Ocean Child

by Tamara McKinley

  Lulu smiled and shook his hand. Jasper was handsome in a rugged sort of country way, but his accent was public school, his formal attire from Savile Row. She liked the look of him, and by the sparkle in Dolly’s eyes, she did too. They talked for a while, and then Jasper wandered off to speak to Bertie and Sybilla.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Dolly breathlessly. ‘He’s asked me to marry him, and I’m seriously considering it.’

  ‘Congratulations,’ said Lulu, ‘but don’t you think you’re rushing things a bit?’

  Dolly gave a shy smile, her cheeks flushing with colour. ‘You know when it’s the real thing,’ she said, ‘from the moment you meet.’

  Lulu grinned with delight. ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Oh, but I do, darling.’ Her eyes widened. ‘And that’s why you have to go back to Joe. You’re obviously in love with him, so why hang about here?’

  ‘I have an exhibition on, or hadn’t you noticed?’

  Dolly waved her hand dismissively. ‘You don’t need to be here, and Joe won’t wait for ever, Lulu.’

  Her words echoed Clarice’s, and she felt a pang of sadness.

  ‘Look, darling –’ her bejewelled fingers encircled Lulu’s wrist – ‘I know it’s been a ghastly year, what with Clarice and everything, but are you seriously going to rattle about in that enormous house and bury yourself in your work there for the rest of your life?’

  She paused and took a quick puff of her cigarette. ‘You can work anywhere, and with Sybilla and Bertie looking after you, you’ll find your career will take off regardless of where you live.’ She tugged the sable stole over one slender shoulder and waved her ivory cigarette holder to emphasise her point. ‘Sybilla lives in Brisbane, darling – how far is that from civilisation, for heaven’s sake? – and it hasn’t done her career any harm, has it? Tasmania might be at the bottom of the world, but art is global,’ she finished with a flourish.

  Lulu hadn’t really given much thought to her future since Clarice had gone, and had indeed buried herself in her work, incapable of making any serious decisions about anything else. The house was certainly too big for her, but she was loathe to leave it, for it held the essence of Clarice, had been in the family for generations, and she felt safe there.

  But security and cosy familiarity had their own dangers. Sybilla would be returning to Brisbane after the New York exhibition, and she didn’t know how she would feel about having only Vera Cornish for company. The only family she possessed lived on the other side of the world – as did the man she loved.

  Dolly’s words had spiked an awakening in her. She’d tasted the thrill of adventure before – so why not again? ‘Do you know, Dolly,’ she said, with deep affection, ‘there are times when even you talk a lot of sense.’

  *

  It was a week later that Sybilla solved the problem of what to do with Wealden House. ‘If you’re determined to go back to Tasmania, then you can’t possibly sell this place,’ she said as they sat in the garden enjoying the summer evening. ‘The family ties must be continued, so I suggest you turn it into an artists’ retreat. Painters and sculptors – and even writers and poets – could come here for courses, or just to work in peace and comfort. You would get to keep the house, and then if things don’t work out in Tassy, you would have a home to come back to.’

  ‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ said Lulu. ‘Why didn’t I think of it?’

  Sybilla snorted. ‘Too busy mooning over Joe, I suspect,’ she said sagely. ‘I suggest you write and tell him your plans, but keep the tone friendly and unemotional. You say you don’t know how he feels about you, and it wouldn’t do to corner him.’ She smiled and lit the first of the two daily cigarettes she allowed herself. ‘Ocean Child will be a good excuse for you to get to know one another properly – what happens after that is in the lap of the gods.’

  Lulu nodded, digesting her advice, her thoughts drifting. ‘How would I turn this place into a retreat?’ she asked. ‘Who would run it, look after it, make sure people don’t abuse it? You know what artists are like. They can be very careless.’

  ‘I’m sure Bertie knows some impoverished soul who would jump at the chance of taking care of it, and then of course there’s Vera. She has nowhere else to go and is as attached to this place as you – she’s bound to want to stay on as housekeeper.’ She blew a stream of smoke into the still air. ‘Though how she’ll manage with a bunch of wayward artists is anyone’s guess.’

