‘Is the town all right?’ she asked as they set out.
‘It is. Came close though,’ Amos said. He glanced at her. ‘I think you should look away, Mrs Greaves.’
‘Why? Oh—’ Adelaide peered around Penrose and caught a glimpse of a large blackened object on the track ahead of them. ‘Is that …?’
‘That’s a horse,’ Penrose said. ‘The body’s just ahead. Look away, it’s not a pretty sight.’
Adelaide turned her head and pressed her cheek into Penrose’s reassuringly warm and solid back as tears pricked the back of her eyes. Richard had been venal and self-interested but he did not deserve to die such a hideous death.
‘We’ll organise the undertaker to deal with ’im,’ Amos said in his matter-of-fact tone. ‘If ’e’s the only death, then we did well.’
They rode in silence through the devastated landscape. Now the drama had passed, exhaustion caught up with Adelaide. Her limbs had turned to lead. Her fingers, numb from gripping Penrose’s belt, had no strength and she slumped against his back, hardly able to keep her eyes open. He shifted in the saddle, causing her to start awake.
‘If you fall asleep, Adelaide, you’re going to slide off the horse,’ he warned.
But as they crested the last ridge and Maiden’s Creek came into view, the gentle movement of the horse had begun to lull her into semiconsciousness. She had only the vaguest recollection of the ride down the main street of Maiden’s Creek, of the cheers of the townspeople. Only the cessation of movement jerked her fully awake and she registered that they had stopped outside the post office.
‘Adelaide.’
She raised her head and smiled at Caleb’s filthy, unshaven face. She slid from the back of Penrose’s sturdy gelding into Caleb’s arms. She put her arms around his neck and leaned her head against his chest, breathing in the odour of smoke and unwashed male.
He carried her into the house and lay her on the day bed in the parlour.
‘Take the boy through to his bedroom,’ she heard him say.
‘I must—’ Adelaide started to rise but he pushed her back.
‘There’s nothing useful you can do. Leave him to Netty and I.’
‘He needs me.’
‘I only need Netty. You’ve done enough.’
Netty’s familiar round face came into view. ‘You just lie quiet. Sissy, where’s that tea?’
‘Sissy?’ Adelaide murmured. ‘What’s she doing here?
‘I’m here to help,’ the girl said. ‘You’ll feel better after this.’
Adelaide pulled herself up and drank the tea down in one gulp. Sissy handed her another cup and a tray bearing a plate with a large slice of egg and bacon pie.
Revived by the food, Adelaide stood up and limped over to Danny’s bedroom door. Her son lay propped up on the pillows, his face too grimy to check his pallor, but he turned to look at her. His eyes seemed sunken into his skull and gleamed unnaturally brightly, but a shaky smile caught the corners of his mouth.
Netty stood at Caleb’s elbow, holding a basin in one hand and bandages in the other.
Caleb did not look up. ‘You should be resting.’
‘Never underestimate the restorative power of tea,’ she said. ‘Are you hungry, Danny?’
‘A bit.’
Netty set the basin down on the chest of drawers. ‘First we’re going to give you a proper wash and get you into your nightshirt, young man. I’m going to have to change those sheets,’ she said. She looked up at Adelaide. ‘As for you …’
Caleb straightened. ‘There you go, Danny, all bandaged up. I’m afraid you’re going to have an interesting scar on your hand.’
‘It hurts,’ Danny complained.
‘Anything else?’
‘My arm and my stomach.’ His mouth turned down.
Caleb looked at Netty. ‘Try a little broth and see if he can keep it down.’
Netty rolled up her sleeves. ‘Now, my lad, let’s see to you.’
Danny pulled a face. Caleb hustled Adelaide away from the door and into the kitchen, where Sissy stood by the stove stirring a pot of something that smelled good.
She looked around as they entered. Adelaide’s stomach jolted at the sight of the blackened eye, split lip and other bruises along cheekbone and jawline that marred Sissy’s pretty face.
‘How’s the boy?’
