by Janine Grey
All the forecasts said the baking weather would continue now through summer. He figured he’d be able to stand it for another two weeks, maybe three, and then he’d pretty much have to shut up shop until temperatures cooled. Maybe it was for the best. He was overdue for a visit to his mother – Jerry had made that more than clear in his latest ranting letter – but he felt he had to stay to make the most of the available time left. During the summer, he’d spend as much time with her as he could.
He’d go into town at the weekend, he decided. Eliza would be back by now – unless she’d decided to remain in Sydney after all. Business had already forced her to extend her trip. At least that was what she’d told him.
They’d spoken twice while she was away, but only briefly. The first time, when he’d phoned to check she’d landed safely, they’d been interrupted by an unexpected visit from a friend and her tantrum-prone toddler. Fin still winced as he remembered the shrieks down the phone line. Four days ago, when she’d called to let him know when she’d be back, he’d caught a hint of evasion in her tone. It might or might not be anything important, but there was something she wasn’t telling him.
She’d been due back yesterday, and since then he’d been caught between the desperate urge to rush to Helton and a nagging worry that she had rediscovered all that Sydney had to offer – and that he and Helton didn’t measure up. Friday. Tomorrow he’d knock off early and head into town to see her. Hopefully by then he’d have his emotions under control.
Sighing, Fin got up and went to shower and make coffee. It was early still, but no way would he be able to get back to sleep. As he ran through his morning ritual, he figured that with the opal seam he’d taken yesterday, the upper levels were tapped out. He’d spent weeks in them now, working over each promising area methodically, and there was nothing left to do, which meant shifting his focus back to the lowest level.
His spine tingled as he thought about it. Rationally, he knew it was just the knowledge that Logan had expended most of his efforts here – and the fact that it was the area that held more secrets than the others due to the rockfall. The work from here on in would be more risky as he’d need to blast away at the far end so that he could get in for a better look. He had his explosives licence and was confident in his ability but, given the level had experienced a cave-in in the past, it would be prudent to station someone else near the shaft, just in case.
Coffee in hand and thinking of the cave-in that had been the final straw for his father, his eyes drifted to the letter among his paperwork that he’d come across when clearing out his mother’s house for sale. He’d known about the letter and its contents, of course, from Jerry, although he’d never read it until that day. All his life the subject of his father had caused his mother’s face to close in on itself in indescribable anguish, so he’d taken care to avoid the topic.
Wanting to re-read it to see if it offered any hint of where best to look for opal, he unfolded the 32-year-old letter written on lined paper and faded in parts. In a couple of places the paper was uneven, as though swollen where it had come into contact with water. He wondered for a brief moment if those spots marked his mother’s tears as she’d read it all those years ago.
My darling Mairi,
You’ll hate me for this, I know, but it’s for the best. I’d rather you hated me than pitied me. The thing is, you deserve a proper husband who can give you the decent life that I can’t. Looking back, I was stupid to blow everything we had on a mine at Ruin Flat – perhaps the name was a clue after all! I’m afraid all the money’s gone. You’ll get a few dollars for the small opal pieces with this letter. I wish it was more.
There was a bit of a collapse in the mine yesterday, and one of the levels is blocked. No way through. I don’t think there ever was any real opal to find anyway. It was mined out years ago, like people said, which would explain why it was so cheap in the first place.
I’m not even man enough to face you, Mairi, I feel so ashamed. So I’m going away, west maybe, I’m not sure. Please don’t try to find me. You should just forget about me, and think about yourself and the boy. Make a good future for yourselves. Jerry will look after you.
One day I hope you can forgive me.
Logan
As he read the letter, Fin was stung by fresh shame for his father’s actions. Running out on his wife and child and leaving them with barely a cent – it was incomprehensible. He hadn’t wanted to look at a photo of Logan since he’d understood what a loser he was, yet his mother had always kept one from their wedding day by her bedside. In it, Logan had been grinning broadly, looking like a man besotted, not a hint of the rat that would run at the first sign of trouble. But you never could tell the inside from the outside. Fin knew that firsthand from Danielle.
