“Fuck me – I think I’m too old for bombshells, Julia.”
Julia actually felt bad for her brother in light of the entire Lydia saga.
“Look, I’m sorry to change the subject but we have to move – let’s go and see Odette and maybe you can come and help me tomorrow?”
“Sure – I can finish this in the morning – my interview will be over by eleven.”
Julia sighed. “That would be a great help, thanks – it’s nice actually, having you here.”
“This is a lovely set-up that you have, Ju, and your figures are coming in good. Glad to see someone doing well in the recession.”
“It’s a lot of hard work but it seems to be paying off.”
Julia handed Michael his coat and breezed by Gillian. “I’ll be back at about four if anyone is looking for me!”
As they walked out to the car Michael had to pry more. “So please, Ju – tell me – what’s up with Lydia?”
“I said – I can’t say.”
“Did Perfect Peter not propose then?”
Julia knew that her brother was going to drag it out of her at one stage or another so it was probably better to get it over with.
“She’s gutted because he has said that he doesn’t want to rush into marriage.”
Michael’s eyes brightened. “Ah, so there’s hope for me yet!”
Julia frowned at him. “Just concentrate on one thing at a time – and take my advice – leave her alone, okay!”
“Hey, did she propose then on the 29th? I was thinking about it during the flight. I put up a request for proposals on Facebook but didn’t get a comment!”
Julia laughed. “If I tell, you must promise not to say anything to Lydia, okay?”
“Cross my heart!” he said making a Boy Scout’s pledge with his fingers.
“Okay, she brought it up and, well, let’s just say it didn’t appeal to him. He doesn’t want to get engaged.”
Michael laughed out loud.
Julia thumped him in the arm. “You are too cruel.”
“I’m sorry, Ju, but it was a crazy idea – and he said no – well, it’s funny.”
“I can’t believe you’re so heartless, Michael.”
“I’m not – I mean, I really do feel for her but you know she could have had me!”
“I know that you’re irresistible but she wants Perfect – I mean Peter.”
Michael laughed even more. “You know, I think she’s falling off that pedestal I had her on!”
Julia frowned. “If you’re telling me now that you don’t like her because she might be available again, I swear, Michael, you will rot in hell!”
Michael shook his head. “Ah, don’t be so serious, Ju! Actually, I was thinking I might ask Gillian on a date.”
Julia frowned harder. “I don’t want you seeing her – there’s something freaky about her – she’s a good worker and all that but there are times when I think she is a bit psycho about men – she seems to have the hots for Dylan anyway. Besides, you need to concentrate on getting that job tomorrow!”
The pair drove to Malahide, discussing tactics and interview techniques, so Michael didn’t have a chance to consider how he would feel on seeing his bereft sister.
Dylan was on his way out the door as they parked in the drive.
“Hi, Michael, good to see you again – I hear you’re back for good?”
Michael held out his hand and shook Dylan’s.
“Yes, back for good – hope to get working now. How is she doing?”
Dylan smiled. “Good form today – she’s looking forward to seeing you. She wasn’t great last night – sure she wasn’t, Julia?”
Julia shook her head. “I was glad that you were here, Dylan. Why don’t you go on in, Michael, so you can be with her on your own.”
Michael nodded and went inside.
Dylan turned to Julia. “So how are you doing?”
“I’m fine – I was just in work. Actually Gillian has been great, keeping the show on the road for me.”
Dylan hesitated. “Eh, that’s good. She comes across as a bit crazy but I think her heart must be in the right place!”
Julia was puzzled at this reaction – why had he asked Gillian out again then? But certainly ‘crazy’ was a good word to describe her. Or maybe ‘desperate’ would be a better one. She wanted to hook a good catch and seemed to think that Julia was the supplier of eligible men – Julia’s own fault admittedly. Well, she would do her very best to steer her brother and anyone else away.
Dylan was smart – a really clued-in guy. Whatever Gillian was, she had certainly helped Julia to figure out in her own head what she thought of Dylan. She was becoming more fond of him every time she saw him since Craig’s terrible passing and she didn’t want Gillian or anyone else getting close to him – but now it looked like she had left it too late because in one month he would be gone for a year around the world. It was terrible timing and her own fault.
Chapter Fifty-three
Ruth received a text from Brian before she woke up the next morning.
I couldn’t sleep all night. Call me please
Ruth was keen to hear his voice. She looked at her watch. It was only seven. She could hear her mother snoring in the room next door.
She dialled but didn’t have to wait long.
“Ruth – g’day. How are you going?”
“Good, thanks – my mum and I went out to Cott beach last night and got fish and chips.”
“It must be nice to see her.”
“Yeah, it is – how’s the house coming on?”
“The walls are up and the roof is going on next week. That Arthur’s chap is causing us a bit of grief though – seems to be having cash-flow probs! It’s going to be a beauty. You should come and see it.”
Ruth needed to think about that carefully. “Eh, I’m not sure my mother is ready for that.”
