by Judy Nunn
‘Turn the page,’ she said, not wanting to invite enquiry about the mutilated picture, although she was sure Jessica would be too tactful to make any comment, ‘there’re some photographs on the next one.’
Jessica turned the page without having had time to read the copy which attended the article. She wondered about the man in the mutilated picture. Was it the husband? Surely it must have been.
Three photographs were pasted onto the following page. ‘Foong Lee,’ she said recognising the Chinese in the first one. ‘Gosh Kit’s tall.’
‘Yes, he is, but then Foong Lee’s short.’ Henrietta smiled as she looked at the photograph of Kit and Foong Lee in a playful pose outside the front of the restaurant, Kit propping his elbow on Foong Lee’s head.
‘And that’s Kit and his girlfriend,’ Henrietta said. ‘She used to work with him at the newspaper, but they’ve split up now.’
‘Who’s this?’ Jessica asked of the final photograph of Kit and a handsome older woman with a shock of white hair.
‘She’s a very dear friend who’s been like a mother to him,’ Henrietta said. Darling Aggie, she thought. She blessed Aggie Marshall daily. And she blessed Foong Lee for sending her the photographs and the articles. They were the only contact Henrietta had with her son and his life, and they were of immeasurable comfort to her.
Henrietta closed the scrapbook and turned to Jessica. Now for the moment of truth, she thought. ‘I haven’t seen my son for over thirteen years,’ she said.
Jessica made no reply, she didn’t dare breathe a word, aware that this was the secret Henrietta had agonised over whether or not she should reveal.
‘Kit doesn’t know that I’m alive.’ Henrietta’s voice was matter-of-fact, clinical. There, she’d said it, now she’d simply have to trust in the girl’s oath of silence. ‘He’s nearly twenty-seven years old, and since the age of thirteen he has believed that I am dead.’
It was a shocking statement and Jessica didn’t know what to say. Why on earth would Henrietta Galloway want her son to believe she was dead? Jessica’s eyes obviously asked the question.
‘If I had returned to Darwin during those years,’ Henrietta explained, choosing her words with care, ‘lives would have been endangered—my own, and others. The threat no longer exists—if it did, then of course I wouldn’t be telling you this—but there are personal reasons why I don’t wish to make myself known now.’
Jessica once again wondered why. But this time the query in her eyes went unanswered.
‘If I direct you to the locket,’ Henrietta continued, ‘and therefore to Kit, you must give me your word that you will say nothing to him about me.’
‘Why don’t you want him to know you’re alive?’ Jessica couldn’t stop herself asking the question. ‘If there’s no longer any danger, then surely …’
But Henrietta continued as if she hadn’t heard. ‘It would be quite easy. You would simply tell him the story of your search, just as you told me and Foong Lee. Your search would naturally lead you to Kit, Foong Lee having told you that Paul Trewinnard gave me the locket. And you would have presumed that, upon my death, Kit may have inherited it.’
Jessica repeated her question, gently this time. ‘Why don’t you want your son to know you’re alive, Henrietta?’
There were a dozen answers Henrietta could have given, but Jessica didn’t know the full story. So she told her as much of the truth as she could. And strangely enough, as she said it, she realised she was voicing her principal concern.
‘He has a life of his own,’ she said. ‘I’ve been dead to Kit for over thirteen years—it’s best he remembers me the way I was.’ She recalled how close they’d been, she and her darling younger son. He had been her world as she knew she’d been his—could she bear to see disenchantment in his eyes? ‘Heavens above,’ she said lightly in an attempt to suppress her innermost fears, ‘he doesn’t need a middle-aged cripple of a mother he hasn’t known since his childhood.’
‘Oh yes, he does.’
It was Henrietta’s turn to be taken aback, and she was. Jessica herself was taken aback by her own vehemence. There was a moment of silence, but when she continued it was with the same fervour. ‘Do you know what I would have given to find my real mother? To meet her, to discover who she was and what she’d done with her life? To know her as a woman, this person who gave birth to me? Do you know what I would have given?’ Jessica didn’t wait for Henrietta to reply. ‘You owe it to Kit,’ she said. ‘He’s your son and he should be allowed to share your life.’
