A Ring Through Time

by Pulman, Felicity

  She was caught in time and space, more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. She tried to breathe, to shout for help, but her throat was constricted and aching with grief and she couldn’t utter a sound. The prison walls pressed in on her, the wraiths came closer. She was trapped.

  But I’m not a prisoner. And I’m still alive.

  The thoughts gave Allie the courage to take a step away, and then another, and finally to turn and run. She stumbled over the stony ground, almost falling in her hurry to get out.

  Her heart pounded in her chest; her breath came in short, panicky gasps as she raced up the street that linked the bay to Quality Row. All she could think of was getting home, crawling into bed and pulling the covers over her head to escape the misery she’d just witnessed.

  TWO

  ‘What’s happened?’ her mother asked as Allie burst through the door.

  Allie shook her head, unable to speak.

  Her mother turned off the TV. ‘Has someone said something to you? Has someone hurt —’

  Allie drew a sobbing breath. ‘No. No, I’m fine. Really.’

  Her mother surveyed her with a worried expression. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ she joked.

  Allie shook her head again, knowing that it would be impossible to explain to anyone what she’d just witnessed.

  ‘Everything’s cool. I’m just tired.’

  She pushed past her mother and fled across the courtyard to the small self-contained apartment that had become her bedroom. She flopped down on the bed and closed her eyes. At once, the scene from the gaol sprang into vivid life. Terrified, she sat upright, eyes wide open, shaking with nerves. Why was she seeing these things? She heard once more the cry of the violin; it sounded as clear as if it was being played in her room. What was happening to her? Was she losing her mind?

  Her hand went automatically to her mobile to talk to Steph before she remembered the battery was dead. She plugged it in to charge then, acting on impulse, she felt under her bed for her suitcase. She dragged it out, opened it and took out the wrapped parcel within. She still didn’t know why she’d brought the violin over to the island. It wasn’t as if she could play it. No-one in her family could. It was a family heirloom and had sat gathering dust in a cupboard for as long as Allie could remember. But when it came time to pack away everything they wouldn’t need, she had rescued it on a sudden whim. She couldn’t bear to think of it being shut away in the dark.

  Once they’d arrived on the island, she hadn’t known what to do with it, so she’d shoved it into her suitcase for safekeeping. Now, she carefully undid the bubblewrap and opened the case. Hardly aware of what she was doing, she tucked the violin under her chin and drew the bow across its strings. It emitted a hideous squawk, almost like a howl of outrage.

  With a rueful smile, Allie placed it on the bed beside her. Perhaps she could learn how to play it? She wasn’t a fan of classical music but it might help to pass the time, give her something to do. She gently stroked the strings. For some reason, touching the violin calmed her racing heart. She put it on her bedside table, where she could see it as she undressed and climbed into bed.

  Allie’s sleep was broken by nightmares of spectral figures trapped within the high stone walls of the prison. She awoke with a start, her heart pounding with remembered fear as she recalled the events of the night before. A half-familiar tune came into her mind. She’d heard it while walking through the ruins of the prison; it was the same music weaving through her dreams. She struggled to put a name to it. Danny Boy. It was the lament of every Irishman far away from home.

  Desperate to share her terrifying experience at the gaol with her friend, Allie reached for her phone. But Steph’s mobile went straight to voicemail.

  ‘Steph, it’s Allie. Something horrible has happened. Please call me!’

  After some hesitation, she hit Sara’s number.

  ‘Allie? God, what time is it? Why’re you calling me so early?’

  Sara sounded so hostile, Allie was startled. ‘Sorry, Sas. I just … Something awful happened to me last night. I just wanted to talk to you, that’s all.’

  ‘Awful how?’

  ‘There’re all these old ruins here from when the place was a convict settlement. I went walking in the gaol on my own last night and I saw … I saw …’

  An icy wave of horror swept over Allie and she couldn’t continue.

  ‘Don’t tell me you saw the ghosts of convicts past?’ Sara said.

  ‘Uh … yeah. Yeah, I did actually.’

  ‘Oh, get real, Allie. You wake me up practically in the middle of the night to tell me a story like that!’

