be used to reimburse the creditors, in the main, the government. All the animals would be sold as well, though John Greening had agreed to have the dogs and they were quietly removed from the farm before the official from the Public Trustee’s office arrived, so he was unaware of their existence - the cat had long since gone wild.
That must have been the hardest part - seeing the animals go. Watching them noisily being cajoled into the trucks, pushed up the ramps and crated up to be taken away to redeem a debt. Not being able to look upon them again. Not knowing whether they would go to good farms or be slaughtered. Uncertain as to whether the officials cared enough to carry out the best policy for the good of the animals or whether obtaining the funds for them was all that mattered. A farm is not a farm without animals and the land was a vast desolate emptiness bereft of noise once they had gone and only their smell lingered in the sheds and on the fields. There was nothing to get up for in the morning, no dogs demanding their breakfast or other animals to feed, no cows to milk or horses to stroke, there was just silence. The whole house was sombre and a morbid stillness hung over the fields.
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Lucy came down the following morning to the silence and sat down and cried in a way that she had not done for years, not since Maggie’s death. Cried in grief in the emptiness and solitude for Robert’s dream that had become a mire of sorrow and regret and in misery at the futility of her life, for Vinnie and Maggie and Bob’s lost opportunity and for all that might have been and never was. She sat on the front veranda in Robert’s rocker looking out at the rolling green hills and the empty fields which the gorse and blackberries had in recent years systematically reclaimed as their own. In two weeks’ time they would all have to leave the farm, but now she could only sit and remember how it had once been.
Peter had returned to Auckland for a few days but on the following Monday he turned up in a crisp cool autumn afternoon. Vinnie was teaching at school. Bob had gone to the pub where he usually retreated to “get out of the way.” He was drinking alcohol under age at nineteen, though in the country little notice was taken of the “no alcohol under twenty-one” rule at the public houses - one of the games undertaken by the big strapping local farm lads of fifteen was to see how often they could get into a pub to drink before being thrown out.
Peter stood on the front porch of the farmhouse and examined the notice to quit and Lucy asked. “What are we to do? We now have nowhere to live.”
“You can all come up to Auckland,” he said.
“That is kind of you Peter,” she replied, and she genuinely meant it. She was grateful to him for his good intentions. He meant well and in their time of need he had turned up trumps. Her eyes were watering and glassy as she looked out of the kitchen window at the lush long grass that was taking over the fields. How different the fields looked. Already the farm was not the farm it had once been. It had become another farm a strange environment with which she was not familiar.
“I don’t know anybody in Auckland except you and Glad and Dot,” she said slowly, “and all my friends are here in New Plymouth as well as Robert and Jane. It would make life extremely difficult for Vinnie if she had to start all over again in Auckland, finding new employment, friends and new pupils. No, it is better that Vinnie and I stay here.” She was quite firm about the decision.
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“In that case we better find you a house or have one built for you both,” said Peter, in his matter of fact voice. “We’ll go and see what’s around at the end of the week.”
And on Thursday they visited one or two properties that were for sale but settled on a vacant site in Walace Place in the centre of New Plymouth. It was not a large “section” (plot of land) but it would adequately sustain a small wooden bungalow, stained in creosote, and that would suit Lucy and Vinnie. The new house would have electricity and/or gas, telephone, flush toilets and plumbed in hot water facilities. There would be all the comforts of modern life as known at that time, all the comforts that there had not been on the farm.
Until the house was built Vinnie would move in with Robert and Jane. It would be cramped but she would make do. She would be able to continue with her livelihood of teaching her pupils in the front parlour of their house. She had a wide circle of friends in New Plymouth and she would not be lonely. Lucy and Bob would travel up to Auckland to stay with Glad. Peter would remain in New Plymouth for three weeks in lodgings to see to the building of the house in Walace Place and after that Robert Mascall would keep a careful eye on its construction.
It was the wisest thing to do. Lucy didn’t want to have to face moving to another town to start another life. She was too old for all that. She had spent the better part of her life in this small town. Here she had a few good close friends and here she intended to stay. Vinnie had her own life in the community in New Plymouth and her own friends here. She would have been reluctant to move even though Dot was in Auckland. But as the years had lengthened Vinnie had seen less of Dot who was busy with her new social life in Auckland. Dot now visited New Plymouth less frequently and she and Vinnie had less in common than they had had in early childhood.
