‘Where on earth is that?’
He smiled. ‘It’s a tiny settlement in what the Aborigines call the never-never.’
‘That sounds very romantic.’ She sighed.
He laughed. ‘There’s nothing romantic about three thousand head of cattle raising a cloud of dust as we move them from one failing waterhole to the next. You’re on the back of a horse for days at a time, eaten up by flies and wilting from the heat. Droughts last for years, floods wash away barns and houses and leave the beasts stranded or drowned, swarms of locusts and mobs of roos eat everything in sight, and we have to watch the herd like hawks when the cows are birthing. Dingoes and eagles like nothing better than a tasty young calf. It’s a tough life – especially for a woman – but I wouldn’t change it for anything.’
Lulu saw the animation in his face, and knew he would never be happier than in the dusty brown land beyond civilisation. But his words had conjured up images of a lonely, precarious life. ‘Your mother must have been an extraordinary woman,’ she murmured.
‘She was as tough and bloody-minded as Dad, and liked nothing better than joining the annual drove to the markets in Brisbane.’ He sighed and leant back on the bench. ‘I miss her,’ he said with simple sadness.
‘You said your – our – father had a stroke. How severe was it?’
‘It’s taken a while, but he’s finally on the mend. The doctor told him to take it easy from now on, but he’s always been a vigorous man and finds it frustrating to sit and do nothing.’ He smiled. ‘Would you like to meet him?’
Her pulse jumped. ‘Of course,’ she breathed.
‘There’s a very good clinic here that helps people who’ve suffered strokes. The treatment’s very modern and involves physiotherapy and speech coaching, and he’s so determined to get back in the saddle again he’s a star pupil.’ He chortled. ‘I had the devil’s own trouble persuading him to come back to Tassy, but I think he’s glad he did,’
Lulu eyed him thoughtfully. ‘Does he know you found that file and that I’m here in Hobart?’
Peter shook his head. ‘I haven’t told him anything yet. I wanted to make sure about you first. I had no idea how you would react to all this, and didn’t want to get his hopes up in case you refused to see him.’
‘I think you’d better prepare him,’ she said quietly. ‘Something like this could give him the most awful shock.’ She had a sudden, terrible thought. ‘What if he doesn’t want to see me?’
‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ He frowned as he stared at the river. ‘But why wouldn’t he? He’s kept watch over you all your life – and that isn’t the action of a man who doesn’t care.’
She rose from the seat, opened the Japanese parasol and turned towards the racecourse. ‘It has been quite a day,’ she said, glancing up at him as they strolled back to the course. ‘What made you choose such a lovely name for the colt?’
‘That was easy,’ he said, coming to a standstill. ‘There were lots of photographs in that file. All the ones of you as a small child were taken on the beach up north. Dad had written, “My little water-baby,” and your age, on the back of each one.’
Lulu felt the prick of tears. He must have loved her, and she’d never known. ‘Talk to him tonight, Peter,’ she said, her voice rough with emotion. ‘I so desperately want to meet him.’
Chapter 15
Joe’s mind was so occupied with Lulu that he found it impossible to hold a sensible conversation with his owners whilst trying to keep an eye on her and Peter. He finally managed to escape and stood at the far edge of the grounds, his focus pinned on the two figures in the distance.
He studied the man walking at Lulu’s side. Peter White was taller and broader than Andy had been, his gait hampered by a limp, but there was a definite likeness, and it was also apparent in Lulu. He dug his hands in his pockets and watched them approach, his thoughts churning.
There was little doubt Peter was Lulu’s half-brother, and that he’d gone to extraordinary lengths to get her here. But, in spite of his generous help in re-establishing Galway House Racing Stables, Joe felt uneasy. He didn’t like secrecy, certainly didn’t appreciate being manipulated, and was worried that Lulu had been swept far too easily into something that might prove difficult to get out of.
He narrowed his eyes against the sun as they embraced and went their separate ways. Lulu was clearly animated as she caught sight of him and waved, and although he’d vowed to keep his feelings under control, he couldn’t ignore the way his heart skipped a beat as she drew closer.
