The Locket of Dreams

by Belinda Murrell

  Charlotte lay back in the shallows, her hair floating under the water. The sun dropped in the west, bathing the hilltops in red-gold fire and staining the horizon with rose and crimson.

  A flock of cockatoos swooped down to drink at the billabong, their white bodies and bright yellow crests flashing through the sky. A wallaby paused and watched them curiously, then hopped away into the scrub.

  Charlotte and Nell lay quietly, not talking, just soaking up the beauty and peace. At last the sun sank below the horizon, firing the sky with even more brilliant hues.

  Charlotte felt a warm sense of contentment steal over her. There was hardship and cruelty here in this harsh land. There were dangers and adversity. But there was also great beauty and love and friendship.

  ‘Come on, Nell,’ called Charlotte eventually. ‘Let’s go home.’

  The sound of the phone ringing shrilly woke Sophie. The phone kept ringing, so Sophie jumped out of bed and padded out into the hallway.

  ‘’Lo?’ she muttered groggily, rubbing her eyes.

  ‘Hello, is that you, Sophie?’ It was the familiar voice of her father.

  ‘Hi, Dad,’ Sophie replied warily, wondering why her father was calling.

  ‘Hi, sweetheart. I just wondered how you’re feeling. Mum was worried you hadn’t been feeling well. That perhaps you’d been worrying about everything.’

  Sophie paused, cradling the gold locket in her hand.

  ‘Well, I was feeling tired and run-down, but it’s been a busy year,’ Sophie replied, evading the real question. ‘I’ve had a few headaches too.’

  ‘Have you been eating? Nonnie said you haven’t felt much like eating lately.’

  ‘No, I haven’t really; it’s been too hot.’

  ‘True,’ agreed her dad. ‘Listen darling, I’m sorry I’ve been grumpy and crotchety lately. I didn’t realise you were worrying so much about everything. I don’t want you to worry. Mum’s working hard and we have enough coming in to keep us going for a while.’

  Sophie sucked in a deep breath, her stomach contracting with nerves.

  ‘I’ve been ringing all the employment agencies again,’ her father continued. ‘They think there’ll be a better chance of a job coming up for me in February, once the holidays are over and everyone starts planning for the New Year. I’ve sent my résumé off to a few of my old clients as well.

  ‘We can hold off for another six months at least before we need to start thinking about selling the house. So you see, there’s really nothing to worry about.’

  Sophie let out a deep breath, a flutter of relief welling through her.

  ‘That’s great news, Dad,’ replied Sophie. ‘But you know what, Dad? It wouldn’t really matter if we lost the house. At least we’d have each other, our family. It’s the people that you love in your life that really count.’

  There was silence on the phone for a moment.

  ‘You’re right,’ replied Sophie’s dad, sounding much more like his old self. ‘Thank you, sweetheart. I’m so glad you’re sounding better.’

  ‘You too,’ said Sophie, grinning.

  ‘See you on the weekend. Mum is going to come and stay on Friday night and have dinner with you, then bring you both home on Saturday. Will and I will batch here by ourselves.’

  ‘See you on Saturday. Bye, Dad.’

  ‘Bye, darling.’

  Christmas Day dawned hot and fair, the sun shining brightly through the windows.

  Outside, the black scorched earth was veiled by a thin growth of emerald-green grass.

  Charlotte and Nell woke up feeling trepidation at the thought of another Christmas. Last Christmas, in Scotland, had been miserable, just a couple of months after the deaths, with Aunt Arabella arguing with Cook about the traditional menu for the day and Uncle Roderick planning to evict half the tenants.

  Then there were the bittersweet memories of the many Dungorm Christmases before that: freezing snow on the ground about the house, singing Christmas hymns in the kirk, decorating the sitting room with holly boughs, and finding the Christmas stockings hanging on the mantelpiece stuffed with oranges, figs, nuts and trinkets.

  But in the centre of all those memories was, of course, their parents filling their lives with a warm feeling of love, joy and security.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Charlotte. Merry Christmas, Nell,’ sang Will as the girls emerged from their bedroom. Charlotte wore her new green dress and Nell wore her blue one, with matching ribbons in their hair.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ echoed Sophie. Nell and Charlotte looked around and smiled.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Will,’ chorused Nell and Charlotte in return.

