Charlie lumbered into them as they were leaving. He was out of breath and sweating. ‘She’s gorn, Joe. I lost …er in the crowd. But I thought I saw some bloke talking to …er.’
‘Where?’
‘Over there. But I can’t find …er, and I’ve looked all over.’
‘Come with us,’ growled Joe, ‘and when we get to the rails spread out. Holler if you spot her.’
*
Lulu’s heart was pounding and the combination of shock, heat and champagne were taking their toll. She needed to sit down, but that would make her even more vulnerable. Battling to remain calm, and work out the quickest escape route should he grab her again, she faced him. ‘Carmichael,’ she said flatly. ‘So, you show yourself at last.’
‘I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,’ he began.
‘You’ve got a lot of explaining to do,’ she said between sharp intakes of breath, ‘so get on with it.’
His expression became concerned. ‘Are you not well?’
‘Well enough,’ she said shortly. ‘All I need from you is an explanation.’
He didn’t seem convinced, but as she glared up at him he must have realised she would brook no further delay. ‘I didn’t choose the name Carmichael,’ he began. ‘It was already in use, and I just borrowed it.’
She shifted her feet, not trusting him, poised to run if he made a grab for her again. ‘Why use another name at all? What skulduggery are you up to?’
‘I know you must see what I’ve done as underhand, but I had very strong reasons for it.’
She remained silent, her gaze steady and cynical as he lit a cigarette.
‘It was the name used on the instructions to the London solicitors,’ he said quietly. ‘They hired a private detective to watch you and report back.’
Her heart skipped a beat, and she gripped the parasol more tightly. ‘Someone’s been watching me? Who – and for how long?’
‘I believe he is a retired major. He’s been watching you from the day you arrived in England.’
‘Did Clarice know about this?’
He shook his head. ‘I doubt it. He was very discreet.’
She was confused, frightened and close to tears. ‘I don’t understand any of this,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Why should someone want me watched – and why hide their identity – an identity you’ve borrowed so you could play your twisted game with me?
‘It might seem twisted to you, Lorelei, but it was the only way I could get you to Tasmania. Ocean Child was a gift of mystery – I knew you couldn’t resist it.’
‘Just who the hell are you?’ she breathed.
His gaze was steady. ‘I’m your half-brother.’
*
Joe rounded the tent and took in the scene with one swift glance. He strode over and grasped the man’s collar, almost jerking him off his feet. ‘Right, you mongrel, start talking or I’ll punch your lights out.’
‘No.’ Lulu staggered as she reached out to stop him. ‘Let him speak, Joe. This is Carmichael.’ Her breath hitched and she swayed against him. ‘He says … he says he’s my brother.’
‘Yeah, right – and I’m Father flaming Christmas.’ His grip tightened on Peter’s collar as he eyed the other man from boots to hat. ‘You’d better not be messing her about, mate, or you’ll have me to answer to,’ he growled, ‘and believe me, I’m just in the mood for a fight.’
‘Please, Joe, there’s been enough fighting for one day.’
His grip lessened as he looked down at Lulu. She was deathly pale and clearly distressed. He released Carmichael and gave him a shove. ‘Move a muscle and you’re dead,’ he barked before turning to Lulu. ‘Sit down,’ he said softly as he pulled out a bale of hay from a nearby pile. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not leaving you alone with him, but I do have to let the others know I’ve found you.’
She opened her parasol, dug in her purse and swallowed a pill, but her eyes looked haunted and she was clearly struggling to breathe.
Joe gave a loud holler and waved his hat as he saw Dolly.
Dolly immediately raced to Lulu’s side in concern as Eliza hovered in the background. Bob and Charlie stood beside Joe, fists clenched, ready for action.
‘You’d better have your say,’ Joe snapped at Carmichael. ‘My patience won’t last all day.’
*
Lulu’s whole being was concentrated on Peter White as he explained who he was and why he’d accosted her. She felt easier now Joe was here, but was still wary. ‘I was Gwen’s only child,’ she said as he fell silent. ‘You can’t be my brother.’
‘We share the same father.’
Lulu noted his very blue eyes, saw the way his hair curled at his nape and over his forehead, and recognised something of herself in him – and yet the doubts remained. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she replied.
‘He’s here in Hobart. If I took you to see him, would that convince you?’
