An Uncommon Woman

by Nicole Alexander

  ‘And where is everyone else?’ asked Edwina.

  ‘Your brother’s gone out with Davidson to tell Mr Sears that his team will be finishing up at the end of the week. He asked me about you. About what happened? And I told him to keep his nose out of father–daughter business. As for your father, he’s gone to Wywanna. Left in the dark.’

  ‘Wywanna?’ said Edwina.

  ‘Now don’t frown like that, Edwina. You know the truth of things now but that doesn’t mean you can share your opinion. You promised me that. Remember.’

  ‘I remember.’

  ‘Anyway, I expect it’s something to do with them coppers riding out to see your father. Yes, I expect that’s it. Though it makes a body wonder, it does. What that Will got up to.’ Mrs Ryan clucked her tongue disapprovingly. ‘You’ve a bruise and a half you have, my girl. Hat and a scarf is my advice. No need to advertise what can’t be helped.’ The woman turned to leave. ‘And that reminds me. When you’ve a chance, go down to the Chinamen’s camp and fetch me these things for the pantry.’

  Mrs Ryan held out her hand for the mug and Edwina exchanged it for a piece of soiled paper with its scribbled items of foodstuffs.

  A distinct chopping noise reverberated through the orchard towards them.

  ‘What’s that?’ Edwina whirled on a heel towards the sound.

  The cook sucked her cheeks in. ‘I couldn’t say anything.’ The air rushed out from between rubbery lips. ‘It wouldn’t have done any good anyway. Really it wouldn’t. You know what your father’s like.’

  Lifting her skirt, Edwina stepped from the veranda. The Scotswoman was saying something about it being for the best. That a person can hold on too tightly to memories and be lost in them, like a coin down a well with no chance of the wish in repayment. There was an urgent voice inside Edwina telling her to run and she did so, slowly at first, weaving through the lemon and orange trees, then as realisation grew her shoes kicked up leaves and soft soil as she gathered pace. Beyond the stables, where her mother’s tree grew, two men were visible.

  They worked alternately, their arms swinging rhythmically in wide, smooth arcs, their torsos twisting at the waist as each spun their bodies towards the target.

  ‘No!’ she screamed. ‘No, stop!’

  The blades of their axes flew swiftly through the air, hacking at the trunk, the vibrations stirring the keepsakes strung from the limbs above. Items began to fall to the earth as the tree’s tremors grew. Old bottles, pieces of broken crockery crazed by the heat and old lengths of faded material, ribbons and lace.

  ‘Stop, please,’ she begged.

  The axes grew shiny with sap. Branches trembled and leaves fell.

  Edwina collapsed on the ground as the Chinamen sliced away at the green wood, their brows slick with sweat below brimless caps. Each cut sent great shuddering waves up the tree’s trunk, resonating through the ground to where Edwina watched on in a useless huddle. Every graceful slice was matched with effortless motion. Feet braced shoulder-width apart, a single plait swinging pendulum-like across their backs, each man’s cut reaching deeper into the plant’s heart.

  Finally, one of the oriental men stepped back and the lone axeman gave a single strike. The hatchet bit deep. A terrible splitting noise came from the heart of the tree and then the woody plant buckled and fell. It landed with a thud in a flurry of windblown dirt, leaves and relics from the past.

  Edwina lifted a tear-stained face.

  The axemen poked and prodded the slain timber, talking in garbled tones as they picked through the debris of their handiwork. Finally one of the men approached Edwina.

  ‘Rotten,’ he said, showing a mouth with too many teeth. ‘It start in a crack or rabbit burrow or maybe from lightning strike. It rise slowly even as tree reach for the sky. Then one day it starts to lean. Who knows how long before the earth pulls at it and it falls. It is good to cut down before the badness takes over. You plant another tree. Like orange tree.’ He pointed towards the house. ‘Orange tree very good. It will bring you very much happiness.’

  The smiling man pointed towards the orchard. Edwina was sorry for his ignorance. He really had no idea. They went back to their work stacking the lengths of wood. Still sappy with the remnants of life, the flames came quickly when they set it alight, aided by kerosene. The smoke, a whitish sliver, grew fat too soon.

