“Matthew and Robert are going to enlist,” Ruth said and the whole table went quiet.
Joseph noticed Alice lower her head as Robert’s arm went around her shoulders.
“They must do what they think is best,” Joseph said.
Millie’s hand gripped his.
“England is our Mother Country.” Johanna placed her napkin on her plate. “It’s to be expected that our men support her.”
“This is our country now.” William glared across at Robert. “We were born here, not in England.”
Silence settled around the table.
“They’re offering six shillings a day for privates,” Albie piped up, his scarred face twisted in a smile. “That’s good money to tempt young fit men.”
“Lucky you’re not fit then,” Clem joked and the tension around the table eased.
“We can only pray it will all be over soon,” Joseph said. “Let’s not spoil today with talk of war. Did you say there was pudding, Millie?”
She gave him a grateful smile. “Gather the plates please, children. We will clear the table.”
“Ready to start again.” Albie groaned, pulled a face and clutched at his stomach, making the children giggle.
The sun was lowering in the sky when William entered his grandparents’ old cottage in search of his wife. Every bed in the big house was full, along with the shearers’ quarters. William, Georgina, Eleanor and John were staying in the cottage, which was now much closer to the creek since a large part of the bank had been washed away in the last big storm.
Georgina was bending over John, who wriggled on the bed. He was half-dressed.
“Here you are,” William said.
“He was wet through.” Georgina shot out a hand to stop John rolling away. “Little scallywag won’t lie still.”
William held John while she collected the discarded clothes.
A scuffing sound behind them made them both turn.
“Hello, Grandpa.” William smiled at the old man, who looked slightly bewildered to see them.
“I heard voices,” Thomas said. “I forgot you were staying in the cottage.”
He came into the room and looked around.
“You built a fine house, Grandpa.”
“We love staying here,” Georgina added.
Thomas crossed the room to the old chest of drawers.
William and Georgina looked at each other.
“Where did this come from?” Thomas asked, his back still to them.
“It’s your old chest, Grandpa,” William said.
“No, this.” Thomas turned. He held John’s locket in his hand.
“It belonged to John’s mother,” Georgina said.
“His mother?” Thomas’s wrinkled face creased deeper in a frown.
Once more William and Georgina exchanged glances. Georgina went to stand beside the old man.
“You remember we told you our baby died and we adopted a baby?”
“Yes, yes I know.” Thomas flapped a hand at her. “Who was his mother?”
William held his breath; they tried hard not to mention the Wiltshire name in this family.
“Mrs Becker.” Georgina reached for the locket but Thomas kept it in his grip.
William watched the confusion on his grandfather’s face. The room was quiet. The late-afternoon sun streamed through the open window. John was heavy in his arms. William looked down; the baby had fallen asleep.
Thomas suddenly looked to the window. “I’d like to sit outside,” he said.
“Of course, Grandpa.” William passed John to Georgina. “I’ll bring you a chair.”
“Can I hold the baby?” Thomas asked.
“I’m sure he’d love a cuddle with his great-grandpa.” Georgina put her spare hand under Thomas’s arm. “I’ll walk out with you.”
They settled the old man in a chair slightly back from the bank looking over the creek. He held the sleeping baby in his arms and clutched the locket in one hand.
“He seems to be quite taken with the locket,” Georgina said as they retreated back as far as the little verandah.
“Strange,” William said. “I wonder why?”
“It doesn’t matter. Look how loving he is with John.”
“Grandpa has always adored the children.”
Georgina rested her head against his shoulder. “I hope—”
“Don’t say it, my love,” William cut her off. “We have two children now and if that’s all we have we are luckier than some.”
Georgina tilted her face to his, her green eyes mocking him. “I was going to say I hope there will be more children from your siblings one day. John needs some playmates.” She nestled back against his shoulder. “Oh look, the baby is stirring and Grandpa is talking to him. What do you think he’s telling our son?”
William hugged Georgina tighter and kissed the top of her head. His heart was full. “Probably how lucky he is to have the most beautiful mother in the world.”
Thomas stared into the blinking grey eyes of the baby. “Hello, young John.”
The baby’s eyes opened wider. He yawned, stretched one hand up towards Thomas’s chin then settled back into the crook of the arm that held him.
Thomas raised the locket up and the baby reached out to grasp it. “This belonged to my mother. You can see her initial on the front, H for Hester. It was stolen from me a long time ago by a man who may well have been your real great-grandfather. Now you’ve brought it back where it belongs. What a special Christmas gift.”