Caleb shrugged. ‘I think he’s on the mend, but his system has taken a beating from that snake.’ From his pocket, he pulled a small blue bottle, which he set on the table. ‘Laudanum,’ he said, addressing Adelaide. ‘When he’s washed and fed and settled, give him a teaspoon. It will help with the pain and allow his body to rest.’
‘Sit down and eat. The soup’s just about done.’
Caleb shook his head. ‘I can’t stay. I’m afraid Danny is not my only patient. I left Posy at the surgery bandaging burns.’
Adelaide laid her hand on his forearm. ‘Caleb, you’re exhausted and filthy. You need to rest.’
He smiled and bent his head to drop a kiss on her forehead, a butterfly touch, nothing more, yet it sent a tremor through her body. His fingers brushed her cheek. ‘I’ll rest when I have time,’ he said.
The door closed behind him and Sissy ladled some broth into a bowl and set it down in front of her. ‘I’ll put some water on and draw you a bath,’ she said.
‘Sissy, you don’t have to—’
‘Yes, I do. You’ve always been kind to me, Adelaide, when others in this town have passed judgement. There’s not much I can do to repay you, so let me do this.’
‘Who hurt you?’ Adelaide asked, already knowing the answer.
Sissy touched her eye. ‘Your friend, Barnwell,’ she said. ‘It could have been worse, if Caleb hadn’t stopped him from hitting me again.’
So it was true, all the time he had been courting her, Richard had been availing himself of the services offered by Lil’s girls. She touched her own lip, still sore from where he had cut it with his unloving kiss.
‘He wasn’t worthy of you,’ Sissy said, her eyes bright with anger. ‘You’ve a good man in Caleb Hunt. Don’t let him go again.’
Adelaide shook her head. ‘When you’re looking at death, you tend to say things you’d never say normally. I have probably made a complete fool of myself.’
‘It doesn’t mean it’s not the truth,’ Sissy said, hauling a heavy pot of water onto the stove. ‘When you’re both rested and you know Danny is out of danger, that will be your time.’
Adelaide nodded and laid her head on her arms. For now, she just wanted to sleep.
Thirty-Seven
A line of a dozen men waited for Caleb outside his surgery. Like Caleb himself, they were red eyed with smoke and exhaustion and they exchanged sympathetic words and relief at Caleb’s deliverance from the fire. Their injuries were not bad, mostly minor burns and in one case, a broken arm, and Posy had done an excellent job treating the less serious injuries, applying a viscous ointment from a large pot.
Caleb picked the pot up and sniffed. ‘Honey?’
Posy stuck out her chin. ‘My mam swore by honey,’ she said.
Caleb could think of a dozen worse treatments he had heard over the years. If honey did the job, who was he to argue?
A couple of men with more serious injuries had been brought in from the Blue Sailor settlement. The fire had come through too quickly for everyone to get away and three men had died. The rest had managed to shelter in the mine but not before they had been hit with falling debris. The mine’s entire infrastructure had burned to the ground.
Oldroyd offered up one of the upstairs rooms as a temporary hospital and Caleb delegated Posy to nurse them. The girl had an aptitude for the work; he’d seen the way she’d dealt with Mrs Murray and he wondered what he could do to encourage her skills. That was something to look into when the world returned to normal, whatever that looked like.
He sat in his office writing up his log. The words jumped on the page, his exhausted eyes unable to focus. He cover
ed his face with his hands and groaned aloud.
‘That does it. You’re coming with me.’
He peered through his fingers. Sissy stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips.
‘Can’t,’ he mumbled.
‘Yes, you can. The girls sent me to get you.’
‘The girls?’
‘You need a bath and a proper feed.’
‘Here you go, Sissy.’ Posy appeared and handed her a pile of clothes.
‘This way, doctor,’ Sissy ordered.
Recognising he was outnumbered, Caleb dragged his weary, blistered feet up the road to Lil’s Place where the girls had set up a washtub in the kitchen.
‘No argument,’ Lil said, pointing at the bath. ‘You stink.’
‘If you need someone to scrub your back,’ Nell offered.
‘None of that,’ Lil scolded. ‘Out, all of you. Leave Caleb in peace.’
