The Postmistress

by Alison Stuart

  Caleb pushed himself up from the table. Now the worst had passed, he looked grey with exhaustion.

  She laid her hands on his chest. ‘Caleb. How do I even begin to thank you?’

  He shook his head. ‘You don’t, Adelaide. I’m going home.’ He took her hands in his and kissed her fingertips. ‘Tomorrow is a new day.’

  ‘Tomorrow is today,’ Netty snapped. ‘Both of you be gone. I’ll sit with the lad.’

  The kitchen door shut behind Caleb and Netty regarded Adelaide with a baleful eye. ‘And to think you nearly gave it all up to marry that useless bastard.’

  Adelaide placed a kiss on Netty’s cheek. ‘What would I do without your ruthless honesty, dear Netty? Goodnight.’

  Thirty-Eight

  Maiden’s Creek

  18 February 1872

  Danny woke to church bells and the sound of rain beating against the window. He lay quite still with his eyes shut, trying to remember how he came to be back in his own bed, but he could dredge up little beyond agreeing to go on a hunt for bushranger’s gold with Uncle Richard. He screwed his eyes tight, stricken by the wickedness of playing truant from school and not telling his mother what he planned to do. She must have been terribly worried.

  There had been a bushfire and he hadn’t wanted to go on, but Uncle Richard had taken hold of his pony’s reins and dragged him into the smoke and confusion. He’d been so afraid. He stifled a sob and a hand touched his shoulder. Danny opened his eyes to find himself looking up into a familiar, friendly face. Caleb.

  Caleb had been there. Caleb had saved him from the fire, from Uncle Richard and … and—why did his arm hurt?

  ‘Good morning, Dan, you’re back with us,’ Caleb said and his soft drawl had never sounded so welcome.

  ‘Have I been somewhere?’ Danny managed.

  Caleb’s eyes creased in the corners as he smiled. ‘I reckon you’ve been on quite a journey, young man.’

  ‘My arm hurts,’ Danny grumbled, then thought for a moment, ‘and I’m very hungry.’

  Caleb stood up. He loomed over Danny. ‘Netty will be right glad to hear that,’ he said.

  Danny tried to pull himself up in the bed but he didn’t seem to have any strength.

  ‘Let me help you.’ Caleb repositioned the pillows and lifted Danny into a sitting position, from where he surveyed his room. The smell of baking bread drifted from the kitchen and he could hear Netty singing to herself. It was all so comforting that he wanted to cry.

  ‘Where’s Mama?’ he asked in a small voice. ‘Has she gone to church?’

  ‘No, she’s still asleep,’ Caleb said. ‘I’ll just go and tell Netty that she has one hungry young man to feed.’

  He returned a short time later followed by Netty carrying a tray with a mug of tea and a plate laden with slices of freshly baked bread dripping with butter and jam. Caleb pulled up the chair beside him and while Danny ate, he turned the pages of the Cole’s Funny Picture Book.

  ‘This sure is a strange book,’ he said.

  ‘Uncle Richard gave it to me,’ Danny said and a strange lump caught in his throat. ‘I don’t understand … Did he want to kill me?’

  Caleb cleared his throat. ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘But he had a gun. He …’ Danny lifted his good hand and pointed it at his head.

  ‘He would never have hurt you, Danny.’

  ‘But you said no one should ever point a gun at another person, even if it’s unloaded.’

  ‘That’s right. What he did was wrong, but he was scared. We were all scared.’

  Danny tried to imagine Caleb being scared of anything, but the memory of that confrontation on the track had begun to take form out of the swirling smoke. Uncle Richard pointing a gun at him and Mama standing in the middle of the track, screaming something … and Caleb with his revolver.

  Danny looked up at Caleb. ‘What did Mama mean when she told Uncle Richard I was his son?’

  Caleb stared at him. He coughed and pushed back his chair.

  ‘That’s a conversation to have with your mother,’ Caleb said. ‘Adelaide?’

  Danny turned his head. Mama stood in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame.

  It seemed odd to see Mama wearing nothing but her nightdress, her hair in a loose braid, falling over her shoulder, in the presence of anyone, let alone Caleb. She and Caleb were looking at each other in a very strange way.

