Catriona was blinded by her tears. ‘You can’t marry Mam,’ she blurted out. ‘You just can’t.’
‘Too late,’ he said with a smirk. ‘We got married this morning.’
She gaped, blinking in disbelief. ‘How? When? Why didn’t Mam tell me?’
He shrugged with a nonchalance that made her want to scream. ‘She thought it would be a nice surprise for your birthday.’
She turned from him and fled back across the lawn. She could barely see where she was going as the rain hammered the grass into submission. She was remembering her mother’s words as they were about to go downstairs. Why didn’t she tell me? Why?
Avoiding the lights and the noise of her birthday party, she slammed through the back door and raced up the stairs to the top of the house. She didn’t want to see her mother ever again. She had betrayed her. Passing the closed door of her bedroom she stumbled up the stairs to the tower, and sank to the floor beneath the window, giving in to the loneliness and fear that had been locked inside her for so long.
Kane found her there in the darkness, and as he raped her for the first time, Catriona realised her childhood was over.
Chapter Eight
Edith felt the glow of happiness warm her through and through as she turned from the celebrations in the drawing room and walked back to the chaos in the kitchen. The gypsy and Kane were married – Demetri was still a free man. Perhaps now he would finally notice her. She poured a glass of champagne into the delicate flute and carried it into her little office behind the kitchen. Closing the door, she sank into the leather chair behind her desk and raised her glass. ‘To the future,’ she breathed. ‘To you and me, Demetri.’ The champagne was cold, the bubbles fizzing on her tongue.
It had been a long and tiring day, but the thrill of realising she was to have a second chance of persuading Demetri to appreciate all she could do for him was more potent than any champagne. She settled back in the chair and thought about that extraordinary announcement. It had come as a surprise to everyone, but the brat’s reaction was interesting.
She sipped her champagne and thought about how Catriona had fled from the room her face ashen, her eyes wild. The kid obviously wasn’t pleased, but perhaps, now she had Kane as a stepfather she would be taught some manners. Never in her life had she heard such language, or seen such tantrums – but then what could one expect from a gypsy? She snorted. They were a rough lot and no mistake, and the kid had been powdered and painted like a miniature version of her mother. ‘Spoilt brat,’ she hissed. ‘Who in their right mind would give a party like that for a thirteen year old?’
Edith thought of her own childhood, the meagre presents, the shoddy clothes and shoes, the birthday teas that had consisted of bread and jam and a small sponge cake. The unfairness of it all made the champagne taste sour and she put down her glass, her gaze settling on the account books spread out on her desk.
She hadn’t had a chance to go through them thoroughly but, on her fleeting inspection earlier, she had been puzzled. The figures seemed to balance, and yet there were irregularities in the way cash had been handled, and unexplained rises in some of the wages that she hadn’t been consulted over. If Kane was up to no good, then it would be the perfect ammunition to get him fired.
Taking another sip of the champagne, Edith sat there deep in contemplation. She would take the books home with her tonight and go through them thoroughly. If, as she suspected, Kane had been skimming off the profits, she would take her findings to Demetri. It would be the perfect revenge she needed to get rid of Kane, the gypsy and her brat. She put the glass down on the desk, picked up the heavy books and locked them in the wall-safe. Returning the key to the chain she wore at her thin waist, she finished the glass of champagne and left the office.
The party was breaking up as the rain hammered against the windows and drummed on the gravel drive. A lot of guests had been invited up from Cairns, and they had scampered out beneath umbrellas and coats to their cars. There were murmurs among those staying the night that perhaps they should leave tomorrow. The weather could be notorious up here in Tablelands, with roads washed away and landslips making it impossible to escape, and they seemed reluctant to risk being stranded here for what could be weeks. The party mood waned and Edith was kept busy behind the reception desk, making out bills and taking money in readiness for tomorrow’s exodus.