With a sound of disgust, he threw the letter down on top of his paperwork. All it did was confirm Logan had been working in that lowest level and that he had come to the conclusion there was nothing to be found.
Fin blocked his mind to the temptation to let defeat take hold. The rising sun was blinking pink and gold to the east, and already he could feel its warmth on his skin. He drained his coffee. Time to get to work.
*
‘Mr Bannister, how are you?’ Twomey said. He pressed his mobile close to his ear and ducked into a side street away from a truck idling nearby.
Bannister didn’t respond to the question. He saw no point in niceties. ‘The board has discussed your proposal that we wait McLeod out. They turned down the idea. We don’t have time to waste.’ The implication was that Twomey was to blame.
‘I want you to confirm he’s still active at Ruin Flat. If he is, you’ll need to implement phase three, as discussed during our meeting.’
‘A little more encouragement, yes, I understand,’ Twomey confirmed. ‘I can confirm he’s still working the mine. Now about my fee.’
‘Half now, as discussed. And the rest when the job’s done.’
Twomey frowned. The fee had been discussed at the meeting although Twomey disagreed on the staged payments. He’d rather have it all now, but Bannister was all about what he called ‘outcomes’, which meant he only paid up if his instructions turned out to be the right ones. Canny bugger. But when they did, he paid promptly, no problems – unlike some in this line of work – so it was worth his while to keep the chief sweet.
‘All right, I’ll get on to it, sir.’
‘You do that. And no emails this time. Nothing in writing. Got it?’
‘Got it,’ Twomey said but the line had already gone dead. Rich could afford to be rude.
*
The overhead fan spun lazily above the kitchen table, just enough to make it bearable. Even so, Eliza pulled at the neckline of her wafer-thin tee-shirt, enjoying the fleeting sense of relief. She had been warned about the heat, but she hadn’t anticipated quite how intense it would be – and it wasn’t even summer yet. What she would give for Edenholme’s air-conditioning at that moment!
‘If you can’t stand the heat . . .’ she muttered to herself and pushed her glasses back up her nose. It would be cooler at the south-facing front side of the house, true. But she liked working at the kitchen table, looking out over her bush garden and to the far horizon beyond.
In any case, she only had another hour to put in at most. There was just the final report to write for Charlotte’s husband’s firm. The three beneficiaries had responded and their bona fides checked out. If the firm was any good – and their reputation was – probate should be wrapped up within a matter of weeks and she’d have a nice chunk of change deposited in her bank account. It was just as well, as the Weaver fee was dwindling fast, and it would be a while before she saw any income from the two new cases she’d signed while she’d been in Sydney.
Yay for Lincoln Bassett, she thought as she spellchecked her report. The man had become quite sentimental when she’d dropped by to see him. It was almost as though he saw himself as her stand-in parent. It was kind of sweet. Charlotte, t
oo, had been quite emotional – but then, she usually was. She’d insisted on meeting Eliza at the airport, fractious toddler in tow, and had all but launched herself into Eliza’s arms on her arrival, weeping openly. Immediately, the toddler had started to bawl, too, and it had taken a while to calm them both down.
‘I’m still in the same state,’ Eliza reminded her.
‘I know, but it’s like you’ve gone to the moon or something.’ Charlotte had disentangled herself and lifted the clinging toddler. ‘Jasper, you remember Elle, don’t you?’
He’d stared at Eliza dolefully, blinking away tears. ‘I don’t like you. You went away.’
‘I don’t like you either.’ Eliza had grinned at the small, sticky-faced tyrant, who’d ruled his family roost since the moment of his birth.
He’d grinned back and threw himself at her. ‘I want you to carry me, not Mummy.’
Above her son’s head, Charlotte had rolled her eyes. ‘He’s had a fizzy drink today, but we’re trying to cut down on additives, sugar, salt and gluten. His nutritionist is a total fascist.’