  Edwina got to her feet. There would come a time when her father would wish he’d been fairer, kinder. There would come a time.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  ‘Is it true?’ asked Gloria on arrival.

  Maybe it was his imagining, but the rooms seemed less welcoming today. They moved from the sitting area to the bedroom where Gloria leant on the windowsill, his favoured position. There was little point in querying what the woman alluded to. He’d not bothered with champagne, there’d been no welcoming kiss, simply a far from prompt arrival after Hamilton sent a runner with a note to her door. Gloria Zane clearly wasn’t of a mind to rush over and see him today. She was yet to remove her day coat or the absurd thing of a hat pulled low over her forehead. If he didn’t know Gloria better, he thought she may have been ill. There was a pallor to her skin and an air of preoccupation.

  Hamilton waited awkwardly at the foot of the bed. ‘You’ve heard, based on your less than enthusiastic arrival.’

  Undoing the single button on the marl grey coat, Gloria flung it on the bed, narrowly missing him. Hamilton was glad he’d already brokered two plots of land with the widower May Cummins on behalf of Han Lee. He doubted he’d much feel like negotiations after this.

  ‘It’s terribly fun until the person involved is someone you know. It was someone I know, wasn’t it, Hamilton? It was Edwina? That’s what people are saying.’

  ‘No charges have been placed. It’s all innuendo. Mistaken identity.’ Hamilton offered a cigarette, lighting hers and then his.

  Gloria wiped the tip of her tongue clean of a shred of tobacco. ‘A world of people saw her, Hamilton. Everyone’s talking of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s in today’s Wywanna Chronicle.’

  ‘Yes, yes, she went to the blasted petting zoo but anything else, any other implication, is just hearsay.’

  ‘It’s bad enough that she would go by herself, dressed as a man.’

  ‘She dresses that way on the farm, Gloria, for ease of movement.’

  ‘No, Hamilton. She was disguised as a man. There is a difference. And people say Edwina was drunk, Hamilton. Drunk and smoking in public. The world may have changed, but it hasn’t changed that much out here. They are calling her a flapper. This isn’t a city. There are no masses to hide in. No bright young thing to rock the establishment tomorrow and make Edwina’s antics seem unimportant in comparison.’

  ‘I’m surprised you are so concerned. You haven’t exactly led the quiet life yourself.’ Hamilton ran his thumb and middle finger from the bridge of his nose across his eyebrows.

  ‘This could ruin her if they find that animal and link her to it.’ The cloche hat joined the coat on the bed. Gloria patted her hair. ‘At least as far as someone can be ruined in Wywanna.’

  ‘There’s no need to be glib.’ Hamilton loosened his necktie. ‘Edwina has never smoked or drunk liquor in her entire life.’

  ‘Your daughter, by your own account, hasn’t done anything at all. How could she with you keeping her under lock and key, chained to that piece of dirt? No wonder she disobeyed you. And no wonder she was easily led when she found herself among strangers. How on earth did you ever expect to find a husband for her? Word of mouth?’

  Hamilton bit his tongue. He would tell Gloria to mind her own business, but arguing with the woman was a waste of time. Across the room, his sweetheart appeared decidedly sour. ‘Edwina never took the creature.’ Stubbing out the cigarette, Hamilton fiddled with the silver container, flipping the lid open and closed. ‘There’s no proof.’

  ‘You suspect her?’ Gloria’s voice rose an octave.

  ‘Truly, I don’t know wh
at to think. I can’t understand what possessed her to do it. To go to the circus alone. To actually ride into town by herself. Edwina wanted to go.’ Lighting another cigarette, he exhaled in a short, sharp puff. ‘She was desperate to go. I said no, for obvious reasons.’

  Gloria ashed her cigarette, and moved to his side, giving him a kiss on the cheek. ‘My poor Hammy, caught between the two women he loves.’ She gave a little tut. ‘That is a pathetic excuse. You should have told them about me by now. But you’ve always been so concerned that our relationship might stymie Edwina’s chances of a good match, not to mention have an effect on your own position in the district.’

  ‘I wanted to wait until she turned twenty,’ he argued.

