‘No, not directly. Mr Bowes-Scott is away on his yacht for a few days and can’t be reached. But I shall have him confirm his daughter’s instructions before they become final.’
‘His daughter’s instructions?’ Emma looked mystified.
‘Yes. I did say in the telegram that the orders were cancelled until further notice. I hope you understand the position I’ve been put in. Eleanor, is a very forceful and persuasive person. In her father’s absence, I could hardly ignore her directions.’
‘Eleanor…’ Emma eyebrows rose. ‘Is that Eleanor Bowes-Scott?’
‘It used to be. But when she married she became Eleanor Fairchild.’
*
Stephen found it much more difficult to keep his promise to Emma than it had been to give it. As each day went by he found it harder to concentrate on his work and easier to justify a reason to see her in spite of Eleanor’s threat of the consequences if he did.
It was late morning and Stephen stood in his office staring down at the street below. His eyes turned from the window to a stack of files on his desk that he had come in early to work on. Realizing he had spent the entire morning thinking of Emma, he moved to the desk and sat down. He opened the file at the top of the heap and began sifting through it but soon lost his concentration.
He knew Emma would have been back in Sydney for a couple of days by now. And Bruce would be getting to know his family again, including one member he’d never seen before. A lump came to Stephen’s throat when he thought of Christopher. He swallowed and gathered up the loose papers on the desk and put them back in the file. Five minutes later he was at the wheel of his car heading for Waterloo.
*
‘There’s a Mr Stephen Fairchild here to see you, Miss McKenna.’
Emma looked up in amazement when the girl from the front office made the announcement.
‘Very well,’ she said after a moment’s hesitation. ‘Show him in please.’
Neale the Nib looked up in surprise from his books in the adjacent office. ‘Is that the Mr Fairchild, Emma?’
‘Yes, it is. Neale, would you mind if…?’
Neale the Nib laid his pen down, got up from his desk and made for the door. ‘I was just going out onto the factory floor to count some stock anyway,’
‘Stephen… you promised,’ Emma said coolly when he was shown into her office and the door was closed behind him.
‘I’m sorry, Emma. I just had to see you. I wanted to know you were back safely and that everything was alright. I wanted to…’
‘Well everything isn’t all right, Stephen,’ Emma said angrily. ‘You told your wife about us didn’t you?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Then why would she have all our contracts with Bowes-Scott cancelled?’
Stephen gasped. ‘She did what?’
‘We’ve always supplied Bowes-Scott exclusively. Now you’ve put my livelihood and the livelihood of everyone who works here in jeopardy. Unless we can find new customers, and soon, this business is finished.’ Emma reached for her handbag. ‘Since you’re here. I’ll give you the money you gave me in Goondiwindi. Thank you for sending my wallet to me.’
‘I didn’t send it.’ Stephen was trembling with rage. ‘The boys in the hangar assumed you were my wife and phoned the house to say it was in safekeeping. Eleanor went down there and got it. Of course, there were things in it which identified you.’ He began pacing the floor. ‘My God, Emma, I didn’t think she would be this vindictive.’
Emma looked alarmed ‘She hasn’t done anything else has she? I mean…’
‘No, just threatened to if I ever saw you again.’
‘Then why are you here?.’ Emma went to the office door and opened it. ‘You must go now Stephen. Please, go.’
*
Stephen’s anger subsided as he drove back into the city and he began to make plans. First, he went to his bank and spent an hour with the manager making a number of changes to his financial arrangements. Afterwards he went back to his office, hastily wrote some brief letters, then carefully drew up several legal documents. He called a clerk into his office, had the documents witnessed, then went back to the bank and locked them safely in his safety deposit box. Then he drove home. The maid told him Eleanor had left earlier in the afternoon to play tennis at her club. Stephen went upstairs, quickly packed two suitcases, carried them downstairs to the car and drove away.
It was after four o’clock when Stephen found Eleanor sipping pink gin in the members’ lounge of her tennis club in North Sydney. The good-looking young man in whites sitting with her found an immediate reason to leave the room the moment Stephen walked in.
