The Lost Valley

by Jennifer Scoullar

‘I trusted you to look after my Emma, always spoke up for you. And you let a bleached-blonde trollop like Kitty Munro tear apart your marriage and destroy your good name. Your own brother’s wife no less.’

  ‘Calm down, Mum.’ Emma was frightened she might have another stroke.

  Harry gulped hard and a pounding pulse started in his neck. ‘We’ll be staying at the Royal.’ As he turned to go, he whispered in Emma’s ear. ‘I have a contact in the Mines Office. Your precious Tom registered a claim at Binburra this morning. So much for him not caring about the gold. This whole mess? My brother’s fault.’

  Chapter 39

  Mrs Mills called from the verandah. ‘Phone, Tom.’

  He finished potting up the last myrtle-beech seeds that he’d found under the bench in the main greenhouse. There were dozens of other seeds too: leatherwood, celery-top pine, sassafras, waratah. A cornucopia of local flora. A rainforest in a box. Autumn was harvest time in the bush. Soon he’d be collecting seeds of his own.

  It surprised Tom to hear Emma’s voice at the end of the line. ‘I have to talk to you. No, not on the phone. I’ll drive up this afternoon.’

  * * *

  They sat outside, beers in hand, as the setting sun sent golden flares across the folds of the ranges. Mrs Mills brought out a platter of ham, cheese and red grapes, fresh from a local vineyard. ‘I’m sorry to hear about you and Harry, Miss Emma. It’s a scandal for him and Kitty to go dragging the Abbott name through the mud like that.’

  Emma smiled. ‘Those two deserve each other.’

  ‘If you don’t mind me saying so,’ said Mrs Mills, ‘nobody deserves that woman. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to start packing.’

  ‘Going on a trip, Mrs Mills?’

  ‘The first in fifteen years. My sister in Sydney isn’t well, and Tom’s paying my fare to visit her.’ She put an affectionate arm on his shoulder. ‘He always was a good boy. Old George is coming too. I don’t feel confident travelling that far by myself. George is like a kid looking forward to Christmas. He’s never been to the mainland. I’m afraid Tom will have to look after himself for a while.’

  ‘I’m thirty years old, Mrs M. I think I’ll manage.’

  As Mrs Mills returned to the house, Tom turned to Emma. ‘So your dream’s finally coming true. You’re going to be a doctor.’

  ‘I didn’t come all this way to talk about me. It’s truth time, Tom. Time for that explanation you wouldn’t give me back in Hobart.’

  He ran a finger around the rim of his glass.

  ‘Tom, look at me. Before Harry left the house, he said you’d staked a claim. I thought you didn’t care about the gold?’

  The silver Karma gleamed against her neck. Sunset highlighted the curve of her cheek, the glow of her skin, the shine of her red-gold hair falling loose around her shoulders. Gone was the sophisticated woman he’d encountered second time around in Hobart. Without makeup she looked very young – like the freckle-faced girl he’d met at Campbell College fourteen years ago. The memory made him smile.

  ‘Tom, I’m serious. Tell me.’

  He knew what to do now. ‘Can you keep a secret?’

  * * *

  ‘Truly?’

  Tom handed her the small, warm bundle with its pointed whiskery nose, black-striped fur and bright eyes. ‘Meet Karma junior.’

  ‘A thylacine pup.’ Emma laughed as Karma licked her nose with her neat pink tongue. ‘I’m dreaming, of course, but please don’t wake me.’

  An enormous weight lifted from his shoulders. Somebody else knew. The burden of the tigers’ existence was no longer his alone. And that somebody was Emma. Life couldn’t be more perfect.

  She examined the pup, gently parting its fur to reveal six deep welts that had started to scab over. ‘Whatever happened to her?’

  ‘An eagle is my guess. It must have dropped her. I found her bleeding and dehydrated half a mile from her den. Sick and covered in leeches. I brought her home in my backpack and luckily she was old enough to take solids. With a little penicillin and a lot of care, she’ll soon be good as new and back with her parents, if they’ll accept her.’

  ‘Her parents?’

  Tom couldn’t stop grinning.

  ‘You know where her parents are?’

  ‘I do.’ He paused for dramatic effect. ‘Living smack bang in the middle of my mining claim.’