  Caleb stood up. ‘I’ll leave you and you mother to have a talk,’ he said. ‘Perhaps Netty can make us some tea.’

  ‘You hate tea,’ Danny said.

  ‘I sure do, but no one here can make coffee, so tea it is,’ Caleb said.

  As he passed Mama, she put her hand on his arm. They looked at each other in that odd way again, as if they were talking without speaking. Mama stood aside to let him pass and half-shut the door behind her.

  She perched on the edge of his bed and felt his forehead. She nodded to herself and picked up his left hand and kissed it. ‘Are you truly feeling better?’

  Danny nodded. ‘My head and tummy don’t hurt any more. I just feel a little tired.’ He bit his lip. ‘I’m sorry, Mama. I shouldn’t have gone without telling you. Uncle Richard said we were going to look for bushranger’s gold.’

  Mama shook her head and her voice sounded shaky as she said, ‘I’m not cross. I’m really not. You’re safe now and that’s all that matters.’

  ‘What about Uncle Richard?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘He’s dead, Danny. I’m afraid he got caught by the fire.’

  Danny considered that news and decided that Uncle Richard being dead came as something of a relief.

  ‘He wanted to kill me,’ he said.

  ‘I think he was very frightened.’

  ‘That’s what Caleb said.’ Danny summoned up the question he had asked Caleb. ‘What did you mean when you said I was his son?’

  Mama shivered as if suddenly very cold. She covered his hand with both of hers. ‘I have always told you to be honest, Danny, and never to tell lies, but I am guilty of telling you the biggest lie of all. Richard Barnwell was your father and he wanted very much for us all to go back to England with him and be a proper family.’

  He jerked his hand free from his mother’s grasp.

  ‘But—but—you weren’t married,’ he blurted. ‘Does that mean I’m a—I’m a … bastard.’ The last word came out as barely a whisper.

  He remembered a woman with a baby coming into the post office. When she had transacted her business, the other women had tutted and shaken their heads and called the child ‘a poor, fatherless bastard’. He’d asked his mother what that meant and she had said that the child’s parents had not been properly married.

  Is that what he was? A poor, fatherless bastard? Except he had a father. A father who had come back into his life and who had wanted to marry his mother. Would that have meant he would have no longer been a bastard? But Uncle Richard had held a gun to him. He had left him to die in the bushfire. He didn’t want to be a poor, fatherless bastard but he certainly didn’t want to know that the father he had idolised had been Richard Barnwell.

  ‘Whatever he did, it will never take away from the fact he was your father and I should have told you the truth. I will swear on the Bible, I truly believed Richard was dead,’ she said. ‘I believed he had drowned at sea, just as I told you but everything else I’ve done, every lie I told, was to protect you and give you a chance at a good life.’

  Danny looked away. ‘I don’t think he was a good man, Mama.’

  ‘Danny, I’m sorry,’ Mama said.

  He slid down in the bed and rolled onto his side with his back to his mother. A mistake, as his sore arm complained about being laid on.

  ‘I’m tired,’ he said.

  Her fingers brushed the hair from his forehead. He ignored her and pretended to be asleep.

  Caleb, leaning against the wall outside Danny’s bedroom door, let out a breath as the boy said, ‘I’m tired,’ in a strangled tone.
>
  The door opened and Adelaide left the room, her hand lingering on the handle as she quietly closed the door behind her. She started as Caleb pushed away from the wall.

  ‘You heard?’ she whispered.

  He nodded.

  She walked past him into the kitchen and leaned her hands on the table, her hair escaping from the loose braid at the nape of her neck and tumbling around her face. ‘He hates me,’ she said.

  Caleb hesitated before placing his hands on her shoulders. She seemed oblivious to the fact she wore only a light cotton nightdress and it had slipped, leaving her right shoulder exposed. Her skin quivered beneath his fingers and he took a ragged breath.

  ‘He doesn’t hate you,’ he said. ‘Give him time, Adelaide. The past few weeks have been confusing for him. He’ll work it out.’

  She shook her head. ‘I wish I had your confidence.’

