The homecoming, p.36
The Homecoming, page 36
Danny had a stream of visitors that afternoon, starting with Sergeant Prewitt and a wide-eyed constable to take notes. Prewitt wanted a full account of the incident at the Shenandoah, which Danny explained as an encounter with a claim jumper.
Such incidents were not unknown in the rough world of the Maiden’s Creek goldfields but the involvement of such a high-profile visitor as Daniel Hunt provided extra spice to the story which would, no doubt, do the rounds of every bar and fireside in town for some time.
Prewitt was followed by Netty Burrell.
‘When Charlie told me you’d been shot, I feared the worst,’ Netty said, her gloved hand finding his and holding tight.
‘Where’s she gone, Netty?’
Netty shook her head. ‘I don’t know. She wouldn’t say. Just said she couldn’t stay in Maiden’s Creek.’
‘I don’t blame her. I will be speaking with Caleb about the shoddy treatment she received here.’
‘Miss Campbell has oh-so-politely requested that Amos and I leave the cottage by tomorrow,’ Netty said, her mouth twisting. ‘We’ve nowhere to go.’
Another black mark against Margaret Campbell, Danny thought.
‘I have a suite of rooms at the Britannia.’ He glanced across at Bertie. ‘Bertie’s not using his. You are welcome to take his place.’
‘Thanks,’ Bertie said.
‘In fact, can you fetch me some clean clothes? I’m not staying here a minute longer than I have to.’
Netty frowned. ‘Are you sure—’
‘I’m sure. Please Netty.’
She returned an hour later with a bundle of clothes. She found his boots and helped him out of bed. He asked her to go in search of a set of crutches while he dressed with difficulty in the bathroom at the end of the ward.
The effort took all his energy and as he sat on the edge of the bath to regain his strength, the door burst open and Margaret Campbell stood in the doorway.
‘It would have been polite to knock,’ Danny said.
‘I thought you had collapsed,’ Margaret said. ‘What are you doing? Why are you out of bed? And what’s all this nonsense about crutches?’
‘I’m leaving the hospital. I’ll be heading back to Melbourne on the train tomorrow.’
‘That’s ridiculous. You are not strong enough…’
‘Apparently you have evicted the Burrells from the matron’s cottage so they will be accompanying me.’
‘I didn’t exactly evict them. Just suggested they may like to look at alternative arrangements. It’s my cottage by right—’
It felt as if he was seeing Margaret Campbell for the first time. How had he ever imagined a life with this woman?
‘Tell me … are you happy, Margaret? Did you get what you wanted?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You wanted to be the matron of this hospital and now you are. What’s next?’
She stared at him, her lips parted. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘It’s only a temporary position in a small cottage hospital. Will it be enough for you?’
She raised her chin. ‘For the moment.’ She laid a hand on his arm and smiled. ‘Danny, I had hoped that you and I could, maybe, go back to where we once were.’
‘A wise person once told me that you can’t live in the past, Margaret. I am happy to part as friends, and I wish you well with your new position.’
Ignoring the sharp pain in his leg, he hefted himself on to the crutches and swung away from her. Amos and Netty and Joe Trevalyn were waiting by the door to help him down to the Britannia, and tomorrow he would be on the train to Melbourne.
It was time to go home and try to find Charlie O’Reilly.
Fifty-One
Tuesday 16 August
Korumburra
Joshua Woods’ dairy farm was only a couple of miles out of Korumburra but the walk from the station took Charlie over an hour. At the gate she hefted her small valise and walked up the long, rutted and muddy track, past green fields of contented cows, to the neat farmhouse.
Her stepfather, Joshua, sat on the verandah, mending a harness. He rose to his feet as she approached and smiled with genuine warmth. She loved this man. He had been good to her mother and as far as her sister, Sarah, was concerned, he was the only father she had known. Annie, in her turn, had loved Joshua’s three children, all now grown and making their own way in the world.
‘Charlie, my girl. Good to see you. Your mother’s out the back feeding the chooks. She’ll be pleased to see you. I’ll go and put the kettle on. Are you staying long?’
