by Darry Fraser
Forty-Four
Millie Cooke blew a dangling wiry ringlet back off her face.
Swear to God the floors get harder to do every day with the little ’uns scampering about now.
She shooed her youngest, Freddy, out the back door with a broom, laughing as he scooted ahead of her. She stood up straight and stretched. Albie, her other boy, and Jane, Annie’s oldest, were squatting in the dirt trying to make houses. Satisfied all was well, she turned back down the hallway. She needed a cup of tea. With Annie gone down the street, she was on her own with four youngsters, including baby William in his crib, sleeping soundly after Annie’s feeding.
‘I’m needing a bucket of tea, not just a cup.’
She’d set the kettle back on the stove as soon as—
Outraged screams rent the air as the back door burst open. She spun around to see Freddy under the arm of a small scrawny man, baring his teeth and on a limped march down the passage. Her heart pounded. Beyond him she could see the other two little children pick themselves up off the ground, screeching in bewildered fury …
At least they were making noises… No blood. No bent limbs.
Her mouth fell open as he advanced. Freddy was trying to reach her, his chubby arms flailing, his voice in full roar, his cheeks an angry red and the tears and snot running in rivulets. Rooted to the spot, Millie saw the man gather the child from under his arm with both hands and then he threw Freddy at her.
She scrambled to catch him, and went down with the heavy child in her arms. She rolled over him, well practised, arching herself to protect him as the bunched fist came down on her side and head.
‘Where do they live?’ he roared. ‘Where do they live, those what just left in the cart?’
The fist came down again and she felt bones break, and from somewhere deep, pain thrust a groan of agony out of her.
Freddy still screamed, squirming in her arms.
‘Tell me, you slut! Tell me or I’ll break the necks of all these brats,’ he snarled.
She looked up and saw the fist again before her eye collapsed under the punch. Her head snapped back as she felt her grasp of Freddy give way, but he wriggled closer, sobbing deep in his throat. He clutched at her, and she pulled him closer into her body, her grip weakening as agony throbbed through her.
Liquid dribbled down … she swallowed blood … Was her nose shattered? She heard a voice. ‘B Street,’ it said, and it sounded like her own.
‘What house?’ The mottled face thrust into her fading vision. ‘What house?’ he screeched again and grabbed her hair, wrenching her head up.
‘Four,’ she breathed.
The taste of iron on her tongue, sliding down her throat, she watched as the stinking bastard made for the front door, tore open the bolt and disappeared outside. The last thing she heard was the toddlers squawking their horror from where they sat.
Then, blessedly, nothing.
Forty-Five
Ard leaned against James’ cart, his arms folded, his mouth tight as he listened to the older man. James had pulled up in the main street and alighted as soon as he’d seen Ard waving him down.
‘I can’t say it surprises me to see you here. But I told you not to come. I haven’t spoken to Linley about your meeting with her. It wouldn’t be in anyone’s interests to have you land at the house without her knowing you were about to do so,’ James said. ‘Much less not knowing if she’ll even agree to see you.’
Ard kept his voice low. ‘I’m desperate for it, James. I can’t start all over, here, in the same town, without knowing one way or the other if she’s—’
‘Have you any work yet?’ James demanded.
‘No.’ Ard kicked at the dirt underfoot. ‘I’ve been to the smithy’s, but he hasn’t heard of anything. I went to the wharf to look and that’s when I saw my uncle. He told me of a new hundred-acre property my family’s purchasing, but that’s a way off yet.’
James nodded. ‘It’ll be a big job when it happens. Much to do.’
Ard looked up. ‘Just need to get something to keep me going before then.’
James rubbed his forehead, glanced into the back of the cart and blew out a breath. ‘All right. I have a small job now, in fact.’ He thumbed over his shoulder at the timber in the back. ‘A fence for one of my properties. Might only take you two or three days.’
‘Gladly.’
‘Have you found lodgings? Can’t have you sleeping rough.’