  Allie winced. ‘It’s true,’ she said feebly.

  ‘Come on, Allie. You don’t have to make up stupid stories just to talk to me.’

  Allie took a breath. ‘Well, I want to talk to you anyway. How’re things with you and Steph?’

  ‘Cool. Okay.’

  ‘I miss you guys. It’s …’ Allie was about to say lonely, but that sounded too pathetic. ‘I’ve met a hot guy!’ she said instead.

  ‘Really?’ Sara suddenly sounded a lot friendlier. ‘What’s his name? Have you hooked up with him?’

  If Noah had wanted to go out with me, he’d have made more of an effort to find me on the beach last night, Allie thought.

  ‘No, it’s nothing like that,’ she said. ‘His name’s Noah.’

  ‘Well, good luck, Allie. I hope it works out.’ There was a brief silence. ‘Sorry, Mum’s calling. I gotta go.’ And Sara ended the call before Allie could even say goodbye.

  She put down her mobile, feeling flat. After the whole thing with Jason, her friends had stood by her, taken her side. Now they were acting as if they didn’t want to know her any more — and Allie had a sneaking suspicion she knew why.

  With a deep sigh, she selected shorts and a T-shirt and headed to the shower. As she washed her hair, she comforted herself with the thought that at least Meg seemed friendly. Maybe she wasn’t quite as alone as she thought.

  Then her stomach dropped with a sickening lurch as she recalled her vision the previous night. Why had she seen those desperate men, why had they come?

  ‘Hey, Alice! Good weekend?’ Noah stopped beside Allie as she sorted through her backpack for the books she needed for her next class.

  Allie hesitated, wondering what to say. ‘Yeah. It was okay, thanks,’ seemed safe enough. In fact, Meg’s condemnation of John Bennett had intrigued Allie, and she’d spent the weekend looking through some of the letters and papers her father had collected about their ancestor. Nothing she’d read justified the description of ‘a bloody old tyrant’.

  ‘So where were you Friday night?’ Noah asked. ‘I thought you were coming down to the beach?’

  ‘I came for a little while.’ But you ignored me. ‘I couldn’t stay long,’ she said instead.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t see you.’ Allie thought he seemed genuinely regretful. ‘Why didn’t you come over and say hello?’

  ‘You were busy with your mates. I didn’t want to butt in.’

  Noah gave a snorting laugh. ‘My mates I can see any time. But you …’

  Was he coming on to her? Allie could feel a blush rising; she felt like a traffic light standing there. She wished she could think of something clever to say, but nothing came to mind.

  ‘Well, I’m here now,’ she said at last. ‘Maybe you can tell me where to go for our next class?’

  ‘History.’ Noah shrugged his backpack more firmly onto his shoulders. ‘Come with me.’

  Nat stepped in front of Noah, blocking his way, as they reached the door of the classroom. ‘Hey, Noah.’ She cast a dismissive glance in Allie’s direction, before turning her attention back to her main target. ‘Great party Friday night,’ she gushed.

  ‘Yeah.’ Noah put out his hand and caught hold of Allie as she tried to sidle past them. ‘Nat, you’ve met Alice? She’s new here.’

  ‘Course I’ve met her. She was in ou
r class last week, wasn’t she?’

  ‘So I’m trying to be friendly,’ he said. ‘Maybe you and your mates could make her feel a bit more welcome too.’

  Allie wished they wouldn’t discuss her as if she wasn’t there.

  ‘I’m usually called Allie,’ she said. ‘And you don’t have to ask people to be friends with me. I’m quite capable of making friends by myself.’

  Nat looked her up and down. ‘That’s okay then,’ she said, and walked off.

  Allie hurried to her desk and sat down, wondering why Nat had sounded so hostile. Was it all about Noah? Did she think she had a rival? Allie pulled a face, then became aware that the teacher had walked in and was addressing her.

  ‘We’ve been looking at Australia’s early history, Alice, and the displacement of the Aborigines during colonisation. Is this something you covered at your old school?’

  ‘Yes, Ms …’ Allie’s mind went blank.

