by Mandy Magro
With Will Junior and his family now retired to the guest bedrooms, Anne took a sip from her tea and glared across the table at a tongue-tied William. Brooding, her fingers tapped rhythmically on the tabletop as she waited for him to reply, her mood matching the atmosphere outside as the tropical storm tossed rain against the corrugated iron roof and the winds flapped the iron sheeting at the sides of the cottage.
Her temper finally boiled over and she stood abruptly, slapping her hands on the table, raising her voice so she could be heard over the wail of the wind outside. Everything she’d wanted to say for years began rolling off her tongue. ‘I don’t understand, William. Why won’t you dig that evidence up from wherever you buried it and take it to the local police so you can clear the Campbell name, once and for all?’ Anne sucked in a breath, and then continued, desperate to get to the bottom of it all. ‘I know we are Donnellsons now, but for your own peace of mind — and mine — why not prove beyond a doubt that Hocking was the murderer? Don’t you think that evil man deserves justice for what he did to that poor family?’
William sighed wearily as he clasped his hands, unable to meet her furious stare. He stood slowly, stretching his legs to life, then went to stand by her and gently cupped her cheeks. ‘I think it might be time that you learnt the real reason I couldn’t take the evidence to the police.’
Even though her heart was hammering, Anne patiently waited for him to continue, not faltering for a second. She had to know the truth, whatever that was.
‘Anne, I’ll just get straight to the point, as there is no easy way to tell you this. I hope it doesn’t change your opinion of me or, heaven forbid, make you love me less . . .’ Will stalled, blinking as if his emotions were going to overwhelm him. ‘That night I went to see Hocking about what he’d done to you — I accidentally killed him.’
Anne’s eyes widened, her jaw slack as she sucked in a sharp breath. Her hand fluttered to her chest. Tears filled her eyes and the room began to spin.
William grabbed hold of her, and, flustered and anxious, words now tumbled from him. ‘I never meant to kill him, Anne. It just happened. I was so enraged by what he did to you. But I tried to cover my tracks and lit a fire in his cottage before I left, so there wasn’t any evidence — in the hope that the traps would think his death had occurred because of him being trapped in the fire. It seemed to work, and then, well, Ben turned up that night and blabbed about town and I panicked. I couldn’t go to the traps with the evidence because then they’d link me to Hocking’s death. Just imagine what it would have looked like if, me, a humble farmer, walked in there with evidence against a copper that was now dead, killed by my own hands. They would have locked me up and thrown away the key — or worse, dragged me off to the gallows. I didn’t want you to know because the less you knew the better. It was my own stupid way of protecting you, Anne.’
Anne reached out and wrapped her arms around him, gripping him so tightly he could barely take a breath. ‘Oh, my darling Will, I cannot believe you have lived with this secret for all these years. How could I ever think any less of you? To know you have gone to such lengths to protect me from this knowledge makes me love you all the more.’ She tutted. ‘Not that there was any need to, you silly old man. I love you so much nothing could ever change my feelings for you.’
William exhaled loudly, as if he’d been holding his breath for fifty-eight years. He wrapped his arms around Anne and picked her up from the floor, her body waiflike in his embrace. ‘Oh, Anne Donnellson, I love you with all my heart.’
‘I love you too, my darling Wild Will,’ Anne said cheekily as she briskly tapped him on the arm and ordered him to put her down before he hurt himself.
They stood, wrapped in each other’s arms, the light of the dancing fire in the hearth flickering over their timeworn faces. They laid a gentle kiss on each other’s lips, their bond unbroken, impenetrable, as it had always been and how it would forever be.
CHAPTER
22
1920 — Far North Queensland
The wind howled, wrapping its icy tentacles around William’s skin and sending his heart even colder. He lifted the shovel on unsteady legs, hands shaking, dropping another pile of dirt on Anne’s coffin. Tears rolled freely down his cheeks as he reminisced about their long and incredibly fulfilling life together. Their first kiss; the first time they made love; escaping from Goldbury; their wedding day; the lives and heartbreaking deaths of two of their children; and all the unforgettable things in between.
