Tom grinned as he straightened his tie. Belinda would always be a tomboy, even in a skirt and heels. ‘I’ll hand these in, then we can leave straight after. I’ve booked the five-thirty flight.’
‘Have you had any luck yet tracing Kane’s background?’ she asked as they left the chief’s office.
‘Quite a bit, actually,’ he said as they descended the stairs. ‘He arrived here in nineteen twenty-two and lived in Sydney for a while before he dropped out of sight. I managed to trace the ship he came in on, and that gave me an address in England. His real name was Francis Albert Cunningham, and he was the second son of wealthy landowners.’
‘Catriona was right then,’ said Belinda as they paused on the stairs. ‘He was a remittance man.’
Tom nodded. ‘There was a scandal involving the very young daughter of one of the estate workers. The father was paid off to keep him quiet, and Kane was put on the first boat for Australia. His parents paid him a handsome allowance to stay away.’
‘Were there other children?’ Belinda asked softly.
Tom nodded and sighed. ‘There were rumours about several children, but he always seemed to disappear before charges could be brought. That’s probably why he chose to live a wandering life. He must have seen the travelling players as a godsend.’
‘Sounds as if your search has been pretty thorough.’
‘I’ve got a mate who works at Somerset House. Once we’d got his identity proven it was easy to fill in the spaces of his life before he came here. The time he spent in Sydney was easily researched, and another mate of mine managed to track down someone who actually remembered Kane. He was an old boy, but his memory was as sharp as a knife.’
They reached the foyer and paused. ‘What about the money his family sent? Can it be found and put to use somehow?’
He grinned. ‘All taken care of,’ he said. ‘There were two years of payments which hadn’t been collected before the family stopped sending it over. It came to quite a sum and I’ve donated it to the Children’s Aid Agency.’
She grinned back. ‘Very appropriate.’
He nodded. ‘I thought so.’
‘Will you tell Catriona all this?’
‘Yeah. She has a right to know.’ He rubbed his fingers through his hair. ‘But she’s wise enough to realise a man like that would have had many victims.’
‘At least he didn’t get the chance to hurt any more kids,’ said Belinda with a grimness that startled him. ‘The bastard’s dead and good riddance. It’s a pity the law doesn’t allow us to do away with the others. They don’t change and can’t be cured. They should be put down.’
Tom was inclined to agree with her and they left the building in silence.
The heat was fierce, the sun glancing off the windows and glaring on the pavement. They donned their sunglasses and climbed into the car their colleague, Phil, had waiting at the kerbside. It would take the best part of an hour to return to Atherton and the Tablelands.
The tiny cemetery was the final resting place for the men who’d built the Kuranda railway, and the pioneer families which had made their homes up in the cool flatlands of this northern outpost. It was laid out behind the Protestant Church, a small wooden building that had stood in this quiet oasis since the middle of the nineteenth century. The timber was bleached almost white, the corrugated-iron roof was as red as the earth that surrounded it, and the simple stained-glass windows and wooden cross gave it the aura of a different age.
As the three police officers walked along the cinder path that led to the cemetery, they saw that the pastures spread away to the back of the graveyard and were swallowed eventually by the rainforest. It was a peaceful place, the soft, warm wind whispering in the long grass, accompanied by the chatter of birds and insects, and in a distant paddock there was a chestnut horse and a tiny Shetland pony, grazing on the verdant grass, a pastoral scene that could have come from a picture book.
Tom stood between Phil and Belinda amongst the gravestones as the vicar intoned the words of the service and Demetri Yvchenkov was finally laid to rest in the rich red soil that had made his fortune. There would be a marble headstone to mark this place, but for now there was just a wreath of the most perfect red and white roses which Catriona had ordered. When the service was over, Tom looked at the accompanying card.
Demetri, my friend,
In death we are parted, but in my heart you will remain with me always.
Sleep easier now, and know you are loved.
Kitty. x
‘I was surprised she didn’t want to be here,’ murmured Belinda after they’d thanked the vicar and were walking back to the car.
