The Lost Sapphire

by Belinda Murrell

  ‘Are you all right?’ Luca peered through the hatch.

  ‘Yes. Something crawled on me. I think it was a rat.’ Marli stood up, her throat dry with nerves, and stroked the bangle on her wrist for reassurance. She wiped her dirty hands on the back of her jeans. ‘I’ll see if I can find a way for you to get in.’

  Using the phone’s torch, Marli groped around, looking for a bolt or a latch that she could undo, one that might open the door from the inside. The lock remained firmly fastened. She scanned around, checking for scuttling creatures, hoping for inspiration. Then she saw it. There was a hook on the wall with an iron key hanging from it.

  Please be the key to the back door. Marli’s fingers were slick with sweat as the key stuck for a moment and then turned, grating noisily in the lock. Marli crumpled with relief as she threw open the back door and let Luca in. Lovely light poured in, chasing away the shadows.

  They gazed around with anticipation. They were in a narrow corridor, painted a drab grey. Off the corridor were a number of small rooms with empty shelves and battered benchtops, which appeared to be pantries, the scullery and laundry, and a large empty room with windows looking out on the old kitchen garden. Luca flicked a light switch but nothing happened.

  ‘This must have been the servants’ sitting room,’ Marli suggested.

  The dust made Luca cough violently. They moved into the large kitchen, with its stone floor, wide stove and laminate counters covered in grime. The kitchen door on the far side was protected by thick green felt that was stained and torn. The door creaked open as Marli pushed it.

  On the other side, everything was different – grander, more spacious. The ceilings were higher with ornate cornices, the floorboards wider and the rooms large with marble fireplaces.

  Yet the signs of neglect were everywhere – damp black stains, thick layers of dust, peeling paint, spiders’ webs and cracked plaster. Ugly fluorescent bar lights had replaced the original crystal chandeliers. The fireplaces were blocked with painted plywood. One of the front rooms had been partitioned into two with flimsy fibreboard. Marli snapped photographs of the rooms, taking close-ups of architectural details, such as the plaster cornices, old servants’ bell levers, mantelpieces and arched windows.

  At the very back of the house was a huge room with parquet floors. Light filtered in through the French doors where the hoarding had been pulled away. A massive chandelier, veiled in cobwebs, hung in the centre of the room.

  ‘The ballroom,’ said Marli, twirling away across the floor. ‘There must have been some wonderful parties in here.’

  ‘This room is nearly as big as our whole apartment,’ Luca observed.

  The pair crept up the carpeted main staircase. On the landing was a locked panelled door.

  ‘That must lead to the tower,’ Marli suggested. ‘What a shame we can’t open it.’

  ‘It must have an amazing view from the top,’ Luca said.

  They kept going, exploring the various empty bedrooms on the second floor – the five large family bedrooms with graceful arched windows overlooking the gardens, and their associated dressing rooms and bathrooms. A dead bird lay in the grate of one of the fireplaces. A colonnaded verandah ran across the front of the house, thick with dead leaves.

  Towards the far end of this level, a low door led through to the maids’ quarters, with three cramped bedrooms. From here, a narrow and very steep set of servants’ stairs went down towards the kitchen.

  Marli led the way down the dark stairs by the dim light of her phone, clinging onto the banister with one hand as the steps creaked and groaned beneath her. She put her weight onto a tread and realised too late that the timber was rotten. Her boot crashed through the splintered wood. Luca grabbed her arm and hauled her back up. Marli’s heart thudded with fright.

  ‘That was close,’ Luca said. He shone his own phone-torch down the stairwell. ‘We’d better go back the other way. A few of those steps look nasty.’

  Marli hobbled to the main grand staircase and stood on the landing looking down.

  ‘This house is incredible,’ she said. ‘It has such a mysterious feeling about it.’

  ‘There are so many secrets about the place,’ Luca added. ‘Why do you think Violet’s father gave the house away? What happened to her mother? And why is the tower door locked?’

  Marli unconsciously fiddled with the old key hanging around her neck. Suddenly she had a brainwave and swung around, excited. ‘The tower. The key.’ She pulled the ribbon over her head. ‘I bet this key opens the tower.’

