by JH Fletcher
It was easy. At eleven o’clock Alex sneaked out of the window — alone, this time. She found her way to the trees around the creek, she lay in wait. She had just begun to wonder whether it had been nothing but talk when she saw two shadows approaching through the darkness. Two shadows that became one.
Alex listened to a succession of gasps and squeaks, to ‘No!’ and ‘Stop it!’ and ‘You mustn’t!’, but they were no more than words and Samantha didn’t seem to be trying very hard to stop whatever was happening. Soon they were wriggling on the dew-wet ground and the tone of Samantha’s voice had changed.
‘Oh, Ted …!’
Alex, fascinated, craned her neck and did her best to watch, but in the darkness could make out little. Later Samantha and the boy slid naked into the creek and swam a little, once again giggling as they stood very close together in water up to their waists.
She’s big, Alex thought. Much bigger than I am. Well, she’s two years older, after all.
She came out of the shadows. She grabbed their clothes and ran, trying not to scream with laughter as she imagined Samantha’s expression when she discovered — horrors! — that her clothes had vanished.
Alex felt she could out-vault a kangaroo. Every bound was five yards long at least. The grass flew back beneath her feet. What did you say your mother’s name was? That would teach her!
Alex reached the sloping roof. Without pausing she leapt for the guttering, seized it firmly and swung herself up. With her feet in midair, the gutter creaked and gave way. Alex fell.
CHAPTER 68
Charlie and Sarah were staying overnight in the city. In the morning they would pick Alex up from the college, then the three of them would catch the train to Edward’s Crossing, where Brenda was waiting for them. Now Sarah and Charlie were taking an evening stroll through the clang and clatter of the noisy streets before turning in.
‘We got a problem,’ Sarah said.
‘Problem about what?’ asked Charlie.
‘Martin Grenville.’
Even the name conjured icicles in the warm air.
‘What about him?’
‘She’s really keen on him.’
‘She’s only fifteen, for Heaven’s sake.’
‘Some girls grow up earlier than others.’
Lights were beginning to shine from the buildings. A carriage passed them, the horses’ hooves clattering on the stone roadway.
Sarah said, ‘What do we do, Charlie, if she’s serious about him?’
They turned and began to retrace their steps.
‘She’s not marrying a Grenville, I’ll tell you that.’
‘But if she loves him …?’
‘We’ve had nuthun but grief from that family. Cheatin’ me, tryin’ to steal your dad’s land … And Will dead because of them.’
That was the real stumbling block. How Sarah wished that Pandora had been owned by anyone but the Grenvilles.
‘You can’t blame Martin for that.’
‘I tell you, there’s somethin’ in their blood.’
The Grenvilles would always be Charlie’s weakness. He knows he’s being unreasonable, thought Sarah, but he’ll never admit it.
‘No daughter of mine is gunna have anythin’ to do with a Grenville.’
‘So we ruin her life because of a stupid quarrel that no-one but you and George cares about.’ Sarah sniffed.
A dray crawled past on rumbling wheels. On the far side of the road, the warm lights of the Southern Cross Hotel spilt into the darkness as they crossed the road to the hotel.
‘Did I ever tell you how I watched George Grenville through that window the night I pinched his horse?’ Charlie was trying to make peace. ‘I wish I’d seen his face when he found out.’
‘You always claimed you only borrowed it.’
They went up the steps into the hotel.
‘I never thought, that night, that I might be stayin’ here meself one day.’
They walked down the lighted corridor — gas lamps, very swish — and into their room. Sarah stood in front of the mirror and took off her hat. With her mouth full of pins, she said: ‘We mustn’t stand in Alex’s way, Charlie. There’s years yet but it’s not right to forbid her.’
‘Anyone but a Grenville.’ Charlie’s lips were tight against his teeth.
‘But if it’s a Grenville she loves —’
‘I’ll never agree to it.’
His face said Forget it. But Sarah was not about to obey him. ‘You’re that stubborn,’ she said.
‘After everything that family’s done to us …’
‘You think wreckin’ Alex’s life will make things better?’