  He ran his thumb up the side of her neck, expecting her to push him aside. When she didn’t move, he bent his head and kissed her shoulder, letting his lips follow the path made by his thumb until he reached her ear. She leaned her head to one side as he buried his face in her hair. Despite the wash, it still smelled faintly of smoke and he breathed in the scent of burning gums, remembering the moment when they thought they would die.

  He wanted her—all of her. His whole body ached for her but he knew now was not the time. Not on the kitchen table, with Netty and the boy on the other side of the door.

  Adelaide turned in his arms, nestling her head against his chest. ‘It’s such a mess,’ she murmured. ‘What if the town finds out?’

  ‘They’ll be lighting firebrands and brandishing pitchforks,’ he replied.

  She looked up at him. ‘This isn’t funny.’

  ‘I never said it was.’ He ran his thumb along her cheekbone, his heart twisting as he looked into her troubled eyes. ‘We can make it right, Adelaide.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘You could marry me.’ The words came out in a rush.

  Her eyes widened. ‘Marry you? Why would you want to marry me? You, more than anyone, know I am soiled goods.’

  The harsh words cut him.

  ‘Well, that makes two of us.’ He cupped her face in his hands. ‘Do you think I give a damn about Richard Barnwell and your precious reputation, Adelaide? We may have only known each other a short while, but we know more about each other than we could have learned in a whole lifetime. You know every Godawful secret I have carried and you—you have nothing in this world to be ashamed of. You were taken advantage of by a rogue who knew damn well what he was doing. The best thing your father ever did was to tell him you were dead because, Goddamn it, Adelaide, you have brought up a wonderful son and been everything that boy could ever want. You have made a life for him that will make him an amazing man.’

  Her lips curved into a smile and she raised a hand to touch his cheek. ‘Caleb Hunt, that is a lot of blasphemous words.’

  He smiled back at her. ‘I know. But I meant the first part with all my heart. I would like to marry you, Adelaide, and be a father to Danny.’

  When she didn’t answer, the hope that had burned so bright in him began to fade. He released her and took a step back.

  ‘I spoke out of turn. I’m sorry, Adelaide. I better go now, I have patients.’

  Her hand shot out and seized the front of his waistcoat. ‘Caleb, you mistake me.’

  He relaxed beneath her iron grip and waited.

  Her eyes burned into his soul, beyond flesh and bone to the man beneath.

  ‘Yes,’ she said at last. ‘Yes, but not because I want you to make things right for me. Say the words, Caleb.’

  He swallowed and bent his head towards hers. ‘Words,’ he whispered. ‘Three words, Adelaide. The hardest words in the world to say and yet you make it so easy.’ He took a breath. ‘I am so in love with you that it hurts.’ To emphasise his point, he laid his hand on his chest, the fingers clenching the fabric of his shirt.

  She sagged in his grasp, as if her knees could no longer support her weight, and he caught her, holding her to him, as if the warmth of her body could ease the ache in his heart.

  ‘And I love you so much it hurts,’ she whispered.

  Her lips parted and, with a shuddering breath, they kissed with a force that sent bolts of lightning shooting through his body. She pressed against him as he slid the flimsy nightgown from her shoulders, letting himself drown in the sweet taste of her mouth.

  It took a monumental effort to break away, to step back, his body aching with desire. ‘Not here.’ His breath came in gasps as if he had been running. ‘I’m not Richard Barnwell. I said I would make it right for you, and I will.’

  She pulled her nightgown back over her shoulders and ran a hand across her mouth, as she cast a glance at the door to Netty’s bedroom.

  ‘Go,’ she said, her voice as ragged as his. ‘We will talk later.’

  He picked up his hat from where he had left it on the kitchen table beside a half-drunk cup of tea he had been toying with while he had talked to Netty only a short time earlier.

  ‘Patients,’ he said. ‘I have patients.’

  At the door he stopped to snatch a last kiss, hearing Adelaide’s soft laugh as she shut the door behind him.

  Adelaide sat at the kitchen table, resting her elbows on the scrubbed wooden surface. Every nerve in her body still tingled and she touched her lips. They sang at the memory of Caleb’s kiss. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, as if the scent of the man still lingered over the smell of recently baked bread. A bubble of pure happiness gathered in her chest and spilled over in a gurgle of laughter. She laid her head on her arms and let the warmth of the moment run through her.