Ard shrugged. ‘I’m used to it. I’ll make a new swag, toss it down somewhere.’ The two pounds Liam had given him for accommodation could be put to better use than sleeping in a hotel.
James looked him over. ‘Perhaps a new shirt wouldn’t go astray, either. Store’s there, on the right,’ he said, pointing to a shop halfway down the street. ‘You’ll get the makings for a swag in there, too.’ He climbed back on to the cart. ‘I’ll wait.’
Ard ran down to the shop, made his purchases and lugged them back to the waiting cart.
‘Let’s get this timber off-loaded at the house.’ James released the brake. ‘I’ll introduce you to the two women there and you can start straight away. I’ll ask them to feed you, too.’
Ard climbed aboard. ‘Grateful.’
‘Tell me about this property you’ve got your eyes on.’ The cart moved off the curb.
‘Don’t know much. My uncle’s given me directions, somewhere on the river, close enough to town. Big enough for the family. We’ll plant fruit trees and vegetables first, staying with what we know.’ Ard looked over the shops of the main street as they left. ‘And I’m interested in horses.’
‘You said. But in the meantime, I might have more building jobs need doing.’ He slapped the reins a little harder and the cart picked up speed. ‘Unless you’re intent on river work.’
Ard thought back over his little luck on the wharf earlier. ‘I would if I knew I could get the work. There might be odd jobs here and there. I don’t care so much what I do, I just want steady work, if I can find it. Same as everyone else.’
‘True enough.’
They turned out of the town and Ard caught a sidelong glance from James.
‘The situation here with the Misses Seymour might be compromised,’ he said.
Ard felt a thud in his chest. ‘How so?’
‘Linley has guardianship of Toby but it appears the baby’s mother left a will.’
Ard remembered Mary’s written words. He lifted his shoulders. ‘Mary wasn’t clear in her letter to me about a will, but she did say that Linley had another letter.’
‘And in the will, she made her son the beneficiary of a sum of money to be held in trust by his guardian.’
‘Linley.’
‘Aye. And as long as Linley has the baby in her custody, the money will come to her.’ James flicked the reins and the cart lurched a little faster.
Ard shifted in his seat. ‘Yes?’
‘Mary’s husband believes the inheritance is his right, and that it’s his right to administer. From the attack on CeeCee and Linley, and the destruction of their goods and chattels, the fires, the attack on you and on their solicitor Mr Campbell’s office, it appears the bereaved husband is clearly out to seize the child, or at the very least some legal papers.’
Ard gripped the cart rail. ‘But they’re here in Echuca, Miss CeeCee and Linley and my boy. You brought them here to be safe.’
‘I did. But I have reason to believe that the husband is now in this town, and possibly living not far away.’ James glanced at Ard.
‘Can he claim my—?’
‘We’ve done everything we can to anticipate a legal challenge on his right to—’
‘What do you mean?’
James turned the cart into the street where Annie Rutherford and Millie Cooke lived. ‘We’ve registered the boy’s birth, and Wilkin’s name is not on the certificate as the father.’
Ard felt a lump in his throat and swallowed hard. He was the father. He believed it wholeheartedly. His name should b
e on the registration.
‘Sweet Jesus Christ,’ James ground out and the reins flicked hard over the horse’s hind. The cart shot forward.
Ard hung on, bewildered, until he followed James’ stare. Ahead he saw a woman bent over a crumpled form on the street. Three little children milled about.
James shoved an elbow at him. ‘Get out, man, quick, and get those children out of the way of the cart!’
Ard leapt out and scrambled into a run. One little fellow, standing on his own near the two figures, was bellowing at the top of his lungs. The others, a girl and boy, stood in the middle of the road screaming. The shrieks only got louder as Ard pounded down. He could hear the cart not far behind, so he scooped up the boy and girl and rushed them to the path closest to the prone figure.
‘Now, mind you stay here out of the way of the horse, do you hear?’ Snivels and snorts and gulps and nods met him in answer. ‘And look after this other little fellow here, all right?’ Ard scooted the other boy into their little circle. ‘Hold hands now and let us look after your ma.’ He knew nothing about little children.
