Not a Peony Bush by Dorothy Murray Synopsis This is a story of my family, or rather, of some members of my family. Not that they were famous - or even infamous. Nor were they immensely wealthy, in the ranks of high society, or politically powerful. They were Just ordinary people leading ordinary lives, yet there is enough of interest in each of their life stories to warrant the recording of condensed accounts of their years on earth before these anecdotes are lost forever with the passing of the years. I have adopted the idea of the family tree as the framework for these essentially true stories and hence, even though Book 3 is an "Epilogue", the book is of necessity incomplete in the sense that the family is still vibrant and will hopefully, continue to be so for centuries to come, so that at no given point in time can "THE END" be truthfully written. The book is divided into three segments: Book 1, entitled "Some Early Branches", deals with true stories of some of my ancestors, tracing their lives and the varied circumstances which caused them to settle in Australia from such widely differing countries as America, Scotland and England. A lot of research about the times in which these great-grandparents and grandparents lived has been carried out so that 1 could tie in their personal stories gleaned from old family records and from tales recounted to me by my parents, with historical events which played some part in their lives. However, no attempt to create a historical novel as such has been made - more emphasis is placed on the personal rather than the historical. Book 2 I have called "Memories" and this deals with my own childhood in Sydney up to the time of my marriage in 1943. A lot of memories of Manly and district in the 30'S and 40'S are dealt with in this segment and, once again, historical events such as the opening of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Japanese submarine infiltration of Sydney Harbour during World War 11 are tied in with my own personal life history. Topics such as Politics, Sex, Religion, Education etc. are treated from a child's viewpoint. Book 3 is titled "Epilogue" and consists of only three short chapters - "Birth", "Death", "And Birth Again", and these three chapters tie up the loose ends and bring the family story up-to-date. They deal with the birth of our four children, the death of my parents, and the birth of the grandchildren to whom is now entrusted the future growth of the family tree. No attempt has been made to write about my husband's side of the family, so that the "tree" is necessarily lopsided. Dorothy Murray, 1976. I am the family face; Flesh perishes, I live on, Projecting trait and trace Through time to times anon, And leaping from place to place Over oblivion. Thomas Hardy, "Heredity" Moments of Vision (1917) DEDICATION This book is dedicated to Cathy, Kevin, Helen and Christine, the four young branches on the family tree for whom my husband and I take full responsibility and to the two smallest twigs on the tree, Craig and Mark, for whom Cathy and her husband Julian Van der Veer must accept the responsibility. It is dedicated also with much gratitude to my husband Keith without whose help the four above- mentioned branches would not be growing on the tree and also without whose unfailing encouragement and help this story would have remained unwritten. Prologue A low moan escaped from the woman in the huge four poster bed and the midwife paused in her preparations and walked to the bedside to assess how labour was progressing. "It shouldn't be long now dear," she murmured encouragingly. "A few more pains like that last one and it will all be over." "Thank God," gasped the woman through clenched teeth as another pain took control of her. "I don't think I can take much more of this." Her words were cut short as another tearing, rending spasm caused her to let out a stifled scream which changed a few minutes later to sobbing relief as the midwife held up a tiny baby girl for her inspection. The scream coincided with Alan Ferguson's arrival home from a tiring day at the office and he was not a little annoyed by the fact that his dinner was not on the table and that his wife was not at the door to greet him but seemed to be otherwise engaged. Surely the baby was not due for at least three more weeks - hadn't everything been organised with his mother-in-law to take over the care of young Donald at that time? He was certain he hadn't confused the date. A man of punctilious habits, this disruption to his carefully planned routine was most annoying, to say the least! He walked quietly over to the bedroom and peered round the door just in time to see the midwife holding the baby by the heels while she administered a slap to its tiny buttocks and was rewarded with a gasp followed by that first wonderful cry - the universal cry of all mankind ... "I am alive!" "Congratulations Mr. Ferguson. You have a beautiful little girl." His annoyance gave way to pleasure as he gazed at this helpless little creature which, despite its red wrinkled skin and slightly misshapen head, was strangely beautiful because she was his own daughter. He crept silently over to his wife's bedside and kissed her gently on her moist forehead. His voice was choked with emotion as he whispered, "Good work Stella. She's a bonny wee lass." Dorothy and her mother, Stella It was a touching moment for Stella. She loved her husband dearly but he was a man who detested any display of emotions and her whole life was spent trying to conceal her naturally volatile nature in order to please him. Now, confronted by his unchecked tears, she flung her arms about his neck and burst into tears herself. So it was that I was welcomed into the world on a glorious Spring evening in 1924 and took my place as the smallest twig on the family tree. Half a century later as I tried vainly to blow out all 50 candles on my birthday cake with one breath, a chance remark of our eldest daughter Cathy triggered off a train of thought of which this book is the end result. She jokingly remarked that I would have needed stronger lungs to blow the bagpipes if the family had still been living back in Scotland. This started me thinking about the past and the many family anecdotes which, if not recorded, would surely die with me. When the children were younger they had often asked me to tell them some of these fascinating stories and now I resolved that, rather than let them die locked in my head, I would try and commit them to paper before it was too late. There is an old Chinese proverb which says "To forget one's ancestors is to be a brook without a source, a tree without a root." It would be a great pity to let the children go on living as branches of the family tree without some knowledge of the roots from which they had sprung. I have jotted down thoughts and memories concerning the various family members as they have come flooding into my mind and have drawn up a sort of condensed family tree to make it easier to fit the characters into their respective branches. The stories are essentially true as I experienced or heard them told to me but I have allowed my imagination free play with some of the earlier members of the family without altering the essence of their life stories. All the characters are real and the only divergence from absolute truth has been the alteration of the names of a few "fringe" non-family characters. This has been done to save possible embarrassment to their descendants. I have tried to depict the various meaningless names on the tree as warm human beings complete with failings as well as virtues and if I have succeeded in humanising these names I will have been amply repaid for the two years of effort which have gone into the writing of this book. A remark my husband made in a letter to our son Kevin during the early stages of the book when I was delving into old family records for detailed information about the past suggested the title for the book. He wrote... "Your mother's book is taking shape but the family tree is certainly proving to be no peony bush." What a boring family tree it would be if every branch had a sickly sweet peony blossom on it. I prefer to think of it as a robust oak tree where every branch has a few brittle twigs and imperfections along its length but the tree itself is strong and vigorous and will go on being so for centuries to come. Contents Book One Some Early Branches Chapter 1 Great-Grandfather and Great Grandmother Atwater Chapter 2 Great-Grandfather and Great-Grandmother Kingsbury Chapter 3 Grandfather and Grandmother Kingsbury Chapter 4 Grandfather Ferguson Chapter 5 Grandmother ("Nana") Ferguson Chapter 6 My Father - Alan Ferguson Chapter 7 My Mother - Stella Ferguson Chapter 8 The Eternal Triangle Chapter 9 Cousin Dorothy Chapter 10 Aunty Vivi and Uncle Albert Chapter 11 Aunty Rosie Book Two Memories..