  A door creaked open and she straightened, biting her lip to retain a straight face as a bleary-eyed Netty peered at her from beneath dishevelled hair.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Netty croaked.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,’ Adelaide said.

  Netty squinted at the kitchen clock. ‘It’s ten in the morning and you’re not even dressed,’ she chided.

  ‘I know. It’s shameful.’

  ‘What’s got into you?’ Netty cast an anxious look in the direction of Danny’s room. ‘Is Danny all right?’

  ‘Danny’s as well as can be expected. He’s sleeping.’ She stood and pushed her wayward hair behind her ear, sobered by the thought of how close she had come to losing her son. How she still might have lost him.

  ‘I must thank Lin,’ Adelaide said, picking up the basin that still sat on the table. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed, pulling a face. ‘How did you get Danny to drink this?’

  ‘He was too sick to protest.’ Netty shrugged. ‘And don’t try to change the subject. Something’s happened …’

  Adelaide grasped her friend by the arms. ‘Netty, am I mad? Despite everything, do you think I really can marry the man I love?’

  Netty stared at her. ‘You mean Caleb?’

  Adelaide dropped her hands. ‘Of course I mean Caleb. If it wasn’t for him, I would have gone with Richard. I would have believed his lies and his blandishments when all the time it was about money.’

  ‘Has it occurred to you, Adelaide, that you are a wealthy woman?’ Netty enquired with a studied tone.

  Adelaide thought about the true implications of the solicitor’s letter. ‘Yes, I suppose I am. Danny can go to school in Melbourne …’ No more long hours as a postmistress, no more Maiden’s Creek. They could move to Melbourne, live in a nice house. The possibilities began to stretch out before her … Except …

  As the realisation washed over her, all the fears and insecurities that dogged her all her life came back. She turned away, running her hands through her disordered hair before turning back to face her friend. ‘Netty, how can I be sure? What if Caleb only wants me for the money?’

  ‘Take it from me, Caleb has had a fancy for you long before Richard Barnwell turned up,’ Netty said with barely concealed anger. ‘He loves
you for who you are, not for who your father was and the money that’s waiting for you and the lad. He would take you in rags.’ Netty sniffed. ‘I should give you a good shake to bring you to your senses.’

  ‘Forgive me, I’m just tired.’ Adelaide dashed away a tear that trickled unbidden from her eye. A tear of happiness or just a relief from all the tension?

  Netty folded her in her arms. ‘You’ve been to hell and back in the last few days. Give yourself a bit of time. Remember, Danny’s only with us today because of Caleb. He’s saved the lad’s life twice. If there’s going to be a third time, you’ll want to hope it is Caleb by your side. It’s yourself you shouldn’t doubt, Adelaide. Now go and make yourself respectable. You’re still our postmistress. There’s folks anxious for news and Sergeant Maidment has urgent telegrams to send to Melbourne.’

  Adelaide took a deep, steadying breath and, pausing only to check that Danny was still sleeping peacefully, she donned her sombre dress, scraped her hair back in a tight bun and opened the door to the post office, once again the respectable, if slightly battered, widow Greaves.

  Thirty-Nine

  At the Britannia, Caleb found Posy waiting for him.

  ‘Thank heavens,’ she said, all but tugging at his sleeve. ‘The men from Blue Sailor just brought in a new patient. He’s bad, doctor.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘They’ve put him in the parlour. Yorkie’s none too pleased, but they didn’t want to move him any further.’

  Caleb rolled up his sleeves and collected his bag from the surgery.

  At the door to the parlour he paused, recognising the odour of burned flesh mingling with the dusky scent of smoke. He’d had his fill of burn injuries in the war. Guns exploded, burning buildings … it never ended well. The human body simply didn’t cope with fire.

  The miners who’d brought the man stood by the door, hats in hand.

  ‘Where’d you find him?’ Caleb asked, glancing at the blackened body lying on one of Yorkie’s tables, covered in a blanket.

  ‘He stumbled into the camp before first light this morning.’ The man shook his head. ‘He’s bad, doc.’