Emma stared at the photograph. As she realised what it was telling her, she looked up at her grandmother. ‘You went to England?’
Gwendoline nodded.
‘You ran away from home and went to England to find them.’
‘I stole money from my parents for passage on a ship, something I’m not proud of. But yes, I went to Northern England and I found them.’
‘Grandma that’s…’
‘Silly, I know.’
‘I was going to say extremely brave,’ Emma said. ‘What happened?’
‘A new medical college was opening and they were greeting the public on the grounds; the duke, duchess and Lady Eloise. I pushed my way to the front of the crowd to get a better look at them. Because two women had been accepted into the college, the newspaper photographer was asking women to come forward and meet the royals. He asked if I’d like to have my photo taken with them. Of course I said yes. I told myself, when I meet them, if there’s even the slightest glimmer of recognition in their eyes, if they should hold my gaze a moment too long, I would tell them who I was.’
Emma held her breath. ‘And did they?’
Gwendoline shook her head sadly. ‘They didn’t recognise me at all. The greeting was over in a matter of seconds and I was hurried along.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘And what about the real Gwendoline?’ Matt asked.
‘She looked like a delightful girl, pretty with her golden curls, laughing and smiling. She said hello to me. She was very nice and I saw the emerald around her neck which I admit jolted me.
‘Then I thought to myself, what am I even doing here? Who am I to intervene after all these years? Who am I to throw her life into chaos when she knows no better? It wasn’t her fault. It was the life fate gave her. They all looked so happy, so complete and I was the odd one out again.’
‘Oh, Grandma,’ Emma said, looking down at the photograph again and feeling hopelessly sorry for the dark-haired, blue-eyed girl who shook the duke’s hand with such hope, desperate for a sign that she hadn’t been forgotten. ‘Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this? Why didn’t Mum tell me?’
‘We planned to when you were older,’ Gwendoline said wistfully. ‘But then life changed. Your parents and brothers went to France and they never came home. And you had so much to deal with on your young shoulders that the past was no longer as important as the future.’
Then came Drew and his affair with Tabitha, the breakdown of Emma’s marriage and the onset of her grandmother’s dementia, and she understood what Gwendoline was saying. It had been one heartbreak after another. There had never been a right time to explain it.
Emma looked down again at the photograph in her hand. The duchess was facing the camera and Emma studied her features at length―the thick dark hair, the curve of her lips, the striking eyes. She saw her mother in this woman, right down to the slender frame and demure smile.
‘They had the bluest eyes,’ Gwendoline said. ‘Eyes like the ocean. Eyes like mine and yours.’
‘And like my mother’s.’
Gwendoline blinked her affirmation.
‘This is the photo that’s been causing your wanderings,’ Emma chastised gently. ‘You haven’t been reading Pride and Prejudice over and over again. You’ve been using it to store your photograph.’
‘What do you mean?’ Gwendoline said, her eyes clouding over in that familiar way they did when she was about to lose her grip on the present. It was incredible how she could recall events from eight decades ago like it was yesterday, but events of the past months evaporated as though they’d never happened.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Emma said, patting her hand. ‘It’s all in the past now.’ She placed the photograph back in the book and returned it to the drawer, ready for when her grandmother’s memories would lead her there. ‘What did you do after you met the duke and duchess, Grandma?’
Gwendoline looked tired, her eyes glazed, her head sinking into her shoulders from the effort she’d expended to revisit the past. ‘I had not a penny left and was stranded in the north of England. I used my return train ticket to get back to London then I snuck onto a ship bound for Sydney.’
‘You were a stowaway?’ Emma almost laughed.
‘I was. And I met your grandfather on that ship. We married eight weeks later, when we sailed into Sydney. After some years we had Catherine and the rest is history.’
‘Why didn’t you go home to North Queensland or at least tell your family where you were?’
Gwendoline looked down at her lap. She seemed small in her single bed, swallowed by the covers, by time and regrets. ‘I’d stolen money from my parents, went to England against their wishes and came back with my tail between my legs. I couldn’t have faced them again. I was humiliated.’
