Haunted Creek (14 page)

‘In that case, he is even more dangerous. I wonder how you can put up with them,’ Rose admitted, while one half of her mind wondered what they could have for supper. She had no meat and she’d sold all the eggs, but if her visitor didn’t go soon, she would have to feed him. It was the rule of the bush: anyone there at a mealtime was fed.

‘I’m so glad you are unhurt. I brought you a gift,’ Lordy said as though he had read her mind. ‘Three blackfish from the creek …
Gadopsis marmoratus
, if you wish me to be exact.’

Rose smiled at Lordy’s way of talking. ‘Thank you.’

‘Shall we eat together, if you don’t mind? I will cook them, of course. And we can save one for your husband.’ He took the fish out of a large bag by his side, packed in wet ferns.

Rose went into the cabin to feed the baby and put her to bed, while Lordy cleaned and cooked the fish. He asked for a little fat, coated them with flour and sizzled them in Rose’s large frying pan over the fire. She felt quite safe and in any case, there was nothing
she could do about the visit; he had decided to stay for supper and in a way it was good to have his company. He’d even brought a lemon in his pocket.

‘Thank you, Mr Barrington,’ Rose said politely after the meal. She had provided bread and a small salad from her garden and the fish had been tasty.

‘Please call me Jasper,’ the tall man said humbly. ‘And may I call you Rose? I fear English convention would not approve, but then I would not be sitting alone with you by your fire if we were on our native heath, so to speak.’

Rose decided to ask a question; it was usually considered
ill-mannered
to question people too much, but she wanted to know more about the man. ‘Someone told me you’re a lord … is it true? Perhaps I should call you Lord Barrington.’

Lordy sighed. ‘Alas, it is true and that is why I prefer my Christian name. It is a great impediment here to bear an English title, especially if you wish to impress the Irish.’ He looked at her solemnly but with a twinkle in his eye. If it were not for the scar, Lordy would be quite handsome in a big-boned way. His beak of a nose made him look like an aristocrat, but he could easily be an actor.

Rose considered this. ‘The Irish? You mean Maeve?’

‘Maeve Malone, the most beautiful woman in the world,’ Lordy said dreamily. ‘I wish to marry her, but she scorns me!’ He paused for effect. ‘Well, not absolutely, but she will not commit herself. Now, if my inheritance were to materialize, I would be able to offer her much more. I think she would overlook my – um – unfortunate background, were I to present her with evidence that I could support her.’

‘But Maeve likes her independence, she told me so,’ Rose objected. ‘And I don’t think you could buy her with money. Wealth would be useful, of course, but maybe you need to impress her in some other way.’

‘I fear you may be right, Rose. I shall have to think of some other
way to her heart. And now, I must leave you. Thank you for your gracious hospitality, and compliments to your husband. I hope he enjoys his fish.’ Placing his hat on his head, Lord Barrington stalked away, leaving Rose feeling as though she had spent an evening in high society.

‘M
RS TEESDALE, COULD
you leave the class for a while?’ Freda’s careworn face appeared round the door of the little room. Rose drew a deep breath; there must be bad news about Erik. A feeling of panic rose, but she fought it. ‘Of course, the girls can manage on their own quite well.’ The sewing class nodded energetically, gathered round a low table where they were practising cutting out dress patterns from newspaper. Little Ada was sleeping peacefully at the back of the room.

‘Now remember, girls, don’t put pins in your mouth,’ Rose reminded them on her way to the door. It was traditional for
dressmakers
, but dangerous. Joining Freda, she braced herself to hear the news.

Freda had tears in her eyes. She led the way out of the building into the noonday glare to where two men were sitting with bowed shoulders in the shade of a tree. ‘It’s more private here,’ she said. ‘Please sit down, Rose. I’m afraid the news is bad.’

Rose sat opposite the men. They were covered in dust, unshaven and with red eyes. They stood up as she approached, then sank down again and picked up their glasses of water. Two horses with heads down stood in the shade by the fence, covered in dust and sweat.

