Chapter 12

I found out about Aaron’s death the same time as the rest of Beechworth, nearly a day later on Sunday afternoon. Patrick had come round Saturday evening, worried after talking to Mary. He took one look at me and bundled me up and took me to The Vine where he and Mary made sure I was not left alone. I couldn’t stop crying but when they asked me what had happened, I couldn’t bring myself to tell them. I thought if I didn’t say anything, then by some miracle everything would be alright and Joe would come back to me. A strange apathy overtook me, it was like a heavy cloud hanging over me and I just lay there, waiting for the next crushing blow I knew for sure would come. 

When Patrick walked in late Sunday afternoon and exchanged a glance with Mary who was sitting by my bed, I knew something had happened.  

“What is it, Patrick?” I sat up, agitated. “Tell me what’s happened, I can see it in your eyes, it’s something to do with Joe, isn’t it?” He came and took my hands in his.  

“Aaron Sherritt… He was shot last night.” I could feel the blood draining from my face and I felt dizzy.  

“No… NO!” The tears started anew. “It was Joe, wasn’t it… That’s why he came to say goodbye. Oh dear God…” I was suddenly shaken out of my apathy and got out of bed. “I have to go to him, Tom Lloyd will know where he is, he needs me, I have to be with him…” Patrick took me in his arms and held on to me.  

“Eileen, you’re in no state to go anywhere. There is nothing you can do for him now. I will go and see what I can find out but you must promise me you will stay here.” 

That was the longest day of my life. Mary sat with me as we waited for news. Even though I tried not to think about it, I knew Joe would not come back. That’s why he had come and said goodbye, he knew what he had to do and what it involved.  

“I don’t have a choice,” he had said. Killing Aaron meant Joe was past the point of no return and my heart ached for him when I thought about how he would be feeling at that moment. All I wanted was to have him in my arms. 

Mary and I had dozed fitfully throughout the night and finally in the early hours of Monday morning Patrick came back. One look at his face told me the news was grim.  

“They’re at Glenrowan. The Kelly Gang has taken hostages and they’re inside the Inn and the police are shooting at them.” I reeled. And then steely determination flooded me.  

“I’m going there.” Patrick gave Mary a despairing look and they both tried to talk me out of it but I wouldn’t give in. I would go to Joe and I didn’t care what it took, I’d walk to Glenrowan if I had to. When Patrick saw he couldn’t sway me, he gave in and agreed to come with me. 

I found out later that just after Patrick and I left The Vine that Monday morning, Aaron’s body was brought there and put in one of the outbuildings for a post-mortem to be done. I’m glad I was spared that knowledge at the time, I was sorry he was dead but all my concern was for Joe at that moment and I don’t know how I would have coped with being confronted with what he’d done. 

By the time we finally arrived at Glenrowan, the Inn was a smouldering ruin. There was a great confusion of people milling about and I couldn’t believe it when I spotted Tom Lloyd.  

“Tom, thank God! Where is he, please tell me where he is…”  Wordlessly he pulled me into his arms.  

“Oh Eileen, I’m sorry lass…”  

I clung onto him and sobbed. “No, you have to tell me where he is Tom, please, I have to see him…” He took my face gently in his hands.  

“He’s dead Eileen. They shot him. Dan and Steve are dead too and Ned might as well be. Bloody bastards took away his body with Ned, we got Dan and Steve but they wouldn’t give us Joe. They’ve taken him and Ned to Benalla on the train just now.” 

What followed was the worst thing I have ever been through in my life. Patrick and I joined Tom and other Kelly supporters and made our way to Benalla. I was so exhausted when we finally got there that Patrick got us a room at the hotel closest to the police lock-up and made me lie down, swearing he would come for me the minute he found out anything. I fell into a heavy dreamless sleep and didn’t wake up till it was already evening and so I mercifully missed what they did to Joe. I cried bitterly when Patrick told me about it; how they had strung Joe’s body on the lock-up door and let the photographers take pictures. My beautiful Joe, he didn’t deserve that final indignity. 

