Summer lightning, p.27
Summer Lightning, page 27
Miriam remembered the terrible stories her father and Kate told her about their experiences at the hand of the English. She had no loyalties but to Australia. Her tears blinded her and she tore her hands away. ‘England isn’t my “Mother Country”,’ she rasped. ‘And it’s not yours either.’
She stood up and folded her arms around her waist as the tears finally rolled down her face. ‘Don’t go, Edward,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t go.’
His hands were gentle as he held her arms and turned her to face him. ‘Would you prefer I stay here when my buddies are fighting in Europe? Would you be able to look the other women in the eye when they accuse me of cowardice? How will you feel when they hand me a white feather and shun us both when we go into town for our supplies?’
She looked up at him, the horror dredging the colour from her face. ‘They wouldn’t?’
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘They would. There are already stories in the newspapers of men shamed in front of their wives and families by an army of women determined to see they do their bit.’ He took a deep, trembling breath. ‘But that’s not the point,’ he added sharply. ‘I’m going because I want to. My sense of duty to my country will not let me stay here and do nothing.’
She was about to protest when he silenced her with a fleeting kiss.
‘I won’t be gone for long,’ he murmured. ‘The war’s expected to be over by Christmas.’
He held her close, drawing her into the circle of his arms until she rested her head against his chest. She could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, could smell the scent of the stables in his clothes and the soap in his freshly washed hair.
‘How can you be so sure?’ she asked finally.
‘Our world has changed rapidly over the last decade,’ he said into her hair. ‘Mobilisation, weaponry, the telegraph system and railways has made war a short affair.’
She pulled back from his embrace and studied him. ‘How come you know so much?’ she asked in awe.
He grinned shyly. ‘I majored in history at college, so it’s become a habit to read the newspapers from front to back, and listen to the news whenever I can. My family have always been interested in politics, so although you can take the boy out of Texas, you can’t take Texas out of the boy – not when my Mom sends me reams of cuttings from political journals.’
‘And I just thought you were a horse-breaker,’ she teased as the tears threatened once more.
*
Fiona crept into the room and looked at the frail little figure on the bed. Mim appeared to be asleep, but there was a smile on her face as if her dreams were pleasant. She was about to close the door again when Mim’s voice stopped her.
‘Come in, darling. I’m awake and could do with the company.’
She felt a stab of remorse, but did as she was told. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you,’ she said as she hovered beside the bed. ‘I’m sorry. You looked as if you were having a lovely dream.’
‘It was, and it wasn’t,’ she replied. ‘But it’s a dream I’ll always have, so it doesn’t matter if it’s disturbed.’ Miriam patted the bed. ‘Sit down. Let’s talk like we did in the old days. Or are you too grown up now?’
Fiona perched on the end of the bed, careful not to crush her grandmother’s legs. ‘Never too old to forget the little girl inside,’ she said softly. ‘How are you feeling, Mim? Are you very sore?’
Miriam shrugged. ‘I’ve felt better,’ she admitted sourly. ‘But enough about me. Have you found the deeds yet?’
Fiona shook her head. ‘We’ve been through five boxes and several suitcases. There’s nothing remotely connected to great-grandfather except a couple of old photographs, and some letters.’
Fiona looked down at her fingers. They were laced together on her lap, the square-cut nails bare of polish. ‘They weren’t very nice letters,’ she said finally. ‘I don’t know why he kept them.’
‘To remind him he was better off out here,’ explained Mim as she struggled to edge up the pillows and find a more comfortable spot. ‘He wrote to his mother quite often. Not directly, of course, but through his sister-in-law, Emma. Miriam would reply, telling him the family news, the local gossip and the state of affairs at Beecham Hall.’
‘But his father never forgave him. He found out she was writing, and put a stop to it.’ Fiona had read the simple note, and it had made her so angry she’d been tempted to tear it to pieces.