With a stab of horror, she realized who the men were: Tom Appleyard, Luke’s employer, and Jim Carlyle. They were bringing bad news to her, not to Freda – unless by chance they knew
something
about Erik….

A kookaburra laughed harshly once, and was quiet. Bees buzzed in the garden flowers as Tom said gravely, ‘We came as soon as we could. Mrs Teesdale … Rose, I’m afraid your husband has had an accident.’

The world seemed to spin for a while and the garden tilted, then righted itself. Rose found she was breathing fast. ‘How badly is he hurt? Where is he?’ Her mind was working frantically; where was there a hospital? She’d heard that they were going to build one in Warragul, to service the area between Melbourne and Sale, so there was no hospital yet for over 100 miles in either direction. Only Martha and people like her, trying to help the sick and wounded. Oh Luke …

‘He’s dead, lass. We hate to have to tell you this.’ Tom passed his hand over his face wearily and she saw that Jim, haggard, pale and wretched, could not meet her eyes. ‘It was a big tree … it was nearly sawn through, ready to come down, and of course we have to get out of the way.’ He sighed heavily and fumbled for his pipe.

Rose held her breath but she knew what was coming next, could see it in her mind’s eye.

‘The tree fell a bit different to how we thought and Luke … he was running, but he tripped on a root and the tree got him. He died on the spot, he wouldn’t have known anything … no suffering. That’s a small mercy.’ Tom puffed on his pipe desperately.

Luke was dead. That bright, careless laughter she would never hear again. All her plans for a better understanding of each other were gone. She crumbled a leaf in her fingers and the sharp smell of eucalypt surrounded her.

Rose knew she should have thanked them. They had obviously ridden straight here to tell her, but she was numb. No words would come and she felt faint.

Freda took one of Rose’s hands and held it. ‘Rose will need to come to terms with this,’ she said quietly. ‘Can you tell us where is he now? Did you bring him home for burial?’

Jim said with an effort to control his voice, ‘He’s buried at
Noojee, in a little cemetery there. It was all they could do, Rose. We thought you’d understand, it was what he would have wanted. They say the name Noojee means the valley of rest.’ He gulped for a moment and then went on, ‘Luke was full of plans for the future. He was going to make life better for you, Rose.’

Tom added, ‘Please accept our sympathy. We know how hard it is for you … not long come out from England and all. And with a little baby.’ He shook his head. ‘It beats me why these things have to happen. We all did our best to be safe …’

She found her voice. ‘Thank you.’ Luke was not coming home. A fierce emotion went through Rose, a mixture of pain and black anger. Fate had let them down. Ada would grow up without knowing her father, Rose would go on being lonely and the farm would never be created. Nothing mattered any more.

They sat for a while in silence, thinking of Luke. Freda moved eventually and said to the men, ‘Please come into my house and have some food. You too, Rose.’ She looked older, more grey since they heard the news.

Rose stood up shakily and remembered her vow to be strong. She was going to need strength as never before. ‘Thank you for all you’ve done,’ she said to Tom and Jim. She had no tears yet. ‘Is there anything that I need to do?’ Jim took two steps towards her as if to comfort her, and stopped. Pulling her shoulders back, Rose went into the house behind the men.

They sat round Freda’s table with cups of tea and the men accepted bread and cheese. Tom handed over a damp envelope. ‘Death certificate,’ he muttered. ‘Doctor on his way through to Sydney. It was lucky he was there.’

After a while Rose went back to her class, but she found it impossible to concentrate. Her pupils looked at her with wide eyes, aware that something had happened. She took Ada into the house and mechanically fed and changed her.

The day wore on slowly; time itself seemed to have slowed to the pace of grief. Gradually, anger was replaced by a devastating sense
of loss. Rose knew she would always remember Luke as he stood at the turn of the track, waving goodbye. They had just begun to understand each other a little; there was so much more she might have done to encourage him, so many things they could have done together.

