‘I suppose so.’ She sighed. She looked out across the cobbled square to the Edwardian customs houses, government buildings and warehouses in search of Peter, but there was still no sign of him, and the doubts increased. ‘But what if Joe was right?’ She turned back to Dolly, seeking reassurance and guidance. ‘What if he refuses to see me, or forbids Peter to have any more to do with me – what then?’
‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,’ replied Dolly, ‘but if you keep this up you’ll make yourself ill.’
Lulu took a deep breath and tried to regain her composure. Dolly was right; she needed to keep her overactive imagination under control. ‘Come on then,’ she said determinedly, ‘but I don’t want to be away for too long.’
*
Peter had left the racecourse too late to see his father that night, and had planned to get to the clinic early so he could talk to him before the day’s treatments began. But after a disturbed night he’d overslept, and had arrived at the clinic to discover his father was already having his physiotherapy.
As the morning dragged on, his frustration grew. Frank had refused to see him until he’d finished his game of dominoes, and then insisted Peter joined him and his new-found mates for a lengthy lunch in the dining hall. It seemed there would never be an opportunity to talk to the old man in private and, burning with impatience, Peter had left the dining hall to go and have a smoke in the garden.
He sat in the summer house and looked at his watch. Lorelei must be as on edge as he was – but he had nothing new to tell her, and he didn’t want to raise her hopes by ringing the hotel only to disappoint her. He fidgeted in the cane chair and tried to concentrate on the newspaper, found it impossible and gave up.
‘There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’ Frank White leant heavily on the walking stick as he negotiated the stone steps that led down to the lawn and the summer house. ‘Leave me,’ he commanded, as Peter jumped from his chair to help, ‘I’m not a cripple. I can manage a few steps.’
Duly chastened, but made extremely nervous by his father’s cavalier attitude, Peter stood by ready to catch the silly old bugger if he fell. ‘You’ll end up breaking your flaming hip,’ he warned.
Frank collapsed in a chair and hooked the walking stick over the arm. ‘Tough as old boots, these hips,’ he declared, with only a hint of the slur that had recently made his speech almost unintelligible. ‘They’ll see me right, no worries.’
The old man’s irascibility had worsened since his stroke, and despite knowing it stemmed from frustration, Peter found it difficult to tolerate – especially today. His palms were sweating and his mouth was dry as he waited for his father to settle. He’d rehearsed what to say, but now the time had come, he couldn’t find the words.
‘What’s on your mind, son?’
Peter looked into the eyes that had lost none of their colour and were still as keenly intelligent as ever. He licked his lips. ‘Dad, I’ve done something you may not approve of, but I did it with the best of intentions.’
The thick white eyebrows drew together. ‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions, boy,’ he growled. ‘Go on, spit it out.’
Peter took a deep breath and began to speak. He could see he had his father’s full attention, but it was impossible to read his thoughts. He told him everything, and waited in an agony of silence for his father’s reaction.
Frank sat in a shaft of pale sunlight, his head bowed, hands resting in his lap. They were the hands of someone who’d worked in the outdoors, who’d handled horses and cattle from the moment he was old enough to walk. This was his father, the man he respected and loved – the man whose secret was no longer his own. Peter watched him, suddenly afraid. The deeds had been done, the confession made – but had his actions merely made things worse between them?
‘You had no business going through my things,’ Frank said gruffly, ‘but I suppose it doesn’t matter any more.’ He raised his head and looked at his son. ‘It would have killed your mother if she’d known. That’s why I kept paying.’
‘I guessed as much.’ Peter wanted to take his hand, but knew his father didn’t approve of such shows of affection, so he leant back in the chair, his fingers knotted in his own lap, the knuckles white with tension.
‘The stupid thing was I didn’t even know if the kid was mine.’ Frank gazed across the garden to the fine view of the city below. ‘I learnt much later that I wasn’t Gwen’s first target,’ he said, his expression grim. ‘She’d tried to blackmail several others first – they were richer than me at the time, so I suppose she thought they’d be a better bet. Trouble was, I had slept with her – and I was ashamed, and terrified your mother would find out, so I paid up. Only a fool would cross Gwen, for she could make more trouble than a possum in a hen house.’ Frank grimaced. ‘But I didn’t just take her word for it. I did my own bit of detective work.’