Emma glanced at Matt. ‘We know someone who would love to see you again.’
‘My grandfather, Henry, is still alive,’ Matt said. ‘I haven’t told him about you yet, but I know he’s always wondered about you.’
A tear leaked from the corner of Gwendoline’s eye and slid down her cheek. ‘You’re Henry’s grandson?’ she said, voice quivering.
‘I am,’ Matt said.
She smiled through her tears. ‘He was my favourite,’ and that was all her emotion would allow her to say.
Emma stood and retrieved a tissue. She handed it to her grandmother, who blew her nose and wiped her tears. ‘I’m sorry we upset you.’
Gwendoline smiled. ‘Happy tears, my dear. It’s lovely to know Henry is well.’
‘We did some research on the duke and duchess, and Lady Eloise too. Would you like me to tell you about them?’
Gwendoline nodded, clutching the balled up tissue in her hand.
‘The Duchess of Northbury passed away first in 1943 at the age of fifty-five. She died of lung complications. That’s all the article would say. The duke died next in 1987 at the age of, get this, one hundred. It must run in the family. He left a sizeable fortune and estate to his only heir.
‘Lady Eloise, your half-sister, lived to the ripe age of ninety-seven. She died three years ago, passing peacefully in her sleep. She had two children, a boy and a girl, both with lovely golden curls.’
Gwendoline nodded. ‘I see.’
Emma sat again on the edge of the bed. ‘So I guess we should decide what we’re going to do about this. How far do you want to take it, Grandma? We’d be entitled to land, maybe even a title. And the emerald belongs to you. You’re the rightful owner. You have the opportunity now to right the wrongs.’
Gwendoline sighed sadly and patted Emma’s hand. ‘Finding my real parents was never about emeralds or castles. It was about finding myself and where I’d come from.’ She smiled. ‘Besides, I’m too old for all that now. What’s done is done. I can’t change the past and I made my peace with that a long time ago.’
Emma nodded understandingly.
‘But you have that opportunity, Emerald,’ Gwendoline said. ‘You can go to the royal family with all this information and state your case. That emerald is not mine. It belongs to you. You’re the rightful heir now. And that life, if you want it, is there for you.’
Emma glanced across at Matt, who was watching her closely. She thought of her grandmother, her job at The Coffee Bean, her humble little Kensington apartment and the wonderful man this unexpected mystery had brought to her.
She didn’t know what the future held or how it would shape her life but it no longer seemed a daunting concept. Every end had a new beginning. She was open to it, arms outstretched.
She reached for Matt’s hand and smiled. ‘I’m not sure I want all that, Grandma. I think I have everything I need right here.’
The sand between Emma’s toes felt cool, as did the water lapping gently against the shore. The cove was deeply peaceful as she stared out across the bay towards Fairlight and Dobroyd Head.
Matt was beside her, a solid and calming presence in her life, never swaying or faltering, as she imagined Thomas
would have been for his Rose.
And she could see them together, Thomas and Rose, sitting in this very cove a hundred years before, running their fingers through the sand, as a romance blossomed into an enduring love; the kind that would go on to withstand loss and heartache.
She could see Gwendoline and Rose standing here too, conversing with Mr Williams as he attempted to reverse an error that was made, when two infants were inadvertently swapped one blazing night in 1919.
Over the past week, Emma had thought long and hard about what to do. The power was in her hands. Did she try to right the wrongs? Did she go to England and fight for her grandmother’s identity and the emerald?
In the end, she decided to let sleeping ghosts lie. No good could come from shaking up a monarchy, from stripping people of titles and exposing errors of judgement. And for what gain? Some secrets were better left buried.
Emma watched Gwendoline dip her toes in the water. She seemed lost in her memories of a childhood spent on this sand, of swimming in the cove and rowing fishing boats out into the bay with her father. Of picnics on the beach and watching ships come and go.