‘I don’t know,’ Charlie said. ‘I had to leave my trunk at the station. Can we go and fetch it later?’
‘Of course. If we’d known you were coming, we’d have been there to meet you.’
He took her valise in his large, capable hand and ushered her through the house.
Annie Woods stood in the centre of the large chicken pen, scattering scraps to the brood of hens. A magnificent rooster strutted among the brown and white hens snatching food from his girls, who responded with indignant squawks.
‘G’day, Mum,’ Charlie said.
Annie started, almost dropping her pan.
‘Charlie, what are you doing here?’
‘Can’t I pay a visit to my mother without a cross-examination?’
Annie gave her a sharp, appraising glance but didn’t reply.
She secured the gate to the chook pen and set the basin down before crossing to her daughter. She took Charlie by the forearms and looked up at her before taking her in her arms and giving her a long, hard embrace.
‘Charlie!’
Charlie’s heart gave a leap as a small girl in a grubby pinafore came hurtling across the cow yard towards her, pigtails bouncing.
‘Amy,’ she responded, sweeping the child into her arms.
Amy’s thin arms encircled her neck.
‘That’s enough, Amy, you’ll choke your sister,’ Annie said.
Sister … An old, familiar stab of pain threatened to overwhelm Charlie.
‘I can never get enough hugs,’ she said, setting the child down. ‘I have too many years without those hugs to make up for.’
Annie gave her a knowing look.
‘Wash those hands and your face and get inside, Amy. You can lay the table for tea.’
‘She’s grown,’ Charlie said.
‘What do you expect? Must be six months at least since you last saw her.’
Annie raised a hand and touched her daughter’s face.
‘You look tired, my girl,’ she said. ‘Everything all right?’
Charlie forced a smile. ‘Fine. I’m fine. What’s the news of Sarah?’
Annie snorted. ‘You think that one would write unless she absolutely had to? Last letter was dances and parties and who knows what else. God help Eliza McLeod’s pocket.’
‘Sarah has an allowance, same as I did,’ Charlie said.
‘Let’s just hope she marries well because any more education will be wasted on her.’
Annie put an arm around her daughter’s waist and the two women walked into the house.
Seated at the well-scrubbed kitchen table, tea and cake spread out before her, Charlie listened attentively as Amy chatted about all the consequential matters of a five-year-old’s life—school, friends, which cows had calved … She could have talked until the end of days and Charlie would have hung on every word.
‘Enough, Miss Chatterbox,’ Annie said at last. ‘Your sister’s tired from her journey. How about you leave her to talk to me for a little while and go and help your pa with the milking?’
Annie waited until the back door shut behind the child.
‘She’s doing so well,’ Charlie said.
Annie nodded. ‘Aye, she’s our pride and joy.’
She leaned over and laid a hand over Charlie’s
‘So why are you really here, Charlie?’
Charlie took a deep breath and, for the first time in her life, said, ‘I need your advice, Ma.’
‘You need my advice? Well there’s one for the books,’ Annie said.
‘Ma … please.’
‘Don’t pay me any heed,’ Annie said. ‘What’s on your mind. Is it a boy?’
Charlie laughed. ‘A boy? I’m nearly thirty. I’m long past boys …but you’re right, it is a man.’
Annie bristled. ‘It’s not that bastard, Fitzgerald? He hasn’t taken advantage of you again?’
‘No … not directly.’
Charlie sat back in the chair and put her arms behind her head as she wrestled with how to put her dilemma into words.
‘I’ve made such a mess of things, Ma.’
Annie poured another cup of tea. ‘Let’s start with what happened to this wonderful new job of yours?’
Charlie told her about the events at the hospital and losing her job over the report Fitzgerald had written.
Annie had a suitable epithet, drawn from her days in the grog shop, to indicate her thoughts on Fitzgerald. ‘But you found a murderer.’ Annie sounded indignant.
‘And broke every rule in the hospital’s book. They were right. I endangered patients, and that’s the worst thing a nurse could do.’
