Eva’s own despair could be read between the lines of her letters, and for the first time in her life, Irene thought she could understand what she must be going through. It was an unfamiliar bond, but one that could never be spoken of, for her liaison with her father’s right– hand man was taboo.
Irene’s own despair was tempered by the long letters she wrote to him, knowing they might never reach him, but hoping nevertheless that one day he might read them. She was on the point of giving up any hope of a future with him when she received news from a friend, of his wife’s death. She renewed her efforts, writing long into the night, the ink blurred from her tears as week followed week and the hated child grew inside her. She had to keep faith in him. Had to believe he would survive the expedition and eventually return to Melbourne.
The post had to be collected from the little post office in the town, and Irene volunteered to fetch it each day. She didn’t want to risk Jessie opening the wrong letter, or asking awkward questions. Yet the risk was minimal she acknowledged as she sifted through the mail. There had been no word from him since he’d sent the money for the abortion. How she wished she’d been brave enough to go through with it, instead of suffering this awful exile. If only he could write back. If only he could acknowledge the bond between them. With his wife dead and his children motherless there were no barriers between them. If he survived this expedition, then surely he would change his mind?
Her hand stilled as she turned an envelope over and saw the unfamiliar writing. The black ink and looping script had a look of authority about them. With a racing pulse she sat down on a low wall that overlooked the sea. The letter didn’t feel very thick, but that didn’t matter. He’d replied – at last he’d replied.
She tore it open and devoured the words on the single sheet of paper.
‘Miss Hamilton,
I regret the decision you have made despite my client’s advice. You no doubt have your reasons, but my client has instructed me to inform you that he wants no part in your scheming. As you are aware, my client is not at present able to correspond directly with you, but before leaving on this latest expedition, he instructed me to return any letters you may send to him, with the warning that any further contact will be treated as harassment.
He vigorously denies any intimate relationship with you, and is not prepared to acknowledge any child you may have as his own. If you persist in this slander, he will have no other recourse but to take this matter to the courts. Please consider this letter as the final contact between yourself and my client.’
His signature was a scrawl at the bottom of the page and Irene crushed the letter in her fist and stared out to sea. The words were cruel, but if he thought a solicitor’s letter would end things between them, then he was very much mistaken. His circumstances had changed since he left Melbourne – he was free.
Irene sat on the sea wall and stared unseeing out to the horizon. If he and Father survived, then he would return home to find he was widowed and in charge of his four children. He would be lonely.
All the time there was no news of the expedition there was still hope, she realised. But if her plan was to work, it meant keeping this damn baby. She smiled for the first time in many weeks. It would be a small price to pay when the rewards were so great. He was wealthy and handsome and now, because of his wife’s timely passing, unshackled by marriage – he would have no excuses this time.
Her thoughts raced and the impatience grew. If only this kid would get born she could go back to the south and begin her campaign of befriending his children. Jessie could look after it, she decided. She’d done nothing but plan and knit and think up silly names ever since they’d come here. The guise of widow would have to remain, though, and the thought was irksome – but if it meant getting what she wanted without any scandal attached to her, she was prepared to put up with the deceit.
The thought that her lover, or her father might not survive despite all her plotting was so impossible, she dismissed it. And any objections her parents might make were also cast aside. It was none of their business.
Irene rubbed her back in an attempt to ease the niggling pain that had been there all morning. She struggled up from her seat on the wall and took a deep breath as she eyed the long, sandy track she had yet to walk before she could reach the house. It was probably the heat making her feel so awful, she decided.
The sun glared on the white sand with blinding intensity as she began the walk she had once deemed so easy. The added burden of the baby was making it difficult to walk very fast and the deep, drawing pain in her back had intensified. She stopped for a moment to mop the sweat from her face and catch her breath. It couldn’t be the baby, surely? There were still two weeks to go.
Jessie was waiting at the door as always and for once, Irene was pleased to see her. ‘It’s coming,’ she gasped as she almost fell into Jessie’s arms.
‘Thought so, you’ve been off colour lately.’ Jessie steered her into the bedroom and helped her undress. ‘Lie down, ducks, while I get everything ready.’ Jessie bustled out of the room.
Irene collapsed on to the cool, crisp sheets and closed her eyes. A thrill of excitement shot through her as the pains became more frequent. It would soon be over and life could begin again. She would regain her figure and her looks, go shopping for new clothes and enter the social whirl of Melbourne. But best of all she could escape this prison and return from exile.
‘Right, deary,’ encouraged Jessie some time later. ‘You gotta push, luv. No good moaning and thrashing about. This baby wants to be born and you ain’t helpin’.’
Irene grasped the sheets and arched her back. She was soaked with sweat and ravaged with pain. No–one had told her it would be like this. ‘Get this thing out of me,’ she screamed. ‘Get it out!’
16
Despite the awful, draining humidity, Giles had never felt physically better. He swam twice a day now, and was no longer embarrassed about his missing arm. His appetite for life had returned, and after seeing how well Hopalong and Smokey were doing at their sawmill, he realised that being an amputee didn’t mean the end of a fruitful life. Yet his spirits were low as he and Olivia walked along the sand and watched the lightning flicker in the distance.