‘I refuse to be connected with them in any way whatsoever. You know what they’re like.’
‘Martin’s a nice boy,’ she said.
‘She wouldn’t be marryin’ Martin but the whole family!’
‘I liked his mother, too. She wasn’t a bit like I expected.’
‘You want to see Alex with Rufus Grenville as her father-in-law?’
‘I want to see her happy.’
‘Not if it means being a Grenville.’
‘You can’t arrange people’s lives, Charlie,’ Sarah said. ‘It only causes trouble.’
They went to bed.
Sarah watched the darkness. She said: ‘I swear, Charlie, I can’t work you out. I know you love us, yet sometimes you seem like you’ve got no heart at all.’
‘Where the Grenvilles are concerned, I don’t.’
‘It’s Alex I’m thinkin’ about, not the Grenvilles. Your own daughter. What matters is bein’ kind an’ — an’ carin’ for each other.’
He moved restively. ‘Tell that to Rufus.’
‘I was watchin’ her today. I think she really loves Martin. If I’m right we shouldn’t stand in her way. That’s all I’m sayin’.’
‘Anyone but a Grenville,’ said Charlie.
Silence.
Then: ‘You’re a hard man, Charlie Armstrong. Hard as diamond.’
‘Maybe you should sell me to a jeweller,’ he said, trying to make a joke of it. ‘I might be worth a quid or two.’
Sarah was not so easily placated. ‘Maybe I should.’ She turned to him, their faces almost touching on the pillow. ‘I never thought you’d let the Grenvilles beat you.’
He pushed himself up on his elbow. She felt the weight of his stare. ‘Let the Grenvilles beat me … What you on about?’
‘Takin’ their side against your own daughter. You reckon Rufus would want his son to marry an Armstrong?’
That was a new slant. Charlie laughed softly. ‘I never known anyone could twist things the way you do,’ he said.
‘It’s only that —’
‘Leave it,’ he interrupted, ‘or we’ll both be barkin’ mad before morning. No need to worry, in any case. I don’ reckon Alex will touch Martin Grenville. She’s got too much sense.’
CHAPTER 69
Alex staggered to her feet. The clothes she’d stolen were scattered about her; the gutter hung forlornly.
Without it there was no way she could get back inside the building. And if she couldn’t do that …
Alex felt the beginnings of panic. Think, she ordered herself. She remembered Samantha telling Claire she knew where the school keys were kept. In which case there might be a key in Samantha’s clothes. She scrabbled through them. Yes! She clasped the key triumphantly in her hand.
She scurried around the building, trying each door. She had never realised there were so many. The key seemed to fit none of them. At last there was a click. Exultation flooded through her — but she wasn’t safe yet.
She eased the door open. It creaked loudly, and she stared up in alarm at the building’s darkened windows, but all was still. Her breathing eased.
She looked at what lay before her. Behind the door, stairs disappeared into what must be a cellar. A smell of earth and dampness came to her out of the darkness. She peered apprehensively. Down there, with the door closed behind
her, it would be as black as tar, yet she dared not wait for the dawn. And Samantha and Ted would be after her long before that.
Heart pounding, she placed her first foot on the stair. Then she hesitated. She had intended to lock Samantha out, but did she really want to do such a thing, even to Samantha Wilson? She remembered Sarah ticking her off when she’d hung Elsie’s bloomers on the funnel stay.
‘Fun is all right,’ Sarah had said. ‘A laugh is good for all of us. But to hurt someone …’
Samantha had tried to get her into serious trouble. But to do this would make Alex as bad as she was. Alex didn’t want that. She left the door ajar, the key in the lock, and eased her way down the stairs, into darkness absolute.
She did not know where she was, or where the way out was. She stumbled into boxes that fell in a series of thumps that must have been audible, surely, all over Adelaide. A net hanging from the ceiling wrapped itself around her. She thought of spiders. Of rats. Of snakes.
She took another step. Trod …
On a snake.
‘Eek!’