‘How? You lived down here, and Clarice was up on the north coast.’
Frank tapped the side of his nose. ‘A mate of mine mentioned that he had sold a cow to a Clarice Pearson, so I got myself up there and delivered it for him. The minute I saw that kid, I knew.’ He fell silent, perhaps remembering that day. ‘She was a little ripper,’ he said, ‘and so like my sister at that age.’
Peter tamped down his impatience as Frank once again fell silent. Time was ticking away, and Lorelei was waiting to hear from him.
‘What you did for Joe was commendable,’ Frank said finally, ‘and I wish I’d read that letter from his commanding officer – then maybe I could have done something for him myself.’ His gaze was filled with regret. ‘But I couldn’t bear to read it right through, didn’t have the stomach for it. My son was dead. I didn’t need to know how it had happened.’
‘I can understand that,’ Peter replied softly. ‘I miss him too, Dad, and there’s hardly a day goes by when I don’t think about him.’
‘His going like that left a terrible void in our lives,’ Frank murmured.
‘There have been times when I wished it was me who’d never come home, and that Andy had had my luck,’ Peter confessed softly, ‘because then you would have been spared the pain of losing your favourite son.’
The bright blue eyes regarded him with shocked disapproval. ‘That’s a wicked thing to say,’ Frank snapped. ‘What kind of man do you think I am to wish either of my sons dead – to favour one over the other? Your mother and me were blessed when you came home with just a bullet wound, and I’ve thanked God every day since you were spared.’
‘Then why have you never shown it?’
Frank’s expression was puzzled. ‘I’m not one for sentimental nonsense,’ he growled. ‘You know that, son.’
Peter took a deep breath. ‘Everything I do is overshadowed by Andy. Everything I am is compared to him and found wanting. I always knew he was your favourite, but that didn’t bother me because I loved and admired him too. He was my big brother, the adventurous one, the boy who was forever getting into some scrape or another, and going that daring step further – the one who seemed to lead a charmed life. I was happy to tag along, to bask in his long shadow, but I needed your love and approval as well – and you’ve always seemed incapable of giving it.’
He dipped his head, almost ashamed to look in his father’s face. ‘I love and respect you, Dad, but I know I can never take Andy’s place, and I wouldn’t want to. I am my own man. My family was lost to me once Mum and Andy were gone. I’d hoped you would finally see me, and realise I need you as much as Andy did, but you buried yourself in your own world.’
He rose from the chair and leant against the door frame, his back to his father, tears blinding him. ‘When Andy came home from Brisbane in 1914 and told us he’d enlisted, I wanted to show you I was just as brave. But joining the RAAF meant I wasn’t with Andy when he died – and that guilt will always live with me.’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘Finding out about Lorelei was a miracle. I had a sister who perhaps understood what it was like to be overl
ooked and cast aside – and I was determined to bring her home.’
‘I never realised you felt that way.’ Frank’s sigh was weary. ‘I didn’t mean to shut you out, son – but losing your brother and then your mother …’ He blinked and dug a handkerchief from his pocket. ‘It was too much, and I couldn’t see beyond my own pain.’ He dabbed his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Peter.’
His father’s sincerity was palpable, and Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. The old man had loved him, and still did – he just didn’t know how to show it. He put a hand on his father’s shoulder, shocked to feel the frailness of that once-strong body. ‘There’s no need to apologise, Dad,’ he said softly, ‘and now I’ve found Lorelei, perhaps you’ll begin to enjoy life again and we can be a proper family.’
Frank stiffened, his gaze fixed to a far point of the garden. ‘She’s got her own life. She doesn’t need me.’
‘But she does, Dad, that’s the whole point. Every child deserves to know who their father is and have the chance to get to know him. Gwen never told anyone about you, so Lorelei has lived for twenty-six years without having that chance. You can’t deny her now, surely?’
