Allie went out into the fresh air and wondered where to try next. She was reluctant to shut herself away any longer on a sunny afternoon. Remembering her thoughts about the cemetery, she continued to walk along Quality Row in its direction. Maybe she could find Alice and Cormac’s trysting place. She felt cold caterpillar feet crawl over her as she recalled the disastrous outcome of that meeting.
The cemetery looked sleepy and benign in the afternoon sun. It was ringed with a white fence and open to the elements, save for a grove of trees close to the road and another opposite, parallel to the shoreline. Allie entered through the white gate and began to walk between the graves, many of which were decorated with bright flowers, both real and artificial. There were plenty of names she recognised, from school or local businesses: Christian, Quintal, Adams, Young, Buffet, McCoy, Nobbs, Evans. Realising she was in the section where the Pitcairn Islanders and their descendants were buried, she moved towards the back of the cemetery, where the gravestones looked much older.
She prowled around, reading those headstones she could still decipher. Some of them dated back to the second settlement. Her pulse raced as she came to an ornately carved headstone.
ROBERTSON, E.W.
Sacred to the memory of Elizabeth White Robertson, second daughter of Gilbert Robertson, late Superintendent of Agriculture, Norfolk Island, who died January 11th 1847 aged 24 years.
Thou art gone to the grave but we will not deplore thee, Though sorrows and darkness encompass thy tomb, The Saviour has passed through its portals before thee, And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom.
Allie read the epitaph twice. Poor Elizabeth, she thought. Dead at twenty-four, and from a disease that could now be cured. Had Elizabeth had time to fall in love? It seemed not, judging from the year of her death, so soon after Alice was writing her diary. Perhaps, knowing her fate, she’d been too afraid to trust her heart to anyone. At least Alice had known the joy of loving and being loved.
Suddenly apprehensive, Allie scooted around the other headstones, fearing what she might find. To her relief, there was no memorial to Alice. Or to Susannah. There was nothing to commemorate Cormac either.
She frowned at a fancy headstone, recognising the name. Alfred Essex Baldock, late Chief Constable of the Island. He’d drowned in a boating accident. Allie closed her eyes, the better to remember. This wasn’t the officer who had tried to woo Alice, this was someone else. And then it came to her. One of John Bennett’s spies. The man responsible for tracking down Cormac at the cemetery. Allie shivered, feeling the dead closing in around her again.
She was about to move on when an old headstone collapsed to one side caught her eye. She stopped as she recognised a name. The inscription was so faint it was almost unreadable. Mary, beloved wife of John Bennett and devoted mother of Susannah and William. Requiescat in Pace. It was dated six months after Alice had stopped writing in her diary.
Allie stared at the fallen stone, speechless with rage. What about Alice? Where was her name? It seemed that she’d been cast out from the family in disgrace, as if she’d never existed.
I’ll make it up to you, she vowed silently. I’ll find out what happened to you — and to Susannah — and I’ll make sure that everyone knows at least something about you.
Allie wasn’t sure how she would manage this, but she’d do everything in her power to fulfil her promise. She wished she could go back to Sydney, just for a little while, to visit the Mitchell Library. The curator at the museum had told her that most of the island’s early records were housed there.
‘When they closed down the penal colony, they took just about everything with them,’ she’d said. ‘We have very few records left here; we have very little of anything. If you want information about John Bennett’s family, you’ll need to go to the Mitchell.’ She’d looked sideways at Allie. ‘Your ancestor?’ she hazarded.
Allie gave a reluctant nod. ‘I’d keep quiet about that if I were you,’ the curator had advised. Allie nodded again. This advice was getting boring, but at least the curator had been helpful. And friendly.
As Allie walked home, she wondered what to do next. She was almost out of options so far as research on the island was concerned, but Sydney was out of her reach for the time being. Could she perhaps ask Steph and Sara to help her? It would mean taking them into her confidence, telling them about Alice and Cormac and why she needed to know more about the family. She shook her head. No way. She hated the idea of them giggling and gossiping about the ill-fated love affair and John Bennett’s role in the tragedy. Besides, they’d already made it clear that they’d moved on, and out of her life. Added to that was the fact that Allie was sure they’d rather walk over broken glass than spend time poking around in a library, no matter how urgent her need.