  Christmas morning was a busy round of prayers, breakfast and a ten-mile buggy ride to Dalesford to hear the Christmas service. Everyone returned feeling happy and excited, looking forward to a glorious Christmas dinner.

  The family sat in the dining room, around the long cedar table laid with the best linen, silver and china. The servants and staff would eat later out in the kitchen.

  Annie and the girls had decorated the dining room with great branches of pale yellow and pink gum blossom, its eucalypt scent filling the air.

  Mala, for once, was awake and ambled around the floor on all four paws, tempted by the smell of the table decorations.

  ‘You have surpassed yourself, Mrs Gregory,’ Mr McLaughlin declared. ‘This is a feast fit for royalty.’

  Mrs Gregory blushed as she carried in the platter of roast duck. ‘Thank you kindly, sir, and a very Merry Christmas to you all.’

  Mr McLaughlin carved the large butt of roast beef, then the delicate roast duck. Annie poured the gravy, while Mrs Gregory served the roast pumpkin, potatoes and peas. When Mrs Gregory had retired to the kitchen to enjoy her own feast, Mr McLaughlin bowed his head and said grace.

  ‘I would also like to thank the Lord for bringing Charlotte and Nell into our home,’ said Mr McLaughlin, smiling broadly. ‘May our Scottish lassies enjoy their first Australian Christmas and may the next year be filled with much joy and happiness for them both, and for us all. Amen and bon appétit.’

  ‘Amen,’ chorused everyone around the table, picking up their knives and forks.

  The meal was lively, with plenty of laughter and jokes and light conversation.

  ‘This is the best duck I’ve ever eaten,’ declared Will.

  ‘Absolutely, and could I please have some more?’ requested Henry, passing his plate over.

  ‘More potatoes, boys?’ asked Annie. ‘Mrs Gregory has made mountains.’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  After the roast beef and duck was a huge plum pudding with cream and brandy sauce, apple tart with custard and crumbly mince tarts. The meal was finished with watermelon and cups of tea.

  Afterwards the family retired to the sitting room to exchange gifts wrapped in coloured paper and tied with ribbon. Mr McLaughlin received a new clay pipe, while Annie had some material for a dress. Henry and Will both received blue shirts and moleskin trousers, to replace those that had been ruined in fighting the bushfire.

  Charlotte and Nell had worked hard to make gifts for their new family. They had knitted thick, warm socks for Mr McLaughlin, Henry, Edward and Pot. For Annie, they had hemmed and embroidered some linen handkerchiefs, and Charlotte had drawn a watercolour sketch of the homestead.

  ‘Thank you, Charlotte,’ said Annie. ‘I love this sketch.’

  Suddenly Charlotte realised that in all the pleasure of giving gifts and watching everyone open them, the only present she had received herself was a bag, embroidered by Nell.

  She had only a moment’s feeling of disappointment, when Annie and Mr McLaughlin grinned at each other and handed Charlotte and Nell each a parcel at the same time.

  They tore open the paper to find they had received identical presents: large red neckerchiefs, very worn and stained.

  ‘Why, thank you,’ said Charlotte and Nell together in surprise. Henry and Will were almost dancing with suppressed laughter.

/>   ‘Put them on, put them on,’ yelled Will. ‘No, not around your neck, over your eyes.’

  Henry grabbed Nell’s neckerchief and tied it over her eyes like a blindfold. Will did the same for Charlotte.

  ‘Your real present is outside,’ explained Mr McLaughlin, laughing. ‘You mustn’t peek, so we thought it best to blindfold you.’

  ‘Come on now, girls,’ Annie cried, her voice bubbling with pleasure. ‘We will lead you so you do not fall.’

  Charlotte and Nell were confused but obediently followed where Henry and Will led them: out onto the verandah, around the back of the house, through the stable yard.

  All the while there were loud shouts of laughter and excited directions.

  ‘Watch your step here. Step down now.’

  ‘Now over here; watch the rose bush.’

  ‘Out of the way, Nicky, you will trip them over.’

  ‘Careful, boys, not so fast. They’ll fall.’

  ‘All right, we’re nearly there.’

  ‘Let’s just turn them around in a circle to really confuse them.’

  ‘No, they’ll get giddy and topple over.’

