by Janet Woods
‘Yes, I’m afraid you do.’ Livia came down after them, looking pretty in a blue, ankle-length skirt with a long, edge-to-edge cardigan over a ruffled blouse. Her glance ran over the heads and discovered one missing. ‘Where’s Meggie? That girl can never be found when you want her.’
‘She went out on her bike, but she’ll turn up . . . she always does.’ Denton held her coat out for his wife, and kissed her ear when she slid her arms into the sleeves. Livia smiled up at him when she turned, her eyes joining his in an unbridled exchange of love.
Their togetherness was so apparent that Esmé couldn’t imagine her sister being in love with somebody else . . . not even Richard Sangster. She hoped she’d meet someone who would love her as much as Denton loved Livia.
She thought of Liam then and felt a moment of regret that she’d let him go. She knew now that they hadn’t loved each other enough. They’d been attracted to one another certainly, but romance between them had been a myth that the reality of settling down and sharing a future together would have probably exposed, especially after what Chad had said.
She suspected that Liam was scared of commitment, and it was nothing more than that, coupled with his personal ambition.
And then there was Leo Thornton, as friendly and boisterous as an overgrown puppy, who’d said he wanted her to be his girl. She remembered his fingers, long, tanned and deft, as with great delicacy he’d stitched the lacerated edges of Brian Tomlinson’s hand together.
Esmé was about to flirt with danger by remembering every minute detail of Leo’s kiss when a clatter announced the arrival of Meggie. She burst through the front door, her cheeks flushed from the cold and her hair untidy. Her socks had slid down to her ankles.
Her brilliant smile as she gazed round at her family made Esmé feel guilty.
‘Oops . . . am I late for church? I’m sorry, I forgot to wind my watch.’
Twelve
February, 1936
This time the rumour had been true. The Horizon Queen unloaded her passengers in Melbourne and paid off most of the staff.
With a skeleton crew aboard she’d be heading out of the harbour for her first and last voyage to Singapore. There, she’d be stripped of her furnishings and dismantled.
Esmé’s heart gave a bit of a wrench at the thought, and then she laughed. She hadn’t expected to find herself being sentimental over a ship. To her relief she was given a bonus, an amount that should cover her passage back to England. With it she intended to open a bank account. That would allow her enough money to get her home if she couldn’t pick up a job, and with a little left over. She’d learned the hard way that having cash lying around was too much of a temptation for some.
It was late February, the hottest time of year in Australia, and the day was uncomfortably humid.
Clearing customs, she was about to head for the agency when she saw Leo in the crowd milling about on the wharf. A big grin came her way when he set eyes on her. Taking a grey trilby from his head he waved it at her. He had the type of hair the wind liked to ruffle, curls that sprang here and there.
She resisted the urge to run towards him and ruffle it herself, but she couldn’t have done so anyway as she was weighed down with an overstuffed suitcase. Her heart soared when she reached him, and she felt shy. ‘I didn’t expect to see you.’
‘I told you I’d be here.’ Leo took the case from her and lifted an eyebrow. ‘You’re staying, if the weight of this is anything to go by. Did you remember the kitchen sink?’
‘I’m afraid it wouldn’t fit in.’
‘Good. The car’s this way. Where are we going?’
‘To the nursing agency first, I must register for employment. Then I need to open a bank account. After that I must contact Minnie, and I’ll need to find somewhere to stay.’
‘You were going to do all that? It’s already four o’clock, and the banks are shut.’ He placed her suitcase alongside his doctor’s bag in the back seat of his car.
‘Oh, are they? What a nuisance.’ No wonder her stomach rattled like a train over the tracks. She remembered Minnie telling her that her mother-in-law had guest rooms at her hotel. She had the address in her diary. And if Wally Prichard happened to be there she’d ask him for the money he’d stolen from her. It wasn’t right that Minnie should have to pay his debt, and he was lucky she hadn’t reported the theft of it to the police.
The hotel was a shabby building on a street corner. It had a smell lingering about it, as though the lamp post outside served as a territory marker for every dog that wandered by. It probably did.
Leo looked dubious. ‘This isn’t a very good area. Let me find you somewhere decent to stay.’