There was nothing Henrietta could have desired more, but there were extenuating circumstances—the girl didn’t know the whole story. ‘There are things that have happened in my life, Jessica,’ she said slowly, ‘things that may have altered Kit’s view of me, truths that might shatter his world.’
‘Surely it’s worth the risk.’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘I believe that it is.’
The girl was pushing her and Henrietta felt confused and uncertain. ‘You don’t know the full story,’ she said.
‘I’m aware of that.’ Jessica was also aware of her own bullying tactics, but perhaps, somewhere deep inside, Henrietta wanted to be bullied. It was quite evident that she loved her son and that she missed him desperately. ‘But whatever the story is, it obviously involves Kit. Don’t you think he should be allowed to know the truth?’
How Henrietta longed to tell Kit the truth. The good truths in any event. She longed to tell him about the love she and Paul had shared, and the love Paul had felt for the son he could never acknowledge as his own. She wanted nothing more than to tell him such truths. But her fear remained.
‘What if he hates me?’ she whispered, more to herself than the girl.
Jessica was moved. She wanted so much to help Henrietta, but she knew that there was little more she could say. She didn’t want to bully her further. Henrietta was too frightened. She was haunted by fear; it was in her eyes.
An idea suddenly occurred to Jessica. ‘Why don’t we go to Darwin together?’ she suggested. The words were out of her mouth before she’d given them any thought and, as they hung in the air, she realised that she’d surprised herself more than Henrietta in the saying of them. Why was she so eager to become involved in the reuniting of Henrietta Galloway and her son, she wondered. Was she trying in some way to help heal the wounds of her own loss? The question was unanswerable but, whatever her motives, Jessica was driven by an intense desire to bring mother and son together. ‘You could see Kit from a distance,’ she urged, ‘and then decide what to do.’ Yes, that was it, she thought. Surely once the woman laid eyes on her son she would feel compelled to reveal herself. ‘You wouldn’t have to make yourself known to him if you didn’t want to,’ she added encouragingly.
‘Yes,’ Henrietta breathed. Caught up in Jessica’s excitement, she felt the agony of her indecision lifting, ‘yes, I could do that, couldn’t I? He needn’t even know I’m there.’ Why hadn’t she thought of it the moment Foong Lee had rung with the news of Terence’s death? At least then she would be able to see her son in the flesh. To actually lay eyes on him instead of poring over a photograph or a press clipping. Her heart raced at the prospect, and she blessed the intervention of Jessica Williams. ‘Yes, I’ll come to Darwin with you.’
Her decision made, Henrietta was determined to move quickly—any more thought on the subject might invite a return of her indecision. She was going to see her son and that was all that mattered. She had made the momentous decision and it had to happen now. ‘Foong Lee can arrange a meeting between you and Kit,’ she said, reaching for the telephone on her desk. ‘You’ll see the locket and I’ll see my son,’ she said as she started to dial.
For the past half hour, the locket had been the last thing on Jessica’s mind as she’d become embroiled in the mystery of Henrietta Galloway’s past.
Henrietta paused mid-dial. ‘Would you be able to go to Darwin if we can get a flight tomorrow?’
Jessica nodded. And now it appeared she was about to become embroiled in Henrietta Galloway’s future.
Darwin was unrecognisable from the air. The two women peered through the windows of the aircraft at what looked like a war zone below.
During the flight, Henrietta had felt the strangest yearnings as she’d watched the landscape unfold beneath her. The red earth, the lush wetlands, the plains and the escarpments. She hadn’t realised how much she had missed the vastness of the Territory. And when she stepped off the plane and the heat embraced her, she welcomed it like an old friend. She had thought she would never return, but the Territory had claimed her long ago. She belonged here, she thought.
As they walked through the makeshift terminal, Jessica was appalled. ‘This was a brand new airport when I left,’ she said. Could it really have been only five weeks ago?