Washed, shaved, dressed in clean clothes and fed, Caleb’s exhaustion was temporarily stalled. He thanked Lil and her girls and returned to the post office to check on Danny.
Netty let him in, putting her finger to her lips. Adelaide lay curled up on the day bed, a rug over her legs. She had managed to wash and change into one of her dreary gowns, but her hair was loose, cascading over the embroidered cushion in damp waves.
Caleb hunkered down beside her and smiled as he looked at her peaceful face. Her eyelids were almost translucent with her exhaustion. A wayward lock of hair fell across her cheek. With a gentle finger he pushed it back, his hand hovering over the thick mane. He longed to wind his fingers in her hair and draw those gently parted lips to his. He had never loved her so much as he did at that moment.
Adelaide murmured but did not wake. He rose to his feet and glanced towards the kitchen door, where Netty stood watching him. She shook her head and smiled. With a last look at Adelaide, he joined Netty in the kitchen.
‘I’ve come to see Danny. Any change?’
‘Took a bit of soup this evening but threw it right back up. Says his head and stomach hurts and he’s still feverish.’ She turned her worried gaze up to him. ‘He will be all right, won’t he?’
Caleb wished he could assure her.
She turned to the stove. ‘I’ve some stew here if you’re hungry?’
Caleb shook his head. ‘Thank you, but no, I’ve eaten.’
Netty’s eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed into a prim line. ‘Those girls up at Lil’s looked after you, did they?’
He could hardly deny it.
‘That Sissy,’ Netty said. ‘She’s a good girl at heart, for all her whoring ways.’
‘Some girls don’t have many choices in life, Netty,’ Caleb reminded her.
Netty sat down at the table with a plate of stew. ‘I know that,’ she said. ‘I just hate to see her and Mr Penrose breaking their hearts.’
Caleb left her to her supper and looked in on Danny. What he observed worried him. The boy tossed in his sleep, his hair clinging to a face damp with sweat. Caleb picked up a cloth that had been set on the nightstand and wiped Danny’s face. The boy’s eyes flickered open but looked at Caleb without seeing him. He resumed his fevered tossing.
Caleb returned to the kitchen. Netty stood quite still, staring at the back door.
‘There. Did you hear it?’ she said.
Caleb stopped and listened, hearing a scratching at the kitchen door. He threw the door open.
‘Doctor?’ A shrouded figure came out of the gloom and in the light from the kitchen he recognised Lin.
‘Lin. Are you looking for me? Is someone hurt?’
Lin shook her head. ‘I heard the boy had been bitten by a snake,’ she said. ‘I come to help.’
Caleb stood aside as Lin entered the warm kitchen.
She looked around the room. ‘Mrs Greaves?’
‘She is asleep. What do you think you can do?’ Caleb asked.
‘So many bad snakes in this country. I bring you this.’ With both hands, she held out a small package, wrapped in brown paper, tied with string and sealed with a blob of wax.
Caleb took the packet and turned it over. ‘What is it?’
‘It is Chinese medicine for snake bite. You must put in very hot water and let it be for half an hour and then feed it to the child.’
Caleb frowned. ‘What’s in it?’
‘That I do not know. When one of us goes to Melbourne, we visit the Chinese doctor and ask for medicine. Last year, Boon was bitten by tiger snake and we gave him this.’
‘Boon?’ The nominal leader of the Chinese who tended the market garden seemed hale and hearty enough. Caleb nodded and closed his fingers over the packet. He would try anything. ‘Thank you, Lin. I’ll give it to the boy.’
Lin ducked her head. ‘I must go now. We will light incense for the boy’s recovery.’
Caleb saw the woman to the door and turned back to Netty. ‘Put the kettle on.’
Netty scowled. ‘You’re not really going to give him that foreign muck are you?’
‘Why not? I’ve nothing else and I’m damned if I’m going to inject him with ammonia, which is the best idea Western medicine has come up with.’
Muttering, Netty turned back to the stove, setting the heavy kettle down with a bang.
The two of them stared at the bowl of what looked like sticks, leaves and dried fungi as it steeped in the middle of the kitchen table.
‘On your head be it,’ Netty said.