‘“Your father has discovered my duplicity and has threatened to divorce me. I cannot disobey him as the scandal would see me in penury. But my love will always be with you, Mother,”’ recited Mim. ‘Father was heartbroken. His mother had always been so strong, but she’d become too old and frail to fight any longer – and knew she couldn’t carry on now there was the threat of divorce hanging over her.’
‘I’d have left the mongrel years before,’ muttered Fiona.
‘So speaks the modern woman,’ said Mim tartly. ‘It was different when I was a girl – even more so for Lady Miriam. Women had no voice, no money and no position once they lost their husband. She would have had to eke out her old age as a governess, or lady’s companion – in other words, she would have been a servant. Father understood. He could forgive her.’
Fiona was thankful this was the liberated 60s and women were free to make their own choices in life. The mistakes would happen, as they had with Louise – but hopefully she would grow strong and see that escape was her only choice if she was going to have a life free from Ralph’s manipulation.
‘Were you never curious about your English relations? Didn’t you ever want to go over there and see them?’
Miriam eyed her with surprise. ‘Why would I want to do that?’ She gave a cough of disdain. ‘They didn’t want anything to do with my mother, and I certainly didn’t want to have anything to do with them,’ she said icily. ‘Even when I had the money and the opportunity, it never crossed my mind to try and make contact.’
Fiona knew she was pushing her luck, but the question had been nagging her for years. ‘Surely you had the right to inherit, though?’ she asked. ‘Your birth was legitimate, the marriage between Henry and Maureen legal – and going by those letters from Miriam Beecham-Fford, Henry’s brother never did sire any legitimate children.’
Miriam sighed and closed her eyes. ‘I suppose so,’ she said wearily. ‘I never really thought about it.’ She opened her eyes and regarded Fiona sternly. ‘There’s more to life than money – and anything they might have left would have had my mother’s blood on it. Now, if you’ve quite finished, let’s talk about something else.’
Fiona blushed and looked once more at her hands. Stubborn pride ran deep within her family, and Mim had probably turned her back on a fortune, but Fiona could understand why. Blood money had never appealed to her either.
‘Ralph phoned,’ she said, remembering the call earlier. ‘Wanted to know how the search was going and when Louise was returning to Brisbane. I ignored the question over the search and told him she’d be back next week, for the court hearing.’
‘That girl’s too thin,’ Mim retorted. ‘Do her good to get some country air into her lungs and some decent food inside her. Won’t do her any harm to get away from Ralph for a while, either. Never did trust him.’ She looked at Fiona from beneath her brows. ‘And what about you?’ she asked. ‘Any special young man waiting for you in Brisbane?’
Fiona shook her head. ‘Still young, free and single,’ she said brightly. ‘And aiming to stay that way too. I’ve got a lot of things I want to do before I settle down.’
‘That’s a shame.’ Miriam’s expression was bland. ‘I was rather hoping you’d taken a shine to our Mr Connor.’
Fiona got up from the bed as the blush heated her face. She turned her back on Mim and looked out of the window to the pastures. ‘I hardly know the man,’ she said rather more sharply than she’d intended. ‘Besides, isn’t there a rule against lawyers and their clients getting involved?’
‘That applies to doctors and patients,’ retorted Mim.
The silence lengthened and Fiona stared out of the window and tried to think of something to say. Yet her mind was filled with images of dark hair and eyes, of a naked, muscled chest and lean hips. Just the sound of his voice on the phone had done strange things to her insides.
She made a concerted effort to pull herself together and turned from the window. ‘Talking of Jake, I forgot to tell you I spoke to him last night. He’s coming back to help us search. Should be here tomorrow morning.’
‘That’s nice, dear.’
Miriam’s knowing smile irritated Fiona for some reason. She walked around the bed, and keeping her back to Miriam, picked up the music box. ‘I’ve never seen this before,’ she said. ‘Where did it come from?’
Miriam told her about Isaac. ‘It’s a lovely thing,’ she said as Fiona lifted the lid. ‘And probably very rare. It’s unusual to have a black Harlequin.’ She sighed. ‘It was too much of a reminder of the old days, so I put it away. I’d almost forgotten I had it until the other day.’ She looked regretfully at the scar on the base. ‘Such a pity I broke it – it will never be the same.’