Olivia seemed to sense his mood. She stopped walking and put her hand on his arm. ‘What is it, Giles? What’s worrying you?’
He stared out over the black sea as he tried to put his thoughts into words. ‘Just feeling somewhat restless,’ he said, before he chuckled. ‘Feeling a bit out of things, if you want to know the truth. What with the medical centre and Maggie and everything.’
She looked up at him, her eyes puzzled. ‘But why? The community health centre is a project we can all take a hand in. I thought you were keen on the idea?’ She folded her arms around her waist, the pale moonlight catching the planes of her face.
‘I am,’ he said. ‘But …’
‘What?’ Olivia’s voice was sharp with impatience. ‘Come on, Giles. You’ve been throwing a blue all day. Spit it out.’
He couldn’t help but grin. ‘You’re becoming more Australian by the day,’ he said. ‘Throwing a blue, indeed.’
Olivia cocked her head and grinned back. ‘Fair go, mate,’ she drawled. ‘You can take the cobber out of Australia, but you can’t get Australia out of the cobber.’
‘Good grief,’ retorted Giles in an admirable imitation of Eva. ‘You could cut that accent with a knife.’ He looked down at her, the teasing lilt to his voice at once more serious. ‘You’ve changed so much since we came here, Ollie, and I’ve come to realise I hardly know you at all.’
‘I haven’t changed, not really,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘But my priorities have.’ She sighed as she sat down on the sand and hugged her knees. ‘I came here to find the truth,’ she said softly. ‘And what I found was something so unexpected, it has turned my original quest on its head.’ S
he smiled. ‘This place and the people in it have become more important to me than trying to find the pieces of a long forgotten puzzle.’
‘Are you not the least bit curious?’ Giles sat down beside her.
‘Of course I am. But the fire in Brisbane back in 1929 wiped out all records – so it looks as if I’ll have to accept I will never know what those papers in Eva’s bureau were hiding.’
Giles fumbled with his lighter and finally managed to draw smoke from his cheroot. He had to ask, but was afraid of her answer. ‘Will you be staying here?’
She rested her chin on her knees and stared into the darkness. ‘For a while,’ she murmured. ‘Maggie and I are only just getting to know one another and there’s a lot to do before we can have the medical centre up and running.’
‘But once you do,’ he persisted. ‘Will you be coming back to England?’
She remained silent for so long, Giles wondered if she’d heard the question, or was merely trying to avoid it.
‘Maybe,’ she said finally. ‘I don’t know.’ She stood up and brushed sand from her trousers. ‘There’s not much to go back to, to be honest, Giles. Just a big empty old house and a job in a Victorian hospital that probably should have been condemned years ago.’ She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. ‘I feel at home here,’ she said. ‘Wimbledon’s like another life – so distant it’s almost as if it had never existed.’
Giles swallowed. It was as if all his precious memories of their childhood had been swept away in her careless words. He struggled to his feet and brushed away the sand from his clothes. ‘And what about me? Where do I fit into this brave new world?’
She regarded him calmly. ‘Wherever you want to fit,’ she said.
The tension between them was matched only by the electricity in the storm–laden air. ‘As a friend? A surrogate brother? Or something else?’ He took a deep breath. ‘What if I said I wanted to be with you always?’
*
Olivia dipped her chin and her hair fell in a curtain of silk between them. Her thoughts were whirling, for his words had come as a shock. ‘Always is a long time,’ she murmured.
He reached out and tipped up her chin with his fingers until she was forced to look him in the eye. ‘Olivia Hamilton,’ he said firmly. ‘I have loved you since you were a skinny little girl with plaits and scabby knees. There is nowhere I would rather be than with you, and I don’t care if we end up in Timbuktu as long as we’re together. If this is where you plan to stay, then so do I.’ He paused. ‘That’s if you want me by your side, of course. As a husband.’
‘That’s quite a declaration,’ she said breathlessly. Olivia looked into his eyes and saw the longing there, the bleak honesty that was so much a part of him – and realised with a jolt that Giles loved her deeply in a way she had never suspected – her next few words must be carefully chosen.
She felt the tremble in his fingers as he cupped her chin and the answering tremor in her own body. ‘You are my dearest friend,’ she began with the softest regret. ‘My soul mate, the one person I have ever really trusted. But I never …’
She saw the hurt in his eyes as his fingers released their tenuous tilt on her chin, and wanted so much to be able to tell him she loved him in the way he wanted. Yet his declaration had changed everything and all her previous perceptions of him had been swept away. She didn’t know at this very minute how to ease his pain – only that it wouldn’t be fair to lie to him, to give him hope. ‘Giles,’ she began.
He put his finger to her lips, the anguish clear in his eyes. ‘Shh,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t say any more. I realise this has come as a shock, but with so much happening, I was afraid of losing you. It was always going to be risky, but I had to tell you, don’t you see?’
She nodded, her emotions in too much turmoil to allow her to speak.
His lips lingered momentarily on her brow and then he turned and walked away.
