Crimson Dawn

by Fleur McDonald

  ‘It’s okay,’ Laura said, putting her hand over his for a second, then taking it away. ‘I think I’m overreacting to everything at the moment. I feel a bit out of control.’

  ‘Understandably so. Did you talk to your dad?’

  ‘Yeah. They’ll be down in a couple of days.’

  ‘That’s good. You know, I’ve been thinking about the situation ever since you rang and I’ve got an idea.’ He stood up straight.

  Laura looked up at him, realising how pleased she was to have him here. She knew Tim would try and make things right. ‘About what?’ she asked.

  ‘Would there be anything in Howie’s office that might give you a hint? Have you looked? I mean, this house is so big. He lived on one side, you on the other. He might have known something and kept it hidden.’

  Laura shook her head. ‘Papa never hid anything from me,’ she said with certainty.

  ‘I’m not saying he did. He just may not have told you. I bet you never asked. And if you don’t ask, often you don’t get told.’

  Laura stared at him. She didn’t want to go looking in Howie’s office until Sean arrived. ‘What do you think I might find?’ she asked finally.

  Tim shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But I’ve been thinking about it non-stop since your call.’ He began to pace the kitchen. ‘Trying to work out how we can find information. I feel useless, Laura. I want to help but I don’t know what to do. This is the best I’ve come up with so far. I can’t bear to see you hurting, so let me in. You’re so strong but I want to share the load. Let me give you the ideas I have, even if they’re not very good.’ He tried to smile but failed.

  Laura held his gaze, thinking how much she liked it when he used the word ‘we’. ‘I’m not shutting you out. Not on purpose. I’m just so used to doing everything by myself. It’s hard for me to stop thinking that way.’

  ‘I know.’ Tim came back to stand in front of her. He put out his hand to her and she took it. He pulled her up and looked into her eyes. ‘I want to help, Laura.’

  Laura looked steadily back at him, knowing he was genuine and it was up to her now. She took a breath. ‘I want you to help too.’

  They stared into each other’s eyes. The only sound to be heard was the singing of the crickets.

  Tim raised his hand and gently touched her cheek.

  Laura covered his hand with hers. ‘I like the way you used the word “we”,’ she whispered. ‘It’s got a beautiful sound to it.’

  A ghost of a smile passed over Tim’s face and he leaned down towards her. ‘I’d be happy to keep using that word for a long time,’ he said.

  Laura opened her mouth to answer but before she could, Tim’s lips were on hers.

  Laura moved over to the window. The half-moon cast a soft light across the roof of the shed, which shone silver. She could see the dark outline of Rip’s dog kennel to the left and the shearing shed and yards to the right.

  She looked towards the boundary that separated Nambina from the Hunters’ property. Laura couldn’t see their house or outbuildings—they were too far away—but she could imagine them and wondered what secrets they held.

  Against the moonlit sky she could make out the distant outline of the monstrosity that had housed the insane in the early 1900s. It was crumbling and decaying now, but on nights like these, Laura felt a tingling rush of cold run over her. She wondered about the lost souls who had been imprisoned there. What had happened to them all?

  She shifted her gaze back to Tim. ‘Who’s out there?’ she said softly.

  Tim came and stood beside her. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked, staring intently through the glass. ‘Can you see someone?’

  ‘No.’ She half-smiled. ‘If I could see them, I’d know who I was fighting.’

  ‘You’re fighting Meghan,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, but who is Meghan?’

  Laura watched through the open door as Tim unloaded two whiteboards, which looked like they would be at home in a small home office, from the back of his ute. He carried them across the yard one at a time and leaned them against the wall in the kitchen.

  Laura was by the phone, the receiver in her hand. ‘I’m not sure who to try first,’ she said.

  ‘Births, Deaths and Marriages. They’ll tell you how to order the birth certificates.’

  ‘But can anyone order anyone’s birth certificate? I mean, won’t I need identification or something?’

  ‘Sweetheart, they’ll tell you if you ring. I can’t answer all the questions—I don’t know all the answers.’ He nodded encouragingly. ‘Oh, by the way,’ he said, uncapping a texta. ‘I’ve taken almost three weeks’ leave to help sort this.’