The baby gurgled and pulled at the locket. Thomas shifted his gaze to the distant mountains. They were turning every shade of blue and purple. Below him Wildu Creek ran gently over rocks and tree trunks, wending its way south.
“Some things have changed since I first saw this land more than sixty years ago, young John.” He lifted the baby higher in his arms. “One day it will be yours. You must learn to treat it well.”
Thomas thought of his native friend Gulda who had first brought him here. He had passed on, as had Joseph’s boyhood friend Binda. Millie’s family had moved to the reserve and Millie and her children were the only local natives left.
Thomas sighed. The baby felt heavy in his arms. Movement across the creek drew his gaze to the sky. An eagle drifted on a current. Thomas clutched the baby a little tighter as the large bird circled closer. John continued to make happy sounds, playing with the locket Thomas dangled in front of him. The eagle dipped lower; its shadow swept up the bank and over Thomas and the baby, then it wheeled away. John flapped his hand in the direction he took.
“Wildu,” Thomas said. The gully breeze strengthened, ruffling the hair of the old man and the baby, and stirred the tops of the trees while across the valleys and plains the sun bathed the land in its golden rays.
“We’re here where we belong, Lizzie,” Thomas murmured and closed his eyes.
Author’s Note
The characters and places in this book are fictional with the exception of real towns and well-documented figures of the era. For example there really was a Mrs Ward who ran ‘The Gables’. There was not always a doctor and with only the help of her daughters, she cared for many sick people and helped deliver hundreds of babies before the first Hawker hospital was opened in 1924. What a dedicated woman she must have been.
Millie and Jessie lived with the fear of their children being taken from them and this fear is based on the real events of the era. In South Australia the actual Protector of Aborigines didn’t get the power to remove children of mixed race without a court hearing until the early twentieth century but I found reports of attempts to remove some children in the Flinders region before the turn of the century. The practice was stopped at that time due to resistance from the local Adnyamathamha people but it must have caused distress for many families. Where I have used indigenous names I have purposefully changed the spelling. My humble apologies if this means I have accidentally used the name of a deceased person.
My research took me on m
any tangents as I delved into the past and then there was the fun of disseminating the little gems, the variations and the historical facts into a fictional story. Trying to unravel the legalities of mining in the era was a definite challenge and I have taken some liberties with the rules. People have searched for diamonds in South Australia since they were first found near Echunga in 1859 by gold panners. The Flinders Ranges has had a lot of interest from mining companies since that time and diamonds have been found but not their elusive source. The search continues.
While this is a work of fiction and the main characters never existed, I hope that I have created a story which is grounded in past reality. I have had assistance from many quarters but as always, any mistakes are my own.
Acknowledgements
What a special journey it has been to write this series. The research that has driven the stories has been as addictive as my regular visits to the Flinders Ranges to soak in the scenery and the atmosphere. The characters have lived in my imagination for so long it is sad to let them go. I hope you’ve enjoyed the journey with us.
Love and thanks, as always to my husband, Daryl, who anchors the team, and to my children, their partners and grandchildren who all assist in a variety of ways, your encouragement is beyond measure. And to my wider family and dear friends who form such an important support network, my heartfelt thanks to you all.
I am so grateful to the wonderful publishing team at Harlequin Books who believed in this series and encouraged me to write it. I’d particularly like to acknowledge Michelle Laforest and Cristina Lee who were there from my first book. They have both moved on to other ventures now but were always special supporters. Thank you both.
There are so many at Harlequin who bring my books to life from the all-important cover designers to the sales team. Thank you to Sue Brockhoff who loved the initial idea of the series. To Jo Mackay and Annabel Blay, my sincere thanks for another job well done. Also to editor Kate O’Donnell who has a terrific eye for historical detail. It was great to work with you again. And to proofer Kate James, thank you for your dedication to your work. Adam Van Rooijen and his marketing team are always looking for new ideas to get my books to readers for which I am indebted.
My fellow writers come from diverse and widespread communities but your friendship, which can be anything from sharing a writing retreat to sending an uplifting text, is so valued. I love it when we catch up at fabulous events such as the Romance Writers of Australia Conference. If you’re a writer looking for support this organisation is one of the best.
Finally to the wonderful book communities of publishing reps, booksellers, librarians and you, dear readers. Your messages of encouragement and anticipation for the next book are inspiring. I appreciate your warm support of this writer, thank you.
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ISBN: 9781489220622
TITLE: JEWEL IN THE NORTH
First Australian Publication 2017
Copyright © 2017 Tricia Stringer
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