He made a solitary figure on that empty beach, and Olivia was tempted to run after him. Yet she remained there in the silence of the sultry night with only the sea for company. Giles couldn’t see it now, but she was being cruel to be kind. It wouldn’t have been fair to lie to him, to make him think she regretted turning him down. The deep affection she held for him was not enough to lay the foundations of marriage, and hopefully he would realise that one day. Yet the thought of hurting him, of losing his friendship, was almost too much and she shoved her hands in her pockets and walked in the opposite direction. She needed time alone to think.
*
Giles climbed the stairs to their suite of rooms and closed the door behind him. The hotel was in darkness and there was thankfully no sign of either Sam or Maggie. He threw himself into the chair and his shoulders slumped as the agony swept over him and he replayed the little scene on the beach.
He had seen the doubt in her eyes, the puzzlement, the searching for words that didn’t have the power to wound. Her affection was obvious, otherwise she would have rejected him immediately, but she wasn’t in love with him – had never been in love with him, he could see that now.
He reached for the bottle of whisky and filled a glass. ‘Here’s to all hopeless cases,’ he said sourly as he saluted the empty room. Downing the drink in one, he poured another. He’d been a fool to speak out. A fool to risk what they had just because he wanted more. It was that realisation which had made him silence her before she could reply – for he’d known what that answer would be and couldn’t bear to hear it.
The second whisky slipped down as easily as the first and he poured another. He sat in the dark, listening to the night sounds, feeling the tension in the air as the storm marshalled its forces for the coming onslaught. The heat had brought him to this moment of madness. The heat, the dust, the flies – but most of all, it had been the realisation that Olivia meant to stay in this strange, alien country – had begun to put down roots by buying that ridiculous ruin – had taken the first irrevocable step towards a future that would not include him.
He ripped off his shirt and trousers and threw himself on to the bed and stared at the ceiling. Despite the fan rattling overhead, it was so hot he could scarcely breathe, and yet he dared not open the windows or screens because of the mosquitoes. What kind of country was this where everything that crawled and flew and slithered could do you harm? What kind of country that lurched from drought to flood with no half–way measures?
He shifted restlessly against sheets that were already damp with his sweat. Trinity might be a paradise on earth, but in Eden there was always a serpent – and the heatwave was all a part of that. He missed England and the cool, green summers. Missed the gold and amber and copper of the autumn leaves and the icy blast of the winter wind which brought the snow. He missed oak beams and a raging fire in the inglenook of his local pub, warm beer and the sound of familiar accents, and the invigorating tramp over the coastal golf links where the wind was salty and stung his face.
Giles drained his whisky and closed his eyes. He was feeling sorry for himself, but at least he now knew where he stood in the scheme of things. His bitterness made him spiteful. Olivia had used their friendship to bring him out here and she obviously no longer needed him.
He realised how tense he was and eased his shoulders. He wasn’t being fair to Olivia, for after all, he’d been willing enough to come all this way. But, being a realist, he knew the time had come for them to go their separate ways. His gamble had not paid off and, like Olivia, he needed to get on with his life – needed to return home to England, and immerse himself in law books so he could forget her.
The whisky had made him maudlin as well as sleepy, he realised. As he drifted towards oblivion his last thought was of Olivia in the moonlight. The tears slowly rolled unheeded down his cheek. He hadn’t even had the chance to kiss her.
*
Olivia had been walking for what seemed like hours. She fina
lly turned and made her way back to the hotel. The heat was heavy with menace and her thin shirt was sticking to her back as she quietly entered through the side door and made her way upstairs.
The hotel looked strange with all the downstairs windows boarded up, and she hoped it would be enough. Sam was obviously worried by the approaching storm, and Giles had suggested she should leave. But she couldn’t do that. Her skills might come in handy if anyone was injured, and besides, if Maggie wasn’t leaving, neither was she.
Their rooms were in darkness and Olivia could hear Giles snoring. She went into her bedroom and stripped off her clothes. It would have been nice to have a bath, but it was too late. She plumped down on the bed and lay there in anticipation of feeling at least a little cooler beneath the fan. It didn’t help at all, merely stirred the humidity around the room.
Unable to sleep, she climbed back off the bed and stood at the window. Giles’s declaration shouldn’t have come as such a shock, she’d realised during her walk. Maggie had told her he was in love with her, so why did she feel so at odds with herself? She loved him, there was no denying it – but in love – romantic love? Never. He’d been around forever it seemed and perhaps she’d been guilty of taking him for granted. Now she could see the signs, for in hindsight, she’d realised how much of a sacrifice it must have been for him to come all this way so soon after his rehabilitation.
If only he’d waited, she thought. Waited for what? The niggling doubts crowded in. Waited for the storm to blow over? Waited until they got back to England? She shook her head in frustration. The thoughts were going round and round in her head, and although she hated to see him hurt, she’d told him the truth. Waiting wouldn’t have changed anything.
Olivia stared out at the hazy moon and the thickening clouds. There was no substitute for a deep friendship – but she knew she needed passion and excitement when it came to loving a man, and she just didn’t feel that way about Giles.
Undercurrents Page 24
