Free Caprice by Doris Pilkington Garimara

understand, and I bewailed the fickleness of a man’s love. For years I had to endure the selfishness of a charming husband who was unfaithful and disloyal at every opportunity.
    What a trusting and naive wife I was then. Even when he didn’t return home at the weekends. There was nothing mysterious with his absences, there was no need to be alarmed or concerned. His explanations and excuses were nearly always plausible. And besides he was alwaysconsiderate and caring. I never doubted his word and accepted his denial of everything. Why shouldn’t I, our marriage vows were sacred weren’t they? Or so I thought.
    As the years rolled by, things got worse, his attitude towards me changed drastically. I found myself contending with unfair condemnation, cursing and swearing, using descriptions and vile names I never heard in my entire life.
    I had to endure barbed remarks which were just as painful as physical violence. These attacks came at regular intervals. There were insulting accusations implying that I had slept with every man I had any kind of contact with.
    My mother-in-law Sara Jane’s behaviour was no better. She was a vicious and vindictive woman. I never understood why I was singled out as her victim to humiliate and intimidate. Perhaps it was my Christian upbringing that was my downfall. “Respect your elders,” we were taught—even when they didn’t deserve it. My attitude must have been interpreted as meekness, and I was a person “to be set upon”. “Condone their follies, forgive their faults.” It was easy to be rhetorical and sit in judgment from afar but what was I meant to do, suffer humiliation “until death do us part”?
    No way. If I am to be restored to a strong individual, a woman in my own right, I need to grab with both hands the separation that is offered. There is no hope of reconciliation. I know now he is incapable of remaining devoted to me, I must accept that and pick up the pieces, care for and love my children and start a new life. I have resolved never to get involved with anyone again, though I still have the unconscious desire to be appreciated and loved.
    Holding steadfast to my Christian beliefs almost ruined my life. I was fast becoming a neurotic woman addictedto Valium. I was rescued from this fate by some strong and practical advice from my dearest friend and matron-of-honour at my wedding, Jane Walters.
    â€œGo back to study. Do something different,” she advised.
    I took her advice and enrolled at the Geraldton Technical College and faced the most difficult challenge of my life. For a middle-aged woman whose formal education never passed the primary stage, this task was daunting.
    Two years later I applied and was accepted as a student with the Aboriginal Bridging Course at the Western Australian Institute of Technology. Kent couldn’t resist the temptation. He just had to call in just as we were about to leave for Perth. “You’ll never make it. You’re too dumb,” he said.
    Midway through the course I was almost convinced that he was right. But I wasn’t giving him the pleasure of saying “I told you so”. I may have lacked confidence at times but not stamina, persistence and determination.

    And so with my friend David Larsen’s support and encouragement I took advantage of the means of study and I was able to complete the Aboriginal Bridging Course successfully.
    My first contact with David Larsen was at the official welcoming ceremony for the incoming students. Regular interaction and socialisation between the tertiary and the ABC students on the campus brought us together often. I felt comfortable with this quiet, sensitive caring man. He wasn’t as handsome as Kent Williamson. He was average looking, fair haired, tall and slender, but he had other qualities that I admired in a man. He was the grandson of a Danish sojourner from Copenhagen. Father of three grown-up children,