‘I can’t afford anything else. And before you offer . . . no, I will not borrow the money from you.’
‘I was going to offer you a room in the flat I rent.’
‘Not a good idea, Leo.’
He grinned. ‘But worth a try.’ The door was locked, so Leo rattled it. ‘Obviously it’s not opening time yet.’
Peering through the window, Esmé was rewarded by the sight of Wally’s head emerging cautiously from behind the door. Rapping on the window she called out. ‘It’s me, Wally . . . Minnie’s friend . . . Esmé Carr.’
He opened the door a chink. ‘Well, if it isn’t Lady Esmé in person. The Horizon Queen is still on the run then . . . I’m surprised.’
‘I’ve just been paid off. She’s heading for the scrap yard in Singapore first thing.’
His expression became speculative. ‘What do you want, Esmé? Minnie’s not here, she’s still up at the mine site.’
‘I want a room for the night.’
‘You can’t have one . . . my mother’s sick.’
‘Very well, then perhaps you’d repay the money you borrowed from me on the ship. I’ll be able to stay somewhere else then.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, and in case you don’t know, there’s a depression going on. I haven’t got any money. If I had I’d fetch a doctor for my poor old Ma.’
Leo placed a well-shod foot in the door when Wally went to close it. ‘There’s a doctor right here.’
From the back room a voice croaked, ‘Who is it Wally?’
‘Nobody, Ma.’
Esmé wasn’t about to be put off and she raised her voice a fraction. ‘It certainly is somebody, Mrs Prichard. I’m Minnie’s best friend.’
Footsteps shuffled across the floor, and through the crack in the door Esmé saw a woman leaning on the bar. She was breathing heavily. ‘Minnie’s friend, did you say? In that case you can call me Ma. Wally, open that door at once, else I’ll fetch you a good clout.’
She didn’t look as though she had enough energy to clout a fly – a thought that took Esmé’s glance to a curl of sticky paper that served as a fly trap.
‘Quickly,’ Wally said, and after they’d slid through the door he gazed cautiously up and down the road. ‘Did anyone see you?’
Leo didn’t seem to notice the smoke-stained ceilings, gritty windows and the grimy interior. ‘Everybody in the street, I imagine.’
‘If anyone asks for me I’m not here.’
Leo smiled pleasantly at him. ‘What about the money you owe the lady?’
‘I gave it to Minnie to look after the last time I was up the mine site. I even paid some interest on the loan . . . a fiver.’
‘It wasn’t a loan. You removed the money from my suitcase when I was asleep. I know it. You know it, and Minnie knows it.’
‘Now I know it too,’ Leo said. ‘Neither of us was born yesterday, so cut out the crap.’
Esmé’s eyes flew open and she stifled a laugh when Leo gave her a contrite look and murmured, ‘Sorry, Es.’
Wally shrugged. ‘I haven’t got any money on me, but I could probably get some if I tried. I know where there’s a game . . . all I need is a stake.’ His expression was assessing as he eyed Leo up and down. ‘Ten quid would do it, I reckon.’
Leo tossed him a pity
ing look.
‘A fiver then?’ Wally said. ‘I haven’t got any cash on me, and the bank’s closed.’
‘Don’t you give it to him. If he loses it you’ll never get it back.’ Ma’s laughter became a paroxysm of coughing and Esmé stepped forward. Sweat beaded the woman’s body, yet her teeth were chattering. ‘How long have you been like this, Ma?’
‘Three weeks, give or take. It’s suddenly got worse.’
‘You have a fever . . . you should be in bed.’
Wally said, ‘She can’t get up the stairs, and I can’t carry her by myself. She’s been sleeping on the couch in the back room since my dad died.’
Leo stepped forward. ‘I’ll help you to get her up there.’
‘That’s right kind of you, Mr . . .?’
‘Dr Thornton,’ Leo said briefly. ‘Will you allow me to examine you, Mrs Prichard? I’ll go and fetch my bag from the car.’
‘I can’t afford to pay, mind,’ she wheezed. ‘I haven’t been able to run the bar by myself since my old man died, and Wally is as much use as a ship in a desert.’