  He studied Emma’s lovely face, waiting for the penny to drop. There it was, that delicious flash of understanding.

  ‘You staked that claim to stop Harry.’

  ‘Bingo.’ A warmth radiated through him from head to toe. He was invigorated, super-alert, like he’d woken from a deep sleep. This was the adrenaline-charged surge of energy he felt before a wartime mission, minus the fear.

  ‘What did you do with Karma when you went to the Mines Office in Hobart?’

  ‘I smuggled her into the hotel. Meet the first Tasmanian tiger to stay at the Dorchester. Their roast lamb is her favourite.’

  She shook her head in disbelief. ‘I was losing faith in you, Tom. Why didn’t you tell me any of this?’

  A mistake he intended to rectify. He explained everything, while Karma wriggled and chewed Emma’s finger. He told her about his father, and his mother, and his true grandfather. He told her about Daniel Campbell’s last ditch attempt to save the tigers by hiding them in an inaccessible rocky valley, and about the gold in its limestone cliffs and caves. And he told her about a solemn promise to a dying grandmother; a promise he’d just broken for the second time.

  ‘You’ve done the right thing, telling me,’ said Emma. ‘If your grandmother was here, she’d say so too. You and I are the same, Tom. What matters to you, matters to me. I knew it that first day at the zoo, seeing your tenderness with the animals, your love for them.’ She cradled Karma in one arm and reached for his hand with the other. He waited for her to flinch at the rough, scaly skin of his burned fingers, but she didn’t seem to notice. ‘Your secret is as safe with me as it is with you.’ She kissed the little tiger on the head. It protested by growling and giving a wide threat yawn. ‘My Karma used to do that.’ Silent tears ran down her cheeks. ‘I’d rather die than betray this little one.’

  Wonderful as it was to hear, Emma didn’t have to say it. He already knew, with a deep, abiding certainty, that he could trust her. He couldn’t say that about another soul on earth, not even Mrs Mills and Old George. They wouldn’t be intentionally disloyal of course, but a careless slip of the tongue? He couldn’t risk it, which was one of the reasons he’d encouraged the two of them to take their trip. Little Karma was growing fast on a diet of rabbit and wallaby meat, and couldn’t be concealed in the stable forever.

  Tom closed the stable door. ‘Put her down,’ he said. ‘She can walk, you know.’

  Karma trotted about, digging in the straw, climbing the stacked hay bales, chewing on an ancient bridle that had fallen from its hook.

  ‘Ah, how will I ever drag myself away from her?’ Emma moved closer to Tom. ‘I wish I could move into your stable.’

  What an agreeable thought. She came closer still and his heart turned over. Her smooth throat, the rise and fall of her breasts, her perfect profile. His stomach tightened. Surely she could feel it too?

  Slowly Emma turned to face him. Tom’s body ached with desire, desperate to kiss her, but self-conscious about his face.

  She smiled and traced the scars with her fingers — an unspoken understanding that made his heart hum. ‘You’re beautiful, Tom, and don’t ever forget it. Beautiful inside and out.’ The kiss that followed was a contradiction; full of future promise, yet as sweet as their first kiss all those years ago at the zoo.

  Emma leaned into him, fitting perfectly. ‘What a lot of time we’ve wasted. Do you think it’s too late for us?’

  ‘Not too late.’ He kissed her again — a long, slow kiss that sang through his veins. ‘We’re right on time.’

  * * *

  Tom settled little Karma back in her pen with a fresh rabb
it to eat and her ragged teddy bear to snuggle with. He lit the kerosene heater in the corner — contained in a wire netting cage for safety — and walked Emma back to the house. Arm in arm, careless of prying eyes. Proud to be seen with her.

  Old George was mending a rail on the yard as they approached. ‘We need to be careful,’ said Emma, disengaging her arm from his. ‘We’re both facing divorces, most likely long and bitter ones. Let’s not give them extra ammunition.’

  ‘Bring it on,’ said Tom, attempting to take her arm again. ‘I won’t live a lie because of my brother.’

  Emma shrugged him off and moved away. Enduring the gap between them was like a physical pain.

  ‘You know how it works,’ she said. ‘I risk everything financially if I’m found to be the adulterous party.’

  ‘Stuff his money.’