With the coffin blurring in his vision, he recalled the night of their fiftieth wedding anniversary as if it was only yesterday. Anne had appeared at their bedroom door, dressed only in her white silk robe, her angelic face softly lit by the candlelight of the room and her eyes so full of love for him it had brought tears to his eyes. They had made passionate, soul-moving love that night, the spark between them still as bright, as all-consuming, as the first day they’d laid eyes on each other. Afterwards, they had exchanged anniversary gifts: a ruby ring for her and a treasured gold fob watch for him. That watch had never left his sight since, the inscription on the back sending a flutter to his heart each and every time he read it. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he pulled the beloved gift out, running his thumb over her words, loud sobs escaping his quivering lips. My darling William, time hath no meaning for us, for we will be in love for an eternity. All my love, Anne xx
Shaking his head, he kissed the watch, being careful to place it back in his pocket. Unlike the ticking hand, his darling Anne’s beautiful heart had finally stopped beating and he wished he could climb in there with her, snuggle into her, and lie with her for eternity. For now, without her pretty face to wake up to and without her gentle lips to kiss, his life seemed futile. He knew he had Will Junior and his grandchildren for company, and to love, but it wasn’t the same as Anne’s sweet love. After fifty-eight years, how was he going to live on without her? He wished with all his might that he didn’t have to.
Surrendering to Will Junior’s protests, William let his son take the shovel from his hands and then collapsed to his knees. His darling Anne was gone, forever, now in the heavens and flying with the angels along with Mary and Edward. If he had his way, the Lord would take him too. His life was done on this earth. At eighty-four years of age, he felt he’d seen enough, achieved enough and lived enough. Joey was gone now, and Abby too; he was the last one of his generation to survive. He’d outlived all of them, when all along he’d believed he’d be the first to go. It was ironic how life always seemed to prove you wrong.
Allowing his son and grandchildren to lift him to his feet, he closed his eyes, whispering his final words to Anne before turning slowly and limping away. His heart was no longer inside him. It was now resting in the earth along with Anne.
Sitting in his favourite old armchair with his extended family milling about the cottage, William called Reg, his great-grandchild, up onto his lap. The watch Anne had given to him for their fiftieth wedding anniversary was squeezed tightly in his furrowed hand. He’d always had a soft spot for Reg, the seven-year-old already showing great promise when it came to cattle farming. William just knew this child would be the one to carry on the Donnellson name and he wanted to leave the boy with something to remember him by in years to come, to give him something other than dirt and livestock to pass down to the coming generations.
Grinning from ear to ear, Reg clambered into his lap. ‘Hello, Great-Grandfather.’
William gave him a loving squeeze and then showed Reg his hand. ‘I have something in here for you, lad, but only as long as you take good care of it. It’s very precious to me.’
Reg nodded eagerly, boggle-eyed. ‘Of course I’ll take good care of it. What is it?’
Chuckling at Reg’s addictive enthusiasm William flashed open his hand, revealing the shiny fob watch.
Reg squealed as he ran his fingers over the glistening gold. ‘Oh my goodness, it’s beautiful.’
‘It sure is, Reg, almost as b
eautiful as the woman who gave it to me.’ He placed it in Reg’s hand and squeezed his small fingers shut around it. ‘Take good care of it, my boy.’
Reg held it tight. ‘I promise I will.’
William patted him on the back. ‘Good lad.’ He motioned to the chatter of other children in the kitchen, smiling. ‘Now, off you go.’
Reg leapt from his lap and scurried into the kitchen to show off his new watch. Within seconds, Will Junior popped his head around the doorway, his fifty-seven years evident in his weathered face. ‘Are you sure about giving that to my grandson, Dad? It’s not been long since Mum passed and you might not be thinking straight. I know how much that watch means to you.’
William nodded. ‘I’m positive, Will. And I know Reg will take good care of it.’