‘My mother’s here with Henry,’ Matt said, glancing at his phone. ‘Should we head up to the café now?’
‘Yes, let’s do that.’ Emma reached for Gwendoline’s arm and explained that Henry had arrived.
‘Oh, goodness.’ Gwendoline looked suddenly uncertain.
‘Don’t be nervous,’ Emma reassured her. ‘He’s going to be so happy to see you.’
She guided Gwendoline up towards the grass area to dust off their feet and slip their shoes back on. Emma knew how her grandmother must be feeling. She was nervous too, not just for Gwendoline and Henry, but for meeting Matt’s mother for the first time. Matt was close to his parents, and Emma worried about failing somehow in his mother’s eyes or the reunion being a disaster.
They slid into their shoes and Emma assisted Gwendoline up the grass to the café where tables were spread out under white umbrellas. It was summer and the day was warm, a light breeze ruffling the water in the bay.
Emma helped Gwendoline into a chair and Matt stepped into the café, returning with glasses and a jug of water. As he poured, Emma heard the squeak of Ted’s brakes outside the shower blocks.
‘That’ll be Mum and Pop,’ Matt said and Emma could tell he was anxious too.
A slender woman with auburn hair and eyes the colour of Matt’s rounded the corner, an elderly man shuffling unassisted at her side.
Matt went to them. ‘Mum, Pop.’ He hugged them both.
Emma placed her hand on Gwendoline’s shoulder and could feel her tremble slightly beneath her fingers. ‘You’re doing great, Gran.’
Matt led his mother and Henry to the table. The sprightly eighty-eight-year-old looked just as unsure as Gwendoline and when she rose unsteadily to greet him, he held out his arms to her.
‘Ginny,’ he said, squinting to study her. ‘Is that really you?’
‘Henry,’ she replied, moving closer to him. Her fingertips hovered over his face, over laugh lines and wrinkles as though there was a need to bridge the years. ‘Why, it’s been far too long.’
‘Over eighty years.’
‘Good lord. And yet look at you—you’re still my baby brother.’
He chuckled. He was taller than her, with a full head of white hair, a friendly face and the kindest hazel eyes.
He took a seat beside her and they clutched hands, reuniting at long last. ‘I have so much to ask you, Ginny.’
‘I know, Henry. I know.’
With eight decades to catch up on, Emma, Matt and his mother shifted to the side to allow them space.
‘I’m Sandra,’ Matt’s mother said, thrusting out her hand for Emma to shake. When she did, Sandra pulled her into a hug.
‘It’s lovely to meet you, sweetheart. Matt’s told us all about you.’
The embrace was so warm, so motherly, that Emma almost forgot she was being held by a stranger. It had been years since she’d felt an embrace like that and she closed her eyes, almost unaware when Sandra pulled away.
‘Thank you for organising this. Dad was beside himself when Matt told him he’d found Gwendoline. He treasured her when they were children. We’re just so excited to have the two of you in our lives.’ Sandra’s hazel eyes lit up as she said it. ‘Grandpa Jack and Grandma Edith would have loved this. Well, Thomas and Rose, as you know them.’
‘It was quite the mystery to piece together, but I’m glad we persisted,’ Emma said, smiling at Matt. He smiled broadly in return.
‘Matt’s filled us in on everything. It’s an impressive story.’
‘Bringing the two families together was the best part.’
Sandra nodded. ‘Why don’t you both come over for dinner next week? Bring Gwendoline if you can. Dad will be there.’
‘We’d love to.’
‘And we have those boxes of Grandma Edith’s diaries sitting in Dad’s garage. We never knew where the keys were to open any of them. Matt tells us you both have a little trick for that.’
‘We might have,’ Emma said with a smile.
‘We’d love for you both to have them.’
Emma drew breath. ‘The diaries? All of them?’
‘Grandma Edith would have wanted that.’
Emma and Matt exchanged a look and it was clear this was news to him too. ‘What an incredible gift. Thank you.’
Sandra hugged them both and went to sit with Henry and Gwendoline at the table.