  ‘Everyone has their eccentricities. Although from what I hear of your daughter’s looks you would have done far better to parade her around town if you wanted her married.’ Gloria took a quick puff of the cigarette. ‘You did want her married, Hamilton? Or was she more useful to you on the property?’

  ‘What a thing to say.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t matter now. If you keep someone in a box long enough, my dear, eventually they will want to escape.’

  This was not what he’d expected. The conversation was double-edged and, knowing Gloria the way he did, Hamilton knew he must salvage it.

  ‘It didn’t bother me until now,’ said Gloria, almost businesslike, so erect in the smart navy dress without a hint of frippery. There was no seed pearl brooch or silk scarf, no butterfly hatpin with jewelled eyes. ‘After the circus I realised that being hidden in the cheap seats was getting wearisome. In fact I’m very tired of it. It’s no fun anymore.’

  The room seemed inordinately small.

  ‘I’m sorry. And you’re right. But you have to understand, Gloria, Edwina is a problem. The girl’s obsessed with her mother. She spends half her life searching for bits of rubbish to hang on a tree in memory of Caroline. You have no idea how difficult she can be at times. Anyway, the tree business ends today. It’s being chopped down.’

  ‘Excuses.’

  Gloria almost sounded disinterested. Hamilton was beginning to get quite fed up with the women in his life. Daughter and lover expected far too much. Did no-one ever think of him?

  ‘You are obsessed with money, fanatical when it comes to your need for acceptance by who you deem to be the right people in society, and fixated with finding an appropriate husband for your daughter, knowing a good match will shine a light on you as the father as well.’

  ‘You make me sound terribly provincial.’ He laughed, dreading what was to come next. ‘Do go on, my dear.’

  ‘I am not an idiot, Hamilton; you and I both know you have a less than spotless past. Yes, I know about your shady dealings in Sydney. I would hardly get involved with a man without having checked his credentials.’

  This was unpredicted.

  ‘I was prepared to take you as you are,’ said Gloria more softly, ‘on face value. I chose to forget your past and concentrate on the future, but that’s impossible for you. In your quest to regain a little of your family’s former glory you have become moody and controlling and now you have a major scandal to contend with. You will not find a husband for your daughter now, not here. At least, not the one you hoped for.’

  ‘And I will never be accepted properly by Wywanna society, either. That’s what you’re really saying, isn’t it, Gloria?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ She played with the jewelled rings on her fingers, twirling them. ‘And honestly I don’t understand why you care so much.’

  ‘And I don’t understand why you don’t. I’m not content to circle the periphery as you are, Gloria.’

  ‘There is nothing to circle in Wywanna, Hamilton, but if you feel so left out, stop depending on titbits from the Guild members. Create your own centre of power. Then see who comes to you.’

  But he had done that very thing. Peter Worth was the one who made the initial approach and now it was all ruined thanks to Charles Ridgeway. ‘You do me a disservice, you know, my dear; I am not the self-centred buffoon you paint me as. You don’t know Edwina. How could you? You have no children. Heavens, you barely have any relatives left that I know of. The child is wilful and ungrateful. She takes after her mother. Why, Caroline had the attention span of a gnat. Edwina never thinks of consequences or reality for that matter; she only thinks of herself.’

  ‘Really? In that department,’ her reply was brittle, ‘you are much alike.’

  ‘This is the end then, I presume.’ Hamilton sat resignedly in the brocade chair. He could use a drink now, a double.

  Gloria approached. Tilted his chin, smiled prettily. ‘I can’t see you staying here, Hamilton, not now. I know you too well. You will fixate on this dilemma and it will drive you into the ground. Prudence would suggest you sell up. Move elsewhere. Start again.’

  ‘I see. And you?’

  She walked about their boudoir, examining the fine curtains, lifting one of the delicate crystal bottles on the glass dresser. ‘I had a telegram from my broker. It seems I’ve lost half my fortune. The London Stock Exchange crashed.’

  ‘It did what?’

  ‘Clarence Hatry and some of his associates have been accused of fraud and forgery. Really, he was such an unhealthy looking little man that one hardly thinks it possible. Wonderful house though. He lives in Great Stanhope Street in Mayfair,’ Gloria explained, ‘near Princess Mary. It’s very luxurious really. He has a swimming bath on the principal bedroom floor, and a stone-floored Tudor-style cocktail bar in the sub-basement. That’s why I invested in his companies. Because he’d done well. Was doing very well. He was, as one of his American friends used to say, a sure thing.’