Life was cruel. It hadn’t been easy for either of them in those first months when the pattern of their lives was being set. It wasn’t the lack of money, although more money would have made it easier. But at first, Rose had needed to concentrate on surviving, getting used to the shock of the new environment. Luke had
probably
been trying to adjust to thinking about a wife and family, instead of looking out for himself. The baby’s crying had been hard for them both to bear. With more time, things could have been different.

For that week and for several more, time passed in a haze; the world felt unreal to Rose, like a bad dream. ‘I’ll take you to see Harriet’s father,’ Freda offered. One day when the school had a half-term holiday, they yoked up Erik’s oldest horse in the
four-wheel
buggy and trundled down to Moe.

‘I think Erik might marry Miss Sinclair,’ Freda said as they jogged along. They still had no more news of Erik. ‘She’s not used to the bush, but most unmarried women he might meet live in the town and they do seem to adjust to farm life, once they marry. He hasn’t mentioned her to me recently, but …’

‘I hope so,’ Rose replied sadly. Harriet Sinclair would come to a much better farm and environment than the bark hut among the trees that Rose called home. But Erik was still missing.

Rose was not at all interested in legal matters, but Freda was determined to help her to sort out Luke’s affairs. Mr Sinclair was quietly sympathetic. ‘Fortunately, Mr Teesdale’s papers are with me,’ he told Rose. Freda had expected as much as he was the only lawyer in the area that she knew. He scrabbled in a tall mahogany cabinet and brought out a box file.

Rose learned that Luke had taken out a joint title on the block
of land in both their names, so the patch of forest and the two huts now belonged to Rose. The bad news was that the government’s conditions of sale included a clause that directed them to ‘improve’ the land and, of course, to clear it. ‘Some of it’s fenced, and there is a house,’ Rose said defensively, not looking at Freda. On her knee, the baby gurgled as though she understood the deception; house was a grand name for their dwelling.

Mr Sinclair pursed his lips. ‘Your best course will be to sell the land, Mrs Teesdale. Let someone else worry about improvements.’

‘It’s too soon to make any changes,’ Rose said quietly over the baby’s head and Freda nodded. Freda had warned her against making decisions while she was still badly shocked. Time would heal the hurt a little, she’d said as one widow to another, and then it would be easier to think clearly. She had also said, ‘You will feel anger at first.’ It was true.

Luke had signed a will leaving everything to Rose. There were no debts, thank goodness, but no capital either apart from the cattle. All the money they had was in Rose’s tin trunk. A memory stirred, of Luke saying that he’d owed money to Jim and was working for him to pay it off. She must ask whether the whole debt had been paid.

Mr Sinclair was still shuffling papers, peering through rimless spectacles on the end of his nose. He came to the bottom of the box and found a bulky sealed envelope. ‘There’s this, though. It’s for you.’

Luke wrote badly and it was difficult to read the words: In the Event of My Death, Please Give This To My Wife Rose Teesdale.

Rose opened the envelope with trembling hands. There was no letter inside, but a heavy object fell out. It was a gold nugget, gleaming with a dull shine. Luke had left her gold. Ada reached out her baby hands to it.

‘He came in one day, not so long ago,’ the solicitor told them. ‘Said he’d been prospecting and thought he’d better put it away for you as a sort of insurance.’

Tears began to fall as Rose realized that she’d judged the lad too harshly. He and Jim had not spent all their gold on drink, after all. He’d thought about the risks he took and had done this to
safeguard
her. If only he’d told her what he had done, if only she could thank him! What a strange mixture Luke had been: thoughtful and indifferent by turns.

When she looked up, Mr Sinclair was talking about the gold and offering to get it valued for her. Weighing it in her hand, Rose wondered why Luke had not continued with his search for gold. This success should have made him want to go on. Had he been trying to impress her by working hard to earn money? She would never know. ‘I would like to leave it here with you, for now,’ she told the solicitor.