Caleb narrowed his eyes. ‘That is exactly right. On my head it is.’
They fed the brew to the boy in sips. He complained about the taste but took it and, mercifully, kept it down.
Danny had a small collection of books on a shelf above his chest of drawers. Caleb searched the titles and pulled out Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
‘Good book?’ he asked Danny.
Danny’s face crumpled. ‘Uncle Richard gave it to me,’ he said.
Caleb set the book back on the shelf.
‘No,’ Danny said. ‘Can you read it to me?’
‘Of course.’
Caleb pulled up a chair beside the bed and opened the book. It smelled of leather and ink, the unread pages crackling to his touch. He turned the book over. ‘Are you sure you want this story?’
Danny pulled the sheet up and nodded and Caleb began: ‘Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, “and what is the use of a book,” thought Alice, “without pictures or conversations?”’
A golden light flickered and danced and, for a moment, Adelaide thought she was back in the cave with the fire licking around them, but as her vision cleared, the flame resolved itself into a single candle burned almost down to the holder in the middle of the table. Her table in her parlour.
She rolled onto her back and stretched her stiff limbs. She set her bare feet on the floor and padded across to the clock on the mantel. The hands sat at twenty minutes past twelve. She had slept for at least six hours. The house and the town were silent except for the distant thump of the mine battery. Not even near annihilation in a conflagration would stop the mine workings.
Danny.
With her heart thumping against her chest so hard she thought it would burst through, she pushed open the door to Danny’s room. The lamp on the nightstand had been turned down low and Caleb slept in a chair beside the bed, his feet propped up on the bed and his head against the wall, a book open on the floor beside him.
Danny lay curled on his side, facing Caleb, so still …
She reached over, laying her hand on the boy’s forehead. Cool but warm enough and Danny’s chest rose and fell in a gentle, untroubled rhythm. She got to her knees beside the bed and buried her head in her arms, her prayers of thankfulness fervent.
The chair scraped and she looked up as Caleb took his feet off the bed. He leaned forward and picked up Danny’s wrist. His face r
emained impassive and unreadable. Then he set the boy’s hand down and looked up at her. A slow smile caught the corners of his mouth and he nodded.
Adelaide let out her breath.
‘I could do with a cup of tea,’ he whispered.
In the kitchen, Netty dozed in a chair beside the stove. She lurched awake, looking from one to the other with fearful eyes.
‘I think it worked,’ Caleb told Netty. ‘He’s sleeping peacefully. Fever’s gone and his pulse is normal.’
Netty clasped her hands to her chest and turned her gaze to the ceiling. ‘Praise the Lord.’
‘What worked?’ Adelaide said.
Caleb glanced at a bowl on the table that seemed to be full of damp leaves and sticks. ‘Mick’s friend, Lin, gave us some Chinese medicine.’
Anger flared in Adelaide’s chest. ‘Why didn’t you wake me? It wasn’t your decision to make—’ She stopped herself. ‘You think that’s what did it?’
Caleb shrugged. ‘I don’t think we’ll ever know for sure, but I was willing to try anything.’ He sat at the table and covered his face with his hands, dragging them down his cheeks as he said, ‘I can tell you now, I didn’t think the boy would see morning.’
Adelaide sat, trying to comprehend what Caleb had just said. She had been so certain that once Danny was home and in his own bed, all would be well.
‘I couldn’t have borne it …’ she said.
Caleb laid a hand over hers. He turned it over, his thumb caressing the soft skin at her wrist.
‘Neither could I. That boy means the world to me.’ He paused. ‘Adelaide, you’ll have to tell him the truth about Richard—all of it.’
A cold, sick feeling roiled in Adelaide’s guts. She stood up and paced the kitchen. ‘Will he hate me? I have lied to him all his life.’
‘But for the right reasons,’ Netty interposed. She clapped her hands. ‘Caleb Hunt, time for you to find your own bed and as for you Adelaide Greaves …’ She frowned. ‘That doesn’t sound right all of a sudden. The “Greaves” that is.’
‘As far as the world is concerned,’ Adelaide said, ‘I am still Adelaide Greaves. No one else need know the truth.’
The Postmistress Page 31