  The two ran to the locked tower door. With trembling fingers, Marli inserted the key into the lock. For a moment, the key stuck fast, then it turned with a loud click. Marli pushed the door open.

  It was like stepping into a different time. The square room was furnished with a white painted desk and chair, photographs in silver frames, a faded blue velvet armchair, a bookcase and a side table piled with tattered old books. To the right a narrow spiral staircase led up to the tower room above.

  Marli picked up a photograph from the desk and blew on it, sending dust motes billowing into the air. Luca coughed.

  ‘Sorry,’ Marli said, patting him on the back. ‘Look. These must be Violet’s two brothers – the ones who died in the war. They look so young. Just teenagers, like us.’

  Luca recovered his breath. ‘It must have been tough for the family. I can’t believe that this room has been locked all these years. Maybe the tower is haunted, and that’s why it’s kept locked up!’

  Marli looked around and shivered. ‘Well, if it is haunted, it can’t be a very nasty ghost. The room’s too pretty.’

  Luca laughed, which made him cough again.

  The two climbed the stairs to the upper room. It was clearly an old artist’s studio. Dried-up oil paints and pots of brushes sat on a small table. Paintings were stacked against the walls. An easel, displaying an unfinished painting of flowers, stood in the middle of the room. The dirt-streaked windows on all four sides overlooked the river and gardens.

  A ladder led up to a trapdoor, which opened to give access to a rooftop terrace. Luca was right – the view was breathtaking. They could see Luca’s place next door, Nonno’s vegetable garden, the green-brown snake of the Yarra River, Marli’s dad’s apartment building in Richmond on the other side, all the way to the silver skyscrapers of Melbourne. A trio of yellow-tailed black cockatoos flapped past, cawing raucously to each other.

  Marli’s phone beeped. She quickly checked the screen, realising that she had stopped obsessively checking her phone for messages from her friends back home. She had been too busy herself to worry about what they were doing.

  But the text wasn’t from any of her friends. It was from Dad.

  Hi Marli. Sorry. Catastrophe at work so will be late tonight. Order takeaway. Will be home asap. Love Dad xxx

  Marli scowled at the text.

  ‘Anything wrong?’ asked Luca.

  ‘Dad’s going to be late again.’ She smiled at Luca, trying to lift her mood. ‘He’s had dramas at work so he’s been working really long hours, but he did say he was going to try to get home early tonight.’

  ‘Why don’t you come to my place for dinner?’ Luca suggested. ‘Mum won’t mind.’

  Marli felt a rush of relief. ‘Really? That would be great. Dad left me some money to order takeaway, but I don’t feel like going back to the apartment all by myself.’

  ‘I’ll send Mum a text and ask. I’m sure she’d be happy,’ Luca assured her. ‘Mum loves feeding our friends – she thinks the more the merrier.’

  ‘She sounds lovely,’ said Marli. She twisted her bangle, thinking of her own mother so far away.

  The two went downstairs again, carefully locking the tower door and the back door. Marli threaded the back-door key onto her velvet ribbon with the tower key.

  It was too nice a day to be inside after days of rain, so they sat for a while in the sun on the steps. Then they walked around the rose garden, planning how the
y could research more information about Riversleigh and the people who’d lived there. As he had done earlier, Luca leaned down and tugged out a fistful of long grass from between the rose bushes. Marli did the same.

  At first Marli only intended to make a small start weeding, but she found she enjoyed the work and kept going. It reminded her of helping Mum in their tropical garden at home. The warm climate of Brisbane meant that it was a constant battle to keep their small garden under control.

  Luca went home to borrow Nonno’s brush-cutter, safety goggles and gumboots from the shed and used it to cut large swathes from the overgrown grass around the rear garden. Luckily his grandparents were out, so there were no awkward questions. Using tools from the old garage, Marli raked up the cuttings and trundled them in a wheel barrow to a compost heap they made behind the old kitchen garden.

  It was hot work in the afternoon sunshine, but Marli found it deeply satisfying as the compost heap grew and the shape of the old garden gradually appeared. The labour made Luca cough, and he had to stop for short breaks to recover.

  Marli took photographs to record the transformation.