Hope shot through her, to be quickly extinguished by fear. ‘How could it?’ she countered. ‘I’ve never met him, and don’t even know his name. He could be anyone.’
Peter eyed the other men, dragged over a second bale and sat down. ‘I think I’d better start at the beginning,’ he said. ‘It’s fairly complicated.
Lulu clung to Dolly’s hand. He seemed very sure of himself, but maybe he was just a consummate liar and conman – and yet she wanted so much to believe him. The cocktail of emotions was draining and she leant against Dolly’s shoulder.
Peter stamped out his smoke, his boot-heel grinding it into the turf. ‘My father – our father – had a stroke about eighteen months back, and I took over running our property in Queensland. I was going through his desk looking for an invoice when I opened a locked drawer and found a file.’
His gaze was direct and unwavering. ‘It was a file full of letters addressed to a Mr Carmichael at a post-office box number in Brisbane. Dad rarely left the property, so must have arranged to have them sent on.’
‘And these letters were from the London solicitors?’
‘They dated back to the year you left Tasmania. There was a report on your progress and health every year, usually accompanied with photographs.’ His smile was warm as he looked at her. ‘It was obvious Dad regretted the circumstances of your birth, and cared enough to keep an eye on you.’
‘Then why didn’t he write to me instead of having me watched?’
‘I suspect that had something to do with the bank statements which showed regular payments to your mother.’
Lulu went cold. This had too much ring of truth to it. ‘Gwen was blackmailing him.’ Her tone was flat.
‘From the year you were born until my mother’s death two years ago.’ He sighed. ‘After Mum died, Dad obviously decided Gwen could do what she liked – it didn’t matter to him any more, because Mum could no longer be affected.’
Lulu recognised hurt in his eyes and relented. ‘How did you feel when you discovered all this?’
‘I was shocked at first,’ he admitted. ‘I thought my dad had always been faithful to Mum – even though they didn’t have what you might call an easy relationship. But it seems he wasn’t. My brother was four when you were born, maybe he and Mum had one of their rows and he strayed – I don’t know.’
‘Gwen’s an awful liar,’ said Lulu, her thoughts jumbled. ‘How can any of us be sure I’m his daughter at all?’
Peter grinned. ‘No doubt about it,’ he said. ‘You’re the spitting image of Dad’s sister, Sybilla. It was quite a shock when I saw you the first time, but the fact that she’s an artist too sort of proves it.’
‘Molly and I can vouch for that,’ interrupted Eliza. ‘We knew you had to be related.’
‘You knew?’ Lulu stared at Eliza, the anger rising. ‘You knew all along who my father was and discussed it with Molly without saying a word to me? How dare you?’
Eliza’s expression hardened. ‘We didn’t know what to do for the best,’ she said defensively. ‘Your father might not have wanted to see you –
Carmichael was still a mystery – and we still had no idea who’d given you the colt.’
‘Did you know about this, Dolly?’
‘It’s news to me,’ she replied, giving Eliza a stony glare.
‘What about you, Joe? Did Molly confide in you too?’
‘Only three days ago, and I was more concerned about Carmichael’s part in everything,’ he said.
‘So, even you kept this to yourself,’ she said quietly, her chin dipping. It was all too much to take in, but as her thoughts whirled she came to realise they had been placed in an insidious position, unable to decide what to do for the best. Whether she could forgive them or not was another matter.
She turned back to Peter. ‘You were talking about your parents,’ she prompted.
Peter lit another cigarette and watched the smoke drift skywards. ‘They loved each other, and could never spend long apart, even though they were always arguing.’ He sighed. ‘I was born a year after you, so whatever happened between them had obviously been patched up.’
The honesty in his eyes could not be denied, and at last she dared to believe he really was her brother. ‘There are two of you?’
Peter’s expression saddened. ‘Andy was killed at Fromelles.’
Lulu heard Joe’s gasp, saw the shock on his face and the slow recognition as he stared at Peter. ‘Was Andy a captain in the Australian 14th Brigade at Fromelles? Was he carried under fire across no-man’s-land by a certain Joe Reilly?’
Peter looked up at Joe. ‘Yes,’ he said gruffly. ‘And if you’re Joe Reilly then I know what you did for him. That’s why I had to send you those horses, to repay you.’