James pulled on the reins, braked hard and leapt off the cart. ‘Out of the way,’ he said to the woman kneeling over the unconscious figure on the ground.
He thudded to his knees. ‘Millie …’
The other woman spoke, her eyes wide, her voice reed-thin. ‘I can’t bring her round. I can’t bring her round.’ Her pinched face was pale and blotchy. Her hands that had supported Millie’s head were bloody.
James pressed his fingers against Millie’s neck. ‘She’s alive. What happened here?’ He stared across at the screaming children. ‘What the hell happened here?’ he shouted at the woman.
‘He must have gone over and—’
‘Who, for God’s sake?’ James’ face was screwed up.
Ard bent down. ‘I’ll empty the cart. Let’s get her in the back. I’ll take her to a doctor—’
‘Who did this?’ James roared at the woman.
The children broke into fresh wailing and screaming and Ard thought his head would split. He hurried back and knelt with them. ‘Quietly, now.’ He gathered them close and pressed them to hold on to each other. He looked back over his shoulder at James hovering over the two women.
Who are these people?
‘I think it was my brother,’ he heard the kneeling woman wail. ‘That child, the little girl came over to my house screaming,’ she said and lifting a hand, pointed to a house across the road. ‘And when I came out to see why she was so upset, this woman was crawling down the path …’
Ard watched as James stared across at the house, his mouth dropped open. He dragged in air, then glared at Ard, it seemed in terror. ‘Two streets back, B Street. Turn right into it, number four.’ He paused, breathed raggedly. ‘It’s CeeCee’s house. Hurry.’
Ard was bewildered. ‘But this lady—’
‘She is my responsibility. I’ll stay with her. Just go, go quickly.’ James came up on his haunches, scraped his hands under Millie and hoisted her up in his arms. He staggered a little then steadied and turned. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked of the other woman.
‘Mrs Bailey.’ The woman came up to her feet, her face white.
‘Mrs Bailey,’ he said between clenched teeth, ‘help me inside with these children, then run for the doctor, if you would, and send someone from there for the police.’ Then he turned to Ard and shouted, ‘Move, lad—get going!’
Ard charged across to the cart.
‘On foot, Ard.’ James bellowed at him from the doorway, trying to manoeuvre the prone Millie inside. ‘And hurry. Number four! Gareth Wilkin might already be there. Go.’
Gareth Wilkin.
Ard bolted down the road and pounded his way past two streets. Linley. Skidding east into B Street, he heaved in air, panicking until he found house numbers. Four—across the road and…
He took the wide dirt road in a few bounds.
What if Wilkin wasn’t here and CeeCee and Linley were having a bloody cup of tea?
But James was so sure.
No noise. No sound from within the house. He leapt the gate, stomped over the soft dust at the front of the house, swung around the pump at the well and landed on the verandah.
A parlour window. Closed lace curtains. He would be clearly seen if—
‘Ard!’
The anguished shriek pierced his confusion. He threw himself at the front door, his body barrelling into it, shoulder first. The jamb gave way and the timber groaned under his onslaught. The door crashed open and he fell inside, stumbling into the hallway. He gained his feet, breath ragged and blood pounding.
A door flung open. Ard spun to face it. Linley charged into the hallway, clutching a bundle in one arm and a large knife in the other. She pointed with the knife to a door opposite. ‘He’s killed CeeCee, I know it,’ she screamed. ‘He’s killed her!’
Ard stepped towards her, looking down only a moment to the bundle hugged to Linley’s chest. Tiny eyes, wide with curiosity, stared back at him. His heartbeat ricocheted around his body.
‘Ard!’
Linley’s urgency jolted him. He spun on his heels, his back to her, shielding her and the baby. The handle of the knife met his fist and he opened his fingers to grip it, staring at the closed door ahead of him.
‘Can he get out?’ he asked over his shoulder, his voice hoarse, ragged, heartbeat thudding in his temple.
