Ocean Child

by Tamara McKinley

  ‘She may have given birth to you, but you haven’t been a daughter to Eunice for years.’ Clarice felt extraordinarily calm as the storm raged in Gwen’s face. ‘As the will clearly states, the house will provide you with a home, and the income from the trust will support you quite comfortably.’

  ‘It’s a drop in the ocean compared to what that bitch has got.’

  Clarice gritted her teeth. ‘Lorelei has not had your advantages. The trust will provide her with a good education and help protect her from the shame of being illegitimate.’

  ‘This is your doing,’ she snarled. ‘You made her change her will. She wasn’t right in the head when she signed it, and I’ll prove it. I’ll sue you, the solicitor and that brat to get what’s rightfully mine.’ She stood over Clarice, fists clenched, chest rising and falling with every furious breath. ‘That’s my money, and I will not give it up without a fight.’

  Clarice rose from the chair and faced her. ‘Eunice wrote that will within months of Lorelei’s birth. She was of sound mind, and even had her doctor confirm that she knew exactly what she was doing.’ She kept her steady gaze on the young woman’s face. ‘She knew you would rail against the will – knew you would cause as much trouble as you could to deny Lorelei her inheritance – and took the appropriate steps to forestall you.’

  Gwen’s shoulders slumped, and tears of disappointment and frustration ran down her face as she sat down again. ‘But where did she get all that money?’ she whined. ‘Daddy was declared bankrupt, and we lived like church mice.’

  Clarice eyed Gwen without pity. ‘Our mother had been widowed for some years and died around the time Lorelei was born. She was a wealthy woman, and her fortune was split between me and Eunice.’

  ‘It’s not fair.’

  Clarice shrugged. ‘Life rarely is. You’ll just have to learn to put up with it.’ She turned her back on Gwen and poured herself a cup of tea. ‘But you’ll have to live with it alone,’ she added, ‘because I’m taking Lorelei back to England.’

  Gwen sniffed back the tears as she scraped the chair against the wooden floor and stood. ‘You can’t take her anywhere,’ she snarled.

  Clarice turned to face her. ‘I think you’ll find I can.’

  ‘No, you can’t. She’s my daughter, not yours.’

  ‘Don’t insult me with that argument,’ snapped Clarice. ‘You haven’t had a kind word or look for that poor mite since the day she was born. You’re not a mother – you’re a vindictive, spiteful harpy who uses a defenceless child as a punchbag – and don’t you dare deny it – I’ve seen the bruises, and what you did to her hair.’

  ‘She’s lying.’

  ‘She’s never said a word against you,’ hissed Clarice, ‘and that’s what really breaks my heart. She’s terrified of you, but the poor little thing still loves you – still seeks your approval and wants to call you Mamma.’

  Gwen gave a mocking snigger. ‘Then she’s even more stupid than I thought.’ Her eyes became almost feral. ‘But she’s mine, and there’s nothing you can do about it. She’s staying here.’

  Clarice was taken aback. She’d thought Gwen would be only too pleased to be rid of Lorelei – and yet she seemed determined to keep her. She eyed Gwen thoughtfully. It was not through love of her daughter, that was certain. ‘If you think that by keeping Lorelei you will get your hands on that trust fund, then you’re sorely mistaken,’ she said coldly. ‘The bank has charge of it, and is under firm instructions to keep it that way until Lorelei reaches adulthood.’

  Gwen simmered, her hate-filled gaze never leaving Clarice as she sat down again.

  Clarice went on. ‘Our family has had enough dirty laundry washed in public, but I will go to court to fight for that child. And when I do, I shall list the catalogue of ill-treatment you’ve dished out to her. I will prove you’re unfit to care for her, and that your morals are that of a streetwalker. There have been enough men over the past few years to make quite a considerable list – and I’m sure the married ones will not want their names dragged into this.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘Try me.’ Clarice held her ground, determined to win the battle by any means.

  Gwen folded her arms, her expression thoughtful. The gleam of avarice lit in her eyes and she gave a sly smile. ‘I’ll agree – but it will cost you.’

  ‘I thought it might. I’ll make arrangements with the bank. You will receive one hundred pounds a year until Lorelei turns twenty-one.’