Eliza had taken them to lunch at Charlotte’s favourite café in Double Bay, where Jasper had devoured a meat pie and a strawberry milkshake, screamed blue murder when presented with a bowl of salad by his mother, and then demanded ice-cream. Charlotte gave in as she always did.
‘We’re in a transition period, which means some compromises,’ she’d sighed.
Eliza might have changed but, selfishly, she was glad that her oldest friend hadn’t.
The pace of everything in Sydney had seemed ferocious – media, traffic, life in general. Being back in the apartment had felt alien, and she found herself consistently on the kitchen balcony, craning her neck for a glimpse of sky and open space. It was a lovely flat, she’d realised, but it wasn’t for her. It was, however, perfect for the young couple who’d snapped it up the moment the agent put it on the rental market and Eliza had cleared out her personal effects. The income was going to be handy as a buffer until the business was at full speed, as was the lump sum she’d got for her car. She’d been reluctant to part with it, but it was totally impractical for the roads around Helton.
Charlotte had wailed again when Eliza told her she’d be moving to Helton for the rest of the year – once she’d located it on Google maps. They’d been having drinks on the back deck of the sleek townhouse Charlotte shared with her husband, Giles, and Jasper, who had already been chased back to bed twice.
‘You can’t, Elle!’ Charlotte had turned to her husband. ‘Giles, tell her she can’t!’
Giles, usually willing to turn himself inside out to please his wife, had suddenly remembered something that needed checking for their dinner and hurried towards the kitchen.
‘Really, Elle, I’m at my wit’s end. Giles is at work all the time and even when he is home I swear he doesn’t listen to half of what I say. And Jasper is so demanding. The only time I feel like me and not just a wife and mother these days is when I’m with you.’
Eliza had refrained from reminding Charlotte how certain she’d been that young marriage and motherhood was what she’d wanted.
‘Come on, Lottie. You love Giles and Jasper. You just need to manage them so you have some time for yourself and as a couple. Go out more. See some friends.’
Charlotte had gulped. ‘I’ve told Giles we need a nanny and he says we can’t afford to have the nutritionist, language coach, psychologist and a nanny.’ Her voice dropped. ‘Maybe my mother was right. I married the wrong man! It’s a disaster.’
Eliza almost laughed. Chris and the other Helton girls were going to howl when they heard about this. Somehow she managed to keep a straight face.
‘You don’t need a nanny. What you need is to get rid of all those specialists and enrol Jasper in pre-school part time. He’s three years old. He needs to be running around with other kids his age, not clinging to your skirts.’
‘But he screams if I leave him to go to the toilet.’
‘Because he knows you’ll react.’
‘I can’t abandon my child!’
‘You’re not abandoning anyone, Lottie. You’re encouraging resilience and independence. Jasper will have his own life and that will give you time to have yours.’
‘But what will I do when he’s at pre-school?’
‘I can recommend working for a living,’ Eliza had replied. ‘Do something that makes you feel good about yourself, something that allows you to set goals and achieve them.’
‘Work?’ Charlotte looked scandalised.
‘Well, it could be volunteer work if you like, or a hobby. Just something that’s yours, separate from your family.’
Charlotte had looked not entirely convinced but hopeful. ‘I suppose I could try it. But do you really have to go?’
‘Yes.’
‘But why?’ Charlotte’s eyes had rounded. ‘You’ve met someone, haven’t you? Haven’t you?’
‘It’s not a secret – and it’s early days. But, he’s different. I’ve never felt this way before and I want to see where it goes.’
As Giles emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of appetisers and looking wary, Charlotte had grinned. ‘Tell me everything!’
Neither Charlotte nor the other few friends and acquaintances she’d bumped into even mentioned her father or her break-up with George but then Sydney was notorious for its short attention span. A scandal was only scandalous until a juicier one came along.
Eliza smiled to herself as she saved the report, emailed it to the client, and shut down. It was true what she’d said to Charlotte about finding satisfaction in work. And being back in Treloars Cottage felt like being home. What’s more, it was Friday, she had gone a whole day without thinking about Fin McLeod – much – and she deserved a drink. As she was splashing red wine into the glass, someone knocked on the door. She jumped, and a couple of drops splashed onto the bench.