But there was someone she knew who spent most of her time with her head in a book or staring at a screen. Georgy, or as Sara and Steph had called her, the Geek! She and Georgy had been paired for an assignment once. Allie remembered how Georgy had always known where to look for the information they needed. At the time, she’d thought that Georgy seemed more comfortable with books and technology than people — so that made her the ideal person to ask for help now.
Could she present it as a puzzle for Georgy to solve? She might agree if Allie made it sound intriguing enough.
She didn’t have Georgy’s email address, but she could get her phone number. What if she phoned first, just to see if Georgy was interested? Her courage almost failed her at the thought. What if Georgy laughed at her? What if she spread the story around Allie’s old school? Allie decided she’d just have to take that chance; she didn’t have any other choice.
Once home she was about to check Georgy’s home phone number when her mother came to tell her that Sylvia Armstrong had called, wanting her to babysit the following weekend.
‘I didn’t commit you to anything,’ Catherine said. ‘I didn’t know if you’d made other plans?’
‘No. Sure, I’ll do it,’ Allie said. It would give her a chance to try out another idea she’d had.
‘You’d better ring Sylvia then. She’ll give you all the details.’
Allie picked up the phone.
‘Hi. This is Allie,’ she said, when she heard Sylvia’s voice. ‘I’m free next weekend if you want me to babysit.’
‘That’s wonderful.’ Sylvia hesitated. ‘I should warn you, it’s a reception for visitors from Australia and it’s on Saturday afternoon. That means both the children will be awake and needing entertainment, I’m afraid. Maybe you could take them for a walk or something. I’m sure they won’t be any trouble.’
Allie had been expecting to go to the house at night, and have the freedom to look for Alice’s ghost while the children were asleep. Watching over a lively youngster and a baby wasn’t what she’d had in mind at all. She was about to say she’d just remembered an assignment she had to complete when Sylvia said, ‘I’d be so grateful if you could do this for me, Allie.’
It was too hard to say no. ‘That’s fine. I’ll see you next weekend.’
Once she got off the phone, she set about finding Georgy’s number. She took her mobile into her bedroom; the last thing she wanted was for anyone to overhear her conversation. As she listened to the phone ring at the other end, she hoped Georgy hadn’t gone out. It was Saturday evening, after all. But then, she wasn’t going out either. It occurred to Allie that she and Georgy had a lot more in common now than they used to have.
‘Hello?’
‘Georgy! Hi, it’s Allie.’
‘Who?’
‘Allie Bennett. From school.’ Allie lowered her voice, hoping her parents were still in the kitchen where she’d last seen them. ‘I’m living on Norfolk Island now.’
‘Why are you ringing me?’
Georgy sounded bewildered. Allie couldn’t blame her.
‘I’m investigating a family mystery. And I need your help. Please. There’s no-one else I can ask.’
Silence. A
llie crossed her fingers as she waited for a response.
‘What do you want me to do?’ Cautious. Not friendly. But not unfriendly either. At least she hadn’t said no.
Allie took a breath and launched into some of the details about John Bennett and his family, and the date they’d left the penal colony. ‘I’m trying to find out what happened to his daughters, Alice and Susannah. And his son, William. I know he was in the army in India, but I think he spent most of his life in England, not Australia.’
‘So what’s the mystery?’
Allie hesitated; she still wanted to keep Alice’s story a secret. ‘I’ve found Alice’s diary. It’s been hidden all these years. She’s my namesake so I’m interested to know what happened to her after she left Norfolk.’
‘Why didn’t she take her diary with her?’
Georgy might be a geek but she was smart too. Allie was glad she’d thought to ask for her help. ‘I don’t know. Please don’t say anything to anyone about this,’ she continued. ‘No-one knows I’ve got the diary. No-one seems to know anything about Alice, or her sister either. I’m curious to find out what happened to them but I’ve been told that most of the early records are now in the Mitchell Library.’
