Gil shifted his feet just inside the opening, his long legs folded up, and he rubbed them. ‘The wind might shift.’
A roar came from outside the hole. They both jumped as flames swept across the entrance. The smell of burning grass and twigs filled their hideout. They sat in silence for several minutes, waiting for the grassfire to die out.
‘Once it passes completely, we’ll get out and head for the creek.’ Gil squeezed her hand again as though he could transfer his courage to her. ‘Your man Robson will have got everyone to safety.’
‘And my father?’
‘Once you are safe I’ll return for him.’ He paused. ‘He will have made it to safety or turned back to Berrima, I’m sure.’
Pippa closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer. ‘I should be out there …’ She moved a little, trying to find a comfortable position on her stomach. ‘Did the fire reach Sutton Forrest and your home?’
‘No.’ His voice lowered. ‘We were spared. The wind was favourable to us.’
‘I’m pleased,’ she whispered. Her shoulders sagged at the enormity of what might face her when they crawled out of this tunnel.
‘Once I knew it was heading in this direction, I rode hard to see if I could help.’
‘And you saved my life.’ Tears tripped over her lashes, but she didn’t have the energy to wipe them away.
Gil’s hands held hers tightly. ‘You’re not alone, Pip. Should the stud be torched, I’ll help you rebuild it. Don’t worry.’
She couldn’t speak. Rebuild? What with? There was no money. She shook her head in the dimness, weary at the thought of it. No. She wouldn’t rebuild – not on Grant Lindfield’s land.
When the roar of the flames died, Pippa pushed at Gil. ‘Let me out! I need to get out now.’ She pushed at him again, desperate to get air into her lungs.
‘Wait, let me see if it’s safe.’ Gil edged to the entrance and peeked out, then crawled out and turned to assist her. Spot fires littered the blackened area. Plumes of smoke wafted from burned tree trunks.
Standing upright, Pippa tried to brush the dirt from her dress, but gave up. It was ruined beyond help. She gazed around at their black, smouldering world. A wallaby corpse smoked to their right. The acrid smell of fire entered every pore, tasted thick on her tongue. The strangest thing, though, was the silence. Not a sound, no bird call, no scuttling lizard in the undergrowth, nothing but the odd hiss of flame and the low whistle of the wind through bare, smoking trees.
‘Thank God.’ Gil slumped to his knees, alarming Pippa so much she stood frozen.
‘W-what?’
‘The wind. The wind has changed direction. Look.’ He pointed to the torched trees and the ones that were spared waved slightly in a dying breeze – a breeze heading north and away from her home.
‘Do you think it changed before reaching the stud?’ She prayed it would be true, that her family and animals were secure.
‘We must hope so.’ Wearily, he staggered to his feet again and limped closer. ‘Come, let’s find out.’
She shook her head, her throat so parched she could barely swallow. ‘I have to find my father.’
Gil took a deep breath. ‘Very well, but let’s go to the creek and drink first. With this bad leg, I couldn’t carry you if you collapse from lack of water.’ He smiled, tucking a tendril of her hair back behind her ear, and she realised she’d lost her bonnet.
Holding each other up, they started down the incline, stumbling and staggering. Gil limped, pain tightening his face with every step.
‘Does it hurt very much?’
‘Not a bit.’ He winked.
She gave him a wry smile, knowing he lied. In silence they carried on, the horror of the fire’s aftermath behind every tree. Scorched native animals, barely alive, made no effort to run away, but simply watched them go by. Unable to stand their quiet suffering, Pippa averted her gaze.
As if by magic, the inferno’s destruction ended. It was as though an invisible hand had drawn a line through the bush, one side black and glowing red, the other side untouched and normal.
‘The wind did change in time,’ Gil murmured. He was leaning heavily on her shoulder now, his weight pressing her down.
‘The creek is nearby. It erupts out of the hillside further up.’ She paused by a large rock and eased him down to sit on it. ‘Stay here and I’ll go get the water.’
‘In what?’ He held his hands up. ‘I’ve no canteen, have you?’