  ‘It’s not enough.’

  ‘One hundred pounds a year or I go to the courts.’

  The blue eyes were steady and speculative, and Clarice kept her nerve.

  ‘All right,’ said Gwen. ‘When do I get the first payment?’

  ‘When you have signed the legal papers awarding me her guardianship. I’ll make an appointment with the solicitor for next Monday.’

  *

  Clarice’s bags and boxes had been packed for almost a week and she and Lorelei left the house within hours of that unpleasant exchange. They moved into a small hotel until the papers were signed and sealed. Then they left for Melbourne.

  Clarice then booked passage to England and eight months later they sailed to their new life. Gwen got her first payment, but Clarice finally had a daughter to cherish and call her own.

  Chapter 12

  The October day had remained clear and sunny, but as the afternoon wore on and the shadows crept across the paddocks it grew chilly. Bob had finished putting Ocean Child and Moonbeam through their paces over the brush fences, and Joe was pleased with both of them. With a bit of luck and a fair wind, they could do very well in Hobart.

  He was trying to rub the Child down after his exercise, but the colt was proving skittish. He was getting a little too full of himself and needed reminding he was not yet a champion. Joe tugged on the cheek-strap. ‘Stand still, you bugger,’ he growled. ‘You’re not going anywhere until I’ve got the sweat off you.’

  The Child tossed his head and snorted as he danced on the cobbles and sideswiped Joe with his hindquarters.

  ‘Do you want a hand?’

  Joe glanced at Lulu and hastily skipped away from the clattering hooves. ‘He’s playing up rough,’ he muttered, ‘so mind your toes.’

  Her hand closed over his on the cheek-strap, and the warmth of it seemed to go right to his boots. ‘Hold tight then,’ he said, grabbing the leading rein. ‘If he breaks for it, we’ll never catch him.’

  Lulu crooned to the Child and massaged his ears. ‘You’re just being a naughty little boy, aren’t you?’ she murmured. ‘Steady, there, steady.’

  Joe watched dumbfounded as the colt stopped prancing and leant his chin on Lulu’s shoulder, eyelids fluttering in ecstasy. ‘Strewth!’ he muttered in disgust. ‘Now I’ve seen it all.’

  She looked up at him with an impish grin. ‘Like most males, he’s a sucker for a woman’s touch.’

  There was no reply to that, but he could feel the heat flood through him as their gazes met and held. ‘I’d better get him rubbed down and in his box,’ he muttered.

  ‘I’ll help.’ She took the cloth and began to rub it vigorously over the chestnut coat, talking all the while to the Child, keeping him sweet-tempered and calm.

  Joe picked up the brush and curry comb and they worked together in a silence electrified by their closeness and the shared glances and smiles. All too soon they had finished, and Lulu led the Child into his box and left him to tear at his hay-net.

  ‘You’ve certainly got a way with him,’ Joe murmured, unable to take his gaze off her as she stood inches away.

  ‘So have you.’ Her eyes were the deepest blue, her face glowing, lips slightly parted and just asking to be kissed. He swayed towards her, mesmerised.

  The moment was broken by a shout from the homestead. ‘They’re here, Joe. Come and look at this.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Joe sighed.

  Lulu giggled and blushed. ‘I suppose we’d better see what all the fuss is abo
ut.’

  He nodded reluctantly, but his heart was hammering with hope and happiness. She had wanted him to kiss her.

  He grabbed his hat, and they headed for the front of the homestead. He could hear laughter and cries of delight and wondered what the hell was going on. As they rounded the corner he came to a stunned halt.

  ‘G’day, Joe. Look what I’ve brought you.’ Eliza was smiling as she advanced on him in a flutter of lemon silk and tucked her hand through his arm. ‘The floats are both yours, and one of the utes – but there’s more, Joe. Lots more.’

  He felt her tug on his arm, but he seemed to be glued to the ground. He stared at the cavalcade, hardly daring to believe it. The horse floats were the most modern and expensive ones he’d seen in the catalogues, and the ute was far sturdier than the old models he already had. ‘You can’t buy me things like that,’ he protested.