‘Still keeping an eye on me, Joe?’ She smiled up at him, her beautiful eyes shining with happiness.
‘I just wanted to make sure you could find me in the crowd,’ he drawled. ‘We’ve got an early start in the morning, so it’s best we leave soon.’
She bit her lip, suddenly hesitant. ‘I’m sorry, Joe, but Dolly and I won’t be going back with you tomorrow. Peter is booking us into a hotel, and we’ll stay here until I’ve had the chance to talk to my father.’
Joe’s concern deepened as she clutched his arm, her face animated and glowing. ‘Oh, Joe, you have no idea what this means to me,’ she breathed. ‘I’ve waited so long to meet him. Don’t you think it’s wonderful that I finally have the chance?’
When he looked into her face, so alive with excitement and hope, he was loath to dampen her spirits, but he had to speak. ‘I can understand how exciting it must be,’ he said carefully, ‘but don’t you think things are moving too fast?’
She frowned. ‘Peter spent almost two years planning this, and I’ve waited all my life. I hardly think—’
‘You know nothing about him, Lulu – or about your father – and although it’s tempting to rush into this, I really think you should …’
The light died in her eyes. ‘Are you determined to ruin what has, up until now, been an extraordinary day?’
‘Of course not,’ he said quietly. ‘I just don’t want you getting hurt.’
‘How could meeting my father hurt me?’ Her expression had grown mutinous.
The truth was unpalatable, but he had to speak his mind. ‘What if he refuses to see you?’
‘He wouldn’t do that,’ she retorted.
‘He’s kept his distance all your life. There’s no guarantee he’ll want to actually meet you.’ He reached out and took her hand, disconcerted to discover it was cold and trembling. ‘Oh, Lulu,’ he murmured, ‘I’m sorry if I’ve spoilt things for you.’
There was a teardrop caught in her lashes, blinked away as she refused to look at him. ‘You’re right,’ she murmured, ‘of course you are.’ She lifted her chin and gave a tremulous smile. ‘Thanks for caring, Joe.’
He would always care – but she would never know how much, how difficult it was not to touch her lovely face and kiss her sweet mouth.
‘Trust me to deal with this in my own way,’ she said quietly. ‘There have been too many years wasted already, and I need to discover who I am, and where I belong. If it all ends in tears, so be it, but I need to know.’
He understood then that nothing he could say would change her mind. ‘I don’t like leaving you,’ he said, ‘but I can see I have no choice. We’ll be gone at first light tomorrow, but if you need me, get on the two-way and I’ll come straight back.’
‘You’re a good man, Joe Reilly,’ she murmured, slipping her hand into his.
Joe smiled down at her, yearning to pull her into his arms and hold her close. But he must be content with the friendship and trust she was giving him, and his heart ached in the knowledge that this was only the first of their goodbyes.
*
Clarice had not been feeling at all well lately, and although the doctor had prescribed tablets for her high blood pressure, her ankles were still swollen and she found she was as tired in the mornings as when she’d gone to bed.
She’d risen later than usual and was picking at her breakfast when Vera startled her by crashing into the dining-room.
‘He�
��s …ere again, Mum,’ she said, meaty arms folded beneath her bosom. ‘Though what …e’s doing disturbin’ decent folk at this time of the morning I don’t know.’
Clarice glared. ‘I do wish you’d knock before barging in,’ she snapped. ‘Who is here?’
‘That Major …Opkins.’ She sniffed.
‘Well, show him in then, and bring a fresh pot of tea and another cup – and Vera, don’t call me Mum.’
‘No, Mum,’ she muttered, turning on her heel and disappearing out of the door.
Clarice sighed as she heard Vera gruffly tell the major where to go. It really was too bad, she thought in despair. Oh, for the days when servants knew their place and how to conduct themselves.
‘Good morning, Lady Pearson.’ Major Hopkins stood uncertainly in the doorway. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you so early.’