Finally! She wanted to see him so badly, she had ached with it. Even though they hadn’t arranged it, she had half-expected to find him waiting for her in Helton on her return, and his absence had been a crushing disappointment. She could have driven up to the mine, but if he wanted to play it cool, then cool he’d get in return.
Anyway, he’d made it clear she wasn’t welcome at the mine. The fact that she had no idea how he’d react when she told him about the decision she’d made had nothing to do with it. Nothing.
‘Yes?’ She said in the frostiest voice she could summon as she opened the door. ‘Oh, Mick. I thought – never mind, come in.’
From the sympathetic look Mick gave, Eliza knew her expression had been a giveaway, and she managed a half-laugh. ‘I’m that obvious, am I?’
‘Nah, only to those who know you.’
‘I was just about to have a glass of wine. Would you like one?’ she said over her shoulder as she led him into the kitchen.
‘Wouldn’t say no – just so you don’t have to drink alone, mind.’
Eliza handed him her glass and poured another. ‘Thanks for your self-sacrifice.’
They sat outside in the garden, where the new plantings and the coat of orange paint she’d applied to an old wooden bench seat had transformed it from unkempt and half-dead to bright and inviting.
‘You’ve done wonders here,’ Mick said as they clinked glasses. ‘It looks like one of them magazines. But I didn’t come over to go all House & Garden on you.’
‘Good.’
‘McLeod’s in town. Up at the hotel. Just wanted to give you the heads up.’
Eliza averted her eyes to prevent him seeing the stab of hurt. She took a sip of wine, wishing for something stronger. Why was Fin at the pub instead of at her door? ‘Well, he has to get supplies and fuel somewhere.’
‘Want the boys to rough him up a bit?’
Startled, she looked at him. ‘No. No! Thanks for the thought, but no.’
At ease, he nodded. ‘That’s good because I kinda like the bloke, even if he’s a bastard for upsetting you.’
<
br /> Eliza managed a smile. ‘You don’t even know he’s done anything.’
‘Of course he has. Easy to tell you’ve been a bit down and it’s always the bloke’s fault. My missus is always very clear about that.’
‘I was away and we’ve both been busy.’
‘He’s still a bastard.’
‘You always cheer me up.’
‘Glad to hear it but it doesn’t change my opinion. Man’s a fool.’
‘He’s single-minded about the opal he’s looking for.’
‘Damn rocks.’ Mick leant back against the wall. ‘Did you know one blackfella legend says opals were created when a bloody big wheel of fire fell to earth, scattering the land with brilliant stones?’
‘Really?’ She smiled and took the sliver of opal from her pocket, brushed her thumb across the dull gleam. ‘I can see why.’
‘More to life than wheels of fire and pretty stones,’ Mick pointed out. ‘Thing is, your bloke asked me if I’d have some time to do a bit of work for him.’
‘Okay.’ So Fin had time to talk to Mick, but not to her?
‘It’s a safety thing when you’re blasting the rock. Good idea to have another person with you who can call the cavalry if things go shit-shaped.’
That made her sit up and pay attention. ‘He’s using explosives?’
Mick nodded. ‘Plans to. According to McLeod, the roof of the drive is much lower on one of the levels and there’s some rock collapse too. He wants to have a look but he needs to make more space to get in there.’
Eliza felt a sudden chill travel up her arms, raising the fine hairs in goosebumps. ‘It sounds dangerous.’
‘Yeah —’
‘Tell him no,’ she blurted instinctively. ‘Then he won’t be able to go ahead.’
‘You sure?’
‘If it will stop him, yes.’ She had a sudden thought. ‘He wouldn’t do it alone, would he?’
Mick shrugged. ‘Probably not – he may be opal crazy but he’s not all the way gone yet. Most likely he’ll just ask around until he finds a bloke who needs the work. Mind you, the heat this time of year will turn most of them off.’