‘It’s a bed and she’s comfortable and away from the elements,’ Dr Pratt said. ‘Do what you like with yourselves but I advise you leave her here to give her a little time to regain her strength before travelling. That was quite a fever.’
‘Do you know what caused it?’ Aggie asked. He still hadn’t offered any real explanation and she wondered if he actually knew.
‘Could have been the cut to her head, although it doesn’t appear to be infected. Otherwise I suspect she just got sick from being damp, then hot after being unconscious for so long … there’s only so much the body will take until it starts to weaken, you understand.’
Aggie’s suspicion was confirmed: he really didn’t know. That Frankie was thinking the same thing was evident by her sceptical expression.
‘So she had …?’
‘I’d say a bad case of shaking fever.’
It sounded made up, and most likely was, but there wasn’t much use in commenting, although Frankie managed a scoff. He may well be a poor excuse for a doctor but he was the only one they had right now.
‘How long until we can take her home?’ Aggie asked and the doctor pushed his spectacles up.
‘I’d say a good day’s rest before travelling would do the trick, assuming all things turn out for the best.’
Aggie didn’t like the sound of that last comment but she decided not pursue it. Better they focus on remaining positive after so much turmoil.
‘Well, we can’t all camp out on this boat,’ Robert pointed out, turning to look at Riley. ‘I don’t think we should further impose on your sister either.’ He was merely being polite by suggesting they even could, of course. The creepy husband hardly looked the hospitable type and the house onshore really wasn’t much more than a shed. Besides, it was unrealistic that the poor woman continue to feed the lot of them when she obviously had little to spare, especially as heavily pregnant as she was. ‘Is there somewhere else we could stay?’
‘There’s the inn,’ Riley told them. ‘Up at Wisemans Ferry. The Packet, it’s called. It’s fairly popular and only half an hour away – I can run you up there in my spare boat. I think that would suit quite well.’
‘Sounds like the best bet,’ Robert agreed, ‘although I think perhaps I’ll head back home with the doctor and tell Albert and Harriet the good news in person. What say you three care for Ivy in shifts and we’ll get you all home tomorrow afternoon?’
Patrick nodded. ‘I’ll look after them, Robert.’
‘Excuse me,’ Frankie said, eyebrows raising, ‘but I can bloody well look after myself.’ Aggie felt the need to intervene as Patrick gaped.
‘Yes, but it will be nice to have an extra pair of hands, thank you, Patrick.’
No-one else commented although Riley Logan looked amused, and Aggie had to hide a smile herself at Frankie being so outspoken. It felt good to see life slowly return to normal.
‘Well, I’m ready when you are,’ Riley said, finishing his tea, and it was soon arranged that the doctor and Robert would return in the hire boat they’d engaged and Aggie would stay with Ivy, which left Frankie and Patrick to make their way to the inn. Watching them depart with Riley not long after, Aggie couldn’t help but chuckle before returning to Ivy’s side, Frankie’s voice carrying in the air.
‘You know, I really quite enjoy boating. How does one go about learning how to drive?’
As much as he hated to break his vow that he wouldn’t leave Ivy’s side, Patrick could see the practicality of taking shifts with Ivy’s sisters and staying at the inn.
Still, he wasn’t sure if the sight of Frankie trying to feed the steam engine and drive this boat was an amusing one or a worrying one, or just too much to deal with after these past few harrowing days. Perhaps all three. Everyone reacted in their own way, he supposed. That Frankie had bounced from weeping relief to a sudden unbridled enthusiasm for boating was simply part of who she was, or so he was learning. That girl could feel every emotion under the sun and still want to take on the world in her next breath. Admirable as that was, give him a sweet, ladylike girl such as Ivy any day.
Well, perhaps minus her one act of recklessness that had nearly cost her life. Patrick doubted she’d ever do such a thing again, however. It was a lesson hard won and he looked forward to spending the rest of their days together with such rashness well behind them. If he survived this current adventure with her sister.
The Packet was coming into sight and Patrick followed Frankie’s excited pointing as she manned the wheel, spinning it a bit too wildly. Riley took over.