Wally shrugged. ‘You said you had a cold. You should’ve called the doctor out at the beginning.’ He turned to Leo. ‘If you’ve got anything moveable in the car you’d better bring it in, else someone will help themselves to it. They’re a load of thieves around here.’
‘Yes . . . we’ve noticed,’ Esmé said, and had the momentary satisfaction of watching Wally turn a dull shade of red.
Leo went outside, returning with her suitcase as well as his bag. Between them, he and Wally got Ma upstairs.
‘I’ll see to her.’ Esmé undressed the woman and got her into her nightgown.
Wally suddenly became helpful. ‘I’ll fetch your suitcase up and put you in the guest room at the end of the corridor, while the Doc takes a look at her. I’ll get some clean sheets, too.’
While Wally was doing that, Leo examined Ma. ‘Acute bronchitis . . . you’ll have to stay in bed for at least two weeks. No going into the bar with its smoky atmosphere.’ When Wally appeared Leo asked him, ‘Have you got any Aspro?’
Wally shook his head. ‘I can go to the chemist and buy some before they close.’
‘Do that . . . give her one Aspro four times a day, it will help bring her fever down . . . and I’ll leave you a bottle of cough syrup. A couple of drops of eucalyptus oil in hot water used as an inhalant will help loosen the phlegm.’
‘Where do you keep your purse, Ma?’
‘In my black . . .’ She hesitated, obviously debating the wisdom of telling Wally. ‘There’s some change in a glass behind the bar . . . that should be enough for Aspro. And make sure you’re home in time to open up.’
When he’d gone Ma turned to Esmé. ‘I can’t take you in as a paying guest, love but seeing as you’re being so good to me you’re welcome to stay for nothing. Like as not you can take a spell in the bar, like young Minnie did. A nice girl, she is. No nonsense about her, and a hard worker. She’s far too good for the likes of my Wally. A pity about the baby . . . it would have been the making of him, and I’d have liked a grandchild.’
‘Yes, it was a pity Minnie lost the infant. Perhaps it was for the best because it must be hard for a woman on her own to work, as well as look after a baby.’ Esmé dished it up with a smile, because the woman was Wally’s mother, after all. ‘I’m going down to boil a kettle so we can give you a wash and make you comfortable.’
‘Sorry to be so much trouble, Doc, though worth it to have a good-looking man in my bedroom, at long last.’
Leo smiled at his unexpected patient. ‘Behave yourself, Ma. I want you to get better so I can have my girl back. I’ll be back in a day or two to check on you both. Es . . . can I see you a minute.’
She followed him out the room, and his eyes reflected on her for a moment. ‘I don’t like leaving you here.’
‘I’ll be all right. She will recover, won’t she?’
He lowered his voice. ‘She should get over it, as long as she rests. You’re a nurse; you know the routine.’ He gently moved a strand of her hair to one side and smiled, the creases in his face white threads against his tan. ‘We’re like ships that pass in the night, you and I . . . yet I feel a strong connection, as though we’re meant to be.’
She felt exactly the same. She liked him . . . she more than liked him. She tried to ignore the oddly pleasant churning in her stomach. ‘You’re not going to go all romantic on me are you, Leo? Doctors and nurses know too much about human bodies to be truly romantic about them.’
‘My guess is that you’ll forget that anatomical nonsense when we make love and discover each other’s tickly bits.’
‘Don’t be so presumptuous.’ She covered her blush with her hands, but couldn’t help laughing. ‘I thought we were going to consult about the patient.’
‘I’d rather consult about us. I suppose you’re going to go all prissy on me and tell me you’re not that sort of girl.’
‘Why should you suppose that I’m prissy?’
He was grinning when he pulled her hands down. He kissed her with unhurried pleasure, his mouth engaging hers with some heat. Then said, ‘Hello, Esmé Carr. It’s lovely to see you again, more than that . . . it’s wonderful. You’re wonderful.’
‘You can stop grinning like a Cheshire cat, because you’re right. I’m not that sort of girl, so behave, Leo Thornton. Go away . . . I’ve got work to do. I’ll see you in a couple of days.’
He leaned forward and was about to kiss her again when Ma had a coughing fit.