Fiona watched the figures dance to the music. It was a haunting, bell-like refrain she could recognise only as a waltz. ‘So this is where you found the hidden clue,’ she murmured. ‘Must have been quite a surprise.’
‘You don’t catch me out that easily, my dear,’ said the old lady with a knowing smile.
Fiona suddenly had a nasty thought and she closed the lid with a snap. ‘Where did you hide it?’ she asked. ‘The clue? The intruders didn’t take it, did they?’
Miriam shook her head. ‘I’m not stupid enough to leave something like that lying around,’ she said calmly. ‘It’s quite safe. Jake has it.’
Fiona put the box carefully back on top of the dresser. ‘You’ve put a lot of trust in him,’ she said. ‘How can you be sure he won’t let you down?’
‘Because I knew his father and his grandfather,’ replied Mim.
‘How? I thought he was a stranger?’ Fiona plumped back on the bed and tucked her feet beneath her. This was an interesting piece of news and she wanted to learn more.
‘He was at first,’ she admitted. ‘But as we got talking and I learned a few things about him, I realised why he’d reminded me so strongly of someone else.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I thought it was your grandfather at first, then realised it was his grandfather.’
She smiled at the memories of the handsome, dark-eyed man she’d danced with at the various gatherings before Edward came into her life. ‘He and I used to drove our stock together, and met frequently at the country dances and so on. We went to each other’s weddings, and then I went to his son’s. I remembered Jake as a small baby lying with all the others on the homestead bed when I held a party here once. Laid out like sardines in a tin they were, and so ripper you wanted to scoop them up and cuddle them. Jake was squalling fit to bust, quite red in the face and furious he’d been left.’
Fiona giggled. ‘I bet he doesn’t need reminding of that,’ she spluttered.
Miriam eyed Fiona beneath her brows. ‘You were about two or three at the time, and had taken it upon yourself to look after him. You picked him up, and I just caught him before you dropped him on his head.’
Fiona pulled a face in an effort to hide her giggles. She had no recollection of the event, but it was interesting to know they’d met before – interesting to discover she was actually older by a couple of years.
Miriam collected her thoughts. ‘Jake’s parents were regulars at the local country dances and parties, and I remember the shock we experienced when we heard she’d died. She wasn’t much past thirty when she left those three little kids motherless. None of them were past nine years old at the time.’
Fiona digested this information and felt a tug of pity for the little boy bereft of his mother at such a tender age. ‘Poor Jake,’ she murmured.
Miriam seemed to be tiring, for she slid back down the pillows. ‘Give me my pills, dear,’ she ordered. ‘I think I’d like to sleep now.’
Fiona held the glass of water to her mouth as she swallowed the tablets, then plumped the pillows and tucked the sheet under her chin. ‘Mim,’ she said hesitantly. ‘I don’t want you to die. Please say this was all a terrible mistake and that you’ll be with us for ages yet.’
Miriam took her hand. ‘I wouldn’t lie about something like that, my darling,’ she said softly. ‘Let’s just make the most of the time we have, and not waste them with tears.’
Fiona bent to kiss the soft cheek, and Miriam gripped her arm with surprising strength. ‘Follow your heart, darling,’ she whispered. ‘That never lies either.’
*
Miriam settled into the pillows. She was exhausted, but it had been good to talk to Fiona. Good to get certain things off her chest. She smiled as she remembered the girl’s face when she’d talked about Jake – her instinct hadn’t failed her, even if her body had. Fiona and Jake might not remember their childhood meetings, but she was certain that a spark had been lit, even then. Now, as adults, perhaps they would find it again.
The letters were still lying in the box beside her on the bed, and as sleep overcame her, she felt Edward’s presence, heard his voice and knew he was still with her – waiting just out of sight until it was time to join him.
*
The buggy had been polished and the leather seat waxed to a shine. The horse had been groomed until his coat gleamed in the early sunlight, and she could hear the jingle of the harness, even from the bedroom.
