Tessa fiddled with the hem of her shirt, feeling torn. ‘I, um . . .’
‘Tessa, no matter what your relationship with him was, you need to talk to the police.’ Paul’s tone was no-nonsense. ‘And you should tell them what he did to you. It’s clear he’s a nasty piece of work and you’ll just have to avoid him. I’m sorry, Tessa.’
‘I don’t want to accuse him of anything. I just think there’s more to Joe’s death than a fall!’
‘If there is, I’m sure the police or the coroner or whoever will work it out. But that’s why they need any information, no matter how small. After all, you loved Joe as much as the rest of us.’ He patted her shoulder. ‘Thank goodness Harrison was close by.’ He went back to packing up the transportable yards with Ryan.
Paul shook Ryan’s hand as the women kissed goodbye.
‘Wishing you all the luck in the world, Marni,’ Tessa said as they hugged. ‘I hope everything goes just the way you want it to.’
‘Thanks, Tessa.’ Marni brushed away a tear and got into the car.
‘Take care.’
Ryan and Marni would drive to Kalgoorlie that night, then on to Perth the next day. They had no idea how long they’d be gone – a week or two, or three. The drive itself would take longer than a day.
Tessa couldn’t help but feel, after everything that had happened, that a little baby would be a wonderful thing for the whole Mathison clan. She only hoped that if they ended up trying IVF that it would work.
It was dusk by the time Tessa and her parents left, joining the long line of car after car, and ute after ute, all leaving the Muster for another year.
She still felt sick, thinking she might have got Brendan into trouble. She hoped she’d been wrong. She tried to push it to the back of her mind.
Tessa, seated in the backseat, turned and looked behind her at the empty arena. Goosebumps crawled over her skin. The place was beautiful in the late sunlight, shrouded in dust. Beautiful and sad all at once.
Goodbye Joe, she thought. Then, with conviction, she turned around and looked out of the front windscreen. Because no matter what had happened at the Muster – the sad things, the scary things, the fun things – she had found herself. She hadn’t gotten drunk, she hadn’t slept with anyone, she’d stood up to Brendan and helped Cally. All of these small things amounted to something big.
Violet had been right. Home was where you could heal.
Chapter 28
A week later, Tessa sat staring at the simple wooden coffin in the Kalgoorlie funeral home chapel. She brushed away a tear as Harrison spoke.
‘In closing, I’d have to say there was no one better with a horse. Joe’s heart belonged to those creatures.’ He turned to the coffin. ‘Mate, the place just won’t be the same without you.’
Before making his way back to his seat, he stopped just for a moment to place his hand on the coffin.
As he sat down, Tessa, sitting in the pew behind, felt the urge to reach out and touch him, to offer some comfort. He had no one. Cally was conspicuous by her absence.
Harrison’s face was more lined than she’d seen it in the short time she’d been reacquainted with him. Joe’s death had affected many but, by the look of it, none more than him.
Finally the celebrant concluded the service and everyone moved to the outer room for morning tea. Tessa stood with her parents and one or two others, all Nullarbor locals. Many others milled around, talking.
‘Good old CWA ladies,’ one man said as he bit into a piece of cake.
‘Yes, they know how to put on a top spread,’ Tessa agreed.
‘Peggy! Paul! How are you both? Looking well as usual.’ A man Tessa didn’t know shook Paul’s hand and took over the conversation.
Tessa wandered away to look at the photos on the wall. The low hum of voices and clinking of spoons against coffee cups soothed her sadness.
Harrison appeared with a coffee in hand. ‘Thought you might want to know the police haven’t come up with anything. They can’t charge anyone, can’t prove anything. Joe had a stroke and that’s the end of it.’
Tessa sighed. ‘I wish I got there just a minute or two earlier.’
Harrison shrugged. ‘But you didn’t. Don’t dwell on it. Maybe you weren’t meant to.’
‘Rather profound of you, Harrison.’ Tessa looked up into his face. She noticed for the first time the grey hairs at his brow line, but other than that, you wouldn’t be able to guess his age.
‘Yeah, well. One of those sorts of days.’ He took a sip of coffee then put it down on a side table and faced Tessa. ‘I’ve got an idea and I’m wondering if you’ll help me with it.’