‘Think I’d better take her in.’
Frankie reluctantly moved over to sit beside Patrick and watch the town of Wisemans Ferry draw closer. It was an unexpectedly impressive sight and her face soon lit up again. The inn was a large one and Patrick was surprised at its graceful architecture, especially after what he’d so far witnessed of Hawkesbury River life. Double storey and perched on the rise, it had matching wrap-around verandahs above and below, the cream and green paint bright in the sunshine, with people leaning upon the rails with drinks in hand, watching the river view. It was surrounded by a few other decent houses near where the ferry went to and fro and in all there was a pleasantness about the place that had so far been sorely missing up here.
Riley drew the boat up to the wharf and they alighted and waited for him to moor it, looking about with interest as they did so. The dusty road was lined with horses and carts and the general store was so busy a line had formed outside, yet the hub of the town was certainly the marvellous inn.
‘Is it always this crowded?’ Frankie asked Riley as they walked over towards it.
‘Not usually,’ he said, scanning the faces of the men lining the railings near the bar.
A notice was nailed to the wall, flapping in the light breeze, and the reason for the large number of people was soon apparent. A woodchopping festival was on the next day and a dance was being held that night as part of the celebrations. The atmosphere was already a merry one as men drank their beer, and they watched Frankie pass by with interest, one letting out a slow whistle. She lifted her chin, ignoring him, as Riley sent them a warning glance.
‘Nice day for it, Riley,’ the long-bearded man called but Riley merely nodded.
‘Friends of yours?’ Patrick queried, glancing over.
‘Not friends, no,’ Riley replied.
He was an interesting character, Ivy’s protector; quiet for the most part but obviously generous and kind-hearted, as his actions proved. Patrick had much to thank him for but part of him was jealous too. Any man spending that much time alone with Ivy and tending her in so intimate a situation would be bound to make him feel so. He was a rugged, good-looking type, just the kind of man women tended to admire, from what Patrick had observed over the years. Yet he was far removed from proper society and probably a bit too rough around the edges for a girl like Ivy. Probably not quite on the straight and narrow either, Patrick suspected. Still, he’d behaved as a true gentleman, as far as Patrick could see, and it seemed most ungracious not to express his own gratitude and to thank him on behalf of Ivy’s father. Patrick paused as they reached the inn’s door.
‘Why don’t you stay a while and I’ll buy you a drink?’ Riley hesitated and Patrick added, ‘It’s the least we can do, please. It would be my pleasure.’
‘All right then, why not?’ Riley acquiesced. ‘Just let me get cleaned up a bit first.’
It was cool inside after the glare of the sun. Patrick’s eyes took a moment to adjust as the woman behind the counter broke into a smile.
‘Riley Logan! I’ve been wondering when you were going to turn up.’ Riley took off his hat and raked his hair as she added in a whisper, ‘I got your delivery. Didn’t expect you to flit past in the middle of the night like that, though. We hardly get to see you as it is.’
‘Sorry about that, Margie. I’ve had a few extra things on my plate,’ Riley told her. ‘Did you share the medicine and herbs around?’
&
nbsp; ‘Yes, and not a moment too soon. Some god-awful fever has been going around and that thieving merchant at the store was all out anyway. Place has been like Pitt Street with people coming to pick them up, just to top off how damn busy we are.’
Patrick ears pricked up at that. That could explain how Ivy got so ill. More likely than ‘shaking fever’, anyway.
‘Found enough time to put the decorations up, though?’ Riley said and Margie beamed at him.
‘Certainly did – and what a nice extra surprise they were, bless your heart! Looks right festive, don’t it?’ Margie said proudly of the streamers and rosettes festooning the foyer and beyond. ‘And how’s that sister of yours? Haven’t seen her in an age although I suppose she’s housebound with baby coming along.’
‘Yes, she has her hands full. We’ve a few guests at the moment, actually. Thought we might trouble you for a couple of rooms.’