‘I don’t see why,’ Tom muttered as they set off back down to Cairns. ‘She can do no good coming all this way to bury a man who’s been dead for over fifty years, and was wise enough to know that. His memory lives on with her though, and that’s all that really matters.’
They sat in silence for a while, each with their own thoughts as Phil drove them swiftly down into the valley so they could catch their flight to Brisbane. Tom looked out at the scenery and thought of Harriet. He wondered if she had returned to Belvedere, or whether she’d remained in Sydney. He hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye, and the reason for her leaving had been a mystery. Either way, he thought sadly, he probably wouldn’t see her again.
They said their goodbyes to Phil and walked into the airport terminal. Their flight was on time and they only had fifteen minutes before boarding. Tom bought them each a coffee and they stood by the large windows and watched the planes landing and taking off. There was something about airports that excited Tom, and he wished he was flying somewhere rather more interesting than his home town. Bali would be nice at this time of year, he realised, or Fiji. He felt in need of a change, a restless yearning to leave the constraints of his job and explore. Yet he realised that all this edginess had more to do with thoughts of Harriet than it did with his job or his lifestyle. He wanted to be with her, to talk to her and get to know her properly.
‘I’m handing in my notice when I get back,’ said Belinda.
Tom, roused from his day-dreams stared at her in shock. ‘Why? I thought you enjoyed the job?’
‘I like working with you and most of the other blokes, but I’ve had enough,’ she said firmly. ‘I can’t work with men like our boss, knowing he’ll do nothing to get rid of scum like Wolff. It wasn’t why I went into this job.’
‘Nor me,’ he admitted.
Turning from the window she looked at him squarely. ‘The trip down to Belvedere made me realise how much I’ve been missing the Outback,’ she said.
‘But you said you couldn’t wait to get away from it,’ he protested. ‘You said you liked living in Brizzy and that there was nothing for you at home.’
‘I know,’ she admitted. ‘But after all that business over Wolff I just can’t hack it any more.’ She took off the jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. ‘I’m a fish out of water, Tom,’ she explained. ‘I’ve tried my best, but I’m just a country girl at heart.’ She looked up at him. ‘I want to go home.’
He didn’t really know what to say to her. She was a good officer, a loyal, hard-working girl whom he’d come to admire and rely upon. Yet, as he looked down into those brown eyes he realised there was nothing he could say that would change her mind. ‘It’s Connor, isn’t it?’ he asked finally. ‘You’re going back because of him.’
She nodded. ‘Gotta give it a go,’ she said. ‘Blokes like him don’t come around that often, and I’ve waited years to get him to notice me.’
‘You could commute,’ he said hopefully.
‘Nah.’ She shook her head, making the dark curls swing around her face and shoulders as she undid the clips. ‘Absence might make the heart grow fonder, but I’m not prepared to risk my future on an old wives’ tale.’ She pulled a slip of paper out of her jacket pocket. ‘I got this today,’ she said as she waved it under his nose. ‘It’s confirmation from Police Headquarters in Qu
eensland. I take up my new post in Drum Creek Police Station in a month’s time.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The picnic had been a success, the crisp white wine, fruit, cheese and cold chicken salad laid on a blanket spread beneath the trees. They had eaten their fill, and afterwards she’d pulled up her trouser-legs and joined Connor and Rosa as they splashed in the rock-pool. The drought had depleted the fall into a mere trickle, but it was pleasant all the same, and reminded her of when they were children, skinny-dipping in the pool, shrieking with laughter as they splashed one another and caught yabbies in the mud. Lovely days, she thought happily as they approached home yard.
Connor drew Razor to a halt by the barn and helped Catriona down from the wagon and set her on her feet. ‘Thanks, Ma,’ he drawled. ‘Reckon it was a good idea after all. I hope you enjoyed the day as much as we did?’
‘It was the best day I’ve had in ages,’ she replied with a smile. The day had somehow refreshed her spirit and renewed her energy, although she’d probably ache tomorrow from all that jigging about on the buckboard. Rosa had been right about that, perhaps she was getting too old for such thing? She decided to ignore this insidious thought and patted Connor’s cheek before turning to Razor and patting him. He was a good old boy and even he’d seemed to enjoy himself once he’d got used to pulling the wagon; there was quite a spring in his step as Connor released him from the traces and set him loose in the corral.