‘It’s not much to go on.’
‘I know.’ A thought occurred to Allie. ‘Alice mentioned an officer who was keen on her. Apparently he wanted her to marry him,’ she said slowly, trying to recall the name. ‘Jack. Maybe she did marry him; maybe they left the island before the rest of her family.’
‘Jack? If he married Alice, I’m going to need his surname too.’
‘Jack … um …’ Allie flicked through the diary. ‘Lieutenant Jack Cartwright! That’s it.’
‘Okay, got that. I’ll visit the library after school, see what I can find out.’
Allie could have wept with relief. ‘Thanks, Georgy,’ she said awkwardly. ‘Thanks heaps. I really appreciate it.’
Georgy laughed. ‘Oh, I expect something in return. I suspect there’s a whole lot more to this than you’re telling me. So I’ll see what I can find out — but first I want to know what else was in Alice’s diary.’
Allie knew she owed Georgy. She just didn’t know how far she could trust her to keep Alice’s unhappy love affair to herself.
‘Not over the phone,’ she said.
‘Then email me.’ Georgy paused, then said firmly, ‘If I’m going to solve a mystery for you, the more details you can give me the better.’
It made sense.
‘What’s your email address?’ Allie said. She fished in her backpack for a pen and scribbled it down. ‘Okay. I’ll send you some more info. And Georgy — thanks again.’
‘I’ll do my best, Allie. And listen, I realise you want to keep this a secret. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.’
The following Saturday was a fine, bright day, the sunshine welcome after several days of heavy rain. Micaela was fractious after being cooped indoors, and the baby wailed loudly when, according to instructions, Allie put her down for her afternoon nap. She decided to take the children for a walk instead, hoping that the baby would fall asleep in her pram. Skirting the golf course, Allie pushed the pram downhill towards Emily Bay with Micaela running beside her. She wondered if she’d see any of her classmates. Would Noah be on the beach — and if he was, would he make any effort to talk to her?
Her thoughts turned to Georgy. She’d sent her a long email about Alice’s story, and had got a brief response from Georgy: OMG! I’ll see what I can find out. She’d heard nothing since. Was that because there was nothing to report? She couldn’t believe Georgy would have lost interest, so what was going on with her?
‘Can we float boats down the canal, Allie?’
Micaela tugged on Allie’s arm, bringing her back to the present. She saw that the little girl was clutching a long sword-like frond that had fallen from one of the Norfolk pines. Her face shone with excitement as she broke off a piece and ran to throw it into the reed-choked water of the canal. It floated momentarily but quickly stalled among the reeds.
Seeing Micaela’s disappointment, Allie suggested, ‘Let’s follow the canal and find a patch of clear water.’
The child clapped her hands. Clutching the remains of the long brown frond, she skipped beside the canal until it disappeared into a tunnel. The channel was lined with concrete here, and there were no reeds so the water flowed unimpeded towards the sea. Down on the beach, Allie could see a group of teenagers splashing around the diving platform moored out in the bay. It was too far away to see if they were her schoolmates or tourists.
‘Why don’t you try here, Micaela,’ she suggested.
Floating boats down the canal kept the child happily occupied for a time. The baby slept on, and Allie kept an eye on the teenagers, who’d come out of the water and were now playing touch footie on the beach. She was almost sure one of them was Noah. When she straightened from inspecting Micaela’s little flotilla, she was surprised to find him closing in on her.
‘Uh … hi,’ she said, trying to ignore the little kick of excitement in her stomach.
‘Babysitting?’ he asked.
‘Yeah. These are the Armstrongs’ children. Micaela, say hello to Noah.’
The little girl shyly bobbed her head.
Noah grinned at the child. ‘Hey, Micaela.’
Allie was just silently congratulating him for not making any snide remarks about commandants and Government House when he said, ‘So you’ve been inside Government House. How did it feel to be in the place where your ancestor once lived?’
Allie looked at him, wondering if he was for real.