‘Well, you’ve picked a hell of a day,’ Margie told him. ‘Half the district’s come to town for the woodchoppin’ and to see this band, although I can’t say I’ve heard of ragtime myself. Sounds like cleaning the floor to me.’
Riley chuckled. ‘Something different, I suppose. These are my friends, Frankie and Patrick.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ Frankie said as Riley stepped back. The woman looked her up and down.
‘We’re so sorry to arrive on such a busy day,’ Patrick said, and she flicked her eyes at his expensive clothes curiously too. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve any rooms still available?’
The woman drew her glance back towards Riley and tapped her pencil on the register thoughtfully. ‘Well, I don’t really but I’ll pull a few strings. You can take eleven and thirteen but if anyone asks you made a reservation a week ago.’
‘You’re too good to me, Margie girl,’ Riley said.
‘Now, now, go on with you,’ Margie said, pleased, then she lowered her voice again. ‘I just hope you’ve remembered about that other special request I made.’
‘Next week, I promise,’ he told her and Patrick wondered yet again exactly what Riley delivered up and down this river. Obviously more than medicines and party supplies.
They registered while Riley went to wash up and by the time they were settled in their rooms, Frankie seemed to have finally run out of puff. She stayed upstairs to rest, which sounded like a wonderful idea to Patrick, but he went down to the main bar to meet Riley instead to buy him that drink.
It was very busy inside and he had to shoulder through, muttering apologies as men made room, standing aside to stare at his clear-shaven and upmarket appearance.
‘Pardon me, y’majesty,’ said one.
‘Crikey, didn’t realise it were fancy dress,’ said another. ‘Shoulda worn me wig and frockcoat.’
It was unnerving but Patrick took it in his stride and soon enough he had two cold ales in hand. He sat down on a chair outside on the porch, relieved to be away from the throng and free to watch the river glide by in peace as he waited for Riley.
The water was clear at the edges but a murky olive colour further out, mysterious in its flow as it hid whatever creatures lived below the surface. It seemed appropriate that a deeply flowing, concealing river should be the main artery that pumped through this place. Everything he’d witnessed so far seemed covert: what went on behind closed doors that caused Dave’s missus to limp; what Riley actually carried along these waters and where he acquired it; the reason why Fiona’s husband simply sat and stared, ignoring their visitors. It held secrets, this river, and so did the people who lived along it.
Riley approached and sat beside him. Patrick slid over his beer, holding his own aloft.
‘Bottoms up.’
‘Thanks,’ Riley replied, sipping it gratefully. ‘Bit of a crowd they’ve got going. Should be quite a shindig tonight.’
‘I doubt I’ll be doing anything other than sleeping,’ Patrick said, supposing he’d go to bed very early tonight no matter how much noise rose from below. This stay at the inn was simply time to be endured until he could relieve Aggie and be with Ivy tomorrow.
The men drank in silence while Patrick scanned the crowd, recognising a few faces from the pub in Hornsby, timber cutters, most likely here for the woodchopping, he guessed. His gaze landed on the bearded man who still stood on the verandah, laughing with a few others. ‘Do you know many of them?’
Riley didn’t bother following his gaze as he took out his tobacco pouch. ‘Known most people up here all my life but not all I count as friends,’ he told him. ‘Smoke?’
‘No thanks,’ Patrick said. ‘So, were you born up this way then?’ he continued, curious as he glanced around at the town and considered what it must have been like to be raised there.
Riley rolled his smoke. ‘Yes, a bit further up. Family had oyster farms.’
‘Why aren’t you still doing that?’
‘They got killed off by an algae plague so we had to find other ways to make do,’ Riley said, lighting a match.
‘Oh, I see. So do you spend all your time making deliveries, then?’
Patrick didn’t know why he was prying, especially considering the wary glance Riley was sending him, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
‘Mostly,’ Riley said.
‘I suppose people need a lot of supplies. I didn’t see too much farming going on,’ Patrick observed, sipping his drink.
‘Fishing and timber work are the main ways to make a quid up here,’ Riley told him. ‘It’s tough land to farm, for the most part. People need more than they can grow.’