  ‘All right. You can stop now, but don’t take off the blindfold until we tell you.’

  The girls stopped obediently and waited, their hearts pounding. What could the surprise be?

  ‘Keep your eyes closed,’ cautioned Annie. ‘Will and Henry, take off the blindfolds. Open your eyes now!’

  The girls were standing out in the stable yard surrounded by a giggling audience made up of Henry and Will, the Gregorys, Pot and his family, and a gaggle of stock hands and shepherds.

  Standing in front of them were Annie and Mr McLaughlin, and beside them were two gorgeous chestnut ponies.

  ‘Merry Christmas!’ shouted everyone.

  ‘Your very own ponies,’ cried Annie.

  ‘Their names are Tilly and Star,’ added Mr McLaughlin proudly. ‘Tilly is for Charlotte and Star is for Nell.’

  ‘Henry and I made the bridles ourselves,’ sang Will. ‘It took ages!’

  ‘Billy, Pot and I made the side-saddles,’ said Mr McLaughlin, grinning.

  ‘And I sewed the saddle blankets,’ finished Annie.

  Charlotte was speechless. A huge lump rose in her throat, stopping her breath.

  ‘Thank you, thank you,’ cried Nell, her voice cracking a little, as she rushed across to hug first Annie, then Mr McLaughlin, then Star.

  Charlotte smiled a smile from the bottom of her heart. ‘Thank you so much. This is the most wonderful present I could ever receive.’

  Annie hugged her, and Mr McLaughlin kissed her gently on top of her head.

  ‘That is our pleasure, my dears,’ replied Mr McLaughlin. ‘You deserve them for bringing joy to my Annie. She loves having you here. And of course, for saving our home from the fire!’

  Charlotte stepped forward and stroked Tilly on her velvety nose. Tilly’s ears flickered back and forth, then she gently hurrumphed into Charlotte’s face, just as Rosie used to do. Charlotte buried her face in Tilly’s neck to wipe away the sudden tears that welled, but this time, they were tears of joy.

  Sophie and Jess’s mother arrived after work. She looked tired but was very happy to see them. Nonnie, Sophie and Jess had been cooking all afternoon, making a special dinner to celebrate the end of the holiday.

  They had roasted rack of lamb marinated in lemon and garlic, with roasted tomatoes, baby potatoes and kumera in olive oil and sea salt, sprinkled with rosemary from the garden. Sophie and Jess had made a green salad with chopped avocado and mango, and all this was to be followed by rich chocolate mousse with chocolate slivers.

  The girls had set the antique dining table with Nonnie’s best silver, crystal and china, with frangipani flowers and candles down the centre.

  ‘Oh, doesn’t the table look gorgeous,’ admired their mother as she walked in. ‘And it smells fantastic.’

  ‘Here, Mum, sit down,’ cried Jess. ‘Sophie and I are going to wait on you and Nonnie. Would you like a glass of wine?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ sighed their mother. ‘This is heavenly.’

  Sophie and Jess poured a glass of golden wine for Nonnie and their mother, and a glass of pineapple juice for themselves, all served in crystal goblets.

  ‘Well, cheers,’ cried Nonnie. ‘Here’s to my beautiful granddaughters. I loved having you here. Thank you, girls.’

  ‘Cheers,’ chorused everyone, carefully clinking the delicate goblets together.

  Nonnie served the lamb and vegetables, while Sophie passed around the salad.

  ‘Ah, delicious, and no mince in sight,’ joked their mother. ‘Now, girls, we have some great news for you. It may come to nothing, but Daddy has been invited in for another interview with a company that he saw yesterday.’

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ said Sophie, her eyes shining.

  ‘Fantastic,’ cried Jess.

  ‘Excellent,’ added Nonnie. ‘Jack must be thrilled. Now, more lamb anyone?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ cried Sophie and Jess at the same time.

  Nonnie smiled and piled their plates with lamb cutlets and roast vegetables. Nonnie and Karen glanced at each other in relief to see Sophie eating with relish.

  ‘Don’t forget to leave some room for that fantastic looking chocolate mousse,’ warned their mother. ‘Now tell me, what’ve you been doing?’

  The girls chatted happily, joking and laughing. Everyone pronounced the meal a great success, particularly the chocolate mousse.

  ‘What are you wearing around your neck, Sophie?’ asked Karen, noticing the gold locket.