‘Do you know what you’ve done, Eleanor?’ Stephen said, his voice loud enough to be heard at nearby tables.
Eleanor’s face flushed. ‘What on earth are you talking about, Stephen? And please keep your voice down.’
‘I’m talking about Sydney Styles’ contracts with Bowes-Scott,’ Stephen said without changing his tone. ‘Your vindictiveness could close that factory down.’
Not everyone in the room was looking at Eleanor but she knew every ear was tuned in.
‘You should have thought of that before you had your little fling, darling,’ she rasped in a barely audible voice. She got up quickly and walked toward the door.
Stephen followed her as she hurried across the lounge. When she didn’t stop after he called her name in the foyer he gripped her tightly by both arms, forcing her to stand still.
‘Stephen, your hurting me,’ she hissed through her teeth. Eleanor looked around the foyer self-consciously. ‘What on earth is the matter with you? Have you been drinking? Now, let go of me and leave me alone.’
‘I’ll leave you alone alright, ’ Stephen said forcefully. ‘I’m leaving you forever.’
‘Are you going to leave me for your little slut and her illegitimate brat?’ she taunted. Her lips curled into a cruel smile. ‘I think not, Stephen. You’re just petulant at the moment. Did she come crying to you, poor thing? I hope you had the strength to tell her it was all over.’
‘It’s not all over, Eleanor. But it is all over between us. We’re finished as of this moment.’ Stephen relaxed his grip on her arms. Before he walked away he said: ‘And that illegitimate brat you mentioned is my son.’
*
One thing Eleanor had learned in her years of marriage to Stephen was that, like most good lawyers he never made important decisions without thinking them through. And once his mind was made up on something there was little chance of him changing it.
But that night as she sat alone at the dinner table, drinking glass after glass of red wine without even touching her food, she still desperately hoped, in spite of everything, that Stephen’s motorcar might pull up into the driveway.’
At nine o’clock she hadn’t moved from the table, there was still no sign of Stephen and her conciliatory mood had gradually changed to one of righteous self-pity. By ten o’clock her mood changed again as she paced the drawing room floor in an alcohol-inflamed rage, bent on inflicting as much pain and suffering on Stephen as she possibly could. Then, around midnight, when she was so drunk she could hardly stand, she telephoned the police.
‘Detective Inspector Proudfoot, please.’
‘I think he’s already gone, Madam,’ the police operator replied, then added quickly. ‘Oh, hold on, I’ll catch him. He’s just going out the door now.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Everyone in the house was asleep when the front door bell rang persistently around 5.00 am. Molly and Emma emerged from their rooms onto the landing at the same time and hurried downstairs together. When they opened the door they found two men standing on the porch outside. One was a tall and well dressed and the other was an overweight graying man of about fifty.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Proudfoot of the New South Wales Police,’ the older man announced loudly. He waved some papers in the air in front of him. ‘I have here a warrant for the arrest of
Stephen Fairchild. I have reason to believe he may be on these premises.’
Suddenly, Emma was wide awake. ‘There is no one here by that name,’ she said quickly.
‘Then you won’t mind us taking a look around. You are Emma McKenna, I take it?’ Proudfoot waved the papers again. ‘I do have a search warrant, Miss McKenna and I should warn you it is an offence to attempt to harbor a fugitive.’
‘I’ve told you there is nobody here by that name, Inspector.’ Emma opened the front door wide. ‘But if you insist on searching my house, then do so.’
*
A distant voice woke Eleanor from a fitful sleep just before midday. She opened her eyes slowly, her head pounding from too much wine. For a few moments she was unable to think clearly. Then she groaned as she remembered her actions of the night before.
‘Your father is downstairs,’ Mrs Fairchild. ‘He says he must speak with you immediately.’
Eleanor focused her bleary eyes on her maid standing beside the bed.
‘What shall I tell him, Mrs Fairchild?’
Eleanor swung her long legs over the side of the bed. ‘Tell him I’ll be down soon.’