The look she gave him was filled with laughter. ‘Oh dear . . . you’ll just have to wait for that one.’
‘I think I’m in love,’ he said before he left.
Esmé went back upstairs and Ma croaked, ‘I’ve had a hard time of it since my Harry upped and died on me. I’ll be glad to have some company.’
Wally didn’t get back in time to open the bar, and Esmé went up to consult with Ma.
‘The price list is under the counter. Most of the customers will drink schooners. We no longer have a slate. It’s cash or nothing.’
‘Schooner . . . that’s a sailing ship, isn’t it?’
‘I’d forgotten you’re from the old country. It’s the second biggest glass. The biggest is a pint, followed by the schooner, a pot, a glass and a pony. They all go down in size. You’ll soon get the hang of it. When Reg comes in he’ll show you how to pull a beer, and explain which glass is which. You can’t miss him; he’s got a white beard that hangs to his chest. Likely he’ll jump behind the bar and give you a hand if you get busy. He’s a nice bloke. Give him a schooner if he does . . . but only one.’
Esmé pulled her first beer to the good-natured teasing of several of the regulars.
She grinned as the customer cautiously sipped at it. His upper lip was coated with foam as he announced the verdict. ‘You could do with a bit more beer and a bit less froth, love.’
‘Aw . . . shuddup,’ Reg told him. ‘That’s not bad for a first try. You’re lucky you’re getting a drink at all, what with Ma laid up in bed and Wally lying low. Esmé is a nurse not a bloody barmaid.’
‘She can look after me any time she likes.’
‘Watch your lip, Bluey. That girl behind the bar is a little lady, and she’s not used to dirty talk.’
‘I hear John Teagan will be out of the clink as soon as he gets his parole, and Wally’s been doing the dirty with his sister.’
‘You don’t say . . . and him with that nice little wife of his working up country. He doesn’t know which side his bread is buttered on, doesn’t Wally. He deserves a good thumping.’
‘He’ll probably get one when Teagan catches up with him.’
Esmé enjoyed her time behind the bar. It was a far cry from England, where she’d spent a sheltered country life after she’d left the orphanage. Livia would be horrified if she knew what her present occupation was. Although she and Livia were alike, Esmé knew she had the edge when it came to toughness. She’d
acquired it over several years of surviving in a children’s home.
Besides being able to tell a schooner from a pony by the end of the evening, Esmé had also gathered up some interesting snippets of gossip. Walter, it seemed, was not very well liked. She couldn’t imagine what Minnie had seen in him in the first place.
She washed the glasses and bar, and tipped the stools upside down on the tables. She wasn’t about to wash the floor. Wally could do that in the morning. He hadn’t pulled his weight. In fact, he’d been noticeable by his absence, and she intended to have words with him.
Counting the money, she placed it into a bag and, not knowing what else to do with it, decided to take it up to bed with her, along with a bottle of ginger beer. Switching off the one light she went up, looking in on Ma on the way past. The woman was asleep, but restless, and her breathing was noisy.
Her own room smelled of dust and trapped heat. The sheets were folded up on the bed, and although clean, they had the smell of long residence in the linen cupboard. Opening the window she breathed deeply to get some air into her lungs. It was wonderful after the stale, smoky atmosphere of the bar.
Wally hadn’t come back with the Aspro, and she remembered she had some in her handbag.
Her bag was on the chair. Inside, her purse gaped open. She silently cursed when she checked the contents and found two pounds missing. She should have remembered not to let Wally near her bag, she thought, and angrily snatched up the pill bottle. No wonder he’d made himself scarce.
Ma began to cough. Pouring some ginger beer into the glass she took two of the pills through to her. ‘Here, take these. And you can have another dose of the cough syrup to see you through the night.’
‘It makes me cough.’
‘It’s supposed to. It helps to loosen the muck from your chest.’
‘Better out than in, aye love.’ Ma swallowed everything down with a bit of a shudder, then asked, ‘Did you find everything?’
‘Yes . . . I managed. I’ve got the takings in my bedroom.’ She told Ma the amount.
‘That’s not bad . . . it’s nearly double what we’ve been taking recently. Word must’ve got round that there was a new barmaid and they came to size you up.’