  ‘Oh!’ exclaimed Sophie, flushing. ‘It’s the locket we found in Charlotte Mackenzie’s box.’

  ‘Yes, I remember,’ her mother replied. ‘I haven’t seen that box for years. Why don’t you show it to me?’

  Sophie ran to her room and fetched the box from the chest of drawers.

  Sophie opened the box and spread the objects on the table.

  ‘This is the pebble that Charlotte picked up from the beach on her last night at Dungorm, and this is the heather that bloomed early just for Charlotte and Nell,’ Sophie exclaimed. ‘This is a silver elf bolt that Charlotte found on the moors and that the bushrangers stole – but she got it back.’

  Karen and Nonnie glanced at each other in consternation. ‘The box has a secret, too,’ Sophie added. She peeled away the violet silk and inserted the end of the key to lever up the base.

  ‘Sophie, whatever are you doing?’ cried Nonnie in alarm.

  ‘It’s all right, Nonnie,’ Sophie reassured her. ‘It’s meant to come away. There’s a secret compartment in Charlotte’s box, and I think there’s something inside.’

  Once more the bottom lifted away to reveal the secret compartment.

  Sophie slipped her fingers inside and pulled out a small parcel wrapped in cloth. Sophie’s hands were trembling with excitement as she unwrapped it.

  A gold ring fell out onto the table, featuring a huge cornflower-blue sapphire, surrounded by dazzling diamonds. Carefully Sophie slipped it onto her middle finger. It was too big for her. The cluster of jewels caught the light, flashing blue and white and gold.

  ‘The Star of Serendib,’ announced Sophie.

  ‘Goodness,’ breathed Nonnie. ‘What a treasure.’

  ‘It’s the lost treasure of Dungorm,’ agreed Sophie. ‘Hidden all these years in Charlotte’s secret treasure box.’

  ‘Sophie, how on earth did you know it was there?’ cried her mother.

  Sophie took the ring from her finger.

  ‘I had an amazing dream about Charlotte Mackenzie and she showed me where it was,’ explained Sophie with a broad smile.

  Karen, Nonnie and Jess looked at Sophie in astonishment.

  ‘Here, Nonnie – your great-great-grandmother’s ring. It belonged to Eliza Mackenzie, Charlotte’s mother, and now it’s yours.’

  Nonnie pushed the ring onto her finger, admiring the brilliance of the precious gems.<
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  ‘Oooh,’ sighed Nonnie. ‘What a stunning ring. I’m sure it’s worth a fortune. Karen, we can sell the ring and use the money to help you and Jack.’

  Karen’s eyes lit up.

  ‘No, please don’t sell it, Nonnie,’ begged Sophie. ‘It mustn’t be sold. It is the good-luck talisman of the Mackenzies.’

  ‘Is it?’ asked Karen. ‘I thought the Mackenzies had terrible luck – becoming orphans, losing their castle, being sent to Australia to live with strangers.’

  ‘Yes, but they had wonderful luck too,’ replied Sophie. ‘They found love and joy and a new home here in Australia.’

  ‘When one door closes, another always opens,’ Nonnie said softly.

  ‘Exactly,’ replied Sophie, with a huge smile.

  When I was a little girl, my grandmother Nonnie used to tell my sister and me many stories – many of them Scottish tales. My favourite, however, was how her own grandmother had come to Australia in 1858 from Scotland with her sister. The two Mackenzie girls, Ellen and Jane, were orphans, sent by their uncle away from their home on the west coast of Scotland. Nonnie used to tell us that their father had been a rich Scottish laird with a castle, but that the girls had lost everything when their father had drowned at sea, closely followed by the death of their mother.

  Nonnie’s mother had told her that the castle should rightfully have belonged to the girls, but the uncle had sent the sisters to Australia so he could claim their inheritance. All we have left of this Mackenzie heritage are the stories and a small gold locket. As children, we dreamt of going back to Scotland to claim our Mackenzie castle. It was only later, I learnt, that girls in those days had very few legal rights and could not have inherited the estate. The Locket of Dreams grew out of my own imaginings of what might have happened to my ancestors, the two Mackenzie sisters. So my first thank you must go to Nonnie for teaching my whole family a love of stories, poetry, books and all things Scottish.