Miriam stood in front of the pier glass and eyed her reflection. The long skirt and neat little jacket were the palest grey, a disastrous colour for the long, dusty journey ahead, but it was her best suit, and she wanted to look well for Edward. She flounced the waterfall of lace at her throat before pinning Kate’s cameo brooch on the neck of her blouse, and screwing the pearl studs on to her earlobes.
Edward came to stand behind her, his arms holding her around the waist so she had to lean against him. He kissed her ear. ‘You look even more beautiful than on your wedding day,’ he murmured.
Miriam closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry. It was hard enough for him to go, but to see her distraught would make it worse. ‘I’m going to miss you,’ she replied softly. ‘Promise me you’ll take care and come back as soon as you can.’
He turned her within the circle of his arms and looked into her face. ‘I promise to never stop loving you,’ he said before he kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Now, come on, or we’ll never get to Baringun in time.’
Miriam picked up Chloe and they left the house. She’d noticed Edward’s clever evasion, but said nothing. For how could he make such a promise when fate held the only key to their future?
The horse stamped and snorted in the chill of the early outback morning, and Frank held tightly to the throat strap to stop him running off. ‘G’day,’ he drawled. ‘Reckon it’s gunna be dry for your journey.’
Miriam grasped his hand for a moment and looked up into his long face. Frank would be leaving soon, and apart from a few older men there would only be women and children left on Bellbird until war was over. ‘When are you going, Frank?’
He took off his hat and smeared his forehead with his shirtsleeve. ‘Reckon I’ll be leaving next week,’ he drawled. ‘Me and the missus is going down to Burke to visit with her family for a few days, then I’ll be going up to Baringun on me own.’
Miriam climbed up into the buggy, her emotions in such turmoil she could no longer speak. She placed Chloe in the large wicker basket on the floor and watched through her tears as the two men shook hands.
‘See yer, mate,’ rumbled Frank.
Edward nodded, his brown hair glinting copper lights. ‘You too, mate,’ he replied.
Frank’s wife, Gladys came out of the cottage with a baby on each hip. The eldest little girl peeked from behind her skirts. She drew a handkerchief from the waistband of her skirt and dabbed her nose, gave a swift wave and went back into the shadows of the house.
Edward climbed up beside her and took up the reins. He sat there for a long moment, looking at the house, the yards, the pastures and the stables, then without a word, he slapped the reins over the horse’s rump and they were off. It would take all day to get to Baringun.
The sun was already setting when they finally drove down the dirt street to the hotel. Firebrands had been erected on either side of the street and they cast an eerie, dancing glow over the milling crowds. Cheerful bunting slapped in the wind, and the noise coming from the hotel bar could be heard at the other end of the street. Women holding placards urged the men to fight for the flag – the British Union Jack – their voices raised against the demon drink and cowardice. Posters were plastered on shop fronts along the boardwalk, and every window displayed a picture of the King.
Edward steered the horse around the back of the hotel to the stables, and they climbed down. As the grooms hurried to release him from the buggy, the horse drank deeply from a bucket of water, and shook off the sweat of their long journey.
Edward patted his neck and ruffled his mane, muttering to him, saying his goodbyes. He gave the groom a bob for his troubles and told him to make sure the horse was rubbed down properly and fed only the best oats. Then he swiftly turned away, took up Chloe’s basket, and with his free hand tightly grasping Miriam’s, headed for the hotel.
Their love-making that night was tender and sweet and achingly precious. Miriam clung to him as he clung to her, and they garnered strength in their oneness. Whispering in the dark, kissing, familiarising themselves with each other’s touch, and scent and the way their bodies melded, they loved one another until the light began to cast grey shadows in the corners of the room.
Their whispers turned to silence as they lay spent within each other’s arms and watched the sun seep through the shutters. Miriam knew he was suffering as much as she – knew she would never demand he stay – knew he had to return. For a love like theirs could never be wiped out on a battlefield. It was too strong.