As the hotel guests disappeared upstairs to their rooms and the maids finished clearing up, Edith wandered through the halls and drawing rooms checking that all was as it should be. The maids and boot-boys, the porters and waiters all lived out, and because Demetri was such a generous employer, they had the use of a small charabanc to get them home. Cook had her own little car – of which Edith was very jealous, for she had only a bicycle – and had left the hotel as soon as dinner was over. Cook lived in Kuranda with her husband and six children and didn’t spend a moment longer than she had to in the hotel, preferring the warmth and comfort of her own home.
As the lights were turned off and the hotel became silent, Edith went back to the kitchen. Demetri would be hungry, so she would prepare him a plate of supper and take it to him in his apartment before she left. As she forked cold meat onto the plate and sliced bread, she wondered why he hadn’t come to the party. It was strange, because he seemed genuinely to like the brat, though she couldn’t understand why. Shrugging off her thoughts, she laid a tray and carried it across the hall. With a gentle tap on the door, she balanced the tray on her hip and turned the handle.
The apartment rooms were dark and silent, the curtains still drawn back from the windows. Perhaps he was asleep. She put the tray down on the table and tiptoed to the bedroom door. Demetri usually snored loud enough to rattle the windows, but tonight there was silence. With a frown, she gently eased the door open and looked in. The bed had not been slept in. Clucking with concern, she picked up the tray and headed back into the hall. He must have fallen asleep in his shed, and it was too wet and dark for her to find her way there. She put the plate in the larder and fetched the account books and a raincoat from her office. Pulling a waterproof hat over her head and galoshes onto her feet, she wrapped the books up in an old raincoat she found in Cook’s locker, and stepped out into the teeming rain. With the account books in the basket, her head bent against the onslaught, she began the long pedal home.
*
The next day barely dawned, for the clouds were low and dark, blotting out the sun.
Edith arrived cold and shivering at the hotel and leaned her bike against the wall. She was exhausted, for the journey the night before had given her a chill and she’d been up all night examining the books. Yet, despite feeling wrung out and not at all well, she had the proof that Kane was stealing money from Demetri. He’d been clever, but not clever enough to pull the wool over her eyes, she thought as she shed the raincoat and galoshes and hugged the precious account books tightly to her narrow chest.
She walked into the kitchen and froze. It was dark and deserted despite the heat coming from the cooking ranges and the lingering aroma of frying bacon. Flicking a switch, she realised there was no electricity. Hurrying out into the reception hall, she found Kane behind her desk, surrounded by guests clamouring for his attention. Candlelight and lamps flickered shadows on the walls as the rain once again began to rattle against the windows. There were only two porters, she noticed, both of them looking harassed and none too happy at getting soaked every time they had to carry the bags and cases out to the waiting cars.
‘Where have you been?’ Kane hissed as she joined him behind the desk.
She ignored him and began to sort out the chaos. It wasn’t until the last guest had driven away that she had time to sit down and catch her breath. There was a pain in her chest and she was burning with fever. All she really wanted to do was get home and go to bed. Yet she had to see Demetri.
Kane had disappeared and the porters had been told to go home. Demetri’s apartment was as she’d found it the night before. Edit
h dragged the sodden coat back on and picked up the precious books. Her galoshes splashed through the muddy grass as the wind picked up and battered her wet coat against her legs. She bent her head and struggled through the rain and the wind to the shelter of the shed’s overhanging roof. The door was open, swinging back and forth, banging against the frame.
‘Demetri?’ Her voice was almost lost in the slash of the rain amongst the leaves and the creaking of the ancient branches overhead.
The shed was empty, the tools gone. There were no signs of Demetri at all, for even his books and papers had been cleared away. She stood in the doorway, the account books clutched to her chest, the fever burning her skin and making her eyes ache. Yet through the fever her mind was working with sluggish determination. Something wasn’t right. She closed the door and locked it, returning the key to its usual place beneath a large stone.