Annie pushed a plate of biscuits across to her daughter. Charlie picked one up and bit into it. She had no childhood memory of her mother making biscuits or anything much beyond kangaroo stew.
‘And where does this man fit in? Do I know him?’
‘You know of him. Daniel Hunt.’
Annie sat back in her chair. The expression on her face could not have been more shocked if Charlie had hit her over the head with a dead fish.
‘Daniel Hunt? Oh, Charlie, he’s not for the likes of you. The Hunts … well, they’re worth a fortune.’ Annie frowned. ‘What’s he gone and done? If he’s hurt you …’
Charlie held up a hand to silence her mother’s righteous indignation. ‘He hasn’t hurt me.’ She took a deep shuddering breath. ‘He asked me to marry him.’
‘And?’
‘I turned him down.’
Annie blinked. ‘You turned down a proposal of marriage from one of the wealthiest men in Melbourne?’
Charlie nodded. ‘I don’t care a jot about his money. He’s … he’s …’
‘Do you love the lad?’
Charlie nodded.
‘So what’s the problem?’
Charlie swallowed. ‘To begin with, he’s Protestant and I’m a Catholic …’
Annie threw her head back and laughed. ‘When was the last time you set foot in a church, my girl?’
Charlie had to think. ‘Easter?’ she suggested.
Annie reached out and took her daughter’s hands between her own.
‘Charlie, lass,’ Annie said. ‘You were never christened in the Catholic faith. Matt Tehan couldn’t find a priest when you was born and then he died and well … what with one thing and another, it just slipped my mind. You, my girl, are a heathen.’
Charlie stared at her mother. ‘You mean …?’
‘I mean, you are free to choose whatever religion you wish. They won’t marry you in the Church of England unless you’re christened with ’em, mind you and that’s not such a big sacrifice to make for the man you love, is it? I’m sure they’d be pleased to add another to their flock.’
Charlie extracted her hands and diverted herself with pouring a cup of stewed tea from her mother’s brown earthenware teapot. Unlike Netty Burrell’s, Annie’s teapot was chipped in multiple places, but it had been one of the few objects that had survived Annie’s tumultuous life.
She sipped slowly without tasting the brew as her mind turned over the possibilities. She thought of her grandmother’s rosary, tucked up with the patchwork quilt in her trunk. The habit of a lifetime would be hard to give away but that was all it was … a habit. It was all the same God—the rest was just ritual.
Annie shrugged. ‘If it’s all that stands between you and the man you love, you do what it takes.’
Charlie huffed out a breath. ‘I’ll have to give up nursing.’
Annie studied her daughter. ‘And if you’re going to let a commitment to working every hour that God gave you stand in the way of you marrying a good man that you truly love, you’re a bigger fool than I thought you. Charlie love, Danny Hunt has enough money to build a hospital. If it’s saving the world you want, trust me that’s a lot easier when you’ve money and status, and as Mrs Daniel Hunt you’d have both.’ Annie frowned. ‘But they’re just excuses. You haven’t told him about Amy, have you?’
Charlie shook her head. ‘No, and he doesn’t need to know. I told him Amy’s your daughter … your little miracle.’
Annie sat back and considered her daughter for a long, long moment. ‘Secrets and lies, missy. That’s no way to make things work. When I married Joshua, I told him everything about me and as you know, some of it wasn’t pretty, but he took me as I was. Told me he didn’t care what happened in the past, he wanted to make a new life with me.’ Annie laid a hand over Charlie’s and squeezed her fingers. ‘You have to tell him the truth, Charlie, or it will always stand between you.’
‘None of this conversation matters. I walked away from him.’
‘Walked or ran?’
Charlie flinched. ‘Ran.’
Annie shook her head. ‘You can’t keep running, lass. Some day it all catches up with you.’ She hefted herself to her feet and leaned over her daughter, kissing the top of her head.
‘You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need.’
Like a small child—like Amy—Charlie wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist and buried her head in her apron and cried.
