Band of Gold

by Deborah Challinor

  But she wasn’t unduly despondent: she believed Tahi—Rian must be in Melbourne somewhere.

  She rode back along Lonsdale Street and turned into Elizabeth Street until she came to the offices of a printer, where she dismounted and went inside. Twenty minutes later she emerged, having ordered 150 posters asking for information leading to the whereabouts of Captain Rian Farrell, and including his description, where she could be contacted, and the fact that she was offering a sizeable reward for any genuine leads. The posters, she had been assured, would be ready by nine o’clock the next morning.

  It was suppertime by the time she returned to the Criterion Hotel. Israel was sitting on the boardwalk a short distance from the front door, pretending he wasn’t looking out for her. As she approached, he leapt up and trotted over, taking Finn’s reins and grinning up at her.

  ‘How was the saddle, eh? Nice an’ comfy?’

  ‘Very, thank you, Israel. For a side-saddle.’ Kitty lifted her leg and slid to the ground. ‘Can you see to Finn, please?’

  Israel nodded enthusiastically but didn’t move, obviously waiting for his tip.

  Kitty didn’t move, either. ‘Israel, I would like you to do a job for me.’

  Israel looked shifty. ‘There money in it?’

  ‘If you do it well.’

  ‘I will, I promise.’

  Kitty looked at him through narrowed eyes. ‘You don’t even know what it is yet.’

  Israel shrugged, clearly confident of being able to carry out any task asked of him.

  ‘Do you think you can climb up drainpipes and narrow, rickety ladders and possibly look through some windows?’ Kitty asked, trying not to roll her eyes.

  ‘If I pushed meself, I think I could, yeah.’

  ‘Well, that’s what I’d like you to do.’ And she told him exactly where and when, and what to look for.

  ‘Easy. How much?’ He didn’t even ask who the man Kitty was searching for might be.

  ‘A pound. I’ll have to trust you, though, Israel,’ Kitty said. ‘You could just go around the corner or sit in a pub for two hours then come back and tell me you’ve done it, and I wouldn’t know any different, would I?’ She waited, watching him until she knew he was paying her proper attention. ‘But this is my husband I’m looking for, the man who means more to me than anything else in the world. I thought I’d lost him, but now I’ve been given a second chance, if only I can find him. Now, I’m too heavy to get up those pipes and what-have-you, so I have to rely on you. You can deceive me if you choose to, but I’ll know, Israel. I’ll know. So take your pound now, and if you do decide to cheat me, just don’t come back, all right?’ She handed him a gold coin. ‘Otherwise, my room is number twenty-two.’

  And she turned and walked into the hotel, leaving him staring after her, the pound coin cool and heavy in his hand, and thinking that the dark-haired man called Mr Royce had been right—she was a very decent person, and not at all like other so-called ladies who promenaded around Melbourne thinking they were that much better than everyone else.

  And now he had two pound coins in his pocket!

  Israel had come back with a large scrape down his back from slipping off a drainpipe, and a bruise blooming on one scrawny buttock as a result of being caught peering into a window, but with no news of Rian. Kitty had been disappointed, but she had learnt long ago to trust her heart, and her heart had told her that Rian had not been in those specific buildings. She didn’t blame Tahi—no doubt even visions could be fallible when it came to details—but it did leave her in a quandary about where to start looking next. The posters, she hoped, would help.

  She rose early, and as she opened the door to her room she almost fell over Israel, who sat up yawning and rubbing his eyes.

  Astonished, she asked, ‘Have you been here all night?’

  Israel nodded, farted gently, and scrubbed his hands through his untidy mop of hair.

  ‘Don’t you have anywhere else to sleep?’ Kitty said, concerned.

  ‘Yeah, hayloft.’ But Mr Royce didn’t pay me to sleep there, Israel thought, he paid me to keep an eye on you. But perhaps not this close an eye, he reflected ruefully as he eased his tender buttock off the meanly carpeted floor, and scrambled to his feet. ‘We puttin’ up them posters this morning?’

  ‘Are you not supposed to be tending the hotel stables today?’

  ‘Day off.’