He flushed slightly. ‘I mean … you know, I sometimes get the feeling that there’s something else going on around here. Especially down by the gaol. I sense people around me — convicts. And sometimes I hear music. I wondered if you’d had the same experience?’ He looked at her expectantly.
Should she tell him? Allie felt hot and sweaty at the thought. But she held the key to what had really happened to Cormac O’Brien — if only she had the courage to share her knowledge.
‘Yes, I’ve sensed something,’ she admitted. A sudden thought struck her. ‘I was looking round the old part of the cemetery the other day. I didn’t see anything about your ancestor.’
‘That’s because he was thrown into “murderers’ mound”. It’s a burial mound outside the cemetery fence where they buried the mutineers who were involved in the so-called “cooking pot riot”. Twelve were hanged at the time, but several more were strung up after that, for one stupid reason or another. Cormac was one of them.’
Cormac had helped to dig his own grave! The realisation hit Allie with the force of a tidal wave. She put a hand to her mouth, frightened that she was going to be sick.
‘Are you okay?’
She shook her head, unable to speak.
‘Yeah, his death isn’t something we like to think about either.’ But Noah sounded more concerned than judgmental.
Allie swallowed hard. ‘Your family haven’t thought to put up a memorial for him?’
‘No.’ Noah frowned. ‘I never thought about it before. I guess they haven’t either.’
‘How much research have you done into your ancestors’ time on the island?’ Allie asked.
‘Not much. It doesn’t make for happy reading, you know.’
The answer came quick and sharp. Allie understood, and felt ashamed.
‘No, I guess not. I’m sorry.’
‘I thought you’d argue that his death was justified, given your ancestor was responsible,’ Noah added.
Allie shook her head. She didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, Micaela came to her rescue.
‘I’m hungry,’ she said, inserting her small body between them and looking up at Allie. ‘Can we go home now?’
‘Yes, of course. Gotta go,’ she said unnecessarily, and Noah grinned.
‘Si yorlyi morla.’
‘Yeah. See ya,’ she replied.
Allie
felt sick with grief as she walked back to Government House. She couldn’t imagine how Alice must have felt when she found out about Cormac’s final resting place. John Bennett was even more brutal than the islanders realised.
The baby was still asleep by the time Allie reached Government House. Rather than wake her, Allie wheeled the pram into the kitchen, and poured a glass of milk for Micaela and found her a biscuit and a banana. There was no sign of the Armstrongs.
‘Sit here and have your snack,’ Allie told Micaela, then she hurried to the passage where she’d seen Alice before. She felt jumpy and breathless with nerves.
‘Alice?’ she whispered. ‘Are you there?’
Silence.
‘I found your diary. And I have Cormac’s ring.’ She held up her hand and touched the ring. ‘I know what happened to Cormac.’
She waited, hoping desperately for a sign of some sort. She could hear Micaela humming tunelessly in the kitchen, but otherwise all was silent.
‘Where did you go after Cormac died? What happened to you? And to Susannah?’
Silence.
What could she say that might encourage Alice to show herself?
‘There’s a boy in my class called Noah. He’s descended from Cormac’s brother, Paddy, just as I’m descended from your brother, William,’ she tried.
Silence. Not even the faintest movement of air.
‘I … I feel there’s some sort of connection between us, between me and Noah,’ Allie said. ‘I’ve felt it ever since I got here. But …’ She stopped and touched the ring to give herself courage. ‘But the past keeps coming between us. In fact, I care about Noah just like you cared about Cormac.’
There, it was said. Her true feelings, out there.
Allie waited for a sign from Alice, anything at all to indicate that she’d been heard. She waited for as long as she dared, knowing that she should be with the children. Finally, she was forced to acknowledge that perhaps the ghostly presence wasn’t Alice after all. Either that, or Alice wouldn’t show herself in the daylight. But I’ll try again, Allie promised herself. If the unhappy ghost was Alice, she would keep on talking to her to let her know that she wasn’t forgotten, and neither was Cormac.
A Ring Through Time Page 19