  ‘Who on earth is this Hatry? And how much have you lost?’

  ‘I’ve lost enough to make it more than worrisome. As for Hatry, he’s a corporate financier. Apparently Clarence was on the brink of a merger of steel and iron concerns that was to become the forty million dollar United Steel Companies. That is until the Stock Exchange Committee caught him borrowing one million dollars on worthless paper. Terence, my broker, says the whole thing’s a catastrophe. I’ve directed him to sell all my shares in America. You should do the same.’

  Hamilton thought of his exposure in the American market as he took Gloria’s hands in his. ‘My dear girl, what can I do?’ He needed to send a telegram. He needed to sell, and quickly. Nearly everything he owned was invested in shares. ‘Do you really think America will feel any repercussions? I mean, you said yourself that London wasn’t the financial centre it used to be.’

  ‘Of course you must consider your situation, make your own decisions.’ She squeezed his hands, promptly releasing him. ‘I’ve booked passage home.’

  ‘But there’s nothing you can do,’ argued Hamilton. ‘Surely this Terence fellow can keep an eye on things.’

  ‘Terence was my broker. He does not manage my estate or my finances.’

  She took a step backwards. Hamilton sensed the gap was more than physical.

  ‘I’m on Sunday’s train to Brisbane.’

  ‘Sunday’s train. Listen to me, Gloria. Stay. Don’t rush off. We can look into your losses. See what can be salvaged.’ Hamilton was all too aware of how this would be perceived – Gloria leaving immediately on the heels of Edwina’s all too public disaster. ‘I’ll ride down to the Telegraph Office, send my broker a message asking for an update on the market, then I’ll be back. We’ll talk. Spend the night together as we always do.’

  Draping the day coat over an arm, Gloria checked the angle of her hat in the dresser mirror. ‘Even without this monetary setback, you know I’ve wanted to go home. I miss England, Hammy.’ Turning away from the reflection, her lips stretched taut. ‘It’s so terribly brown and dry and lifeless out here. I want green and cool.’ She kissed him on both cheeks. ‘This has been a wonderful interlude.’

  ‘An interlude? Five years,’ he called after her as she walked away. ‘Five years and you leave just like that? On
account of losing a handful of pounds?’

  At the entrance to their rooms, Gloria turned on her heel, the line of her dress showing off her slim ankles to perfection. She looked around the sitting area. ‘It was more than a few pounds, Hamilton. As for the five years, what can I say, except four was too little,’ she blew him a kiss, ‘and six years,’ she shook her head, ‘would have been far too much.’

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Hamilton turned the brass key in the lock not knowing when he would return.

  Gloria Zane had been a lover, a friend, his confidante at times, but more than that she’d been a salve to his ego. Oh, yes, he got carried away with the titillation at times, with the bordello intimacies that kept them both entertained, but he did care for her. By God, he really could strangle her.

  Outside, Hamilton gave his horse an absent-minded pat and shoved the business folders and share notebook from the sitting-room desk into the saddlebag. Light-headed from the half bottle of rum he’d consumed, he began leading the mare down the street, oblivious to all other traffic. For some reason the blasted animal wouldn’t walk straight and Hamilton veered to the left and the right before grabbing hold of the thick chestnut mane and searching for a fixed point in the distance.

  On the street corner ahead a figure moved. The shape was yelling and holding something aloft that fluttered in the breeze. Hamilton’s teeth ground. Children ran past him, pointing and pulling faces.

  ‘Local girl steals from circus, read all about it.’

  Head angled, shoulder squared in dogged concentration, Hamilton managed to reach the young boy, who followed his progress with a quizzical gaze.

  ‘Are you alright, mister?’ asked the paperboy.

  A stitch was tracing ugly steps up his side and across his chest. Hamilton was grateful for the shade and, looking upwards, saw the provider, the awning of Lee’s Emporium. ‘Of course.’ Hamilton frowned at the child. ‘Here’s a pound,’ he dug into his pocket, ‘take it and call out something else.’