  After a couple of hours, Marli and Luca had a longer rest, sitting on one of the marble benches overlooking the rose garden. Marli wiped her sweaty brow with her hand, leaving a muddy streak across her face. She had grass in her hair, dirt under her fingernails and her skin was pricked with thorn scratches.

  ‘Doesn’t that look better?’ she asked, gesturing at the rose blooms nodding their heads in the breeze. The air was sweet with perfume. ‘You can actually see the roses instead of a jungle of gigantic weeds.’

  ‘Definitely,’ Luca agreed. ‘Now the plants have some space to breathe.’

  ‘I’m feeling whacked, though.’ Marli stretched out her back. ‘It’s hard work.’

  ‘Let’s clean up, then we can go home,’ Luca suggested. ‘You can have a shower at my place and borrow some clothes from my sister.’

  ‘Great idea. And I’d like to pick some roses for your mother as a present for having me.’

  After packing up the tools and wheelbarrow, Marli used an old pair of secateurs to cut an armful of roses in pinks, pale yellow and cream.

  They crept back through the double doors at the back of the garage, hoping no-one would see them. Luca put the brush-cutter and goggles away in the shed. As they headed towards the side entrance into the flats, Nonno came around the back of the building, carrying a wicker basket filled with herbs, lettuce, cucumbers, spinach and beans.

  ‘Ciao, Luca caro,’ he said. ‘Looks like you two have been having fun.’ Luca introduced Marli to his grandfather.

  ‘Could you take this up to your mother for dinner tonight?’ asked Nonno. ‘And tell her that Nonna is making pitticelle di zucchine to bring along.’

  ‘Yum. My favourite.’ Luca turned to Marli. ‘Nonna makes the best fritters with Nonno’s homegrown zucchinis. You’ll love them.’

  ‘Mmmm,’ said Marli. ‘I’m starving.’

  Luca took the basket and they went inside.

  The Art Deco building that Luca lived in was a block of four apartments with two upstairs and two downstairs. Luca’s family lived in the upstairs apartment at the back, overlooking the river, while his grandparents lived in the flat underneath them.

  Marli followed Luca upstairs and into his apartment. It was a bright, two-bedroom unit with quaint, old-fashioned features, such as picture windows, ornate ceilings and polished timber floors. Luca’s three sisters shared one room, and his parents had the other. Luca slept in the narrow sunroom off the living room, which overlooked the gardens and the river.

  Luca’s mum, Dani, was in the kitchen chopping eggplants, while his younger sisters – Lia, Caterina and Siena – were in their school uniforms, doing homework at the dining table. Luca introduced them all. Marli immediately felt comfortable as she was enveloped in the warm family atmosphere. It was so much noisier than her own home. Delicious smells came from the pots bubbling on the stove.

  ‘Welcome, Marli,’ said Dani. ‘It’s lovely to meet you. Luca’s enjoyed you coming around this week.’

  ‘Thanks for having me.’ Marli handed Dani the armful of roses. ‘I brought you these.’

  ‘Aren’t they divine?’ said Dani, burying her nose in the blooms.

  By the time Marli had showered, brushed her hair and changed into one of Lia’s floral sundresses, the table had been transformed. The homework had been packed up and the table set with candles, colourful painted crockery and two vases of roses. Nonno and Nonna had arrived, as well as Luca’s father, Mark, home from work. Lia, Caterina and Siena helped their mother make salad and bruschetta while Luca showered.

  ‘Oh, don’t you look lovely, Marli,’ said Dani. ‘Please take a seat there. Just move Chiara.’

  Chiara was a fat, grey cat curled up on Marli’s chair. Marli lifted the cat onto her lap and sat stroking her, making Chiara purr. Soon the whole family were sitting around the table, laughing, chatting and joking as Dani passed around platters heaped with antipasti – one with Nonna’s zucchini fritters and the other with tomato-and-herb bruschetta on toasted garlic bread.

  ‘Buon appetito,’ Dani called out. Everyone clinked glasses and replied, ‘Buon appetito!’