William Bowes-Scott paced briskly up and down the drawing room. His immaculately tailored Italian suit flattered his short overweight frame. When Eleanor entered the room, one look at her father’s flushed face told her his visit was not going to be a pleasant one.
Bowes-Scott stopped pacing the floor. ‘What have you done, Eleanor? I go away for a few days and all hell breaks loose. Fenton phoned me early this morning. The police have been at his house looking for Stephen. They had a warrant for his arrest in connection with a New Guard matter from years ago. Apparently a senior police officer said you had given him new information. My God, Eleanor, Fenton was fit to be tied. He said he’ll sue. Why have you been so damn stupid?’
‘Because Stephen’s been having an affair, Daddy,’ Eleanor said petulantly.
‘So what? Lots of people have affairs. That doesn’t mean you go raking up muck from the past and involving the police.’
‘But he refused to stop seeing her.’ Eleanor said defensively. ‘And she’s nothing but a slut with an illegitimate child which Stephen had the gall to admit was his. Oh, Daddy, he made me so angry. It’s so humiliating. What would happen if it all came out in the open?’
‘Why would it? Stephen’s married to you. Why would he tell anyone? But thanks to you, everyone will know everything soon enough.’ Bowes-Scott walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a stiff whiskey. He took a long swallow.
Eleanor walked over and stood beside her father. ‘Daddy,’ she said softly, seeking atonement. ‘I’m so sorry. But when Stephen told me he was leaving me yesterday, I just wanted to punish him. And punish her.’
‘Punish her?’ Bowes Scott poured more whiskey. ‘What else have you done, Eleanor?’
‘It’s all so embarrassing, Daddy. This woman of Stephen’s does business with Bowes-Scott stores. Or at least she used to, until I told Postlewaite to cancel her contracts.’
‘So that’s what this Sydney Styles thing is all about. Postlewaite telephoned me this morning. I told him to resume trading with that firm immediately. Their lines have always been profitable for us. Damn it, Eleanor, profits feed us, clothe us, and pay our taxes. Profits pay for expensive wedding presents like this house. It’s of no consequence who we deal with as long as we make money. I would happily trade with the devil himself if I could turn a profit.’
Eleanor pouted. ‘Even at the expense of my feelings and humiliation in front of my friends?’
‘Your feelings do not dictate how I run my business, Eleanor.’ Bowes-Scott snapped. ‘And we won’t have many friends that matter left after what you done to Stephen. It took my father and grandfather over half a century to lift our family out of the gutter and have us accepted into Sydney’s old money establishment. But now, it’s only taken you a couple days to have us turfed out on our ear. People of quality close ranks quickly when one of their own is betrayed.’
Bowes-Scott turned and walked stiffly from the room. Eleanor hurried after him.
‘Has Stephen been arrested yet?’ she asked as her father crossed the hall.
‘Not yet,’ Bowes-Scott said without looking back. ‘It seems he’s disappeared into thin air.’
As it happened, Stephen really was in thin air. He was thousands of feet above the Arafura Sea, off the northern coast of Australia aboard a Qantas/Imperial Airways flight bound for Singapore and London on the recently established Australia-England air trunk route.
*
Patrick Coltrane and Laura left Essex Downs on a crisp but sunny Saturday morning to spend the weekend as house guests of Royston and Hanna Silver. By early afternoon they had driven the hundred or so miles to Roma and when they arrived at the Silver’s rambling home on the edge of town it was already a hive of activity.
After the couple had been shown to their room Coltrane was quick to join a group of gentlemen already imbibing at a bar in a marquee set up in the garden. Laura joined a group of ladies helping Mrs Silver prepare for the afternoon garden party.
‘What a pity Elliot and Victoria are not coming today, Laura,’ Hanna Silver said when the two women found a moment to chat. ‘I was so hoping we would get the chance to see them both, and our grandson.’
‘I was too, Hanna ,’ Laura said sadly. ‘I haven’t seen them for ages. I do think they should try a little harder to spend more time with their parents, particularly with Royston and Patrick away so much.’
Hanna Silver smiled resignedly.’ But it’s important work our husbands do, Laura. We have to make allowances. Heaven knows the public don’t realize the sacrifices our country’s leaders have to make.’