‘I might be able to find something.’ She took a step. ‘I’ll use your boot if I have to.’
He laughed softly. ‘You go and drink and when you’re done, come back for me. I’ll have rested enough to walk the distance.’
She nodded, but hesitant to leave him, turned back. ‘You’ll be all right?’
Gil reached out and took her dirty hand and brought it to his lips. ‘I’m fine. Just getting my breath back. Go.’
Confident he was safe to leave for the moment, she hitched up her torn skirts and darted away. Within moments the bush had swallowed Gil from sight, but she concentrated on getting to the creek. Thirst ravaged her, but so did unease. Something she couldn’t identify pressed her on and when at last she struggled to the creek’s edge, she fell to her knees in relief. Using her cupped hands, she drank the refreshing, brackish water and splashed it over her face, washing away the filth and smoke grime. In a daze, she watched the water drip onto her once respectable dress, adding to the stains already there.
After one more deep drink, she heaved herself up and turned back the way she’d come. Something caught her eye and she stilled. To her right, half hidden in the long grass, was a boot.
Pippa swallowed back a moan. Cautiously, she shuffled one foot forward an inch and winced when a pebble scraped against another; the sound extraordinarily loud. She couldn’t take her focus off the boot. A dark brown boot, needing a polish. Another step allowed her to see more and, leaning forward, she could see over the tall grass.
She whimpered, too frightened to move. ‘Father?’ she whispered, her breath suspended on a quivering cry.
She shook her hands, steeling herself to investigate the form attached to the boot, the form hidden from her view by dry, swaying grass. Sucking in a deep breath, she crept forward, closer, closer.
Lifting her chin, ready for whatever sight awaited her, Pippa turned her gaze down to the open-eyed stare of her father.
The fear, the horror, left her and she raced to his side. Gently, she knelt beside his head. As light as a butterfly’s touch, she ran her fingers over his eyes and closed them. They would see no more. ‘I’m here, Father. You’re not alone.’
Squirming on her bottom, she managed to lift his head onto her lap. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t reach you in time.’ With her fingertips she combed his thinning grey hair and straightened his jacket, with its torn shoulder, and made him neat. ‘I did look for you. Did you not hear me calling? Why didn’t you answer me?’
A tear splashed onto his cheek and she hurriedly wiped it away. When a moan escaped her, she clapped a hand over her mouth. Her chest heaved. Her heart would certainly burst from the pressure building. What could she do? Panic overwhelmed her. Wildly she looked around for help, but no one was there. She felt so alone, so vulnerable. A cry bubbled up, but she fought the impulse to give in to the emotion wanting to destroy her.
She stared at her father, who looked strangely peaceful, and tried to take a calming breath. But the truth of the situation dawned harsh and raw. Her father was dead. He’d died alone in the bush with no one to hold his hand and comfort him in his last moments. The shock was too much; her breathing laboured and she screamed when a bird squawked in the branches above.
Gil! She must get Gil. He’d help her. She eased out from beneath her father’s head and tenderly laid him back on the grass. ‘I’m going to bring Gil, Father. I won’t be long, I promise. He’ll help us.’
Pippa scrambled to her feet, tripping in her skirts, and raced through the trees, blind to eve
rything around her.
‘Pippa! I’m here.’ Gil was slowly making his way to her, using a sturdy stick as a cane.
‘Oh, God, Gil,’ she sobbed and fell into his arms. ‘I found Father.’
Chapter Sixteen
Relaxing in the tin bath in her bedroom, Pippa listened to the muffled sounds of the household. Outside, twilight lingered, the hateful day still not yet ready to end. She reached for the teacup Millie had brought in and sipped the over-sweet brew. Tiredness sapped her strength and it would be so easy to close her eyes and drift away, but she had to get out and face the ordeal awaiting her attention.
A knock preceded Millie, who entered quietly and shut the door. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Exhausted.’