Linking arms with Rosa who was carrying the depleted picnic basket, they strolled back towards the homestead. The sky was traced with ribbons of scarlet and orange as the sun began to dip behind the hills, and this warm wash of colour gilded the trees and the earth as the birds swarmed once more before they roosted for the night. Catriona smiled with pleasure. All was right with her world.
As she looked towards the homestead she saw a figure standing on the verandah waiting for them. ‘She made it back then,’ she said softly. ‘I knew she would.’
Rosa gripped Catriona’s arm. ‘Mum,’ she began. ‘Mum, there’s something I’ve got to tell you.’
‘And there’s something I’ve got to tell you too,’ she replied. ‘But all that can wait for a while.’ She waved at Harriet. ‘Been here long?’
Harriet waved back. She looked slender and cool in the linen trousers and crisp white shirt, her straight, thick blonde hair curled beneath her chin and brushed her shoulders. ‘All afternoon,’ she replied as they reached the bottom of the steps. Her glance flickered coldly over Rosa before returning to Catriona. ‘Where on earth have you been? I was beginning to get worried.’
Catriona smiled up at her. ‘We’ve been out in the wagon,’ she said as she climbed the steps. ‘Such a pity you didn’t come earlier, you could have joined us.’
Harriet returned her smile and took her hand. ‘I would have liked that,’ she said. ‘Perhaps next time?’ They kissed one another on the cheek and Harriet held the door open. ‘I hope you don’t mind me letting myself in? But there was no one about and I was gasping for a cuppa.’
Catriona smiled up at her. ‘Since when did you have to ask permission?’
Rosa made a noise in her throat and Catriona ignored her. There would be plenty of time for airing grievances once she’d had her say. ‘You two can make a cuppa, I’m going to rest my skinny backside in a soft chair in the lounge.’ She watched them go off to the kitchen. If the atmosphere had been any frostier, she thought, she’d have been in danger of hypothermia. As she sat in the comfortable chair, she could hear the rapid conversation going on between them, and although the words were indistinct, Catriona could discern anger in their voices, the barely harnessed venom of two cats about to scratch each other’s eyes out. ‘Oh, dear,’ she sighed. ‘Such a waste of energy.’
The girls came back into the room followed by Connor. Darkness had fallen and work for the day was over. They sat in the lounge drinking their tea and making stilted, polite conversation. Connor seemed unaware of the atmosphere. He was relaxed, deeply ensconced in the chair, his legs stretched out before him. Harriet and Rosa kept glancing at one another – and Catriona sensed their edginess. ‘It’s nice to see you back, Harriet,’ she began. ‘I hope it wasn’t something I said that caused you to go off like that?’
‘No.’ Harriet put down the cup, her hand unsteady, rattling the china in the saucer. ‘I think you were very brave to dredge all that up again. I don’t know if I could have.’
Catriona shrugged. ‘You don’t know what you’re capable of until you’re tested,’ she said with little emotion. ‘But I survived the catharsis, and now I’m almost free.’ She fell silent and looked across the room at the trunk. ‘I say almost, because I wasn’t Kane’s only victim.’
‘Men like him have a history,’ muttered Rosa. ‘He abused you, he’d probably abused before.’
Catriona nodded. ‘You’re probably, sadly right,’ she agreed. ‘But that wasn’t what I meant.’ She took a deep breath. ‘You see, when someone goes through what I did, it has a knock-on effect. It distorts their life and the lives of those they love. My mother never really recovered from that night, not mentally, and even my marriage was destroyed by what Kane had done to me.’
‘How could that be?’ asked Connor. ‘Kane was already dead.’
‘Kane was dead, but his legacy lived on,’ she replied. Leaning back in the chair, she took a moment to collect her thoughts, staring up at her mother’s portrait before she told them about their flight from Atherton and what followed.