Her heart leapt from her mouth. It took all her fast-dwindling courage to move again. For a second time she trod on …
Not a snake. She explored it with a cautious foot. A length of rope.
‘I hate you!’ she screamed, tears not far off. She would have gone back to the entrance, if she’d known where it was. But she was trapped in darkness.
She took a deep breath. ‘What nonsense! Of course there’s a way out.’
And she fumbled and stumbled and at last …
A door. She opened it. It led into the main part of the building. Thank God.
She sneaked up the stairs to her room. Only when she was safely inside did she breathe, a long exhalation of relief and exhaustion.
Annie was awake. ‘Where’ve you been?’
‘Out.’
And she was into bed in two twos, sparing a thought for Samantha. Who might be safe and might be caught. Either way, it was no longer her responsibility. She fell asleep. The sleep of the just, or someone who had got away with it. Again.
The next morning she saw Samantha in assembly. It seemed she had got away with it too. Samantha gave her a killing look, to which she returned an innocent smile.
Why’re you looking at me like that? Alex thought. And then: Be thankful for my kind heart.
After school was dismissed, Alex met her parents at the college gates, and they all went down to the railway station together.
CHAPTER 70
They had so many bags that Charlie slipped a bloke a bob to give them a hand. Charlie, Sarah and Alex followed the man down the wharf towards Brenda.
‘I’ll drop in and see the port superintendent for a few minutes,’ Charlie said. ‘Then we can get on upriver.’
He disappeared into the office while Sarah and Alex followed their luggage. On the far side of the river, the trees shone green and golden in the sun.
Beyond Brenda a second steamer lay alongside the wharf. Smoke was pluming from her funnel. A crested eagle was painted on her side and below the wheelhouse her name was picked out in gold lettering.
‘Majestic?’ Sarah frowned. ‘Isn’t that a Grenville boat?’ But she wasn’t really very interested.
She went on board their own steamer, with Alex following. Alex took off her straw hat, feeling the river breeze in her curls and listening to the hull creaking against the current. She went into the saloon. Everything was as she remembered: the battered table, the worn cushions on the settees, the puddles of sunlight reflecting off the ceiling. The smell and texture of home.
Sarah had disappeared as soon as they’d come aboard. Now she was back, having exchanged her smart clothes for scruff.
‘This is a workin’ boat, young lady, in case you’ve forgotten. Hop up to your cabin and get changed. Then you can gimme a hand fillin’ the fuel bunkers.’
But Alex had something to ask her mother first.
‘The Majestic …’
‘What about her?’
‘She’s here to pick up Martin.’
Sarah looked at her, head on one side. ‘What about it?’
‘Seems silly, doesn’t it? I mean, we’re friends, going the same way. Why do we have to go in separate boats?’
‘You know how your father feels about the Grenvilles.’
‘That’s not Martin’s fault.’ Alex picked up an ornament, examined it and put it down again. She looked at her mother defiantly. ‘Martin’s my friend.’
Sarah heard everything Alex was not saying. Martin’s my friend. If only it were as simple as that.
A Grenville, and a musician. That woman at the college had called him a genius. It was hard to think of anyone less suited to a girl raised on a Murray riverboat.
‘Why can’t Martin come with us?’ Alex asked.
Sarah hesitated. ‘Because your father wouldn’t allow it.’ But men only thought they ruled the roost. ‘How d’you know Martin will want to?’
Alex smiled, one woman to another. ‘He’ll want to, all right.’
‘And where is he now?’
‘I don’t think he’s arrived yet.’
‘Then he’d better hurry up. If he’s not here before we’ve made steam —’
‘And if he is?’
Sarah took a deep breath. ‘Leave it with me.’
‘Oh, wonderful!’ A pirouette on nimble toes.
‘No promises, right?’
But Alex was no longer listening. She ran to change, while Sarah asked herself what she’d done.
Logs for the boiler were stacked on the foredeck. Alex was hauling armfuls, grime to her armpits and sweating like a pig, when Martin Grenville came along the wharf.
She could have died.