She greeted him and indicated he should sit on the other side of the table.
He settled in the chair and cleared his throat. ‘My reason for calling at such an hour is that I have discovered something which I think you might find interesting.’
‘I have asked Vera to make fresh tea. Perhaps it would be better to wait a moment.’
They exchanged small talk about the weather, his journey from London and their health until Vera had plonked the tea pot on the table alongside a fresh cup and saucer and slammed the door behind her. ‘Oh dear,’ said the major, his moustache tweaking, ‘it seems I have disgruntled the sterling Vera.’
‘It is in Vera’s nature to be disgruntled,’ Clarice replied as she poured tea, ‘and I think she rather enjoys it. What is it you have to tell me?’
‘I started to do some digging after we talked last –’ he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope – ‘and I received this yesterday morning. It is a list of the farmers who sent Ocean Child to auction, and a short résumé of each man’s history. I’m hoping that at least one of the names might mean something to you, and perhaps lead us to Carmichael.’
‘I doubt it. I have not been in that unfortunate country for many years, and I certainly did not mix socially with farmers.’
His moustache tweaked again and Clarice eyed him suspiciously over her reading glasses before turning her attention to the list. The name leapt out at her, and after she’d scanned the brief biography she dropped the piece of paper on to the table. ‘How extraordinary,’ she murmured.
He sat forward eagerly. ‘You have recognised someone?’
‘Oh yes,’ she murmured, ‘and now it all suddenly makes sense.’
‘Does he pose a danger to Lorelei?’ he said sharply.
Clarice shook her head and smiled. ‘On the contrary,’ she replied. ‘Frank White is Lorelei’s father.’ She sipped her tea, rather pleased with his startled reaction. ‘Of course I didn’t realise it at the time – none of us knew who her father was – but his name on that list explains everything.’
‘I am at a loss, Lady Pearson.’
She barely heard him as she let the snippets of memory come together. They fitted perfectly. ‘I met him once, a long time ago. He brought me a milk cow.’ Clarice leant back in her chair, her visitor forgotten as she relived that encounter.
*
It was May 1896, and Eunice was having her usual afternoon rest. Gwen was away and Lorelei was busy with a colouring book and crayons on the rug Clarice had spread on the front lawn. It was a crisp autumnal day, so she’d wrapped up the two-year-old against the chill and was doing some needlepoint when she heard the sound of a horse coming up the lane. She put down her sewing, her curiosity piqued, for few people came this way.
It proved to be a man driving a wagon, behind which was tethered a plump, sleek cow. ‘G’day. Are you Lady Pearson?’ he called.
She beckoned him to come down the track, for she was not in the habit of conducting conversations in such an unladylike fashion. As he brought the wagon to a halt and clambered down, she was struck by how tall and handsome he was. It was a blessing Gwen was away, for he had the rough sort of good looks the girl admired, with dark blue eyes and the long curly hair and tanned skin of a gypsy. But she noted that he had a nice smile, and seemed to know his manners, for he took off his hat to greet her.
‘Frank White,’ he said with the lazy drawl of all Tasmanians. ‘I’ve brought the cow you bought from my mate at the sales.’ His gaze drifted to the little girl on the rug and back to the cow. ‘Sal here’s a good old girl,’ he said. ‘She’ll give you plenty of milk for the little one.’
‘That is why I have bought the beast,’ she said, coolly. ‘Lorelei is not very sturdy, and I thought fresh milk each day might put some flesh on her bones.’
‘Too right it will,’ he said, his gaze returning to the child, his smile wide. ‘She’s a little ripper, ain’t she?’
Clarice couldn’t resist hearing Lorelei praised, and beamed back at him. ‘She’s a darling child, Mr White, a little angel.’
Lorelei must have realised she was the centre of attention, for she got to her feet and toddled over. To Clarice’s amazement, she didn’t hide behind her skirts as she usually did, but grasped Mr White’s sturdy leg and looked up at him with wide blue eyes.