  Kitty doubted that, but it wasn’t her affair. Israel followed her downstairs, then stood outside the dining-room window, gazing longingly in as Kitty ate her breakfast. Finally, she could stand it no longer. Going to the door, she beckoned him over.

  ‘Israel?’

  He shuffled towards her, hands clasped in front of him, huge eyes blinking up. ‘Yes, missus?

  ‘Go and break that pound coin I gave you. You’re putting me off my food.’

  Israel laughed and skipped off, knowing his bluff had been called.

  By midday they had put up all the posters, mainly in store windows and public houses, and on fences and notice boards, and Kitty went back to the Criterion to await news.

  By three o’clock in the afternoon she realised the folly of her plan. Sitting in her room, with nothing to do but let her mind run amok with terrible imaginings, was possibly the worst pastime she could have devised for herself. So she went downstairs, found Israel who had literally been dragged back to work by his boss, paid for his time for the rest of the afternoon, and made him sit on the sofa with her in the hotel lounge and talk.

  Israel, it turned out, was not the orphan she had assumed—and he had certainly implied—he was. He was originally from Rotherhithe, London; his father had left for the Bendigo goldfields two years ago and had simply never returned, and the last time he had seen his mother she had been senseless from gin underneath some sailor behind a pub on Flinders Street. That had been about six months ago.

  ‘So where do you live?’ Kitty asked, disquieted, but not entirely sure she believed him. She knew, though, that he was quite possibly telling the truth, or at least some version of it.

  ‘In the hotel stables. I get me meals there and all. It’s all right.’ He shrugged with the stoicism of someone much older.

  ‘And your name?’

  Another twitch of the shoulders. ‘Me father read the Bible a lot.’ A pause. ‘Dunno what he reads now.’

  Kitty found herself telling him about all the exotic places that she and Rian and the crew of the Katipo had been, how Amber had come to be part of the family, and the events that had led up to Rian’s disappearance. An hour later, she realised she had been talking about Rian almost constantly, and that Israel had sat through her monologue barely even fidgeting.

  She smiled ruefully. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that I miss him.’

  But Israel wasn’t listening now, his attention snared by an approaching figure.

  ‘Mrs Farrell?’

  Kitty turned; the man standing before her was vaguely familiar, but it took her several moments to retrieve his name.

  ‘It’s So-Yee, isn’t it?’ she said, rising and offering her hand.

  The Chinese man stared at it for a moment, then shook it reluctantly. ‘Yes. Wong Kai has sent me. He wishes that I escort you to speak with him. On a matter he believes will be of great interest to you.’

  Kitty’s heart quickened and the blood rushed from her head as she realised with dismay that for nearly two days she had been completely ignoring a prime source of information: if anyone knew about secrets in this town, it would be Wong Kai.

  She snatched up her reticule. ‘Of course, yes. Thank you, So-Yee.’

  She followed him outside to a waiting cab, but when Israel made to climb in after her, So-Yee leaned out and pushed him back onto the street.

  ‘Hey!’ Israel exclaimed indignantly, his hand on the cab door. ‘I’m her chaperone! I have to go everywhere with her.’

  ‘Could he not just—?’ Kitty began.

  So-Yee gave a single, sharp shake of his head. ‘No.
Only you.’ He slapped Israel’s hand away, shut the door, then rapped on the roof of the cab.

  His mouth set in an angry line, Israel watched the cab lurch away up the street, then ran off to find Mr Royce.

  ‘And he didn’t say where they were going?’ Daniel asked, scowling and trying to ease the awful crick he had in his neck from the boarding-house cot he’d slept on the night before. Tonight he might try his luck in the stall he’d rented for McCool—it certainly couldn’t be any less comfortable.

  Israel shook his head hard enough to make the straggly ends of his hair fly about. ‘He just said this Chinkee cove wanted to see her.’

  ‘And he was Chinese himself?’

  ‘Yeah, he had this long pigtail down to here, and one of them little caps on and them baggy suits they wear.’

  ‘What was his name?’

  ‘Which one?’

  Daniel suppressed a sigh of exasperation. ‘The man Kitty was going to see.’

  Israel made a face as he concentrated on remembering. ‘Wonky? One key?’