  ‘I knew you’d be difficult,’ she said with a pout and a flutter of her eyelashes, ‘but you see, it’s important you have those floats – and the ute – because you’re going to need them from now on.’ She called out to the drivers: ‘Show him what we’ve brought.’

  There was a collective gasp of admiration as four thoroughbreds tripped daintily down the two ramps. The jackaroos swarmed, Dianne giggled and Molly stood with her hand over her mouth, eyes wide as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

  ‘I have to say,’ drawled Dolly, ‘not even my father has such good bloodstock, and he rides with the Beaufort Hunt.’

  ‘What do you think, Joe?’ Eliza’s eyes were shining as she clung to his arm. ‘They aren’t mine, and they’re hardly a gift, but when I told my friend about you she insisted I bring them over for you to train.’

  He eased from her grip and ran his hand over the muscled chests and hindquarters, looked into the intelligent eyes and checked their mouths, legs and hooves. ‘Beauty,’ he breathed.

  Eliza clapped her hands with glee. ‘I do so love giving people surprises.’

  Joe’s smile wavered. ‘That’s all very well, but now I’m going to have to find more stable hands to look after them.’

  ‘I thought of that too,’ she replied. ‘Davy and Clem have looked after those four horses since they got back from Gallipoli, and they’d like to stay with them.’ She leant closer, her musky perfume drifting up to him. ‘They were both invalided home,’ she whispered, ‘but they’re fit now and won’t let you down.’

  Joe eyed each man, liked what he saw, and shook their work-roughened hands. ‘I pay standard wages, but you get tucker and board thrown in.’ He grinned. ‘Ma does the cooking, so you’ll be right.’

  *

  Lulu realised she’d been forgotten in the whirlwind that was Eliza, and a stab of something approaching jealousy shot through her as the girl held on to his arm and smiled flirtatiously up at him. Dressed in a yellow silk dress and coat, with matching high heels, she looked as if she was ready to attend a palace garden party. Her make-up was flawless, if a little heavy-handed, and her bobbed hair was held in place with a sparkling butterfly pin.

  Lulu looked away, only to discover that Molly had moved to stand beside her. There was a strange expression on her face that was soon explained by her muttered words. ‘I have high hopes of those two,’ she confided. ‘Eliza’s good for Joe, and they have a lot in common. It wouldn’t do the yard any harm having her in the family either.’ Her gaze was not unkind, but it was steady and full of meaning, the message quite clear.

  ‘Then let us hope Joe sees things in the same light,’ Lulu replied in the same confidential tone, resisting adding that Eliza might be a little rich for his blood. Not wanting to prolong the conversation and risk Molly reading her hurt, Lulu dug her hands into her trouser pockets and moved away as the cavalcade trooped into the yard.

  The thoroughbreds were set loose in the paddock and the horseboxes stowed carefully under cover by the barn. The chatter and laughter swirled around as Lulu followed Joe and Eliza’s progress about the yard.

  She was very pretty, she silently admitted, but Lulu suspected she was barely eighteen, and there was something that didn’t ring true about her. The girlish enthusiasm didn’t match the sophisticated clothes and heavy make-up – neither did it quite mask the determined coquettishness in her eyes every time she looked at Joe. It was clear she was a favourite in the yard – and was basking in the attention – but Lulu, usually so loathe to judge too quickly, couldn’t take to her at all.

  ‘She’s frightfully nice, isn’t she?’ Dolly carefully negotiated the cobbles in her high heels and leant against the stable wall.

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ replied Lulu. ‘I haven’t had the chance to talk to her yet.’

  Dolly eyed her, frowned and dismissed the rather sharp retort. ‘She reminds me of someone, but I can’t think who.’

  ‘Look in a mirror, Dolly – she could be your younger sister.’

  ‘I suppose she could, and she certainly has my flair for colour and style. I like the pin in her hair.’ She flicked her fringe out of her eyes, watched the melee surrounding Eliza and lit a cigarette. ‘She’s still frightfully young of course, but I’ve seen the way she looks at Joe. He’s a lucky man. Not many girls come armed with gifts like that.’

  Lulu shrugged as if it didn’t matter and turned away to pet the Child.

  ‘Oh dear. Have I put my foot in it?’ Dolly put a hand on Lulu’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t realise you fancied him for yourself.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she muttered, moving away. ‘He’s just training my horse, and I’m lucky he’s so good at it. We have little in common but for Ocean Child.’

