Letters in time

Isabel Cameron looked around the cosy room of the stone cottage. The property known as Limekilns now belonged to the estate of her brother Donald. As administratix, it was up to her to resolve the impasse for herself and her four siblings. Isabel frowned as she held the letter from the government in her hand. The amount of compensation offered by the government for their family home was paltry. “My family worked hard for this land,” she thought indignantly. Letting the document fall from her grasp, it wafted slowly to the floor. Isabel and her siblings had placed a deposit on a place at Parramatta. “We will lose our money if the compensation claim is not resolved in time.” Isabel thumped the arm of the sofa in frustration.

“Time.” Isabel let the word float in her mind. “This is indeed a turning point in time.” Much like it was for an earlier generation. Isabel’s father Angus emigrated to Australia with his four brothers and sisters. Isabel thought of another letter, from her aunt, Sarah Cameron, addressed to Miss Cameron, back in Scotland. The last she saw of it was when her mother showed it to her. “Ma put it back in the photograph album near the photo of Sarah Cameron as a young woman. Isabel rose to her feet. Brushing the creases from her skirt, she headed for the bookcase. She searched the shelves until she found what she sought. The photo album was bound in brown leather and was a treasured possession. Isabel carefully went through its pages until she found the photograph of Aunty Sarah and a folded piece of paper. Isabel smiled in delight.

Isabel stared at the photo of a much younger version of her aunt. She moved closer to the window to let the natural light shine on the image for a better look. A rainbow streak of light danced across the stern face of Sarah Cameron. Isabel gently placed her finger on the cheek of her aunt and was more than astounded when she saw the eyes move! Isabel started as she looked closer at the image. The nose wrinkled and the lips twitched. Isabel dropped the album and stepped away from it in fright. “I must be going mad!” she cried as she put both hands to her cheeks in distress. Isabel picked up the album slowly and returned to the page which had disturbed her so much. The photo looked as it should, Isabel stared at it for a long minute, breathing a sigh of relief as she picked up the letter and turned her attention to it, unfolding it and swallowing hard she started to read.

Aunty Sarah was describing how they travelled to their new home, to work on the estate with other highlanders brought out by landowner Robert Campbell. A voice with a strong Scots brogue started to speak the words aloud as Isabel read them!

We took the mail coach from Sydney to this place which is 200 miles Melbourne ward.

Isabel flung the letter down and stood up quickly. “Who’s speaking?”. She turned around in a flourish and Isabel heard a chuckle and then more words in that Scots accent, so like her father’s. “Why it’s me lass, your auntie Sarah.” Isabel glanced around the room her eyes wide. “That’s impossible.” cried Isabel. “Nae lass.” The disembodied voice spoke again, this time speaking firmly. “Have another look at my photo.” Isabel picked up the album and saw that it was still on the same page as before. The portrait of Sarah Cameron now had a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her face. “Sit down lass and I will tell you more of what is in my letter.”

Isabel’s knees buckled as she sank into the sofa. Sarah’s voice took up the narrative once more.

The road between here and Sydney leads through a thick bush you would think whether a man or beast could live in but still there are some beautiful plains.

“Da and his family chose to come halfway round the world to start a new life. “Isabel murmured as Sarah paused for a moment. Isabel’s attention returned as Sarah was explaining that she works for:

One Mr Palmer. My wages is 30 pound a year, but I get paid by the month. We have great reason of thankfulness; we are all within five miles of one another. They are all with the same master.

Isabel recalled that Mr Palmer owned a neighbouring estate to Duntroon where her father and uncles had worked as shepherds. “Duntroon’s owner, Robert Campbell was an unusual man,” she thought. “Not like most settlers at the time who employed convicts to work their land. My family was lucky to have Mr Campbell as an employer; he gave them a start by building the cottage on the estate with room to grow vegetables and house a dairy cow.”

Isabel looked down at the photo album, the photo of Sarah had ceased moving and looked the same as it always had. Isabel sighed heavily. The stress of the last few days was really getting to her. Isabel shook her head as she mused. “Now that’s all gone. It took Ma and Da years to pay off the land. “She bent and picked up the government letter off the floor. Resumption of land, the emboldened words shouted at her from the page. “Why did they have to pick our land for the capital of this country?” Isabel’s eyes filled with tears of resentment.

“It’s not only our family that’s affected.” She reminded herself sharply. “There are more than one family in this district called Cameron even.” “We are the Majura Cameron’s”. Isabel sat up straighter in her chair with pride. Families with the same name were given a prefix of their location. “This is affecting the Glebe Cameron’s and the Ginninderra Cameron’s as well,” she realised.

Isabel never thought this day would come. She remembered the arguments about where the new city, to govern the nation, would be built. For seven years the politicians had been talking about a site best suited for the nation’s capital. “In the end a compromise was reached,” she thought bitterly. “And we are the ones that are compromised.” Isabel surprised herself by saying these last words out loud. She would miss the farm deeply. “Over time, Limekilns had grown from a cottage on a small plot of land to a complex of buildings with almost a thousand acres.”

“Time.” Isabel’s thoughts had come full circle. “The Majura Cameron’s are strong and resilient,” she reflected. “We will survive,” she concluded firmly. The photo album lay neglected next to Isabel on the sofa. The portrait’s stern countenance had changed to a satisfied grin.