‘Really? Sounds interesting. Something for Cally?’ Tessa hoped it wasn’t shopping. She was itching to get home and stay there for a while. The last few weeks had had their fair share of excitement. ‘Where is she, by the way?’
‘At the School of the Air with her teachers. They’re leaving in a couple of hours for a school trip. Going to Perth.’
‘Oh, she didn’t mention anything.’
‘I think the Muster had been taking up most of her thoughts recently. And I didn’t want her at the funeral, just when she was about to go away for a week. Thought it might be too unsettling.’ He rubbed his face.
‘So, this thing you wanted help with?’ Tessa asked curiously, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and adjusting her handbag.
‘I wanted to discuss it with you at the Muster, then Joe died and things just went downhill from there,’ he explained. ‘Then I was going to organise to catch up a bit later, but I saw you with Brendan and, well, you know . . .’ They hadn’t spoken about the confrontation with Brendan McKenzie since it had happened.
Tessa screwed up her face. ‘Don’t want to even be reminded,’ she said, holding up her hand as if to ward off his words.
Harrison shrugged. ‘You’re good at marketing?’
‘It’s what I’m trained in,’ she answered.
‘Do you think you could market something you didn’t know much about?’
Tessa was puzzled. ‘I’m not sure what you mean. I mean, the principles of marketing are the same, whether you’re selling cheese or pens. You have to make people want to buy whatever you’re advertising.’
‘So you don’t have to have an intimate knowledge of any industry to be able to promote it?’ He handed his empty cup to the CWA lady who had come around with a tray. ‘Thanks,’ he said and turned back towards Tessa.
‘No, it’s all about research. If Fred Bloggs wanted me to sell his civil celebrant services, theoretically, I’d be able to.’
‘Right. That’s what I was hoping to hear. Would you be able to come up with a marketing plan for our lambs?’
The request stopped Tessa in her tracks. It had been months since she’d even thought about marketing. On top of that, she sure as hell didn’t know anything about selling wool.
She hedged. ‘That might be a little out of my league. There’s been a lot of changes since I left the Nullarbor. I don’t know anything about the wool industry these days.’
‘Not wool. Lambs. Meat.’ Harrison looked disappointed. ‘I thought you’d like the challenge.’
‘I do!’ She knew he was trying to appeal to her competitive side, but lambs? ‘I’ll need a bit more information than just “lambs”!’
‘I want to sell the meat for the best price. It’s that simple.’ He shrugged.
‘Tell you what. I’ll do a bit of research when I get home and try to come up with some information. If I think it’s worth going on with I’ll let you know.’ She smiled. ‘But aren’t you locked into selling them all at one time and that sort of thing?’
‘Yeah, because of the freight, mainly. But, see, I had this idea about our meat being organically grown. Load of shit, really, but the fact is, we don’t use chemicals on our pastures. Everything they eat is natural. Thought we might be able to find a niche market or something.’
He looked so hopeful, Tessa couldn’t s
ay no, even if she wanted to. It would be a reason to spend some more time with him. To impress him with her skills.
‘That’s thinking outside the square! I’ll give it some thought and see what I can come up with.’
‘Why don’t I fly over and pick you up the day after tomorrow? You can spend the weekend and we can mull over it together.’
Tessa felt a thrill run through her. ‘No worries. I’ll try and do a bit of investigation before then.’
‘Great.’ He glanced at his watch and sighed. ‘Right, I’d better be off and see Cally before she leaves. Imagine, fifteen kids and three teachers on a bus for seven hours. That’s how long it’ll take them to get to Perth! Probably longer in a bus.’
Tessa screwed up her nose. ‘Couldn’t think of anything worse. Give her a hug from me.’
Harrison nodded. ‘Sure. And I’ll see you in a couple of days.’ He winked as he turned away, leaving Tessa smiling like a clown.
Get a grip! she thought silently, watching him move through the crowd. Her eyes strayed to his shoulders and down further. She blushed and turned away.
Tessa leapt from the car. ‘I’m back, Dozer!’ She ran to pat the dog, who was doing a kind of arthritic hokey-pokey as he attempted to jump up on her. ‘Don’t jump, you silly thing. You’ll hurt yourself. Did you miss me?’ She gave him another pat then opened the front door and looked around.
There was the sandalwood smell again. The diaries lay where she had left them.
Tantalised, she picked one up and let it fall open.