Robert’s funeral was held six days after his death. He was buried in New Plymouth at a very simple ceremony with some forty people attending. For the most part the mourners were other smallholder farmers from the area. There were a few businessmen from New Plymouth who were friends of very long standing, such as Robert Mascall’s employer, and some “investors” whom Robert had known from Auckland. Of course all the family on the farm, together with Peter, Glad, Dot, Robert Mascall and Jane were there as well.
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Most of the party came back to the farmhouse after the funeral. There was a certain melancholy in the air but not the sort of sadness reserved for the death of a younger person. Robert had lived to a good age with a varied life and good health up to the last few years and not too many people are so fortunate. He had done what he wanted above all else in life even if his rate of success with regard to farming had not been high.
Vinnie stood on the front porch with Dot and looked out across the empty fields now bristling with long grass and gorse, the dilapidated barn and sheds and the barbed wire fencing collapsing, in part, by the caressing of the marauding blackberry bushes and tried to remember how it had been when they first came to the farm so long ago.
“It is so weird without the animals,” said Dot. “I miss the horses most of all.”
“Uncle Todd loved it here in the beginning,” said Vinnie and she sighed. “Towards the end he was unwell and I thought he seemed very sad.”
“It’s not always possible to get what you want in life, even if you work hard for it. Working hard doesn‘t always reap its own rewards,” said Dot philosophically leaning against the porch upright and then deciding against it. “I just think he bit off more than he could chew.”
Vinnie smiled. Dot’s phrasing amused her. She always resorted to cliches.
“Perhaps, he found that his own limitations were not acceptable,” Vinnie said. “He searched for his utopia in life, but it was always just beyond his grasp. He never could quite touch it. There was no happy ending for him only dissatisfaction with his life’s achievement.”
There was a silence and then Dot said. “Bob will miss it here.”
“Yes, I don’t somehow think he will be coming back to New Plymouth,” Vinnie replied. “He is talking of getting a job as a carpenter’s apprentice in Auckland. He is suited to manual work, but he will miss the animals. He will certainly remember the farm as the most pleasurable part of his childhood.”
“Do you think you’ll like living away from here?” asked Dot.
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Vinnie paused and replied. “I am ready for a change. I have a good many friends in town and I have my music and that’s what matters most to me now. It‘s not only my livelihood but the most pleasurable side of my life. Auntie and I will be quite happy together,” and she smiled.
“I’ll come down when you and Auntie have settled in. I can always stay with Aunt Jane,” said Dot.
“Yes, that’d be nice,” said Vinnie. She looked out again at the farmyard and sighed. “I think we could say that living here has been a unique experience. We know what it’s like to have been in the 19th century, we have lived there.”
“I’m for the present,” said Dot with the carelessness and irreverence of youth. “The past can take care of itself. I don’t see any point in looking back. I‘ll remember it here on the farm. I‘ll remember the enjoyment we had with Uncle Todd and the animals, but most of all I’ll remember the awful hard work, for all the good it did us.”
Vinnie smiled sadly. “Yes, ours was certainly a tale of raw survival.”
For a few minutes they stood in silence in the hush of the late afternoon immersed in thoughts of their childhood on the farm and then Vinnie said. “Come on we better go in,” and they turned their backs on the unkempt fields and went inside the farmhouse to join the others.
A few days later the personal possessions of both Lucy and Vinnie were crated up at the farmhouse. Some were stored at Jane’s house and others were put in store in New Plymouth until such time as the new house would be ready. Vinnie took the last of the items from the farmhouse and Lucy went back and spent a few minutes alone inside the building. Then she came out, locked the door and stood on the porch for a few minutes sorrowfully eyeing the rural decay around her, and looking at the spot where Robert used to sit in the rocker smoking his pipe in the evenings.
She walked slowly to Peter’s car. Vinnie was in the back seat. Bob was driving and Lucy sat next to him, her mouth constrained in a thin tight line. She looked straight ahead. Bob started up the car and it moved carefully and slowly along the bumpy rutted track away from the farm and out onto Frankley Road.
-- THE END --