  The food was delicious and plentiful. The antipasti was followed by homemade pasta with a ragù of eggplant, tomato and olives with shaved parmesan, then the main course of chicken parmigiana and salad greens from the garden tossed with lemon and olive oil.

  The girls chattered about their day at school. Dani and Marc talked over the plans for the week ahead. When everyone had finished, the children cleared the table and then Dani served the dessert that Nonna had made. It was an Italian specialty called cannoli – pastry tubes filled with vanilla ricotta, shaved chocolate and homegrown strawberries.

  ‘It’s nice to see Luca eating again,’ said Nonna, kissing him on the cheek. ‘He’s hardly eaten a thing since he’s had that nasty cough. He was fading away to nothing!’

  Luca looked appreciatively at his piled-up bowl. ‘How could I resist your cooking, Nonna? It’s bellissimo.’

  ‘So what did you and Marli get up to today?’ Dani asked. ‘It was too lovely to watch movies again all day.’

  Luca and Marli exchanged glances. They had agreed to keep the garden and their research as a secret for the time being.

  ‘Not much,’ Luca replied. ‘Hanging out, a bit of a walk …’

  ‘Exploring the neighbourhood,’ Marli added. ‘There are some pretty gardens around.’

  ‘You must come and see Nonno’s garden,’ said Nonna. ‘He can grow anything.’

  ‘I learned gardening from my father, Giuseppe,’ Nonno explained, putting his spoon down. ‘He worked in the gardens next door for many years, when it was a private house, and then later when it became a soldiers’ convalescent home. Now that was a special garden.’

  ‘Did he tell you anything about the history of the house?’ asked Marli, trying not to sound too eager. ‘Do you know anything about the family who lived there?’

  Nonno gazed dreamily out the window towards the high wall of Riversleigh. ‘He was a good storyteller, my father, and he loved to tell stories of the old days, before the Second World War. He said that many sad things happened to the Hamilton family. He thought that perhaps someone had cursed them with the malocchio …’

  Luca glanced at Marli meaningfully. ‘Cursed with the evil eye?’

  Nonno nodded. ‘Giuseppe and his cousin were impoverished peasant farmers from Veneto, in the north near Venice. Like many Italians of their generation, they were very superstitious and believed that bad luck could be caused by someone cursing you. My father always wore this charm.’

  Nonno pulled out a small silver charm that he wore on a chain around his neck. ‘A cornicello,’ he explained. ‘It’s a horn, which is supposed to ward off bad luck. I don’t believe in curses and amulets, so I don’t believe the Hamiltons were cursed, but I like to wear the charm to remind me o
f my father.’

  ‘The Hamiltons did experience a lot of tragedy,’ Marli said. ‘My grandfather told me that both brothers, Lawrence and Archie, died in the final months of the First World War, which must have been devastating. And then their mother, Margaret, died soon after, but we don’t know how.’

  Nonno turned to Marli, his face serious. ‘I know what happened to Mrs Hamilton. The servants knew all the family secrets, of course. It was very sad. Would you like me to tell you?’

  ‘Oh, yes please,’ Marli begged. ‘Luca and I have been wondering.’

  ‘Mrs Hamilton died of grief,’ Nonno began. ‘She just faded away, hardly eating, hardly sleeping, her face to the wall, refusing to see her daughters or her husband.’

  Marli felt a shiver up her spine – how devastating for Violet and Imogen, and their father. Violet must have felt that her mother had abandoned her, that she didn’t love her enough to have something to live for.

  ‘She couldn’t cope after her boys died,’ Nonno said. ‘Everyone thought she should just buck up and get on with things, but she went into a deep depression and couldn’t get out of bed for weeks. When she died, Albert locked up her tower studio and never mentioned her name again.’

  Everyone was silent for a moment, trying to imagine the terrible sorrow that Albert must have felt.

  ‘Can you tell us any other stories about Riversleigh and the Hamiltons, Nonno?’ Luca asked.

  Nonno’s eyes lit up with memories. He settled back in his chair. ‘Oh, yes. I certainly can …’

  14

  Nikolai’s Family

  Riversleigh, 22 November 1922

  On Wednesday morning, when Violet came down to breakfast, Imogen was already seated at the table. Romeo bounded over to greet her.