  Lulu laughed. ‘She’ll revel in it. There’s nothing she likes better than being disgruntled.’

  ‘That’s settled then. Shall we have a drink to celebrate? We can tell Vera what we’ve planned for her at the same time.’

  *

  Vera stared at them as if they’d gone mad. ‘I don’t know about that,’ she sniffed, her arms folded beneath her bosom. ‘Arty types can get a bit out of …and.’ She eyed Sybilla with her customary disapproval.

  ‘I promise you will have the last word on choosing the caretaker,’ Lulu pacified her. ‘Please say you’ll consider it. Clarice would want you to stay.’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ she muttered. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, it’s my housey-housey night down the village …all, and the vicar don’t like it when I’m late.’

  The next few weeks were exciting but exhausting. Lulu took it all in her stride, the prospect of returning to Tasmania and Joe keeping her focused. Vera approved of the caretaker, Phoebe Lowe – a friend of Lulu’s from art school who’d fallen on hard times but could be relied upon to work with Bertie, who would oversee the accounts. A small part of Lulu’s vast inheritance would provide bursaries for impoverished artists who otherwise couldn’t afford to come, and there had already been lots of enquiries from potential clients.

  The hardest part was packing up Clarice’s precious things, but she and Vera attacked the packing cases and boxes and put them into storage until Lulu decided what to do with them. Wealden House was already taking on a new life, with all the bedrooms decorated and ready for the guests, the dining room set out for lectures and readings, the drawing room furnished with deep sofas and comfortable chairs, and the second reception room turned into a dining room. The summer house had been cleared of Lulu’s work, the smaller pieces crated up to go by sea to Tasmania, the larger to be stored in Bertie’s gallery until she was settled.

  A week before she and Sybilla sailed for New York, they attended Dolly’s wedding to Jasper. It was held on the last Saturday of August amid the splendour of the ancestral chapel that had stood on the Carteret estate for several centuries. Freddy attended with a pretty girl who bore more than a passing resemblance to Dolly, but whose demeanour was far less exotic – and Lulu suspected Dolly had deliberately thrown the bridal bouquet to her.

  On the last day, Lulu wandered through Wealden House, remembering the years she’d been so happy here. She shed no tears, for there was an air of expectancy in the old place, a reawakening, as if it understood it too was on the verge of beginning a new life – and although the memories came at every turn, she knew she would carry them with her always.

  *

  Sybilla proved to be a knowledgeable and experienced traveller as they crossed the Atlantic, and it was she who showed Lulu New York during their three-week stay.

  Lulu enjoyed the excitement of such a pulsating city, marvelled at the towering buildings and the racing, honking yellow taxis and was entranced by the lavish theatre productions and the size of the parks, the glittering shops and galleries. But despite the New York hospitality and the thrill of being exhibited, Lulu’s thoughts were centred on Tasmania – and Joe.

  The exhibition was successful, and as Lulu left New York with Sybilla she knew she had achieved more than she could ever have hoped for in her work – but her doubts over whether or not Joe loved her or not remained. As the ship drew ever nearer to Australia, Lulu kept those doubts at bay by writing him a long letter in which she told him about the artist’s retreat, her time in New York and her decision to s
et up home in Tasmania. She gave him no dates for her arrival, nor did she mention future plans. Time and distance could make things seem more intense than they were, so she’d kept the tone light and friendly – and given no hint of her feelings or expectations.

  She posted the letter in Brisbane, and after visiting Warrego Station for a few weeks she travelled down to Melbourne, boarded the Loongana and set sail for Tasmania.

  Chapter 18

  It was a mild spring evening, the shadows lengthening as the sun slowly sank behind the hills. Joe had joined Molly and Eliza on the veranda for a beer while Dianne prepared the tea and, as usual, the conversation had turned to Gwen and the trouble she’d caused over the past months.

  ‘She’s been ordered back to Poatina and will be arrested on sight if she’s seen within twenty miles of Galway House,’ Joe said grimly, ‘and as it’s been over a month since her last attack, I reckon it’s over.’