  Laura’s breath caught in her throat. ‘Who’s looking after the surgery?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘Called in a locum. Mate I went to vet school with. He’s unemployed and happy to have something to do. He can ring me if he needs to, but he’s a good vet. He won’t stuff it up.’

  ‘Thanks, Tim.’ She looked over at him, wanting to convey how grateful she was, but he had his back to her and didn’t turn around. In the end, she went back to the phone and looked up the number she needed.

  While she talked to the woman at Births, Deaths and Marriages, she watched Tim draw lines down the first whiteboard and write headings:

  Week One.

  Week Two.

  Week Three.

  Then under each heading he drew seven lines. Day One, Day Two and so on.

  Laura hung up. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I talked to Detective Burrows today,’ he said, still writing, ‘and this is how they solve crimes. They use boards. They write every piece of information they get up here, brainstorm it and see if anything stands out. That’s what we’re going to do. And on this board here—’ he pointed and grabbed a red texta, ‘—we’ll write the family tree.’

  He started by writing ‘Meghan’ in large letters at the bottom of the board. Then he wrote ‘Josh (half-brother)’, ‘Glenda (mother)’ and ‘Mark (father)’. The lines he drew to connect them were wobbly, but Laura could see what he was doing. He was going to take the family tree back to where Meghan believed she had a link to the Murphys.

  ‘Do we need one for us?’ she asked. ‘A Murphy family tree, to see if we come up with the same link?’

  ‘Not at the moment. I think we should just focus on Meghan and see where it leads.’

  There was a knock at the door. Tegan and Robyn came in. They stopped when they saw the activity.

  ‘Headquarters,’ Tim confirmed with a grin.

  ‘For what?’ Tegan said slowly, glancing from Tim to Laura.

  ‘Ah.’ Laura looked at both girls, wondering how much to tell them. They were part of it, she decided. ‘I got a bit of bad news last night. Meghan Hunter has made a claim on Nambina.’

  She filled them in quickly and answered their questions. ‘What would be really great is if you could keep an eye on the stock and things outside for me while we focus on this. It’s only for a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Eighteen days,’ Tim broke in. ‘We’re on a countdown.’

  ‘How come?’ Robyn asked, and Laura told her about the letter and the deadline.

  ‘Don’t you worry about anything outside,’ Robyn said. ‘We can handle it. If we’ve got any questions or problems we’ll come and ask you. But let us know if we can help in here in any way. Meghan’s a stuck-up bitch.’

  Laura was at a loss for words when she heard that, but Tim laughed. ‘Good judge of character,’ was all he said.

  Laura found her voice again. ‘Great. Just come and ask if there are any hassles. The farm still needs to operate—it can’t just stop. So, this morning, could you do a stock run? Go into every paddock, check the troughs, fences, stock. Make sure everyone’s happy. Thank goodness the crop isn’t ready to be harvested yet.’

  ‘Righto. We’ll report back,’ Robyn said. They trooped out.

  ‘Can you take Rip with you?’ Laura called after them. ‘He needs a run.’<
br />
  ‘Okay.’ Tegan’s voice floated through the air.

  ‘What did the B, D and Ms say?’ Tim asked, his texta poised to write.

  Laura looked at her notes. ‘I can’t get them—the certificates, that is. Well, I can if I can get Meghan’s permission, but since I’m not allowed to contact her, it’s unlikely that’ll work.’

  ‘Ah.’ Tim looked slightly crestfallen. He put the cap back on the texta.

  ‘Why don’t we put up what we know?’ Laura asked.

  ‘That’s all I know,’ Tim answered, indicating what he’d written. ‘Do you know the names of Meghan’s grandparents?’

  ‘No-o-o,’ she said slowly. ‘But I wonder who in town would?’

  Tim brightened, and he grinned. ‘Someone in the old folks’ home, I reckon.’

  ‘We can’t just go barrelling in there,’ Laura said. ‘I don’t know anyone.’

  ‘But I do and I can. Great Aunty Ruby lives there. She’s a terrible gossip. She might know something.’