There was a long silence, and Peter wondered if he was remembering that day so many years before when he’d seen Lorelei as a little girl – or was he remembering his affair with the woman who’d held him to ransom?
‘Does Gwen know she’s here?’
‘Yes.’
The blue gaze was direct and penetrating. ‘You’ve seen her?’
‘At the races, yesterday. She was drunk and caused a scene. Even the seedy-looking bloke with her was clearly sick of her awful behaviour and hauled her away.’
Frank grimaced. ‘Doesn’t sound like she’s changed much,’ he muttered. ‘I suppose she was demanding money?’
Peter nodded. ‘I put her straight on that,’ he replied. ‘She won’t bother us again.’
‘I wouldn’t bank on it. That bitch is like a terrier with a rat, and this bloody little island is no keeper of secrets – she’ll find out where I am soon enough, you can bet on it.’
‘Let’s not talk about her,’ said Peter, ‘she’s not important. Lorelei is waiting close by, anxious to see you. Can I bring her to visit?’
Frank turned his gaze once more to the view below him. ‘Let me sleep on it. It’s been a long day and all of this has come as a bit of a shock.’
Peter helped him to his feet and handed him the walking stick. ‘Tomorrow, then?’
Frank came to a halt and looked back at him. ‘I know everything about that girl,’ he said gruffly, ‘and Clarice has done a good job raising her. I’m just an old cattleman who’s more at home on the back of a horse than in some fancy drawing room. We have nothing in common, Peter, so what is the point?’
Peter stared at him in disbelief. ‘She’s your daughter – that’s the point.’
‘Shared blood isn’t enough – not after all this time.’ He shuffled forward, clearly exhausted by everything that had happened. ‘I kept an eye on her out of curiosity – nothing more. I never planned to meet her.’
Peter had a suspicion the old man felt far more for Lorelei than he was letting on and that it was his stubborn pride that was holding him back. ‘Aren’t you just a bit curious to see what she’s really like?’
Frank shrugged. ‘A little,’ he confessed, ‘but who’d want an old bludger like me for a dad, eh? It’s best left, son.’
‘At least give her the chance to make up her own mind,’ said Peter, with a note of asperity. ‘She’s waited all her life to meet you – don’t let her down now. Please.’
The gaze was steady, the expression unyielding. ‘It would have been kinder to leave her in England and in ignorance,’ Frank rasped. ‘You’ve raised her hopes, made promises you can’t keep.’ His voice subsided and his shoulders slumped. ‘I don’t know if I can face her after all this time and have her judge me.’
‘If you let her down now you’ll be hurting her far more than you ever have.’ He grasped Frank’s arm, willing him to change his mind. ‘If you don’t do this, you’ll always regret it.’
The blue eyes were quizzical. ‘This really matters to you, doesn’t it?’
‘Of course it does. She’s my half-sister. I like her, and I want her to become part of this family.’
Frank nodded thoughtfully and began the short climb up the steps. When he’d gained the terrace, he stood for a moment, leaning heavily on his walking stick. ‘You can bring her tomorrow about three.’ The gimlet gaze held him. ‘But don’t tell her till the last minute, cos I might change my mind come morning.’
*
Lulu was exhausted, nerves shredded, thoughts haywire. The day had dragged on with no message from Peter, and she could only come to the conclusion that her father had not taken Peter’s confession well. She was desperately trying to contain her disappointment as she sat in the hotel sitting room with Dolly, grateful her friend understood her need for calm and silence.
‘You’ve got a visitor,’ said Dolly quietly.
Lulu didn’t wait for him to sit down before she bombarded him with questions. ‘What did he say? How did he take it? Can I see him tonight? Or is to be tomorrow?’ His silence and solemn expression finally quelled her excitement and she slumped back into the couch. ‘He doesn’t want to meet me, does he?’
‘I’m working on it, Lorelei,’ he said, taking her hand, ‘but he’s an old man set in his ways, and this has all come as a bit of a shock.’ His smile was wan. ‘Give him time,’ he coaxed. ‘He’ll come round, I’m sure.’