The hotel was silent, the shadows deep in the corners flickering with the dancing flames of the candles which had been left to burn. She placed the books on the hall table and blew some of the candles out. They were in danger of setting the hotel on fire. Shivering, she pulled off the raincoat and hat and listened to the silence. Her breath seemed to echo in the stillness, the sickly sweet perfume of lilies and roses reminding her of funerals. The great stone walls seemed to close in on her and she could feel the chill of the marble beneath her feet.
‘You might as well go home, Edith.’
She looked up, startled out of her dark thoughts. Kane was standing on the stairs looking down at her. He moved like a cat, she realised, slinking in and out of shadows, his eyes missing nothing. ‘Where’s Demetri?’ Her voice was sharp with an unexplained fear.
‘Gone,’ he said flatly as he came down the last few steps and stood before her.
‘Gone? Where to? And why?’
‘Back to the Territory,’ he said calmly.
Edith shook her head in bewilderment. ‘He would have said something. Would have told me,’ she murmured, her mind fogged with the fever that was raging through her. She looked up at him in bewilderment. ‘Why now, when the hotel is doing so well? Surely …’
She didn’t get to finish her rambling speech for Kane interrupted. ‘He asked me to give you this,’ he said, his voice unusually soft and kind. ‘He couldn’t write it himself, but dictated to me what he wanted to say.’ He smiled down at her, and turned his back. ‘I expect you’d like a few moments alone to read it,’ he said.
Edith heard his echoing footsteps as he walked away and sank down into the chair that stood by the great empty marble fireplace. With trembling fingers she opened the letter.
My dear Edith,
You have been a good friend, and I thank you for your loyalty and kindness. My dream would not have been possible without your help and I want you to know that I understand how much you have given of yourself to me.
Edith smiled, the tears streaming down her face as she read the words she’d so longed to hear from his lips.
I know you wished for more, but it was not possible, and I am sorry if these words cause you distress. But Lara was my wife and there is only room for her in my heart. Forgive me for leaving you this way, but it is for the best. The call of the open road is too strong to resist and I am going to seek my future there. Take care of my dream Edith, for there is no one else I trust more. I will return some day, but I cannot promise when, and until that day I entrust my dream to you.
Goodbye dear friend,
Demetri
The scrawl at the bottom of the page had been made by an uneducated man who could neither read nor write and she could see how carefully he’d formed the letters of his name. Dear, kind, sweet Demetri. He hadn’t forgotten her after all. She folded the letter again and carefully put it back in the envelope. She would treasure it always.
Kane’s footsteps echoed once again and he reappeared in the grand hall. ‘I’m sorry if you’re distressed,’ he said kindly. ‘Demetri thought it best to go while everyone was busy. He hated a fuss, but then you knew that, didn’t you?’
She nodded, too miserable to speak.
‘Go home, Edith. The hotel is empty and I’ve cancelled all the bookings for the next few days because the forecast predicts flash-floods and landslides if this rain keeps up. There’s nothing for you to do here, and you look tired and unwell.’
His unexpected kindness merely made her feel worse and she couldn’t seem to stop crying.
‘I’ve asked the gardener to take you home in his utility. You can’t possibly cycle all the way to the other side of town.’
She looked at him in mute misery as he helped her on with her coat and galoshes and held her arm as he helped her into the utility. ‘I’ll send a message to you when things are better,’ he said through the window. ‘Take care of yourself, Edith.’
Edith slumped back into the uncomfortable seat and stared through the streaming windows. It wasn’t until she had changed out of her wet clothes and was sitting by her lonely little fire that she realised she’d left the account books behind.
*
Over the next few weeks the rain was unrelenting, driving down in great, endless grey sheets through the day and night. Never before had the Atherton Tablelands seen so much water. It rushed down the hills, filled the rivers and streams and sent the falls thundering into the valleys. Roads were washed away, earth slipped and shifted bringing down trees to block tracks and crash through the roofs of some of the isolated houses. Telegraph poles were brought down, effectively shutting off the community from the outside world until the repair teams could be sent out. Even the little railway had been closed – it was too dangerous and some of the track had been washed away. And on the very outskirts of Atherton, the hotel in the rainforest had become an island.