Both women were silent during the taxi drive into town. The pleasant Greek-Australian cab driver registered their shock. ‘Yeah, bit of a mess, eh?’ Then, realising they didn’t want to chat, he tactfully kept quiet. He agreed with them anyway, there was nothing much to be said. Tracy had done a thorough job of it, all right. As far as the eye could see, Darwin had been razed to the ground.
It was early afternoon when Kit arrived at the restaurant.
‘You’re right on time,’ Foong Lee said, greeting him at the door. ‘Excellent.’
‘Well you made it sound like it was more than my life was worth to be late,’ Kit replied. ‘What’s all the mystery? And why have you got the closed sign up? You never put the closed sign up.’
But Foong Lee didn’t answer any of his queries. ‘Come in, come in.’ And he hustled Kit inside, closing the door. He crossed to the bar where the teapot and cups were set out by the urn. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘it’s not for you.’ Kit hated heung ping. Foong Lee handed him a cold beer from the refrigerator.
‘Thanks,’ said Kit. ‘So who’s it for then? Who’s the mystery person I’m supposed to meet? Why all the secrecy?’
‘All in good time, all in good time. Tell me about work, how are things at the paper?’
Kit gave up. He knew better than to try to badger information out of Foong Lee. If Foong Lee had decided he wasn’t talking then that was that. But whatever the mysterious business was, Kit hoped it wouldn’t take too long. He had a pile of assignments to tackle.
‘Busy,’ he said. ‘Things are busy at the paper.’ He said it good naturedly, but he was making a definite point, hoping Foong Lee would take the hint.
‘Really? How exciting. Tell me all about it.’ Foong Lee led the way to a table beside the windows. Kit heaved a sigh of frustration, the man was infuriating.
Foong Lee sensed Kit’s exasperation, but he refused to explain what was going on, just as he’d refused Henrietta’s request that he be part of the deception.
‘You must tell Kit all about Jessica and her search for the locket,’ Henrietta had instructed him over the phone, ‘and you must say that you told Jessica that Paul gave the locket to me.’
‘But I didn’t tell Jessica any such thing.’ Foong Lee had been surprised to hear that the locket was in Kit’s possession. Not that it mattered—the locket had lessened in importance in the current scheme of things. Its discovery had served the purpose of bringing Henrietta out of hiding, and that was all that concerned Foong Lee. But, to his dismay, Henrietta had insisted upon maintaining her secret.
‘I have no intention of returning from the grave, Foong Lee. I simply want to see Kit, that’s all. From a distance.’
‘You’re wrong, Henrietta,’ he said. ‘And you may live to regret such a decision.’
‘Then the regret will be mine,’ she replied, very firmly.
‘As you wish. Of course I shall say nothing.’ But he refused to play her game. He was not going to make things easier for her, he’d decided, secretly hoping that, on seeing Kit, Henrietta would be unable to resist making herself known to her son.
Kit sat at the table and peered out the window. Foong Lee had probably set up a meeting with someone who wanted a favour from the newspaper, he thought. Most likely something to do with one of the many relief committees with which he was involved. Kit would vastly have preferred a more straightforward approach, but then Foong Lee was a devious old bugger, he thought. There was no option but to play his game. He took a swig from his can of beer and started talking about his assignments and the importance of NTN in the aftermath of Tracy, rapidly warming to his theme. Kit’s work was a subject which never ceased to interest him.
Outside the restaurant, a taxi pulled up. From the moment they’d reached the outskirts of town, Henrietta had begun to feel terrified. Why? she’d asked herself, there was no need. She would simply remain in the taxi, see her son from a distance, then instruct the driver to return to the airport.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Foong Lee had scoffed over the phone when she’d told him her intention, but she’d been adamant. It was a day trip only and she would be returning on the early evening flight. Henrietta had decided it would be far too dangerous to stay overnight. She was still well known to many in Darwin and she dare not risk an encounter with someone from the past.