‘Only the window, but I don’t think he has.’ She was crying. ‘He’s in there with CeeCee …. He just came out of nowhere—’
‘Can you run?’ he grated.
‘What?’
‘Run to the other house,’ he whispered between his teeth. ‘James is there.’
‘No. No! CeeCee—’
‘Run, Linley. You have to. Get James to come. Send someone for the police.’
‘I’ll stay, I’ll stay—’
‘Not with the baby,’ he ground. ‘This is no place … James sent me. One of the women has been attacked. Go.’
Linley came out from behind him, a hand covering her mouth. ‘My God.’
Compelled, Ard turned, looked down once again at the calm dark eyes staring at him. The little face pouting and mouth moving as if about to speak. ‘Go, Linley. Please.’ He reached out to touch the button nose and his finger looked huge against the baby wrapped in swaddling. He withdrew hastily. A fear gripped him, a claw clutched his heart and squeezed. Then he grasped her elbow and pushed her towards the door.
‘If that man follows …’ Linley’s voice trembled, but it didn’t sound like fear.
Ard pushed her through the shattered doorway. ‘He never will. Go.’ His voice was rough, scratchy in his throat.
A fleeting moment and she was down the steps. Ard turned for the other door. Fear gripped harder, ragged, vice-like … Fear that he’d sent her on her way, without being by her side. Fear that he might not live to see his son grow, fear he would never be that husband, father …
In a split second he understood loss, real loss. Devastation. An unbearable punch to his gut. He sucked in a painful draught, forcing his lungs to work. Fury boiled up inside. He charged the closed door with all his might.
It banged open, splintered at the hinges. Ard burst into the room, awkwardly gained his feet, stumbling, steadying.
Gareth Wilkin sprang at him.
A snarl and a roar rent the air around him, and Ard went down heavily, the knife flung out of his hand on impact.
Forty-Six
Toby was squeezed tight to Linley’s chest. Torn, she waited a split second until she heard the second door give way. She gathered her wits and dashed out through the gate. And ran and ran. Because it was Toby she needed to save. It was Toby she could save.
She ran on.
CeeCee.
Ard.
Annie … or Millie.
Each name was a wail in her head, but with each breath she gained strength, with each stride she gained hope.
Toby squawked and wri
ggled but she didn’t lessen her grip. She ran over the first crossroad, checked for coming horses and carts, skirt clutched in one hand.
She rushed past the few houses along the next part of street, her boots thudding as she bore down on the next crossroad. Her lungs pained, her throat had dried. One arm ached with Toby’s weight, the other with its fierce clutch on her skirt.
Please God, don’t let me turn an ankle …
She found reserves of strength, sprinted into Millie’s street and raced to the house.
‘James, James!’ she yelled, and darted up to the front door. Tears streamed over her face and the air wheezed into her lungs.
Children wailed and sobbed, and wailed and sobbed anew from the floor when they saw her burst inside. Toby started to whimper against her chest and it sounded like the prelude to a full-blown outrage. She slowed and cooed as she scurried in and out of the front room.
No one.
In the second room, she pulled up short. James was sitting in a chair by the bed. Millie lay on it, unconscious. Linley froze in the doorway. James leapt up.
Annie Rutherford squeezed a cloth over a bowl of bloodied water. ‘Leave the place for five minutes and all hell breaks loose,’ she muttered. Her usually healthy complexion was pale, and a sheen covered her forehead. She dabbed at Millie’s face and neck.
Linley was frantic. ‘Is she …?’
‘Doctor’s coming,’ Annie said.
James took her free hand, his face ashen. ‘Linley?’
She clutched his arm, squeezing hard. ‘Please go to our house, James. Please. We need to get the police—’
‘They’ve been sent for, and as quickly as the doctor. Is Toby …?’ James glanced at the baby in her arms, who quietened the moment he laid eyes on James.
‘He’s well, he’s well. Please, go help Ard. I’ll help Mrs Rutherford here. Hurry.’
‘Tell me.’ James gripped her shoulders, his dark eyes fierce.