  ‘You would have thought Arnie Miles could have done something to keep her under lock and key,’ said Molly crossly. ‘The flaming woman’s a menace.’

  ‘He’s just a local policeman trying to do his job. She denied everything, and without evidence, they had nothing to hold her on.’

  ‘Surely he could see she was lying?’ piped up Eliza.

  ‘I suspect Arnie knows the score,’ said Joe, taking a long pull of his beer. ‘He’ll have the Poatina ranger keep an eye on her.’

  Molly snorted with derision. ‘She managed to get in here without anyone seeing her – who’s to say she won’t slip back again?’ She folded her arms, her expression belligerent. ‘If I catch her within a hundred yards of the place, I’ll take the shotgun to her, you see if I don’t.’

  Joe shared her sentiments. He eyed the dogs, which were sprawled panting at the foot of the veranda steps. They were good guard dogs, but Gwen had managed to get in without them raising the alarm. He could only conclude she’d found somewhere close to hide so she could watch and wait until the coast was clear. It was unsettling.

  ‘I suppose we ought to be thankful she hasn’t harmed any of the animals,’ Molly said, ‘but that hasn’t stopped two owners taking their horses away. Word’s out, Joe. I had another call today from the mainland asking if the rumours were true. I think I managed to persuade them the horses were safe, but what if they’re not?’

  ‘Let me deal with the owners,’ said Joe briskly. ‘You’ve got to stop worrying over this, Ma. It will make you crook.’ He saw the dark shadows beneath her eyes and silently cursed Gwen for the trouble she had caused.

  ‘I wish to God Lulu had never come here,’ she blurted out. ‘I warned you it would be a mistake.’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ he retorted.

  ‘I agree with Molly,’ said Eliza coolly. ‘If Lulu didn’t have her colt here, and hadn’t stayed with you, Gwen wouldn’t have come near the place.’ She eyed him thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps you should think about sending Ocean Child to another yard.’

  Joe frowned. ‘I thought you liked Lulu?’

  ‘We got on all right,’ said Eliza with a pout, ‘but I found her a bit stuck-up, if the truth be known. Dolly was far more approachable.’

  ‘Well, I did like her,’ said Molly, ‘and she can’t help having a mother like that.’ She sighed. ‘But you can’t get away from the fact that Eliza is probably right. We should find another yard for the Child and be done with it.’

  ‘Ocean Child is staying where he is,’ Joe retorted. He exchanged a glance with his mother. ‘The trouble we’ve had with Gwen probably has more to do with being thwarted by you and Dad all those years ago,’ he said. ‘With Frank and Lulu out of reach, we were the most accessible targets for her twisted revenge.’

  Molly’s expression was thoughtful. ‘You may be right, but I don’t think so. I’m glad Lulu and Frank are out of harm’s way, but I do wish we knew if Gwen has given up her campaign for good, or if she’s merely biding her time until we become complacent.’

  ‘Complacency is a thing of the past from now on,’ he said firmly. ‘We will continue to be vigilant, and I’m already setting up a security system.’

  He paused, knowing the reaction he would get to his next piece of news and steeling himself against it. ‘I got a letter this morning from Brisbane,’ he said. ‘Lulu’s up in Queensland with Frank and Peter.’

  ‘What on earth is she doing there?’ Eliza’s eyes narrowed.

  He noted his mother’s shocked expression and ploughed on. ‘She’s planning to return to Tasmania and set up home in the Kirkmans’ old place down by the beach.’

  In the ensuing babble of protest and argument none of them noticed the figure melt cat-like into the deeper shadows at the edge of the homestead – but if they had, they would have recognised her immediately.

  *

  As the SS Loongana docked in Launceston, Lulu breathed in the familiar scents of a warm November spring day and knew she had made the right decision. She was home at last – and would stay, regardless of what happened between her and Joe, for this was where she belonged, and she was determined to make a good life here.

  She gathered up her bag and coat and followed the other passengers down the ramp to the quay. As she’d kept her arrival date secret, there was no one waiting for her, but it didn’t stop her searching the crowd for a familiar face. He wasn’t there, of course, but the sight of horse floats and utilities lining the docks made her yearn to see him.