‘That he will, Dad. I’ll make sure of it.’
William pushed himself up from his chair, the whisky glass beside him on the table now empty. ‘I’m going to be off to bed.’ He padded towards his son and gave his shoulder a firm pat. ‘Always know I love you, Will, and that I’m extremely proud of you.’
Emotion tugged at the corners of Will Junior’s lips. ‘Gee, thanks, Dad. Love you too, old fella.’
The two men stood for the briefest of moments, the silence charged with the love only a father and son could share, and with something unfathomable, before William turned and headed towards his bedroom.
Closing the door quietly behind him, William removed his slippers before pulling back the blankets and climbing into the bed he had shared with Anne for all these years. Turning on his side, he grabbed the photo of her from his bedside table, kissed it, clutched it to his chest, and then closed his eyes. For some inexplicable reason, he knew it was time to let go, as he heard Anne’s gentle voice calling him. His breathing slowed gradually, until it was a soft wisp from his parted lips, before he drifted off into a never-ending sleep where he and his darling, fiery-spirited Anne were reunited for eternity.
CHAPTER
23
2012 — Far North Queensland
Imposing black clouds lumbered in, swallowing up the early morning sunshine and threatening to claim the entire sky as the atmosphere thickened. The wind was beginning to pick up at an alarming rate, scattering dried leaves and tumbleweeds across the flats. A massive flock of birds flew overhead, southward bound, and the stockhorses whinnied, restless, their ears pricked and heads raised high. Jay tilted his hat and glanced upwards, distracted from stacking the empty aviation fuel drums back onto the Toyota. His instincts told him there was a big storm heading their way. But something about this one was different — it was moving in way too quickly.
‘Hey you lot, we’ll have to hit the road soon if we want to avoid getting pummelled by the rain that’s heading for us. Fang, I reckon you should get the chopper home, mate, before it’s not safe to fly. We can finish up here.’
His advice was met with stern looks towards the sky, and then Fang slapped his hands on his thighs. ‘Righto, boss, I’ll meet you back at the homestead then.’
‘It looks like it’s going to be a biggy, Jay,’ said Tom, rubbing the stubble on his chin. ‘I’m not liking the look of it much; the bloody thing’s snuck up real fast. There was no sign of it when we got up this morning.’
Taylor clicked the lid into place on the kitchen box she was packing. ‘Yeah, the monsoon storms in the north are crazy. I wouldn’t like to be caught in one out here. We’d better get a shift on.’ She carried the box to the Toyota, heaving it up onto the back, and stole a kiss from Jay as she did so. Adam gave them the thumbs up and she smirked.
The two-way radio crackled to life in the Toyota, the male voice at the other end inaudible as static claimed the airwaves. Patty ran over and wiggled the tuner knob, trying to make the voice clearer, but to no avail. It sounded like Frank, the sergeant at Driftwood, but she couldn’t be sure. A prickle of trepidation travelled up her back as she wondered why he’d be trying to contact them. From what she could make out, he sounded anxious.
In three big strides, Jay joined her at the door of the Toyota. ‘Shit! I can’t make out what he’s trying to say. But whatever it is, I reckon it’s got something to do with this storm.’ He threw his gaze skywards once more, chewing on his lip. ‘And to be honest, I’m not liking the look of it one little bit.’
Fang grabbed the last of his gear and tossed it up on the tray. ‘I’ll be off. I’ll give Frank a call and check out the BOM website when I get back in about half an hour. I’ll try and find out what’s going on and by then you should be closer to the homestead and in range for the two-way to work, or the bloody radio for that matter.’
Jay nodded firmly. ‘Cheers, mate, would appreciate it if you could.’
The radio crackled once again, this time Frank’s voice audible but only sections of dialogue came through. The blades of the chopper roared to life, drowning out the two-way as Fang carefully lifted the Robinson into the wind and flew out of sight.