Matt took Emma’s hand, leading her back out onto the sand. The sun was drifting towards the west, taking the blue sky with it. Wispy clouds were scribbled with peach and the station glowed like fire behind them.
‘Mum really likes you,’ he said as he slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close.
‘And I like her. She’s a lovely lady.’ Emma nestled against him.
He kissed her forehead then her lips as their feet sunk into the sand and the waves broke gently around their ankles. ‘You’ve changed my whole world, Em. I’m so glad I found you wandering around isolation that day.’
‘If I remember correctly, I found you.’
‘You should visit the station without a map more often.’
She threw her head back and laughed. She had come to the Quarantine Station to uncover Gwendoline’s past and somehow, she had found her own future.
Surrounded by the ghosts of yesterday, entwined in all manner of ways, they walked these sands beside her―Thomas and Rose, Bessie and Eloise, the duke and duchess. Her parents were there too―John and Catherine, and her twin brothers, Max and Liam. Each had left their mark on history. Each had helped to shape her in some way.
She tucked them away in the safety of her heart, a better person for knowing them, for following their journeys and experiencing their heartbreak. Rose’s diaries had brought the past to life, but for Emma, it was time to stop looking back, to move forward and embrace the future.
She leant her head on Matt’s shoulder and knew she wouldn’t have to do it alone. Not anymore. They had each other and the future seemed brighter than it ever had.
One of my favourite things about writing a novel is the ability to explore fascinating locations. The Q Station, on Manly’s North Head, has long been a place of intrigue for me. It is a wealth of historical information and a fundamental part of Sydney’s childhood.
While I have taken great care to respect all facets of this, I did have to tweak some facts to bring this novel to life, such as the strict rules relating to staff relations. These rules in the book forced Thomas and Rose to develop a relationship in secret. It should be known that families, in real life, were allowed to live on the Quarantine Station. There was no rule preventing this. However, it is true that staff members were not permitted to come and go freely due to the risk of contaminating the Sydney populous.
Class segregation is accurately portrayed in the novel. First and second classes were regarded highly over third and Asi
atics. The memory Gwendoline recounts of third-class passenger transactions being suspended in the post office if a first-class passenger entered is not only slightly amusing, but correct.
Also accurately portrayed is the procedure Nurse Dolly explains for ridding Spanish Influenza from sufferers by placing them in an inhalation chamber together to inhale a zinc sulphate solution. This was thought to rid the throat and nasal passages of the influenza bacteria. They did not realise at the time that influenza was viral and that the procedure caused the virus to spread further. This procedure was first carried out in 1919 in the disinfecting blocks in the Wharf Precinct. However, in the story, Dolly describes the procedure to Rose in 1918.
It is also worth mentioning that the first ship to be quarantined under the pneumonic influenza decree was the passenger liner RMS Niagra in October 1918. However, in the novel, the liner carrying the Duke and Duchess of Northbury was the first to be quarantined in June 1918, and was not part of any decree.
I’d like to highlight a few key places in the book that I created from imagination―Thomas’s secluded cottage on the clifftop does not exist and the locations of the staff quarters have been altered to suit the plot. Matron Cromwell’s office, the maternity ward, the extra rooms behind the museum and the standalone cottage that housed the Duke and Duchess of Northbury are also fictional, but all other precincts are accurately described to the best of my knowledge. The Coffee Bean and Eastgardens Aged Care are fictional too.
In the novel, the baby swap happens during the hospital fire of 1919. In reality, this fire occurred in February 2002 when, sadly, the original 1883 hospital burnt to the ground due to faulty electrical wiring. I have altered this event by eighty-three years to suit the storyline.
It is unclear if the term ‘parlourmaid’ or ‘scullery maid’ were used in the early twentieth century to describe housekeeping roles on the station. I wasn’t able to find anything concrete to suggest either way. The lovely tour guide at the Q Station thought it would be fine to play my author card here and refer to the roles as I saw fit.
The Quarantine Station Page 37