  Laura brightened. ‘If you’re comfortable asking her?’

  ‘Course I am. I visit her every time I’m passing.’

  Laura gave Tim a once-over. There was a lot about this man she didn’t know, but she liked what she was finding out.

  ‘I know, I know,’ he said, as if reading her mind. ‘I’m a good nephew. And such a catch!’

  She rolled her eyes.

  ‘Do you want to have a look in Howie’s office first?’ Tim countered.

  Laura screwed up her face. ‘I wanted to wait for Dad to help me. I know I need to, but I sort of feel like I’m intruding, and I wouldn’t so much if Dad were with me.’

  ‘He’s not going to be here until tomorrow. What if the answer is just sitting there? Intrude or lose the farm. Your choice.’ Tim folded his arms across his chest and stared at her.

  She frowned. ‘I take back all the nice things I was just thinking about you.’

  Tim continued to stare.

  ‘Oh, all right,’ she said, her huffiness apparent.

  She walked to the end of the sunroom, pulled open the door that led into a passageway and called over her shoulder. ‘You’d better come with me. I don’t really want to do it by myself.’

  The part of the house that held Howie’s office and bedroom seemed cold, despite the heat outside. Laura shivered. She could feel Howie here, smell his deodorant and aftershave. She was probably imagining it, she told herself. Her last trip down here was to look in her grandmother’s wardrobe for the Baggy and Saggy dress. That hadn’t bothered her—she hadn’t gone through personal papers or diaries. She hadn’t been looking for secrets. But this was different. It felt like prying. Overstepping the boundaries they’d had when they’d lived together.

  Howie had always welcomed her into his office when she was a child. However, as adults, they’d both needed their privacy and had usually talked in the sunroom or the kitchen. There’d been little need for Laura to visit Howie down here, so she hadn’t.

  She bypassed Howie’s bedroom and went straight to his office. Hearing Tim behind her, she felt reassured.

  She felt a lump in her throat as she touched Howie’s desk, her fingers tracing the old furrows and nicks. She sat down in the worn fabric chair. As a child she’d sit here and swing herself in circles until she was dizzy. Then, as her head spun, she’d lean all the way back until the chair was in a reclining position. It had been a pleasant sensation—she’d always felt safe in her grandfather’s office.

  ‘It’s crazy, isn’t it? We all know we can’t take anything with us when we die but it’s not until after someone has actually gone that the people left behind realise how true it is. I mean, all these things he always used. The letter opener, the pen, even the envelopes he bought that he didn’t get to use. He wouldn’t have known he wasn’t going to get to use them. But they’re all still here and he’s not.’

  Her voice caught and she felt Tim put his hand on her shoulder. She made a decision then and there. ‘You know what?’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Once all this shit is sorted with Meghan, I’m going to clean out the office. I’m going to clean the clothes out of the wardrobes. I know I can’t hang on to the past. If I’m going to fight Meghan and win, I need to have a future. All this stuff is from the past. It’s history. It can’t be changed because it’s already happened, but I can make the future better. It can have a different outcome, because it’s still undecided.’

  ‘Howie will never disappear from your life, Laura, because you hold him in here.’ Tim tapped at his chest and then his head.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said quietly, putting her own hand on her chest. ‘Yeah. In here.’

  Tim turned her around, pulled her to him and kissed her.

  Laura felt her energy renew. ‘Okay, let’s do this.’ Tentatively, she pulled open the top drawer. A neat and organised display of pens, liquid paper, paper clips and other office paraphernalia lay where it had been last used. Nothing important in there.

  The second drawer yielded as much as the first. In the third drawer she found a stack of old Adelaide Agricultural Show programs and a postcard.

  The postcard had been sent during the war and showed a picture of London.

  ‘Dear Howard,’ she read aloud for Tim’s benefit. ‘Howard? I never heard anyone call him that!’ Momentarily she was thrown.

  ‘See?’ Tim said. ‘Already we’re discovering things about him you didn’t know.’