  Dolly puffed on the cigarette. ‘Mmm. Methinks she doth protest too much,’ she murmured. There was a moment of silence. ‘Do be careful, darling,’ she said softly. ‘You’re only here such a short while, and it wouldn’t be fair to upset the apple cart by leading him on.’

  ‘I’m not leading anyone anywhere,’ she snapped. ‘Put a sock in it, Dolly. You’re talking nonsense.’ Despite her waspish reply, Lulu realised Dolly’s advice was warranted, for she’d wanted Joe to kiss her – even though it would have been a terrible mistake.

  Dolly opened her mouth to argue when a voice interrupted. ‘G’day, you must be Lulu and Dolly. Good to meet you.’

  ‘How do you do?’ Lulu coolly shook the proffered hand. Closer inspection confirmed her suspicions; there was a hardness behind Eliza’s smile that made Lulu mistrust her.

  Eliza made little pretence of cutting Lulu as she turned to Dolly. ‘Let’s leave the blokes to it and go and have a cuppa. I want to hear all the gossip from England, what the fashions are like, and if you’ve actually met any of the royal family.’ She linked arms with Dolly and drew her towards the homestead.

  Lulu realised she’d been forgotten – that Dolly had fallen under Eliza’s spell just like everyone else.

  She looked away and found Joe was watching her. Their gazes met, and she dipped her chin, her thoughts troubled by the message in his dark eyes. The attraction between them had grown over the past two weeks, and today it had almost blossomed into something far more serious. Feelings like that were dangerous. She was not one for casual affairs, and knew instinctively that he felt the same. Her life was in England and his was here – probably with the artful, generous Eliza who had his mother’s blessing. With aching honesty, she silently admitted she was jealous.

  *

  The trip to Hobart would take several days, and would have meant leaving the place to Molly and one jackaroo – thereby endangering the security of the valuable horses left behind, so Joe was grateful to Eliza for bringing in extra men.

  He’d pondered on how to feed so many people around his mother’s kitchen table, and had gone to take a look at the state of the old cookhouse. It had been built in his grandfather’s time and had served the men who worked here for decades, but as the stables had declined, the cookhouse had fallen into disrepair. He had set the men to clearing it out while he repaire
d the benches and table and sorted out the water supply.

  He stood in the doorway and smiled as the hands tucked into the heaped plates of food Dianne had brought from the house. The sound of voices rising again to the exposed beams of the great roof was one that evoked happy memories, and although there was still a lot to do, it served its purpose well enough for tonight.

  Tired but exhilarated by the events of the day, he headed back to the homestead, kicked his filthy boots off and stood in his equally grubby socks on the veranda looking up at the stars. It was a clear night, which promised a frost but no rain – and as long as the ground didn’t get too hard, he stood a chance of winning enough prize money in Hobart to pay Eliza back. Her generosity had stunned him, but he didn’t feel easy accepting such expensive gifts, however well-meant. Eliza was young and impressionable, with a childish glee for giving presents. She enjoyed being the centre of attention, was probably in the throes of hero worship – although why was a mystery to him – and he wanted there to be no misunderstandings.

  His thoughts turned to Lulu and the kiss they had almost shared. He closed his eyes, imagining his lips on that lovely mouth, his hands cupping her head, fingers buried in her glorious hair as she melted into his arms.

  The rasping screech of a barn owl brought him to his senses. He watched with a wry smile as the ghostly bird flew across the blackness of the sky. Possessing the love of a woman like Lulu was as much of a fantasy as the Aboriginal belief that the white-faced owl was a magic being who bore messages from the spirit ancestors when something momentous was about to happen. She might have been willing to kiss him, but it was probably only curiosity on her part – or more likely a moment of madness she would instantly regret.

  He gave a sigh, turned his back on the sky, pushed through the recently oiled screen door and padded down the hall. He could hear Dolly and Lulu moving about upstairs, no doubt packing for the early start tomorrow, but as he approached the kitchen he heard Eliza say something that made him pause.

  ‘She’s the spitting image, Molly. I swear, you could have knocked me down with a feather when I first saw her.’