  Resisting the temptation to drive straight to Galway House, she concentrated instead on getting her trunks and boxes safely loaded on to the delivery truck with detailed instructions on where to take them. Once the car she’d bought in Melbourne had been off-loaded, she threw her overnight bag in the boot and drove west.

  After a brief stop in town to collect the keys and do some food shopping, she continued her journey in deep contentment. The perfect spring day’s bright sun and clear sky were welcoming her – the solace and warmth that had been missing since Clarice’s death returning as she caught tantalising glimpses of the sparkling sea.

  The coastal lane had been metalled during her absence, but the trees still formed a beautiful dappled archway. Pulling up outside the house she’d admired since childhood, she stepped out of the car and leant against the bonnet. The elderly couple who had owned River View were long dead, and the new owners had leased it out to a succession of tenants. But someone had looked after the place, for the paintwork gleamed in the sun, the gardens were colourful and the lawns and monkey-puzzle tree were verdant.

  With a rising sense of excitement she pushed open the gate, walked slowly up the path and slotted in the key she’d collected earlier. Opening the door, she stepped inside, and felt the house embrace her. ‘Hello, house,’ she breathed. ‘Remember me? Remember how I used to walk past you on the way to school every day?’

  She smiled at her silliness and began to explore – for although she knew the house well, she’d never been inside. The ground floor consisted of a reception room on either side of the front door, with bay windows overlooking the river, and a kitchen that led out to a walled back garden. Upstairs were three bedrooms and a bathroom. Everything inside was old-fashioned and sadly neglected, despite the care taken in the front garden.

  Walking into the largest bedroom, she flung open the windows and shutters and stepped on to the veranda. She had never dreamt she would ever live in this house, but here she was, looking out over the busy river to the eastern shore, watching the gulls wheel and float against the lapis lazuli sky.

  ‘Thank you, Little Mother,’ she whispered, ‘you have given me so much.’ She blinked away the tears and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. This was not the time for tears or regret, but a time to acknowledge that Clarice would always be with her, watching over her as she had done throughout her life.

  She turned her back on the view and regarded the room. The furniture was dated, too dark and heavy for her taste, but would do her for now. The walls were an unhealthy shade of green which would have to go, a
nd the curtains were moth-eaten, but she had all the time in the world to make it homely – and if things went right and the owner could be persuaded to sell to her, then one day she might actually own River View. With a grin of delight she hurried down to the car and brought in her overnight bag.

  The morning passed swiftly once the men had delivered her trunks and boxes. The sculptures and more precious items would come from the mainland after Christmas, each carefully packed to protect them from the rough sea-crossing, but she had already planned where to place them. She stood amongst the chaos of packing cases, trunks and boxes and decided she would unpack only the necessities for now and take her time with the rest.

  By three in the afternoon she was tired, dirty, hot and ready for a stiff drink. She had made up the bed with fresh linen, beaten rugs and curtains, put photographs and books on shelves and hung some of her clothes in the wardrobe. There was still a great deal to do, but it would have to wait.

  The kitchen and bathroom were antiquated, and the water gushed out in erratic rusty spurts for a while until the pipes cleared. Having washed and changed, she scrabbled in the box of groceries and pulled out the bottles of gin and tonic water. She raised the glass in a silent toast to the house – and the future – and after a satisfying gulp, took her drink into the back garden.

  It was quite large, but set out in a way that shouldn’t need the services of a gardener, and hidden away beneath a rampant tangle of overgrown ivy, rose and honeysuckle she found something that made everything perfect. The summer house was in a bit of a state, with a sagging glass roof, swollen timbers and some cracked windowpanes, but with love and attention it had the makings of a perfect studio.

  Lulu grabbed the handle – which fell off – and tugged at the weathered door, which reluctantly screeched back on rusting hinges. The inside was full of junk and probably rife with vermin – but the size of it was just right, and once the vegetation had been cleared and the glass roof replaced, the light would flood in. She stood for a while, planning where she would put everything, and making a mental list of the tradesmen she would need to bring it to life again.