  ‘Ms Elliott,’ the teacher said crisply. ‘What I’d like to do now, for the benefit of all of you, not just Alice, is consider how convict transportation contributed to Australia’s early settlement — and that includes the unique history of our own island, of course. We’re all familiar with what happened later in Norfolk’s history, how the descendants of the Bounty mutineers were moved from Pitcairn Island to settle here. But I’d like to refresh your memories about the gruesome and bloody history of the first and second convict settlements.’

  Allie stole a quick glance around the classroom, and caught Meg’s eye. The girl put a finger to her lips, then sliced it across her throat. Allie remembered her warning on Friday night and felt a hot flush of indignation.

  Meg was wrong about John Bennett, but perhaps she should wait and see what Ms Elliott had to say.

  Ms Elliott began by describing what life had been like for the convicts transported during the first settlement. ‘The second settlement was a very different proposition,’ she continued. ‘For a start, women convicts were no longer sent here, which led to all sorts of problems as you may imagine.’

  Allie was bewildered when, instead of continuing her description, the teacher turned to Noah.

  ‘A couple of your ancestors had firsthand experience of life here during the second settlement, Noah. Instead of my giving facts and figures, I think it would mean more if you tell us what happened to them.’

  Noah sprawled back in his chair. ‘Okay, so you all know my ancestors were Irish. Their names were Cormac and Padraic O’Brien, and they were brothers. Padraic worked for a legal firm in London. Cormac was a musician. He also lived in London, earning a living playing at concerts and in music halls. They were educated men, not criminals, but they made the mistake of supporting independence for Ireland and were transported because of it. But instead of being sent to New South Wales, like most convicts, they were brought straight here as part of Maconochie’s experiment. They began to work out their sentence, and everything was going well until, unfortunately for them, Maconochie was dismissed and John Bennett took over as commandant.’

  Allie sat upright at the mention of her ancestor’s name.

  ‘Bennett was the most brutal and bloody tyrant of them all,’ Noah continued.

  ‘No, he wasn’t.’

  Allie hadn’t meant to draw attention to herself, but she couldn’t let Noah tell lies about her own ancestor.

  ‘Why, what do you know about John Bennett, Alice?’ The teacher’s expression changed from interest to shock as she made the connection. ‘Bennett. Are you a descendant of his?’

  Allie nodded. She was committed now to setting the record straight. ‘I don’t know exactly how many generations it goes back, but yes, one of my great-greats was a commandant here. That’s partly why we’ve come back, to find out more about him. And he wasn’t a brutal and bloody tyrant at all,’ she added, recalling the documents she’d read over the weekend.

  ‘He was a sadistic psychopath!’ Noah said angrily.

  Allie was shocked at the change in his expression. He sat with his arms folded, glaring at her, his eyes cold and hard. He looked as if he hated her.

  ‘No, you’re wrong. He was just strict, that’s all,’ she corrected him. ‘He was sent here to set things right. My dad’s got copies of letters he wrote to the authorities complaining about how the convicts had taken advantage of Maconochie’s weak rule, and were bold and out of control. And dangerous. There was a mutiny shortly after John Bennett arrived on the island with his family. The convicts went on a rampage and bludgeoned four people to death. The government wanted Bennett to bring them under control, and that’s what he did. It’s a matter of public record that he was stern, but just.’

  ‘What we’ve come to realise is that Maconochie was a reformer, a man before his time,’ said Ms Elliott. ‘He believed in rewarding the prisoners for good behaviour with a system of merit points. He gave them hope and the chance of a decent life. He encouraged the convicts to find their self-respect and take responsibility for their actions. That’s why he —’

  ‘But it didn’t work,’ Allie butted in. ‘It just encouraged the convicts to try to run away. My dad told me that there were several escape attempts during Maconochie’s time because he gave them so much freedom. And people died as a result — convicts and soldiers. That’s why Maconochie was discharged and my ancestor was appointed in his place.’

  ‘I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned the “unnatural practices” that were also a concern at the time,’ Ms Elliott said dryly.

  ‘What unnatural practices?’