Outside in the marquee Coltrane and Silver had managed to separate themselves from the crowd at the bar to have a private chat together over a cold beer.
‘Peebles at Victorian Mercantile still looking after you all right, Royston?’
‘My word, yes. I’ve never made such handsome returns on investments in my life.’ Silver put an arm around Coltrane’s shoulder. ‘Can’t thank you enough for that, Patrick.’
Coltrane took a long swallow of beer. ‘My pleasure, Royston, my pleasure.’
‘One good turn deserves another.’ Silver smiled knowingly. ‘I have something to announce later on that I think you’re going to like.’
Coltrane returned the smile. He’s done it, he thought. A place in Lyons’ cabinet. The old bugger has really done it.
Silver made the expected announcement in the marquee later in the afternoon. As the applause died down following the news that he and other powerbrokers had successfully persuaded Prime Minister Lyons to appoint Coltrane to federal cabinet, Silver stunned everyone with another announcement.
‘My friends and fellow Queenslanders. I see the appointment of Senator Coltrane not only as an improvement of our state’s abysmal representation in federal cabinet and the national decision making process, but also as an opportunity to prepare a strong and capable Queenslander for the highest office in the land—that of Prime Minister of Australia.’
A murmur ran through guests in the marquee. Royston Silver smiled at Coltrane and beckoned him to come and stand beside him. Coltrane obliged, grinning from ear to ear.
‘I can tell you now,’ Silver continued, ‘that I have support at the highest level for Senator Coltrane to run for that office should Prime Minister Lyons health not allow him to continue on after next year’s general election.
The partisan crowd clapped enthusiastically. Silver turned to Coltrane.
‘Senator Coltrane will of course, according to tradition, have to vacate his Senate seat and win a seat in the House of Representatives prior to becoming a prime ministerial candidate. The party will of course offer him a safe seat. All that is required now is for Senator Coltrane to accept our proposal.’
*
Laura went to bed soon after the first guests began to disperse to the
ir homes or to hotel rooms in the town. Coltrane remained celebrating with Silver and a hard core of drinkers until very late.
Before going to bed Laura and Hanna Silver had arranged to go to mass together early the next morning. The church in town was within easy walking distance and they set off to worship on foot, well before either of their husbands were up and about.
After the service, the congregation stood about chatting in small groups outside the church. It was while Hanna was engaged in conversation with a group of friends that Laura saw a barefoot half-caste Aboriginal woman walking down the other side of the street with a young boy in tow. Laura couldn’t see her face because she was too far away. But there was something about the way the Aboriginal carried herself which reminded her of Beth. Laura looked again. The woman was much heavier than Beth had ever been at Essex Downs. But Laura was sure it was her.
She turned quickly to Hanna Silver. ‘I’m going down the street for a moment, Hanna. I think I just saw someone I know. You go on ahead if I’m not back in just a few minutes.’
Hanna Silver nodded her head without missing a word of the conversation she was engaged in. Laura hurried off down the street. By now Beth and the child were nearly a hundred yards away. Laura walked as fast as she could but they seemed to be gaining on her. She tried to go faster but her Sunday-best outfit was just not made for running.
Laura was tempted to call out Beth’s name but she was too far away. Soon Beth and the child were out of the pleasant residential area where the church was located. After a few minutes they turned into a lane lined with commercial buildings and a few run-down shacks near the town’s abattoir. Laura saw Beth open the door of one of the shacks and go inside.
An old stock-truck smelling of manure was parked outside the shack. It bore the marking, ROMA ABATTOIR. A thin mangy dog lying on the doorstep paid no attention when Laura knocked on the door.
‘Get the bloody door, Beth,’ a loud voice inside the hovel called out.
Moments later the door half-opened. A gagging stench wafted outside, a mixture of stale beer, body odor and cigarette smoke. And standing just inside the doorway was Beth. A little boy clung to her, his face obscured by her skirt. Laura looked at Beth in amazement.
The Light Horseman's Daughter Page 29