“Why don’t I just drive by later and we can maybe go to Fraser’s for dinner? My treat.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s the place in King’s Park where we parked last time.”
“I remember. Will we have to book?”
“Leave it with me. Call by – I’ll be at the site all day.”
“I’ve got to go to work now but I suppose we could go to dinner if you like – is that place very expensive?”
“Don’t worry about the price – I said it’s my treat.”
Ruth was grateful for his gesture and she was delighted that he was keen to impress her mother by choosing such a classy restaurant. “Okay then, if you insist.”
“Fine – I’ll call by at seven, okay?”
“See you at seven.”
Ruth was feeling nervous already. She wasn’t sure how her mother would behave – she had always been acrimonious towards Australian men. Maybe she could sway her opinion. And if anyone could suss a person out it would be Angela Travers. She had nothing to lose and they were going to have a nice meal regardless.
Her mother stirred and got out of her bed. She went to the bathroom, giving Ruth just enough time to think about what she was going to say.
Angela came into Ruth’s room and smiled when she saw her daughter lying on the bed.
“Good morning, love – I slept like a log – I guess that’s partly the jet lag! But it’s been very difficult to sleep with your father this last year or two. He’s always moaning in the middle of the night with his arthritis and he doesn’t realise that he wakes me up!”
“Why don’t you get two single beds and put them together? That way you each have your own space and are still beside each other.”
“Now that’s not a bad idea, Ruth – I’ll say it to your father when I get home. It’s great to have the bed to myself.”
“Can I get you some breakfast?”
“Not at all – I can help myself – you have to go out to work.”
“I’m putting the kettle on anyway.”
“I’ll make us scrambled eggs on to
ast – how does that sound? And you can get ready for work.”
“Okay – thanks, Mum – it’s so great having you here.”
Angela was feeling more comfortable the longer she was in the country – time must indeed be the greatest healer of all. She set about whisking the eggs and was busy over the stove when Ruth came into the kitchen.
“Mum – Brian was wondering if we would join him for dinner this evening?”
“Brian – oh, your boyfriend?”
“Well, it’s early days – he’s still just a friend.”
“I’d better meet him then,” Angela said with a smile. “I just want you to be happy, love.”
The clock approached seven and Ruth’s stomach started to flit. She had chosen to wear a blue dress and her strappy silver sandals. Her mother was composed at the kitchen table – sipping a cup of tea and looking serene in a rose-printed fabric sundress.
Brian was at the front door at seven o’clock sharp and wearing what Ruth now considered his trademark white shirt. She loved how it contrasted with his tan.
Pride swept over her as she introduced her mother to the man with the dark good looks.
“Mum, this is Brian. Brian – my mum, Angela.”
Angela’s first impressions of her daughter’s attractive friend brought a smile to her face.
“Very pleased to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand.
“Good to meet you,” he smiled.
The three got into his Jeep and drove the short trip to Fraser’s Restaurant.
Ruth had fond memories of the wonderful picnic she had shared with Brian not too long before. How they had walked through the manicured pathway paved with beautiful palms and the lights of the skyscrapers had started to turn on one by one as the sun dipped lower in the sky.
“My, look at the Anzac memorial!” Angela declared. “You know, I always think of my friend Myra’s Anzac biscuits when I hear that word.”
“I bought Anzac biscuits when I was in Coles not so long ago,” said Ruth. “They are gorgeous – although I did squash them up a bit by mistake!” She grinned over at Brian.
“Well, you never tasted anything like Myra’s. Full of oats and she used to use honey as well as syrup – lovely!”
“My mum used to make Anzac bickies too,” said Brian. “I’d take them to school when I was a kid and swap them for choccy when I could.”
The three entered the spacious foyer of Fraser’s which was built in the round so that the full expanse of the bay could be enjoyed by its patrons. The windows were tall and wherever you sat you could be assured of a good view from your seat. The maitre d’ showed them over to a window seat and they took a menu each to peruse the selection.
“Yum – I’ll have the steak, I think,” Ruth said.
“It’s really good here. Do you see anything that you like, Angela?” asked Brian.
“Oh well, there’s so much choice I don’t know where to start. Maybe I’ll have the chicken.”
Angela was impressed with Brian and she liked his relaxed easy manner. But she would reserve her judgement on him until she had spoken to him some more.
Angela was laughing heartily by the time dessert was served.
“I used to do the late shift when your father came in from work,” she said, nodding towards Ruth. “We’d scrape up the leftovers and bring them home – Kevin loved the chocolate gateaux that we served and sometimes he’d have it for breakfast – of course he wouldn’t remember that now.”
“I’m surprised that you never told me any of this before,” Ruth said with her chin resting on her palm.
“I suppose I swept any memories of my time in Australia under the carpet – I wasn’t all that keen to remember some of it. But we did have good fun with the other waitresses. Alan Bond – you know, the businessman – came into the restaurant a couple of times but none of us knew that he was going to be such an important figure in Perth. He was very definitely a player.”