It was several weeks before Rose had recovered enough to take eggs down to the hotel. Meeting her at the door, Maeve swept her into a huge, perfumed embrace. ‘Rose, mavourneen, we heard about Luke and what a shock it was too. But I know you’re a brave girl, you’ll keep going! You won’t be off to England at all? Not now you’ve had a little time to be thinking. New widows now, they panic, they often scuttle back home on the next boat, God bless ’em, and us needing more females in the country!’ She stood back and looked at Rose with shrewd, kind eyes. ‘You’ve lost weight and no wonder it is.’

‘You talk as though there’s a lot of widows about,’ Rose told her. There was something comforting about Maeve’s soft voice.

Maeve shrugged. ‘Young men get themselves killed, more’s the pity, but so it happens. For the rest, there’s no doctors for miles and miles and never a priest, and so you take your luck as you find it.’

‘It’s all luck,’ Rose agreed. ‘Ada was lucky to be born … the birth could have gone wrong.’

Maeve nodded. ‘Well, now, and folks can die from lack of care, you know that. There’s mud fever sometimes down the river, the men come in here with yellow eyes and very sorry for themselves they are … but I reckon women are tougher than men, when it
comes to surviving. If men had the babies there’d be a fine
to-do
.’

Rose felt her stiff face moving in a smile, the first for many days. ‘There would.’

Maeve led the way into her sitting room. ‘And now, Rose, we will have a cup or two of Boris’s coffee and you can tell me your plans.’ She smiled happily, plumping up cushions in the chairs. ‘I dearly love a plan and it’ll help you to clear your mind. I’m glad you’re back – we’ve been short of eggs for weeks and the boys are getting restless. But they don’t complain, not when Boris is in the kitchen.’

In the face of so much cheerfulness, Rose felt her mood begin to lighten a little. Ada was taken out of the harness and put on the sofa, where she went to sleep. ‘I haven’t really started to plan,’ she admitted. She had got as far as realizing that waiting for an absent husband to come home was far different from sitting alone, knowing that she had only herself to rely on. ‘I’m not sure whether to go home or not,’ she admitted. ‘My father has a nice farm, but I don’t care for my stepmother.’ That was putting it mildly.

Maeve sipped her coffee with eyes narrowed, thinking, while Rose’s mind strayed to Kirkby. Should she go back? There could be more support for them in Yorkshire, but no real place. Luke’s parents would be sad, no doubt she would hear from them when the English mails came. But their loss was cushioned by the fact that they hadn’t expected to see their son again when he went off to the other side of the world. They’d already faced their loss. There were two younger brothers to give them grandchildren eventually. Her father would write too, but he’d never had any real suggestions for her future.

A noise erupted in the bar and Maeve went through to see what was happening. When she came back Rose was half asleep, worn out by the sorrow of the last few weeks. Rousing herself, she said, ‘There are so many things to decide …’ Perhaps Maeve would help her. She was an experienced woman.

‘And of course you are the only one in the world that can decide
them,’ Maeve said, waving her hand for emphasis. ‘Nobody can make you a plan, tell you what to do. But I can suggest how you might be working on it, for sure.’

Maeve wasn’t going to tell her what to do. At the back of her mind Rose had expected Maeve to take charge. But she didn’t want that, although part of her longed to be given no options, just a straight course to follow. ‘Tell me,’ she said.

‘It’s better with pencil and paper, but you can be doing it in your head. Take your time, there’s no hurry, take a week or two.’ Maeve paused, emphasizing she was in no hurry. ‘Make a list of all the good things, the strengths you have, your assets, even friends.’

Rose thought hard, but couldn’t come up with many assets.

Maeve went on quietly, ‘Then a list of the weaknesses. The obvious one is no man in the house and too many trees to chop down, I would reckon. Isn’t that right? The problems, there’s never a lack in this world. But after all that, you can look into the future a little – what chances are there of improving your
situation
?’