She had waited all day for this moment. Now her only thought was to throw herself into the Murray.
Perhaps he won’t notice me, she thought.
Fat chance.
If he laughs, I’ll kill him.
Martin did not laugh. He put his bag down on the wharf. ‘Hello, Alex.’
She felt herself go bright red. With shame, with embarrassment, with hope. ‘Hello, Martin.’
‘I was hoping I’d see you,’ he said.
‘Were you?’
She wiped her sweaty face with her arm, then remembered — too late! — how dirty the arm was.
I must look like a chimney sweep.
But Martin didn’t seem to notice. He looked at her as though stunned by her existence, while Alex stared at him as though she, too, could hardly credit his presence. His being flared with light.
She was fifteen years old. She was born anew, the primeval Woman. Begrimed and sweating, she saw how he was looking at her and felt the first quiver of her power. It flooded every vein and artery of her body. It overflowed into the bright and shining air.
She said, ‘Why don’t you travel up with us?’
His eyes opened wide. ‘Won’t your parents mind?’
‘Why should they?’ She knew that her father would certainly mind but she shut her mind to it. ‘I’ll tell my mother.’
‘Couldn’t you have checked with me first?’ Sarah said. ‘I haven’t spoken to your dad yet.’
‘You can talk him round.’ Alex’s face twisted with the intensity of her feelings. ‘Please, Mum …’
Sarah nodded reluctantly. ‘Put him in the spare cabin. And get back here as soon as you’ve done it. Your dad finds the pair of you in one cabin together he’ll more likely murder Martin than let him travel upriver with us.’
Sarah remembered her first journey on this steamer and how it had ended. But that, she told herself, had been different. Sauce for the goose was certainly not sauce for the gosling.
Charlie came aboard and went to check the gauges. ‘Won’t be ready for another half hour yet. What you bin up to?’ he scolded.
‘The boiler was stone cold. It was bound to take a time.’ Her eyes signalled to Alex to make herself scarce.
When she had gone Sar
ah said, ‘Charlie, I got somethin’ to ask you.’
* * *
Charlie heard her out — she had to give him that. But by the time she’d said her piece he was seething.
‘You want Rufus Grenville to have us arrested for kidnappin’ his son?’
‘What I want is an end to all this nonsense. The Murray’s fifteen hundred miles long, Charlie. Surely there’s room for both of you?’
‘You sayin’ it’s my fault?’ He stared angrily. ‘Was Will’s death my fault?’
‘Was it Martin’s?’
He opened his mouth, then slowly shut it again. ‘I’m not sayin’ that! But he’s a Grenville, and that’s all it takes!’ Charlie’s gauges, like the boiler’s, were set on steam.
‘And I’m a Keach! My dad’s a drunk! Does that make me one?’
‘Of course not! But —’
‘Well, thank you, sir!’ Slowly Sarah advanced on him, body as well as argument herding him backwards. ‘I’ll tell you what I don’ want. I don’ want my — my grandchildren dragged into this stupid fight between you and George Grenville. It’s bin goin’ on for over twenty years, Charlie! I’m sick of it!’
Charlie tried to remember his thoughts after the sinking of Pandora. Something to do with vengeance, and visiting the father’s sins on the third and fourth generations …
Did he really want that? He’d meant it at the time but now, in the cosy, shabby saloon of the paddle steamer that had been their home for most of their lives, packed with memories of times both good and bad, he wondered whether Sarah might be right after all. George would always be an enemy, but perhaps it was time to call a halt as far as the next generation was concerned.
He stared through the window at the bank on the other side of the river. A kookaburra’s scoffing laugh splintered the evening’s stillness.
He sighed. ‘He’d better let ’em know on Majestic he’ll be travellin’ with us, then.’
Sarah wanted to hug him, to laugh and cry, because he’d seen sense at last. But she was too wise to do so. During the years of her marriage she had learnt many things, some elevated, others more practical in nature. One of the latter was that blowing bugles didn’t pay. Make too much of Charlie’s change of heart and he might have second thoughts.