‘At least let Albert pick you up,’ Foong Lee had suggested. ‘Then he can take you to the house until it’s time for your flight back to Perth. You can’t spend the whole afternoon hanging around the airport.’
‘Have you told Albert I’m alive?’ she’d demanded.
‘Of course not.’ He’d been outraged by her suggestion that he might have broken his word.
‘Then there is no reason for him to know now.’ Henrietta wished that she hadn’t involved Foong Lee in the exercise, she knew he was trying to force her hand.
Jessica was about to open the door of the taxi. ‘Are you sure you won’t change your mind and come in with me?’ she asked.
‘Quite sure,’ Henrietta replied with a strength which belied her emotional state. She’d been tense from the moment they’d left Perth, and the sight and the feel and the smell of the Territory hadn’t helped, assailing her with images and sensations from the past. Now she was a bundle of nerves, but she was determined not to show it. ‘Go on.’
Jessica said nothing but, impulsively, she clasped Henrietta’s hand. Henrietta didn’t acknowledge the gesture. She was far too uncertain of her emotional control to accept any show of sympathy and she wished the girl would get out of the vehicle. But, suddenly, just as Jessica was about to open the car door, Henrietta clutched the girl’s hand in both of her own. And clutched it so tightly that she startled herself as well as Jessica.
Jessica looked at Henrietta in alarm. The colour had drained from her face and she was staring fixedly out of the car window. Jessica turned. In the restaurant, only metres away, clearly visible through the large plate-glass window, Kit Galloway was seated at a table in avid conversation with Foong Lee.
Henrietta quickly released Jessica’s hand. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it was just the shock.’ But her eyes didn’t leave Kit for an instant.
‘Come in with me, Henrietta,’ Jessica urged.
‘No, no,’ she said. She didn’t dare. But there he was, clear as day. She had only to cross the footpath and tap on the window and he would turn and look directly at her. How she longed to see his eyes. ‘Go on, Jessica, go on,’ she implored.
Jessica reluctantly pushed the door open, hoping that at any minute Henrietta might change her mind. But Henrietta didn’t move a muscle, she remained staring at her son.
Foong Lee had seen the taxi pull up. He paid rapt attention to Kit’s conversation, but in his peripheral vision he watched the taxi, and he waited. A minute or so went by before the car door opened and Jessica alighted. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘our visitor.’
Kit looked out into the street. He studied the girl as she closed the door of the taxi behind her. She had creamy skin and chestnut hair and was rather attractive. So this was the mystery person he was supposed to meet—how very intrigui
ng.
Foong Lee rose from the table. ‘Would you mind filling the teapot, Kit?’ he asked.
‘Sure.’ Kit raked his hair back with his fingers as he stood.
Henrietta’s heart skipped a beat at the familiar gesture. The instant he’d looked in the taxi’s direction, she’d seen a flash of the grey eyes which she knew so well. But now he’d turned away and, as she watched, he stepped out of sight. She gave an involuntary gasp, willing him to return to the window. But even if he did she knew it would not be enough. Staring at him through a plate-glass window was just as unfulfilling as poring over photographs and press clippings. She needed to look into his eyes, to touch his face, to hold him close and feel her arms around him. Her breath was coming in short gasps, she realised, as she opened the car door.
‘You okay, lady?’ the cab driver asked with a touch of concern.
‘Please wait,’ she said, and got out of the taxi a little clumsily, her stick momentarily wedging itself in the door. The driver was about to get out and help her. ‘No, I’m all right, thank you,’ she hastily assured him, so he settled back behind the wheel and opened his newspaper.
Jessica had been about to knock on the restaurant door. She paused and watched as Henrietta slowly, but unhesitatingly, crossed the footpath. When the older woman stood beside her, she gently tapped on the door.
While Kit was busy filling the teapot, Foong Lee had remained standing by the window watching the taxi, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Henrietta get out. He waited until he heard the tap at the door and then went to open it.
Henrietta stood there, white-faced and breathless. He gave her a smile of encouragement which she failed to notice as she stared straight ahead.