Lulu saw the uncertainty in his eyes, and understood he was trying to let her down gently. ‘None of this could have been easy for you, and I do appreciate all you’ve done.’ She blinked back the tears and steeled her resolve. ‘It wasn’t fair of either of us to expect so much from him. But at least we’ve found each other’
‘Tomorrow is another day,’ he said. ‘You never know, he may change his mind.’
‘He might.’ Lulu capitulated to the flicker of hope that still lingered, and gave him a watery smile. ‘I’ll stay in Hobart until the end of the week, but if by then …’ She gave a shrug. ‘We’ll see.’
*
Her bitter disappointment meant she couldn’t sleep, and she eventually gave up and clambered on to the window seat to watch the moon sail beyond Mount Wellington. Her father was somewhere on the slopes of that mountain – was he too having a restless night – was he thinking of her, wondering, perhaps regretting his decision not to see her? She had to keep the hope alive that he would change his mind, for regardless of the outcome, she knew she couldn’t leave Hobart without seeing him.
The next day
Peter was booked into a small commercial hotel down by the docks. He hadn’t liked lying to Lorelei, but he’d had no choice and consequently had spent another restless night.
He was out of bed and dressed at dawn, and as it was far too early for breakfast, and his nerves were stretched to breaking-point, he took himself off for a brisk walk. His shattered knee ached, but at least it gave him something else to focus upon.
As the morning progressed he found he was on edge every time the telephone rang, and the receptionist began to look uncomfortable at his hovering presence.
The call came at two o’clock.
‘I’m sorry, son,’ said Frank down the crackling line, ‘I can’t see her. Tell her I wish her luck.’
The line was disconnected abruptly, and Peter was left staring at the buzzing receiver. He caught the eye of the girl behind the desk and hooked it back in place before storming out of the hotel. His anger was all-consuming and he felt like hitting something – anything – to release it. Thank God he hadn’t told Lorelei about the appointment at three, and thank God he wasn’t with his father at this minute, because he wouldn’t be responsible for what he said or did.
‘Old bastard,’ he growled, slamming the utility’s door so hard it rocked on its chassis. ‘I thought you had balls, Dad, but whe
re are they now, eh? Coward. Bloody coward.’
He simmered and glared out of the window as he smoked one cigarette after another and tried to plan what to do next. Lulu would have to be told, and he didn’t relish that ordeal – but there was little point in her staying in Hobart, not now the old man’s mind had been made up.
‘Flaming hell!’ He shoved open the door, slotted in the crank handle and gave it a vicious jerk. The engine roared into life and he climbed in, slammed the door and rammed it into gear. He had no idea what he would say to Lulu, and was definitely not looking forward to the rest of the day. He’d never imagined that the only real stumbling block to his plans would be his father, and he hoped Lulu was strong enough to accept the stubborn old fool’s decision.
*
Lulu had held on to the glimmer of hope and dressed accordingly. The soft blue of her sweater enhanced the colour of her eyes, the tailored slacks were practical against Hobart’s weather and the jaunty knitted beret gave her spirits a lift. She was ready to meet him if he changed his mind.
It was windy, with clouds scudding across a grey sky that threatened rain. The boats moored in the harbour swayed in the rising swell, their rigging making a tuneless clatter as gulls screamed overhead. Despite her determination to remain cheerful, the morning dragged as she and Dolly walked around the harbour and glanced in the shop windows lining the main street. They had an early lunch in a restaurant that specialised in cray-fish and green-lipped mussels, but she found she had little appetite for the delicious food and left most of it on her plate.
‘He’s not going to change his mind, is he?’ she asked, as Dolly checked the bill.
‘Neither of us knows that,’ said Dolly firmly. She paid the waitress and steered Lulu out of the restaurant and on to the cobbles. ‘Give him time. He’s an old man whose sins have caught up with him. I expect he’s as shell-shocked as you over all this.’
Lulu pulled a face. ‘Maybe. But I would have thought—’
‘You’ve done too much thinking over the past couple of days. Come on, let’s go back to the hotel and relax. You look done in.’
Ocean Child Page 31