Joe shifted his feet, clearly embarrassed. ‘There was no need, mate,’ he muttered, ‘but I appreciate it.’
Peter looked away, his eyes glazed. ‘Dad never got over Andy’s death. He was the favourite elder son – the golden boy with a golden future,’ he said, but with a marked absence of bitterness. ‘He wasn’t an unkind father, but he was blinkered when it came to Andy, and although I returned from France virtually unscathed, he couldn’t accept that Andy would never come home. My mother and brother were dead, my father living in his own world – I had lost my family and never felt so alone, until I found that file.’
He looked almost shamefaced as he refused to meet Lulu’s gaze. ‘I discovered I had a sister – someone who might finally understand how isolated I felt – someone who was also exiled from their family. I had to find you – to bring you home.’
The tears welled and her heart went out to him, but she remained silent, unwilling to break the spell he had woven.
‘With Dad so crook, it was impossible to leave the station and go to England to find you, so I got a licence as a bloodstock agent in the name of Carmichael. Ocean Child had come in with the brumbies, and I knew immediately he had great potential. Buying him at the auction, I put your name on the paperwork and sent him to Joe. Over the next few months I began to spread the word that Joe’s yard was up and running again and persuaded people like the Frobishers to send over their horses.’
He glanced at Joe. ‘It was the only practical way I could think of to repay your courage.’
‘No worries, mate,’ said Joe gruffly. ‘Anyone would have done it. Andy was a bonzer bloke and a good cobber.’
Peter nodded before continuing. ‘The gift of a yearling is an unusual one, but I knew from the detective’s reports that you enjoyed riding, and had even sculpted a colt which you called Ocean Child – presumably named after you received Joe’s letter.’ He grinned as she nodded. ‘I knew he would write to you about Ocean Child’s progress, so all I had to do was copy my father’s signature on the letters to the London solicitors and sit back and wait.’ His blue eyes were teasing. ‘It didn’t take long, did it?’
She returned his smile. ‘I was certainly intrigued,’ she admitted, ‘and of course it gave me the excuse to come home.’ Her expression grew serious as she remembered poor Maurice, the fight with Bertie and the pain she’d caused Clarice. ‘But my homecoming didn’t please everyone,’ she said sadly. ‘Clarice even cut me out of her will.’
‘Perhaps she was concerned you were heading for trouble,’ he said. ‘If the stories about the years she spent in Australia are true, then she probably didn’t want you hearing them and thinking less of her.’
‘I should say she didn’t.’
They all turned at the sound of Gwen’s voice to find her leaning on the arm of a red-faced man in a garish kipper tie and loud check suit. ‘A family reunion. How cosy,’ she sneered. Her gaze trawled over Peter with barely disguised contempt. ‘You must be Frank’s son – you look just like him.’
‘You’re not welcome, Gwen. Please leave.’ Lulu brushed off Dolly’s restraining hand and stood to face her.
‘I’ll go when I’m ready,’ she said, grasping hold of her silent companion to steady herself. Her speech was slurred and it was clear she’d been drinking. ‘Let me tell you about Clarice, and why she didn’t want you here.’
‘I think we should leave it there, Gwen,’ muttered the man, eyes darting warily from Joe to Charlie and back to Peter.
‘Not until I’ve had my say,’ she snarled. Wrenching herself from his hold, she pushed past a shocked Eliza and staggered towards Lulu. ‘Clarice had an affair with my father,’ she said triumphantly. ‘In fact, she was so desperate to get her claws into him, she had sex with him in the governor’s rose garden.’
Lulu felt the colour flood her face. ‘That’s a spiteful lie,’ she snapped. ‘Clarice is a lady; she wouldn’t do such a thing.’
Gwen gave a derisive snort. ‘Oh, wouldn’t she?’ She smirked. ‘She wasn’t being very ladylike that night,’ she drawled, ‘far from it, with her chest exposed and her legs wrapped round my father’s waist.’
‘You’re a liar,’ spat Lulu.
Gwen’s smile was vindictive. ‘Am I? Why don’t you ask Clarice? She won’t be able to deny it.’
‘I wouldn’t demean her with such an insulting question.’
Gwen swept back her hair and sneered. ‘The sainted Clarice was a tart and a home-wrecker who betrayed her sister and destroyed my family.’ She inched nearer, her breath foul with alcohol and stale tobacco. ‘Clarice stole everything from me – she even stole you.’