“I bet you could tell a story or two alright, Angela. And who owned the restaurant?”
Brian wondered if he might have some memories of it.
“It was owned by Charles Walters – he was a really wealthy man and this restaurant was only a folly – he made his money from shipping,” Angela said in a very matter-of-fact manner.
Ruth’s ears pricked up at the mention of Charles Walters’ name. So it was a business letter after all – written to her boss. But, why on earth keep a letter for all those years? Like a treasured keepsake next to her diaries?
“He was good to his staff as a rule but only ever came in as a guest,” Angela went on. “He was never involved in the running of the place.”
Brian was putting two and two together and was obviously about to launch into the fact that he was working on his house. But Ruth kicked under the table to silence him.
“Tell us more about him, Mum.”
“Oh, I didn’t know much about him – but he did tell me about his history – he had come from very humble beginnings. His father was English and one of a twin – they played truant often around the streets of Perth at the end of the nineteenth century and they were sent to borstal.”
“Borstal?” Ruth quizzed.
“Yes, an industrial school – like the one in Artane or Letterfrack at home. God-awful places, by all accounts.”
“Like the boys’ reformatory on Rottnest Island?” Ruth asked.
“That was the place – they used to send boys there – I think it was a prison for Aborigines as well. Terrible thing to do to young lads – it sounded like Alcatraz to me when I first heard about it back then.”
Ruth was stunned. A link between this Charles Walters and Rottnest!
“Well, Charles credited his success to the fact that his father threatened him with borstal if he didn’t work hard at school and get himself a respectable profession,” Angela went on. “Apparently Charles’s uncle died in a freak accident while he was at the reformatory on Rottnest – I suppose it could have been a good beating or something that did it. Anyway I am sure they don’t keep records of that sort of thing – no more than they recorded half the deaths in the Irish industrial schools.”
“That’s amazing,” Brian said. “I’ve always been fascinated by Rottnest and it is a strangely haunted place.”
Ruth was silenced by the story. Could she have been prompted to delve further into this mystery by the ghost of Charles Walters’ uncle? She’d had such a strange experience there.
“How old was the boy when he died?” Brian asked.
“Oh, I don’t know that sort of detail – I just know that when Charles’s father returned to the mainland he was tormented and driven to become a financially successful man so that his son would never be sent to such a place.”
Ruth was beyond curious now – she was desperate to know why her mother was writing to her boss. How was everything so connected? The fact that she met Brian at Peppermint Grove and then again on Rottnest – it was like they were meant to be there at exactly the same time. And then the letter . . . what was in it and why was her mother telling her all of these facts about her time in Perth now? When for years she had brooded over diaries and letters and kept all her thoughts to herself?
Angela looked at Ruth. “I suppose being here has me thinking about all the things that happened. Charles was a good man – a product of hard work and dedication. His father’s time spent in the reformatory would have done him good. It’s a pity the same can’t be said for all his family.”
Ruth’s ears pricked up – was Angela going to elaborate even more?
“So,” Angela continued, “Ruth tells me that you are an architect, Brian – do you enjoy it?”
Brian was also curious to know more about Charles Walters but Angela had obviously said enough for one night.
“I love my job – I’ve a partner who is boss of the building side of the business and we generally go around doing rebuilds and large extensions. Mostly on homes – we don’t do commercial as a rule.�
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“Lovely – I suppose you are busy with the building going on at the moment?”
Brian nodded. “Yes, work is good. We are doing a rebuild at the moment in Peppermint Grove and it’s coming on well.”
Ruth kicked him again under the table. She wanted the evening to end on a good note. Her mother had divulged enough for one night. It was a huge revelation and she wanted to draw her mother’s story out slowly and gently.
Chapter Fifty-four
“He’s a very nice chap.” Angela said the next morning as she shared toast and coffee with her daughter over breakfast.
“I’m glad you like him – he’s full of interesting stories about life and he has a really spiritual perspective on everything – I’ve never met anyone like him.”
“He’s certainly not a typical Australian man. But then again most Australians are only a couple of generations away from being Irish, English or Italian – especially on this side of the country.”
It was true – and Brian was keen to find out more about his Irish heritage. It was a wonderful coincidence that her mother’s letter had led her to him but also ironic that she possibly would have met him regardless as they both ended up on Rottnest at exactly the same time. She considered telling her mother the fact that she had seen the letter but instead decided to wait.
“What are your plans for today, Ruth?”
“I thought we might go out to Fremantle this evening – there’s a place called Little Creature’s Brewery that Brian said was very nice.”
“A brewery? I’m not sure I would like that.”
“They do amazing pizzas though and you do like them, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do – I like Fremantle too. That’s the town that Alan Bond transformed – he hosted the America’s Cup out of there in the eighties – I remember chuckling to myself when I heard about him and all those highflyers. I was flabbergasted to hear he went bust in the nineties.”
“We could pop by and Brian can show you the house that he’s working on if you like?”
“I don’t mind. I think I’ll come into town and do a bit of shopping today while you’re at work.”
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