The silence deepened as she walked to the trunk and took out the baby clothes. She took the tiny dresses and hats and bootees, and buried her face in the downy softness of the shawl she’d secretly been knitting while her mother was occupied with her office work. ‘I couldn’t bear to part with them,’ she explained. ‘It would have been like giving my baby away all over again.’
‘Did you ever try to trace her?’ asked Harriet as she put the packet of letters on Catriona’s lap.
She looked down at them, her fingers plucking at the ribbons which tied them together. ‘My mother wouldn’t tell me where she was, no one would. It was years before I had news of her.’
‘None of this could have helped your relationship with your mother,’ said Harriet.
Catriona shook her head. ‘She was unforgiving, certainly, and adamant in her refusal to discuss my baby. But I’ve realised since that there was a lot for her to take in. She couldn’t forgive herself for not realising what Kane had been up to. Couldn’t forgive me for not telling her, and certainly couldn’t cope with the idea of me having Kane’s baby at the age of thirteen. She couldn’t understand why I wanted to keep it, and I suppose, now, I can see her point. The baby would have been a constant reminder, and she couldn’t bear it.’
‘God,’ breathed Harriet. ‘What a mess.’ She stood for a moment, her hands deep in her pockets as she looked up at the portraits on the wall, before returning to sit next to Rosa. ‘What happened then?’ she asked.
Catriona told them about Peter Keary and his betrayal of her love and trust as she twisted the rings around her fingers. The decaying petals of her bridal bouquet reminded her how ephemeral happiness was.
‘But you found her eventually, didn’t you?’ prompted Rosa.
Catriona nodded. ‘As the years passed and the laws changed, I was finally able to put all my research to use. She’d become a mother herself, you see, and I thought she would understand my need to get in touch with her. I broke all the rules and wrote to her. My letter was returned; it was the only one that she opened. I tried again and again, hoping she would be curious enough to read them. But she never did.’ Catriona stared into the darkness beyond the window. ‘My daughter had turned her back on me, just as I’d turned away from her. How could I blame her for that?’
‘Where is she now?’ Harriet’s voice was soft as she came to sit on the other side of Catriona and took her hand.
Catriona smiled and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. ‘I suspect she’s ba
ck in Sydney, Harriet,’ she replied, her voice thick with emotion. ‘I’m sorry she’s still so bitter that she couldn’t come with you, but at least my granddaughter seems to have forgiven me. Thank you for coming home, Harriet.’
‘You knew all the time, didn’t you?’ Harriet gripped her grandmother’s hand.
Catriona nodded as she smiled. ‘From the first moment I saw you standing there in your school uniform, waiting for the chauffeur to unload your trunk.’
‘But how? How could you possibly know who I was?’
Catriona smiled. ‘I’d spent years searching for my daughter. I discovered eventually that Susan Smith had changed her name to Jeanette Lacey. It was easy to keep tabs on her then, to follow her career as a dancer and take an interest in her husband and daughter.’
‘That’s why we always went to the ballet when we were in town,’ said Rosa. ‘And I thought you were just trying to instil a bit of culture into me.’
‘It was the only way I could see her,’ she replied. She took a deep breath. ‘When Harriet came here for that first school holiday I was overjoyed. At last I could get to know my granddaughter, even though I could never tell her who she really was.’
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ Harriet could feel the onset of tears and she blinked them away. This was an emotional moment, but she needed to remain calm and focussed.
‘It wouldn’t have been right, darling,’ she replied. ‘Your mother wanted nothing to do with me, and you obviously didn’t have a clue. I was happy to let things be.’
Harriet nodded. ‘It explains a great many things,’ she said. ‘Mum’s attitude for a start. I couldn’t understand why she resented me coming out here and being friends with Rosa.’ As Catriona opened her arms, Harriet sank into her embrace. Her emotions were running high as she clung to her, for she had spent a life-time waiting to feel part of a real family, had yearned for this moment of love and warmth.
When they finally drew apart, Catriona gently smoothed the hair from Harriet’s face, her expression infinitely sweet. ‘Why don’t you tell me how you found out about me?’ she encouraged.
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