  ‘Wong Kai?’

  ‘That were it!’

  Daniel was silent for a moment, drained the glass of ale he’d been nursing half the afternoon, then said almost to himself, ‘Then I presume they’d be heading for Little Bourke Street.’

  ‘Well, they don’t live nowhere else round here, those Chinkees,’ Israel remarked, and stole the pickle Daniel had left on his plate. ‘Good job, too. Don’t want ’em stinkin’ up the whole town.’

  Daniel clipped him sharply across the side of his head. ‘They’re called Chinese, boy. I paid you a pound to be my eyes and ears, not an ignorant little shit, so keep your prejudices to yourself.’

  Rubbing his stinging ear, Israel mumbled, ‘Sorry, Mister Royce. Do ya know the way to the Chinese quarter? I can show ya.’

  ‘Not necessary.’

  ‘Can I come with ya, then?’

  Daniel looked at Israel’s dirty, eager little face.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘’Cause she’s nice, that Mrs Farrell. I like her.’

  Oh God, so do I, Daniel thought desperately, his stomach performing a lazy roll at the thought of her. ‘I’m not paying you any more money.’

  ‘Don’t care. I’ll do it for nothing,’ Israel declared and darted out of the pub.

  Daniel followed, wondering how much longer he could keep tailing Kitty without her seeing him. He spared a guilty thought for Tahi: he’d browbeaten the lad until he’d finally confessed to what Kitty had wanted from him that afternoon out on the Malakoff Lead. All Daniel had had to do was follow her to Melbourne and make sure he kept out of sight. Then she’d taken a shine to the young stable boy, and his job had become a little easier. But now it seemed the boy was falling under her spell as well.

  The same sickly-sweet smell hung in the air as Kitty sat in Wong Kai’s office, fanning her face with the painted silk fan So-Yee had given her. He’d also left her a jug of water, and a facecloth wrapped around an ice cube to hold against her forehead. Very thoughtful, Kitty reflected. If only So-Yee had managed a smile, Wong Kai’s hospitality could even be considered gracious.

  The door from the opium room opened and Wong Kai himself entered. He sat down in his velvet-upholstered chair, made a steeple out of his fingers, looked over them at Kitty, and said, ‘So, your husband has disappeared.’ A statement, not a question.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘My men saw your…’ his hand fluttered as he searched for the correct English word ‘…advertisements? Would you care to tell me how this came about?’

  Kitty complied, grateful that Wong Kai didn’t even blink when she came to the parts about Pierre’s snake, Tahi’s vision and Warrun’s tracking skills. Evidently, the Chinese were comfortable with matters concerning mysticism.

  ‘And you suspect that this Sergeant Coombes is working with the woman Lily Pearce?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Kitty folded the fan and laid it on the low table at her elbow. ‘Rian did say once he thought there might be some sort of arrangement between them, but whether it was just business or something more intimate he couldn’t say. Or didn’t say. I don’t think he cared to speculate.’

  ‘But why would they kidnap your husband?’ Wong Kai asked.

  ‘I don’t know! All I know is that I saw that woman wearing the sapphire from Rian’s ring around her scraggy neck, a ring that I had made for him and would know anywhere!’

  Wong Kai waited for Kitty to calm herself. ‘So,’ he said when she had, ‘Rian was arrested twice by Sergeant Coombes, and both times made a fool of the man, and was also involved in the Eureka uprising but was never arrested for it, is that correct?’ Kitty nodded. ‘Also, he was approached several times by Lily Pearce and spurned her, once publicly. Is that also correct?’ Kitty again concurred. ‘Finally, you and Lily Pearce were involved in a catfight in the street, resulting in her public humiliation. Again, am I correct?’

  ‘Well, her wig came off,’ Kitty admitted.

  Wong Kai stared at her with a faintly disbelieving air. ‘And you do not know why the pair of them would wish to cause you harm?’

  Kitty sat stunned. The relief at having so recently discovered that Rian probably wasn’t dead was now replaced by the dismaying knowledge that, in all likelihood, their own actions had caused the awful predicament in which they now found themselves. ‘But surely retribution on this scale is completely out of proportion?’