  An outbreak of catcalls and whistles turned Allie’s face a fiery red once more. ‘Oh,’ she said in a small voice.

  ‘Inevitable, of course, when you have up to two thousand men herded together with no women around, but it was considered a great crime in those days. And, of course, Maconochie was held responsible for that too.’

  Not knowing what to say, Allie kept silent. The class was also quiet, save for suppressed giggles from a couple of girls.

  ‘There’s a lot of information and a very good video about the early convict years in the Commisariat. It’s one of our museums,’ Ms Elliott said. ‘Perhaps you should pay it a visit so you can find out a little more about your ancestor’s time here.’

  ‘And take your dad with you. It’s about time your family found out the truth,’ said Noah.

  ‘It might be a good idea if we all paid another visit to the museum,’ Ms Elliott said hurriedly. ‘There’s always something more we can learn about the past.’

  Someone at the back gave a loud yawn and several of the students tittered.

  Ms Elliott glared at the yawner. ‘Do you have anything to add to this conversation, Natalie?’ she asked pointedly.

  ‘Yeah,’ Nat said. ‘Ask Noah to tell the new girl about the family ghost.’

  Those students who’d been lolling across their desks sat up straight, looking expectant. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Allie realised they all knew what was coming, and that whatever it was would support Ms Elliott’s opinion of John Bennett rather than her own.

  ‘Some people claim to have seen Cormac’s ghost, that’s all,’ Noah said, with an embarrassed laugh. Allie noted that he was careful not to admit to seeing the ghost himself.

  ‘Like I said,’ he continued. ‘Padraic and Cormac were educated men, not criminals. They did their best to stay out of trouble, and were given quite a lot of freedom during Maconochie’s time. But all that changed when John Bennett arrived. No-one’s sure exactly what happened after that ’cos a lot of records and reports from that time are missing. Maybe Bennett didn’t bother to keep proper records ’cos it’s not only my ancestors’ details that can’t be found. All we have to tell us what happened to Cormac are stories that were passed down through the family. And a memento: a plaited ring of hair. Dunno who it came from, maybe his mother or an old sweetheart in Ireland, or something. What we do know is that Cormac was accused of taking part in a mutiny and killing a man, even though he’d never be
en in trouble before.’

  ‘But there was a mutiny,’ Allie said irritably. ‘And it wasn’t just one man who died. Four people were murdered.’

  ‘Padraic told his family that Cormac didn’t kill anyone. He said Cormac was nowhere near the riot on that day. There was no reason for Padraic to lie about Cormac, so our family doesn’t believe it.’

  ‘There’s every reason to lie about Cormac. You accuse me of wanting to think the best of John Bennett, but aren’t you doing exactly the same thing?’ Allie said fiercely.

  Noah was silent.

  Nat came to his defence. ‘It’s a bit different. Bennett was well known as a tyrant, but nothing was ever said against Cormac during all his time on Norfolk. There’s no record of him being in any trouble after Bennett’s arrival either.’

  ‘Except for taking part in a mutiny,’ Allie said.

  ‘But why would he do that when he hadn’t caused any trouble during the rest of his time on the island?’

  Good question, Allie thought, and one for which she had no answer. Fortunately, Ms Elliott came to her rescue.

  ‘This points out one of the problems we encounter when looking at historical records,’ she said, ‘and it’s something I want you to think about whenever you’re studying some aspect of history. You should ask yourself the questions: who has written this record, and what purpose does it serve? Historical records were usually written by those in power. The stories of the vanquished, or the ordinary people, were lost because they had no voice. Like Noah’s ancestor, for example.’

  She stopped and surveyed the room. Everyone was quiet as they listened to her words.

  ‘Something else I’d like you to think about, which we’ve touched on today, is how attitudes change through the centuries,’ Ms Elliott continued. ‘What was considered disgraceful back in the convict era — like those “unnatural practices” that prompted the closure of the penal colony here — are now accepted in our society. People have the right to express their sexuality. And practices that were commonplace in those days, like the brutal treatment of prisoners and the belief that they had to be beaten into subjugation to persuade them to reform, are now considered abhorrent.’