Jay huffed, smacking the dashboard with his open palm. ‘Fuck! I need to hear what Frank’s saying.’ He turned to the group now huddled around the Toyota. ‘Let’s head. We’ll try and get to a spot where we can pick Frank up on the two-way.’ He turned to Patty. ‘Mum, stick with us. We’ll travel in a convoy. Keep trying the two-way and once you pick up the signal clearly, pull over. Hopefully I can chat to Fang or Frank then.’
Patty bobbed her head. ‘Got it.’
Jay clapped his hands together. ‘Right, good, and all of us on horseback better ride our horses like we stole them.’
An hour down the track, Patty pulled off to the side and Jay rode up to the driver’s window, his horse’s coat as sweaty as his palms. From Patty’s grim expression his instincts screamed this was going to be news he didn’t want to hear.
Taylor halted beside him on Boomerang, breath held, heart racing out of rhythm. Panic choked her as she watched the colour draining away from Patty’s face.
Patty reached out and turned the radio up, the unmistakable tone of warning sirens filling the cab.
Jay gulped. ‘Fuck me. That’s the SEWS. We’re in deep fucking shit.’
‘What’s SEWS?’ asked Taylor, trying to steady an increasingly agitated Boomerang.
‘It’s a warning the government plays when there’s a life-threatening situation within the next twenty-four hours. In our case, it’s a bloody cyclone.’
The group surrounded the Toyota, ears pinned to the ABC announcer’s solemn voice. ‘Cyclone Iva has now been upgraded to a category five with winds expected to reach up to three hundred kilometres an hour. Within the next six hours it is predicted to cross the coast somewhere in the vicinity of the small town of Driftwood. Australia’s weather bureau spokesman, Grant Harrison, is saying it is going to be the worst cyclone in Australia’s history. If you are in the danger zone please make sure everything is battened down, your cyclone survival kit is packed and at the ready and you are safely in the strongest part of your home. And may God keep you safe. Australia is praying for you all.’
A collective gasp was followed by looks of absolute terror as the group glanced at one another. It was a six-hour journey back to the homestead. They weren’t going to make it in time.
‘Okay. We’ve got to keep moving. We have to get back to the homestead as fast as we can,’ Tom said shakily, his expression solemn. ‘Patty, I reckon you should just drive as fast as you safely can to get back home and we’ll meet you there.’
Patty shook her head sternly. ‘No, Tom, I can’t leave you all out here on horseback. It’s a bloody death sentence to do that!’
Jay reached in through the window and squeezed Patty’s shoulder. ‘Mum, you have to go. We won’t be too far behind, I guarantee it. And when you get back, I want you to grab some pillows and a couple of the rolled up mattresses from the shed and then lock yourself in the bathroom at the homestead. Okay?’
Patty stiffened as she gripped the steering wheel. Taking deep, controlled breaths, she blinked back tears. �
�Okay, son, but just so you know, I’m not happy with the idea of leaving you all here.’
‘We’ll be right,’ said Jay, a little too optimistically, as if trying to convince himself.
The two-way crackled to life once again as Fang’s voice came through loud and clear. ‘Patty? Can you hear me? Patty? Jay? Anyone?’
Patty grabbed it and passed it to Jay through the window. Floyd and Buster sat still alongside her, as if sensing the incoming danger, Floyd’s hackles raised along his back.
‘Hey, Fang. It’s Jay. How are things looking back there?’
‘Fuck, Jay. Not good buddy. There’s a bloody category five cyclone heading straight for us. I just saw it on the telly and this thing’s fucking huge! Never in my life have I seen anything like it! I’ve just finished talking with Frank. The bloke’s been worried out of his mind. He’s been trying to contact us for days and was wondering why Patty wasn’t answering the phone. He drove out here this morning and when he noticed everyone was gone he put two and two together and realised we must have been out on the big muster. He reckons the entire town is battening down and some of the locals have even left. The general store has apparently sold out of almost everything. Batteries, food, generators, you name it. People have gone into panic mode. You lot have to get back here, now! The winds are picking up real quick. Frank reckons the palm trees along the beach are already leaning over.’