  ‘Would that not depend, Mrs Farrell, on the extent of their humiliation? Also, if your husband is not dead, you must ask why not. Kidnap is usually accompanied by a demand for ransom.’ Wong Kai was silent for several beats. ‘And, of course, there is the possibility that they may not be working alone.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Nothing in particular. I am simply considering all possibilities.’ He picked a thread off the sleeve of his robe and let it fall to the floor. ‘Now, I assume you do want my assistance in this matter? I am indebted to you regarding the matter of Bao, and I am happy to discharge that debt by helping you to locate your husband.’

  Kitty said that this sounded extremely fair.

  ‘Good. Now,’ Wong Kai went on, ‘you will discover that all manner of fools and confidence men will approach you as a result of your advertisements.’ He shook his head regretfully. ‘You should not have bothered. You should have come to me first. Mr Chen will return with you to your hotel to discourage any such unwanted attention, since it is unlikely that you will learn anything useful through such channels.’

  Kitty frowned. Wong Kai was always so sure of himself. ‘How do you know that?’

  Wong Kai smirked, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking. ‘Because already I have my people out and about, and any information you are likely to receive, even if it has not been fabricated, will probably be redundant by the time you receive it.’

  Kitty shot forward in her seat, her heart hammering. ‘Why? What have you heard?’

  ‘Nothing concrete—a rumour here, a word there. But with a touch of persuasion, and the calling in of several debts owed to me—’

  ‘But you said “redundant”. Was he here, Mr Wong? Was he here and now he’s gone?’

  Kai inclined his head in partial agreement. ‘Your young friend with the gift of second sight was correct. He was here, I can assure you of that, but I have not yet discovered where he is now.’

  It was Kitty’s first real proof that Rian was still alive. Her heart soaring with relief and her throat aching against a torrent of tears that sprang from both gratitude and fury, she put her elbows on her knees and her hands over her face so Wong Kai couldn’t see her livid expression. Why, why, couldn’t you have told me that as soon as you walked in?

  ‘He may still be in Melbourne,’ Wong Kai continued, addressing the top of her head, ‘or he may have been taken somewhere else. I am awaiting further information.’

  Kitty straightened, smoothed a crease in her skirt, and studied his face. He looked…amused almost,
as though he knew she was angry with him and he found it entertaining. She composed herself to the best of her ability.

  ‘I am extremely grateful for your assistance, Mr Wong. I’m sure you know how disadvantaged I would be without it. When are you expecting to receive this further information?’

  Kai shrugged, the stiff silk of his robe making a soft whispering sound against the back of his chair. ‘I am hoping sometime tonight, but who knows? When the quarry is information, the hunt cannot always be measured in time.’

  Oh, what a lot of shite, Kitty thought. ‘Well, I would very much appreciate being told as soon as you hear anything. Any hour of the day or night.’

  Wong Kai nodded beneficently. ‘Of course. It will be my pleasure.’

  So-Yee escorted Kitty downstairs, where she was met by Mr Chen, and together they walked along Little Bourke Street, hailed a cab and headed back to the Criterion Hotel.

  Concealed uncomfortably behind a stack of empty barrels in an alleyway, Daniel and Israel watched as the cab rattled off.

  ‘What do ya think he had to tell her?’ Israel wondered aloud.

  Daniel had no idea, but she certainly looked brighter than she had for some weeks—and that could mean only one thing. He leant against the wall behind the barrels and closed his eyes, expecting to be overcome by a surge of jealous despair, or hopelessness, or even possessiveness now that he’d actually, after all these years of longing, made love to Kitty.

  Then he gave a mental sigh of despondency, because it hadn’t been love, had it? Certainly not on her part. Kitty had been seeking comfort, at best. And he had been left profoundly regretting what he’d done—and when she was at such a low ebb. Her lips had silently formed Rian’s name at the peak of her passion, and he’d pressed his face into her throat so he wouldn’t have to see it, and so he could keep pretending it was him she was loving, and not her dead husband. And now that it seemed that Rian might be alive after all, Daniel felt…what? He rubbed his hands over his unshaven face and then nearly smiled, because the closest he could come to it was…joy.