Fifty-Two
Wednesday 17 August
East Melbourne
‘I think we should send for Doctor O’Connor.’ Adelaide’s voice came from a long way away.
‘Stuff and nonsense. I’ve forgotten more about bullet wounds than O’Connor’s ever learned in his lifetime.’ Caleb’s soft Virginian accent came from the other side of the bed.
‘That was thirty years ago,’ Adelaide protested.
‘Trust me, you don’t forget battlefield surgery,’ Caleb replied, the light bantering tone gone, his voice low and grave.
‘Stop arguing,’ Danny said, his eyes still closed. ‘I trust Caleb implicitly.’
‘Thank you, Dan,’ Caleb said. ‘I’ll just go fetch my bag.’
The bed sagged as Adelaide sat down. She ran a motherly hand over his forehead. ‘You’ve got a fever,’ she said. ‘What were you thinking, risking your life on a journey back to Melbourne? You should have stayed at the hospital.’
‘Couldn’t stay a moment longer.’
‘You were fortunate to have Amos and Netty with you. I’ve put them up in the spare bedroom, and we’ll take them up to Mansfield when we’re sure you’ll be all right.’
‘Honestly, Mother, I had very good care, and there’s someone I need to find.’
Adelaide narrowed her eyes. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’
Danny didn’t have the strength to dissemble. ‘Do you know Charlie O’Reilly?’
‘Of course I do, she’s Eliza McLeod’s protégé.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Danny, you haven’t made a fool of yourself?’
He pulled himself up on his elbows. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Miss O’Reilly was a singularly attractive young lady, if I remember rightly.’
‘Miss O’Reilly was the matron of the hospital, Mother,’ Danny replied coldly. ‘And she was with me when I was shot. Without her assistance I would be dead.’ He sank back on the pillows.
Adelaide had the grace to lower her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, I just jumped to conclusions.’
Danny grasped his mother’s hand. ‘I would hope that you had more faith in me, Mother. But if, hypothetically, Charlie and I had … umm … formed an attachment …?’
It seemed an interminably long moment before Adelaide replied. ‘Danny. I have watched a parade of fatuous young girls throw themselves at your feet. Charlie has several virtues none of those girls have … pride, intelligence, education, and integrity.’
‘You have summed her up perfectly.’ He paused. ‘I asked her to marry me.’
Adelaide’s eyes widened. ‘And?’
‘She declined.’
His mother’s lips quirked. ‘And what exactly were the circumstances in which you posed this interesting question.’
‘It was the middle of the night. I’d just been shot and … it just came out.’
Adelaide shook her head. ‘Have a long think about what you just told me and ask yourself why she would have turned you down.’
‘Religion and her career, she said.’
‘Hmm,’ was the only helpful suggestion that came from his mother.
She made to rise to her feet but he put a hand on her arm. ‘I’m sorry for the things I said to you before I left.’
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’
Danny shook his head. ‘I found the grave and I heard the stories. None of them do him any credit. What I did learn was that it doesn’t matter. We can’t hold on to the past, and I’ve made my peace with my memories of that time.’
Adelaide laid a hand over his. ‘I’m sorry, Danny. Sorry for holding the truth from you and for never thinking to talk to you about Richard. I … we … thought it better that we just moved on with life, rather than relive a painful time for us all. I just wanted to protect you.’ She looked up as the door opened. ‘Caleb’s back, and I can see from the expression on his face there’s nothing he likes better than a good bullet wound.’
His stepfather had come prepared, with his shirtsleeves rolled up, and a covered tray under which, Danny was certain, were all manner of hideous medical instruments.
‘Are you staying, my dear?’ Caleb addressed his wife.
‘No. I really don’t need to see you operating on my son. I will fetch Netty. She is much more useful.’
‘I don’t need operating on and I don’t need Netty,’ Danny said to her departing back.
Adelaide took him at his word, and Netty did not appear. Caleb’s examination was thorough and unpleasant but as he finished redressing the wound and stood washing his hands at the washstand he turned to Danny.