Clarice’s first instinct was to pick her up. She didn’t know this man – he could be anybody. But then he squatted down to Lorelei’s level, and they gazed at one another as if mesmerised. It was almost uncanny how their eyes were the same shade of blue, she thought distractedly, and it seemed they were completely absorbed in one another in a way that was quite extraordinary.
She watched in amazement as Mr White gently poked her tummy with his finger and made her giggle, then picked her up and swung her around. Quiet little Lorelei was shrieking with laughter, head flung back, legs kicking in delight.
‘Please be careful,’ she said fretfully. ‘She has a heart condition and is very delicate.’
‘I reckon she’s stronger than you think, Missus,’ he replied,setting Lorelei carefully back on her feet, his great hand swamping the tiny fingers that gripped so tightly. ‘With a laugh like that, she’ll take on the world and eat it up.’
Clarice gave him a hesitant smile. ‘Do you have children, Mr White? You seem very at ease with Lorelei.’
He tugged his hat brim. ‘I’ve got two sons,’ he said gruffly. He gently extricated Lorelei’s hold on his fingers and nudged her towards Clarice. His gaze followed the child as she held out her arms for Clarice to pick her up. Clearing his throat, he became businesslike and untied the cow. ‘We’d better get Sal settled and I’ll be on my way. It’s a long trip back home to Hobart.’
*
‘Lady Pearson? Lady Pearson, are you not well?’
Clarice returned to the present. ‘I am quite well, thank you,’ she replied with asperity. ‘I was just remembering the one and only time I met Frank White. I’d bought a cow from the farmer’s market, and he delivered it. He evidently came up from Hobart twice a year, which was quite a journey in those days, and was doing his farmer friend a favour.’
The major scanned the biographies. ‘I should have seen the connection with Tasmania,’ he said. ‘I must be losing my touch.’ He sat back in the chair and eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Will you write and tell Lorelei about Mr White?’
‘Most certainly,’ she replied, ‘but I have the feeling she already knows. If Frank White is still the man I remember, he won’t waste time telling her himself.’
‘I wonder why he’s waited until now to make contact?’ he muttered. ‘And we still haven’t solved the mystery of the forged instructions.’
‘I suspect his tardiness had something to do with Lorelei’s mother. But no doubt the mystery will be solved soon enough.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘More tea, Major?’
*
Lulu had spent a restless night, her dreams confused and disturbing, her waking moments filled with doubt. She had risen early and gone in search of Joe, but there was no sign of him, and she had to accept he’d already left for Galway House.
She had stoo
d in the paddock and watched the mares with their foals, reluctant to return to the house and begin the day. Joe’s advice had been wise – it had certainly made her stop and think – but although her emotions were in turmoil, she knew she had to meet her father, regardless of the consequences.
*
It was almost noon, and she and Dolly had said goodbye to their hosts on the hotel steps over three hours ago. The weather had changed overnight, and although it was sunny, there was a chill wind blowing in off the Tasman Sea.
‘What do we do now?’ Lulu dug her hands in her coat pocket and buried her nose in the collar to fend off the cold as they emerged from the quayside hotel. ‘This waiting’s unbearable. Half the day is gone, and I still haven’t heard from Peter.’
‘You’ll drive yourself mad if you hang about here. Let’s explore Sullivan’s Cove and see if we can find somewhere to have lunch and perhaps do a spot of shopping.’
‘I’m really not in the mood,’ she grumbled, ‘and Peter might ring while we’re out. He’ll think I’ve changed my mind.’ The doubts had grown as Peter’s silence continued. ‘What if he doesn’t call at all? What if … ?’
‘Stop it.’ Dolly put an arm around her shoulder. ‘Come on, darling, don’t fret so. If he calls while we’re out, the hotel will take a message, and I expect this delay is only because it’s taken a bit of time to own up to what he’s done and deal with the consequences. It probably came as a shock to his father – I mean, it’s not every day your son finds out you’ve had an affair, and then tries to present you with the daughter you’ve kept secret for twenty-six years.’
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