  ‘All right for you to say.’ Emma’s voice had a real edge to it. ‘You’re not supporting an invalid mother. You’re not facing years of study with no income.’ She took a deep breath. ‘You’re not burdened with an unsavoury past that Harry could drag through the courts to my eternal shame. There’s so much you don’t know about me.’

  ‘Then tell me,’ said Tom. ‘It’s truth time, remember? Now it’s your turn.’

  For a long while she didn’t speak. The charged moment stretched between them. ‘Very well,’ she said at last. ‘But if I’m going to do this, I’ll need a very, very big drink.’

  * * *

  They sat on the verandah with a bottle of wine, while Emma told her story. Her near-destitution, her monster sister-in-law, Melvyn, Hampton Hall — everything.

  Tom listened with a growing sense of outrage. How could the world have let his sweet Emma down so badly? His fiery ordeal faded to nothing when compared to the life of torment that she’d suffered. He had half a mind to head for Launceston then and there, to exact revenge on the odious Melvyn Spriggs.

  When Emma finished her story, she wouldn’t meet his eye. Her lovely face wore an expression somewhere between apprehension and shame. A wave of compassion crashed over Tom. Melvyn could wait. This wasn’t about him, or any of the low-life scum that had so cruelly exploited a vulnerable girl. This was about assuring Emma that nothing and nobody could ever shake his faith in her.

  She stood up. ‘Say something.’ Her voice was no more than a whisper, and she choked back a sob.

  What could he say? That she’d shocked and saddened him beyond belief? That he wished with all his heart that he’d been there? That he’d never stopped loving her?

  Tom wrapped her in a powerful, protective embrace, while her body stood stiff and unyielding. ‘You, Miss Emma Starr, are the bravest, cleverest, kindest, most inspiring person I’ve ever met.’

  She relaxed a little in his arms. ‘Does what I told you make a difference?’

  He held her gently at arm’s length to examine her tear-streaked face. ‘Do my scars make a difference to you?’

  She managed a faint smile. ‘Truth is a tough game.’

  ‘Maybe, but it’s the only game worth playing. Living without secrets … it’s liberating, like flying. Don’t you feel it?’

  ‘Yes.’ She drained her glass. ‘I feel it. Now, what about another drink?’

  * * *

  As the sun went down, Mrs Mills brought them a big pot of tea, along with a platter of cold lamb chops and salad. She eyed the empty wine bottle. They’d started on a second. ‘That Kitty woman would drive me to drink too, Miss Emma, but how will you drive home? You can’t very well stay here, not under the circumstances. What would people think?’

  ‘What people?’ asked Tom. ‘There’s nobody for miles.’

  ‘Mrs Mills is right. I can’t stay here, and I can’t drive all the way back to Hobart, half-drunk.’ She looked through her bag and produced a set of keys. ‘I’ll stay at Canterbury Downs tonight and leave first thing.’

  Tom took her home, headlights carving twin beams of light through the blackness.

  ‘What will you do about Karma?’ she said as they drove through the bluestone gates and up the serpentine drive.

  ‘Wait until her wounds heal and try to reintroduce her to her family.’

  ‘And they live in the valley where the gold is.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘A condition of a mining lease is that you work the claim. How will you get around that?’

  ‘I have three years,’ he said. ‘By then Binburra will be a national park and I’ll give up the lease. At least that’s the plan. I’m writing a proposal now and enlisting some high-profile supporters: Charles Barrett, Crosbie Morrison, David Fleay.’

  ‘David Fleay? He’s the scientist that Karma bit on the bottom,’ said Emma with a laugh.

  ‘Thank God he doesn’t hold a grudge.’

  ‘The Royal Society can help,’ she said. ‘We’ll start a campaign. It shouldn’t be hard, since you’re willing to donate the land. It won’t cost parliament a penny.’ Emma smiled at him; one of those rare smiles that he’d seen only once or twice in his lifetime. It said she believed in him, and all he stood for.

  He kissed her on the doorstep, brimming with gratitude and hope. ‘Working together, how can we fail?’

  Chapter 40

  Harry was in heaven, spending each night in Kitty’s arms, careless of consequences, lost in a powerful passion that he couldn’t control. He didn’t want to. She was his drug. The more he had, the more he needed.