  Laura continued to read. ‘Your brother spoke briefly of you during our time together in air force training. I wanted you to know that Thomas was shot down over the English Channel. I’m aware you were estranged, but he did speak of you fondly. It is only fair that you know what happened.’

  The postcard was signed Michael Cooke.

  ‘Dad was right,’ she said slowly. ‘Thomas was killed in the war.’

  Chapter 34

  2008

  Over a cup of tea at the kitchen table Tim and Laura studied what they’d found in Howie’s office. It wasn’t much.

  The postcard.

  The pile of Adelaide show programs.

  And a photo of two boys and their parents.

  On the back of the photo was scrawled in a feminine hand: ‘Ernest, Jessie, Thomas George and Howard Ernest. Christmas, 1930.’ The boys looked uncomfortable in ties and starched pants.

  Laura guessed the boys were ten or twelve years old. She was intrigued to see her Papa as a youngster. It was one of only a handful of photographs she’d ever seen of him. Even though it was a faded black and white picture, she could see the familiar pattern of the face she loved. She looked at it for a long time before handing it to Tim.

  ‘Geez, Thomas looks like his mum, eh?’

  Laura took the photo back for another look—she’d been too interested in Howie.

  ‘He does,’ she confirmed. ‘But look at the similarities between Papa and Ernest,’ she pointed out. ‘The family genetics are strong there as well.’

  She reached for the show programs and rifled through them until she found the one for the year Howie had won. Flicking through it, she realised there wouldn’t be any announcement because it had been printed before the judging.

  Beside each of the classes was Howie’s familiar scrawl. ‘Jackson’s two-tooth wether should win.’ And: ‘Goyder’s team impeccable.’

  She put the programs aside. ‘What now?’ she asked. ‘There’s not much here that’s useful.’

  ‘No.’ Tim was tapping his fingers on the table. Laura knew it was something he did when he was thinking. He stood up abruptly. ‘Let’s go for a drive and see Aunt Ruby.’

  The woman on reception smiled when she saw Tim. ‘Hello there. Here to see Ruby again?’

  ‘Yep, we are,’ he answered, ignoring the curious stare she gave Laura. ‘Is she playing bingo in the lounge today, Janice?’

  ‘No, it’s morning tea in the gardens. Bridge this afternoon.’

  ‘Right. I’ll find her.’ He pushed
a swinging door and motioned for Laura to follow him. ‘Bye,’ he called over his shoulder. Quietly he muttered to Laura: ‘You’ve given her something to gossip about, anyway! I’ve never brought a woman with me before.’

  Laura barely heard him; she was trying to ignore the hope that was building inside her. These people would know so much about the past. Would they know anything about Meghan’s family? Would they remember? Why hadn’t she come up with the idea herself?

  On the drive there, she and Tim had discussed what they knew, which was very little, about Meghan’s mother, Glenda: how she’d come to meet Mr Hunter, whether she’d been born in the area. Laura had suggested she hadn’t been. ‘If she’d grown up here, she wouldn’t have had the opportunity to develop those tastes,’ she said. Tim had agreed. They’d realised they didn’t know much about the Hunters, either, even though the family was local.

  ‘Here she is.’ Tim nodded towards a tall lady sitting on a bench under a leafy tree. Laura’s step faltered as she studied the elderly woman. Her long grey hair was knotted in a bun, kept in place with a net. Her dowdy clothes and solid walking shoes were out of place among the flowery tops of the other ladies and the plaid shirts of the men. She was sipping tea from a cup, a saucer in her other hand. Beside her was a walking frame.

  ‘Why’s she here?’ Laura whispered.

  ‘Just not safe in her own home. Had a couple of falls and broke her hip last year. Aunty Ruby was lucky to come out of it alive. Got pneumonia. “Lucky Lady Ruby” we call her.’ He waved his hand to get his great aunt’s attention and Laura saw a thin smile cross the elderly woman’s face.

  ‘Hi, Aunty Ruby,’ he called as he strode towards her. Bending down, he gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. ‘How are you today? It’s lovely out here in the sunshine.’

  ‘But too hot for my liking,’ Ruby huffed. ‘Who’s your friend?’

  Laura put out her hand.