‘Mr Ashford went home. His father came for him in their gig. The doctor said his leg shouldn’t have any permanent damage, thankfully. His poor knee is twice the size it should be. He’s not allowed to walk on it for a few days. He said he’ll see you at the funeral, but should you need him before then, to send a note.’
‘He’s a wonderful man. A true friend. I owe him my life.’ When she thought of Gil and his wonderful support, it made the tears gather behind her eyes, but she’d not cry again. She’d sobbed the entire walk from the creek to the homestead to raise the alarm – that had been her time for grieving. Now she had to be strong for everyone.
‘Yes, indeed. He is a rare breed, Pippa. One you shouldn’t take for granted. He is the type you should marry.’
‘Marry?’ She stared at Millie as though she’d lost her mind. ‘I’ve never thought of marrying Gil. We are friends, that’s all.’
‘Friends can marry, you know.’
‘Like you and Robson?’ It was the first time Pippa mentioned that she was aware of the subtle connection between her good friend and her overseer, not that she minded. In a harsh world, happiness had to be found wherever available.
Millie blushed. ‘Yes, like me and Robson.’
Pippa sighed with tiredness and misery. ‘I care for Gil too much to marry him, Millie. Once a woman is married, she has to change. How could I run this stud being married? He’d want me at his own house, not here.’
‘It might be worth the try. Is your independence so important to you? Besides, Mr Ashford would be a help, not a hindrance.’
‘Perhaps, but it is not something I want to think about now.’ She dismissed the idea as ludicrous. Marry Gil? No, it was impossible. He was like a brother … She yawned, closed her eyes, and dismissed the thoughts. ‘How … how are Mother and Hil?’
‘Rather good, considering. Hilary is seeing the doctor out as we speak.’
‘We are fortunate he was in the district.’ Pippa swished the water, reliving the events of the day. ‘Though there was nothing he could do for dear Father, his weak heart couldn’t stand the strain of escaping the fire.’
Millie sighed, running her fingers over the black mourning dress laid out for Pippa to wear. ‘Your mother spoke to Mr Ashford and his father for some time. I think they were speaking of the funeral arrangements.’
Pippa sat up straighter, the water splashing dangerously close to the side. ‘Mother shouldn’t concern herself with that. I’ll do it all.’
‘I think it helps her. She has been very brave, Pippa. She knows you’ve been through an awful time. Let her take some of the work from you for a change.’
‘I’m not used to Mother being efficient. I expect hysterics, not this sudden strength of character. Where has it come from? She’s never been one to shoulder responsibilities.’ Climbing out of the bath, Pippa reached for her towel and wrapped it around herself.
‘You know, sometimes certain people need an event to occur in their lives which makes them change.’ Millie took Pippa’s house slippers from under the bed and placed them near the chair in the corner. ‘May I speak plainly?’
‘Of course.’
‘Your mother is a capable woman, I’ve seen many glimpses of it. Oh, she pretends to have a nervous disposition, but I think it’s all make-believe so she can get her own way.’
Pippa frowned as she donned underwear. It was true. In England her mother had been content to watch her husband blunder from one mistake to another and been quite satisfied to sit back and berate him for it, but after coming to this country, she had slowly altered her outlook. At long last, she was willing to make an effort, to take some responsibility regarding how this family survived instead of being an idle bystander.
‘What will happen now, Pippa?’
‘The stud will continue; it has to, for I must provide for Mother and Hilary.’ She shrugged. The future appeared bleak without her father. Despite his tendency to often let them down, their lives had never been dull because of it. Through all their ups and downs he’d been there, the head of the family. However, from now on it was up to her to rebuild the family fortune.
Could she do it? Was it possible to make the stud viable, to pay off Grant’s loan, to live well and happy? How many times had she boasted she could do it herself? Had her vain bragging tempted fate?
Whether she had or not, it was time to show them all that she would make this business a triumph or die in the attempt.
‘You could always sell.’
‘No.’ The thought repulsed her. ‘Besides, I want Father buried here, as I will be when it’s my time.’