Velda shifted in the bed unable to sleep. The constant sound of the rain on the roof made her head ache and she wished she hadn’t poured her usual nightcap down the sink. Kane had brought it in as he always did, and for the past couple of days she’d thrown it away. She had decided she didn’t need it any more, and she found to her amazement that, without it, her mind seemed clearer, more focussed and she felt more able to put her life and circumstances in order.
Her marriage to Kane had been one of convenience. He’d persuaded her it wouldn’t be seemly to live under the same roof, and that Demetri had worried it might harm the hotel’s business if it was thought they were living in sin. At first she’d been horrified by his suggestion, but as the weeks had gone on and it became clear that indeed she was thought of as his mistress by Edith and the rest of the staff, she realised he was right. She didn’t love him – she could never love anyone as much as she’d loved Declan – but he was kind and thoughtful, and had been so patient during those awful months of mourning that it would have been churlish to refuse. Besides, she’d reasoned, she was in her mid thirties, with no money, no permanent home and no real work. She had few choices left to her. At least marriage to Kane would bring her some semblance of respectability.
And then there was Catriona. She needed a father – needed to have a firm hand to guide her – for since coming here she had run wild. She was rude, disobedient and inclined to tantrums, and her unfortunate habit of using the swear words she learned during their travelling time was beginning to grate on everyone. Her lovely, sweet daughter had become a surly, unpleasant presence and she had hoped Kane’s influence would make her change her ways.
Velda climbed out of bed and, without bothering to light the lamp, went to stand at the window. Despite the darkness and the rain, it was hot, the humidity high even at night. The windows had been thrown open, the mesh screens the only barrier to mosquitoes and flying, stinging, biting insects that swarmed out of the sodden forest. There was no breeze, no lifting of the heavy blanket of humidity and as the tropical rain continued to fall she felt trapped and restless. Her marriage was a sham she was willing to uphold for as long as necessary if it meant Catriona grew out of this awful phase and realised she now had a solid
family behind her. Demetri’s sudden departure hadn’t helped the situation of course, but Catriona was old enough now to get over her childish disappointments and knuckle down to some serious work on her singing.
Velda stared out of the window, wondering where Kane was. He was still a mystery, giving little of himself away despite their marriage. She had been dreading the more intimate side of things on her wedding night, for Declan had been a gentle but exciting lover. To her surprise and relief Kane rarely came to her bed, and when he did his love-making was swift and mechanical as if he was fulfilling a duty. She had soon come to suspect Poppy had been correct when she’d said Kane was homosexual.
Velda’s lips curved in a smile. That hadn’t been quite the way Poppy had expressed it, she remembered. She’d called him a nancy boy, a poofter. She reached for the hairbrush and began to stroke it through her long hair. There was more grey in it now and its style was out of fashion, but it seemed to her it was the only thing that tied her still to Declan, for he had loved to run his fingers through it.
She stilled as she heard footsteps outside her door. Not tonight, she breathed. Please don’t turn that handle. She waited, her gaze fixed to the glimmer of brass, watching for it to dip as Kane came in. The footsteps moved on, almost silent on the bare floorboards but for the occasional scuff and groan of the wood.
Velda climbed back into bed, relieved at the reprieve, but her thoughts were troubled. Catriona had come to her a few days ago and the child hadn’t looked right – she’d grown thin and pale and there were shadows under her eyes that Velda hadn’t noticed before. She’d been in one of her foul moods and they’d ended up having the most terrible row.
Velda rubbed her forehead as she tried to remember what it had been about. But her mind had been fogged by the drink she’d had, and she’d found it difficult to focus on what her daughter was trying to tell her. She stilled as the hazy memory of that confrontation returned. Catriona had definitely been trying to tell her something important – but what was it? She shook her head. She knew only that Catriona had slammed out of the room calling her vile names.
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