Ned had been taken to Melbourne on the train and it seemed inevitable that he would hang, the coppers and the powers that be would not be satisfied with anything less. I told myself that at least Joe was spared that fate. We kept a permanent vigil outside the lock-up, asking the coppers time and again for Joe’s body but they wouldn’t give him to us saying that only his family could claim him and they weren’t there. 

Tom Lloyd left with Maggie Skillion, Ned’s sister, to take the bodies of Dan and Steve back to Greta and most of the others left with them. I wouldn’t give up till I’d found out what they had done with Joe’s body and finally on Wednesday morning one of the coppers took pity on me when he saw me sitting on the lock-up steps by myself.  

“Are you Eileen?” I looked up, startled that he would know my name.  

“Yes.”  

He handed me a piece of crumpled paper.  

“Byrne had that in his pocket. He was buried last night, at the cemetery.” Before I could say anything, he was gone. I stared at the piece of paper he had given me. On top, in Joe’s handwriting, was written Eileen. I unfolded the paper and read: 

Farewell 
 
I shall never be an old man 
I will not sit at the fire remembering 
Talking of the old days and better times 
I wake each day knowing that this may be my last 
 
Know that I think of you 
Of each kiss, each smile 
Of the way that your hair falls around your face 
And how your murmur my name 
 
And when I have drawn my last breath 
Know that I have thought of you 
But do not weep for me 
Remember me and smile for what we had 

Epilogue 

He has your eyes, Joe. 

The time I carried him inside me should have been the best time of my life but instead it was the worst I have ever known. My heart was broken and I didn’t know how I would ever be able to go on. When he was born, I worried that my grief had touched him so that there would be something wrong with him and I welcomed the pain he gave me when he entered the world as my due punishment. I looked at the midwife with trepidation, my heart pounding, when I heard his first lusty cry.  

“A beautiful, healthy boy,” she smiled and held him up for me to see and I burst into tears. 

You never knew you were going to be a father. I had my chance to tell you and I couldn’t; a thousand times I have wondered if I did the right thing and a thousand times I have told myself it would have broken your heart to leave me if you had known. But you would still have left because you had to - because of who you were and what you stood for. Would you have been comforted in your dying moments by knowing that I was carrying your child, I do not know. I think I shall forever feel guilty that I robbed you of that moment of joy, however brief it might have been.  

I promise you he will know his father even though you are no longer with us. From the first day of his life I have spoken to him about you. I watched him suckle at my breast, hardly daring to touch his cheek with my finger, marvelling at the precious gift I had been given and I vowed he would be proud of who his father was. When everyone had left to let me rest, I held him in my arms and I told him about you. How we first met and the love we shared and how he came to be. 

He is still too young to understand what he is missing out on and my heart aches for all the things that he will never get to share with his father – and that you will never get to share with your son. I can so easily picture you with him, teaching him to ride a horse, to swim, to chop wood and fix things. Also I can see you carrying him on your shoulders, reading stories to him and singing him to sleep. 

I now live in Benalla. Patrick wasn’t too happy about it at first but he understood that I needed to be close to you and he and Mary visit as often as they can. Mr. Vandenberg doesn’t seem to have given up on the idea that I’ll go back and work for him again but there are too many memories for me in Beechworth.  

Your son helped me plant this tree here. It tore at my heart to think how lonely you were here, all by yourself and I thought if there was a tree at least birds would sit on its branches and sing to you. It’s just getting tall enough now to give you some shade from the sun and I find it peaceful to sit with my back resting against the trunk while I talk to you. Your son wanders off after a while, there are horses in the paddock behind the fence and they hold more interest for a child than his mother talking to a father that he cannot see. One day there was a rainbow that seemed to end in the tree and he was delighted because he thought it was all your doing. 

We come here every day. It has become part of our morning walk; he skips ahead with the flowers while I stop to exchange greetings with old Mr. Jones the cemetery caretaker and by the time I get to your grave, he has arranged the flowers and is telling you about his latest adventures. Hearing me approach, he turns and smiles and my heart stops at his likeness to you. 

He has your eyes. My beautiful Joe.