Refolding the discarded towel, Millie sighed deeply. ‘Douglas also has many decisions to make. He is a shattered man.’ She stepped up to tie Pippa’s corset strings. ‘He was speaking to the police constable when I left him. Poor Amelia.’ Tears spilled over Millie’s lashes. ‘It’s so tragic, our dear friend gone, too. I shall miss her …’
The Meredith tragedy. Pippa shivered as the cold black silk of the dress slid over her. Amelia had died in the fire, trying to save the house from the ravenous flames. Douglas, hurrying back from Berrima, had arrived in time only to save their baby son and drag Amelia’s body out of the house. He couldn’t revive her and, as the flames swept around him, he managed to escape with the baby. His servants had fled before he arrived.
Pippa paused and glanced down at her ruined clothes by the bath. ‘I never want to see that dress again. Tell Cissie to burn it.’
Millie nodded and headed for the door. ‘I’ll check on Davy and the baby. Thankfully the little mite is fast asleep and too young to know he’s lost his mother. Dinner will be late tonight.’
‘I doubt many of us can eat, anyway. Would you ask Hilary to sit with Mother? I shall talk to Douglas. Though what I’m going to say, I have no idea.’
‘It will be difficult to comfort a man who has lost everything except his son, and the days ahead will not be any easier.’ Millie gave a sad sigh. ‘Douglas was out on the verandah the last time I looked.’
Pippa brushed her hair and tied it with a black ribbon. After slipping on her house shoes, she left her room and went onto the verandah.
Douglas sat slumped on the front steps. He’d not washed and the smell of smoke clung to his blackened clothes. She stepped closer to him and gently laid her hand on his shoulder. He didn’t move.
‘She asked me not to go into Berrima this morning.’ His low voice barely reached her. ‘She said she wasn’t feeling well. But still I went.’
Sighing, Pippa sat beside him on the step, aware of her helplessness. ‘Amelia wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.’
‘Then whose fault is it?’ He stared out across the valley, not blinking.
‘It’s no one’s fault. It was a fire. An accident.’
‘I should have been there.’
She tried to steer him away from self-examination. ‘What do you plan to do now? Rebuild?’
A spasm passed over his face. ‘I think it would kill me to go back. How can I live there without her?’
Pippa looked away, over the darkening land. Crickets chirped and the temperature dropped as clouds rolled over the scorched ridge. ‘There’s time enough for you to decide that later. You and the baby must s
tay here until you’ve sorted out your future.’
‘What future do we have without Amelia?’
‘Amelia once told me she had a sister in England, could she come and help you for a time?’
‘There is so much to think about, so many decisions.’ Douglas shook his head. ‘Perhaps I should go there and give her my son to care for. I cannot see to a baby and the homestead is gone. There is so much to consider …’
‘This isn’t the time to make hasty decisions, Douglas. No one expects you to have all the answers right away.’
He took her hand in his soot-blackened one. ‘I’m sorry about your father. He was a gentleman, a good man.’
She nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She didn’t want to think about her own loss, the effects were too painful.
‘Will you sell now he is gone?’
Pippa shook her head. ‘No. The stud means a great deal to me. And it is the only income we have.’
Douglas’s eyes softened. ‘You’ve done him proud, Pippa, and I know you’ll continue to in the years ahead.’
Tears welled and she blinked them back. ‘I hope so.’
He turned to stare blindly towards the distance. Pippa’s heart turned over in response to the pitiful sight he made. Gone was the robust, jolly man who laughed and joked all the time. Before her eyes he seemed to grow old. A wave of uselessness washed over her once more. What words would soothe his loss? How easily it could have been her who had lost not just her father, but also everything else. She shuddered at the thought. The stud had been spared by a twist of fate and now she must make it a grand success to honour her father.
The weight of responsibility descended on her shoulders like a blanket.
Her mother and Hilary, both wearing black, quietly came out to join them on the verandah and sat on the timber bench. Pippa smiled at them and then turned back to Douglas. ‘I think you should go inside and wash, Douglas. Millie will find you some clothes, then you must rest.’
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