  To his dismay, Kitty didn’t feel the same way. She made him feel like a king in the bedroom, yet out of it, all she could talk of was moving to Hollywood and reviving her career. Obsessing over the lives of actresses in the movie magazines. Bombarding her agent with angry phone calls, demanding he find her a decent part.

  ‘You don’t need to bother with all that any more,’ said Harry, as she lamented her lack of prospects. ‘Stay here. Marry me. We’ll have a good life.’

  Kitty could not be dissuaded. ‘Why is my agent ignoring me? I bet that prick Hawks is behind it. Time to get a new agent or better yet, start my own studio.’ Harry knew where this was going. ‘You have money, Harry. It would be a terrific investment. Think of it. I could choose my own script, hire a decent co-star. Really make my mark.’

  He hated the faraway look in her eye, a look that said he didn’t matter at all. ‘I told you, honey. My money’s all tied up.’

  ‘Well, untie it. Sell something.’

  He bit the inside of his cheek. How could he explain that every asset he owned had been strategically acquired according to a plan. Piece by piece he was rebuilding the empire that his father had lost. The shipyard, the timber coupes, the sheep stations, the Hills End gold mine – an atonement for the death of his parents. He wouldn’t give up a single one, not even for Kitty.

  ‘If you cared about me—’

  ‘I do care about you.’ He hated the pleading note in his voice. ‘I love you, honey.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’ Her beautiful face creased with anger. ‘Why should I live in this godforsaken town at the end of the world, with a man who doesn’t love me?’

  His heart hammered against his ribs. He’d given up everything for Kitty. His home, his wife, his reputation. The gossip pages had them together at the Royal and were having a field day. The thought of Kitty leaving, after he’d sacrificed so much, terrified him.

  ‘Give me some time,’ he said. ‘I’ll come up with something.’

  ‘I know something you can do today. Make Tom an offer he can’t refuse,’ she said. ‘For Binburra and the mining claim both.’

  ‘Don’t you think I already have?’ Harry took a sip of bitter black coffee and made a face. ‘Bid after bid, each more generous than the last. Tom sends the letters back unopened and refuses to take my solicitor’s calls.’

  ‘Solicitor? That won’t work with Tom. You need to talk to him yourself. He’s literally sitting on a gold mine. Don’t you care that he cheated you, made a fool of us both?’

  Harry thought back to that evening when
he’d discovered his brother’s despicable deceit. Gold at Binburra. Gold that, by rights, belonged to them both. The memory made his jaw clench and his teeth grind together.

  ‘I can’t talk to him, honey. I don’t even know him any more.’ The Tom he knew wouldn’t let money come between them, not even a fortune in gold.

  ‘You’re weak, Harry.’ He looked away, unable to face the contempt in her eyes. ‘Just like all men. Make Tom sell. Make him understand.’

  ‘Jesus, Kitty. You’re asking the impossible.’

  ‘But you’ll try, right?

  He ran his hands over his face. ‘Righto, I’ll try, but it won’t work. Tom’s a stubborn bastard.’

  ‘Then get rid of him.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and her mouth was set in a hard, determined line. ‘You know what I mean.’

  Harry stiffened. ‘Be serious.’

  ‘Don’t forget, Tom’s still my husband. If he dies, I inherit Binburra.’

  Harry let that fact sink in. If she owned Binburra and they married, it would all be his. The land, the gold, Kitty – everything he wanted so badly that it hurt his chest to think of it. But murdering his brother?

  ‘Listen to me,’ said Kitty. ‘Go to Tom, talk with him about old times, have a drink together. Try to convince him to sell. Up your offer if you have to. If he agrees, well and good.’

  Harry tried to lick his lips, but had a mouth full of sand. ‘And if he doesn’t?’

  Kitty glanced around, as if someone might hear, even in the privacy of their own suite. ‘Drug his drink and burn the place down. Give him enough and he won’t feel a thing.’

  ‘What about Mrs Mills and Old George?’

  ‘Do I have to think of everything? Find some way to get them out of the house.’

  ‘I don’t know—’

  Kitty sprang to her feet. ‘You have to do this!’ Her breathing quickened and her eyes grew wild. ‘Or I’ll leave you, Harry. I swear I will. I’ll go back to America and get rid of the baby. What choice would I have? I couldn’t raise a child alone and still have a career.’