‘And is it hard to get supplies?’ He was pushing it now, Patrick knew.
Riley flicked his cigarette. ‘Not if you know the right people.’ He took a long draught of his beer. ‘You seem to ask a lot of questions. What line of work are you in?’
‘I’m studying law,’ Patrick said and Riley nodded with a sudden smile.
‘Should have guessed.’
Patrick grinned a little ruefully. ‘Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to cross-examine you, I was just trying to understand things, get some insight into what Ivy might have seen or experienced up here. She’s … very important to me,’ he admitted.
Riley didn’t meet his eye, simply sipping his drink. ‘Yes, I can see that,’ he said.
‘The river life is far removed from what she’s used to, let me tell you,’ Patrick continued. ‘She’s lived a pretty sheltered existence.’
‘And you haven’t?’ Riley looked at him directly and it was a challenge more than a question. Patrick felt a little self-conscious as he straightened his waistcoat.
‘Not entirely,’ he said, defensive at first, but Riley’s stare wore him down. ‘Well, probably, I suppose,’ he had to acknowledge, ‘although these past few days have ripped any shelter away, that’s for sure.’
Riley dropped his gaze, appearing guilty now. ‘I’m so sorry about Barney …’
Patrick shook his head. ‘How could you possibly expect him to forget such a thing?’
‘Well, it was Barney, I guess I should have thought of another way.’
‘Even so,’ Patrick said, shaking his head, ‘you weren’t to know. It wasn’t just fearing the worst, although that was a living hell.’ He paused, finding it hard to say the words out loud for the first time. ‘They put me under house arrest. I was the last one … alone with her … so …’
Riley looked taken aback. ‘Surely they weren’t going to charge you?’
‘If she couldn’t be found, yes.’
Riley stared at him as he lowered his glass. ‘I suppose they thought … well, where were you?’ he said. ‘Why did you leave Ivy alone? Especially to go swimming?’
‘She wasn’t swimming when I left her. She was up by the creek and she wanted more champagne so …’ He trailed off, wondering how he’d ever thought it would be all right to leave her so vulnerable. He certainly would never do so again.
‘I suppose you weren’t to know,’ Riley said, repeating Patrick’s words back to him
and glancing over at the men further along the verandah once more. They were getting drunker and louder and Patrick changed the subject, needing to piece the missing bits of the last few days together.
‘So what was going on up here? How close to Hornsby did you get before you had to turn back?’
Riley drank again before answering. ‘Only got about half an hour or so away from Fiona’s. We took shelter in a cave when the storm hit and had to wait it out for a few hours. That’s when I realised how sick she’d become.’
‘Must have been worrying,’ Patrick said, trying not to let his jealousy rise again at the thought of this man being alone with Ivy in a cave for hours on end.
‘Very,’ Riley admitted, ‘but that wasn’t the worst of it. The place we stopped in had some other visitors,’ he said, nodding towards the bearded man and his cronies. ‘Cost me my best bottle of rum to get them drunk enough to pass out and get Ivy away from there.’
‘Didn’t they see her?’
‘No, luckily,’ Riley said. ‘Would have been bloody dangerous if they had.’
‘Surely they wouldn’t have harmed her in any way. I mean, she’s a lady …’ Patrick said, appalled.
Riley drained his drink. ‘Women are worth more than gold up here. Lady or no, they’re viewed in the same way. That’s why I couldn’t leave Ivy alone and unconscious in the first place. I just couldn’t. I’m so sorry for what you all went through but if I had my time over I’d do the same thing again.’
The two men looked across the table at one another, new understanding between them now, but Ivy sat between them too. For all Riley had told him it was what he hadn’t said that niggled at Patrick the most, and it was there every time Riley uttered her name. Even though he hadn’t known her long, this river man cared for her, more than he was letting on. Patrick knew it because he recognised it. He felt the same way.
‘Speaking of which, I’d best get back to keeping an eye on things. Don’t forget Barney’s collecting you at eight tomorrow morning, if he bloody remembers,’ Riley added with a rueful smile.
Sisters of Freedom Page 16