Lulu stood her ground. ‘Thank God she did,’ she retorted. ‘You were the bitch from hell and I had a lucky escape.’
‘Ooh, the little mouse squeaks.’ She swayed as she regarded them all. ‘How very brave you are when you’re not on your own.’
Lulu was calmer than she had ever been as she looked into that loathsome face. ‘Believe me, Gwen, you wouldn’t like being alone with me,’ she said. ‘I’m not a little girl any more – not small and defenceless to be used as your punchbag. See these hands? They’re strong from years of moulding clay, and could wring your scrawny neck as easily as that.’ She snapped her fingers beneath Gwen’s nose.
A shaft of fear lit Gwen’s eyes and she took a step back. ‘You’ll pay for that,’ she slurred, ‘and more. I haven’t forgotten how you stole my inheritance – and my mother.’
Lulu turned her back on Gwen and calmly sat down. ‘You should leave while you can still walk,’ she said coldly. ‘The beer tent’s over there.’
‘Oh, I haven’t finished yet,’ she snarled. Shaking off her companion’s warning hand, she swayed on her feet and turned her attention to Peter. ‘Your dad owes me two years’ money,’ she barked.
‘He owes you nothing.’
‘Yes, he does,’ she yelled, ‘and if I don’t get my money, I’ll make sure everyone knows what kind of a bastard he really is.’
The man in the hideous check suit grasped her arm. ‘You’ve said enough, Gwen. We’re leaving.’
She swung a fist, narrowly missing his chin as she stumbled. ‘I’m not finished yet,’ she spat. ‘I want my money.’
His puce face clashed with the suit and garish tie. ‘It’s time you sobered up,’ he snarled, his grip tigh
tening on her arm as he dragged her away.
‘Strewth,’ breathed Eliza. ‘Is that really your mother?’
‘Unfortunately,’ replied Lulu coldly, ‘but I don’t boast about it.’
She pushed past the gloating Eliza and watched as Gwen’s companion manhandled her towards the car park. Gwen was fighting him every inch of the way and yelling obscenities as he dragged her through the bemused and fascinated crowd. Their raised voices could be heard quite clearly and there was sniggering and laughter amongst bystanders as he shoved her into the ute, slammed the door and drove away at speed.
‘I think we all deserve a glass of champagne after that,’ announced Dolly, ‘and I’m buying. I haven’t had this much entertainment in one day for years.’
Eliza tucked her hand in Dolly’s arm. ‘That’s a bonzer idea,’ she replied, looking up at Joe. ‘Are you coming too?’
He glanced at Lulu. ‘I need to keep a clear head,’ he muttered. ‘There’s still another race to run and owners to pacify.’
Eliza pouted prettily and fluttered her lashes. ‘I’ll save a glass for you,’ she said, ‘so don’t be too long.’
‘What about you, Lulu?’ Dolly gently extracted Eliza’s clutching fingers from her arm and reached out to her friend.
‘Champagne and pills don’t really go together,’ she said with a grateful smile. ‘You go on. Peter and I need to talk.’
Dolly nodded with understanding and herded Eliza away. When everyone had gone, even the reluctant Joe, Lulu turned to Peter. ‘Let’s walk down to the river,’ she said. ‘It might be cooler.’
They strolled down to the Derwent, found a bench beneath a tree and sat down. Lulu stared at the sparkling water and attempted to put all she’d learnt today into some kind of order. She was exhausted, but elated, confused and utterly beguiled by the thought of finally knowing her father.
‘For most of my life I’ve tried to imagine what my father was like. When I was little he was a prince on a white horse –’ she grinned at the thought – ‘but as I grew older I became more realistic. I can’t believe that at last I can find out about him. Tell me everything, Peter.’
‘His name is Franklin John White – Frank to everyone. He was born not far from here fifty-six years ago, on a small cattle station at Collinsvale. The family wasn’t rich then, merely making enough to scrape by. Dad’s sister, Sybilla, married a Brisbane man and moved to the mainland. Mum and Dad took over the property when it got too much for his parents. Dad had always been ambitious, so when his parents retired to a seaside cabin down in Snug, he followed his sister to Queensland and ploughed all his money into a property at Augathella.’
Ocean Child Page 29