Sunday, 7 December 1930
Ali and his team are here to load the wool. They have towed a flatbed trailer with them. One by one, the men have loaded fifty-two bales onto it. Then they will tow it down towards Esperance. Tagon Harbour is where they’ll meet the ship. The market is buoyant, we are told. So, once again, we are hoping for high prices.
Ali has stayed longer than usual this year. The unseasonal rain has prevented him from leaving. They are camped a little way away from us, but they are all so quiet, you’d never know they were here.
She snapped the book shut. First, a cup of tea, then you can start reading them, she told herself.
In the kitchen she put on the kettle. Opening the pantry, she reached up to grab the sugar. But her fingers didn’t grasp the jar firmly enough and it tumbled down. With a crash, the glass shattered.
‘Oh shit!’ Grabbing the dustpan and broom, she got onto her knees and began to sweep the sugar and glass into a mound. She flicked the brush in under the bottom shelf of the pantry. It hit something hard and unyielding. She tried again, but the same thing happened. This time there was a dull thwack.
She bent down and peered under. It was an old, rusty tucker box about the size of a laptop computer but bigger. It was what everyone used to pack their food into in the old days. She dragged it out, cursing as it spread the mess further, and lifted it onto the table. Then she went back to cleaning up.
Dozer tried to nuzzle under her arm and lick at the sweet treat.
‘Get out of it, Dozer. Sugar isn’t good for dogs.’
He lay back down and sighed.
When the floor was tidy she returned to the tucker box. ‘I hope Aunty Spider cleaned this out last time she used it. Otherwise it’s going to be gross,’ she told the dog, wrinkling her nose.
The latch was stuck, so she got a knife and wiggled it around, hoping to dislodge the rust. It finally came loose and she pulled up the lid.
‘Oh, bloody hell, more papers! Aunty Spider, you were the biggest hoarder I’ve ever known! I thought I’d found everything there was to find.’
She reached in and grabbed a handful. How many more places had Spider hidden things? But as she started to read, she almost dropped the pile.
16 June 1942
My darling Violet, I can’t tell you where I am, because the censors will just cross it out. I am overseas, though. It is the first time we’ve been able to post letters since we left home, but I have written to you every day.
How are things on Danjar Plains? Has it rained?
Do you remember how we walked down the road, just before I left? The wildflowers were beginning to bloom and the kangaroos were grazing under the mallees. I think of that, all the time.
The smell here is putrid. We smell like rotting bodies, even though we are alive. The sound of gunfire is all around and the cries of the wounded are eerie.
I crave the quietness of the plains and your soft touch.
I often think about how we met. It was fate. You on holidays and me, a young English jackaroo, hoping to make my fortune in Australia. I was too shy to speak to you the first time I saw you, shoes in hand, walking along the sand staring out to sea. Fancy, our first time ever on the beach and we fall in love!
Violet, if I don’t make it back, I want you to know I have never once regretted leaving England to be with you. I may have lived at Danjar Plains for only a couple of years, but it is my life. I love it the way you do. And I don’t want to be anywhere other than where you are.
All my love, forever,
William
Tessa’s eyes widened as she flicked through the rest of the pile. Something personal! This was the sort of thing she’d been so desperate to discover – and had despaired of finding. Oh, my goodness!
She went on to the next letter, realising they were in no particular order. The dates were higgledy-piggledy.
18 June 1942
Dearest Violet,
We’ve been moved, on a [the censor had struck out this line]. We are going into action [again, blacked out]. I love you, my darling. I can’t tell you how much.
Keep the memories close, in case I don’t return.
All my love,
William
23 July 1943
Dear Mrs Anderson,
We regret to inform you that Second Lieutenant William Anderson was killed in action on 19 June 1943.
The Australian Government sends its deepest sympathy.
Signed,
The signature was illegible.
Tessa kept flicking:
Dear Violet.
Dear Violet.
Dear Violet.
Dear Grace.
What? Dear Grace? It was Violet’s handwriting.
Dear Grace,
My darling William is dead. Gone. Killed on foreign shores. My darling, darling man.
I am heartbroken.
Violet.
September 1941
Dear Grace,
Tom turned ten today. I must say he is such a strapping lad. There’s none better on a horse and his ability to muster a paddock and bring in every animal is almost legendary!
I am recovering from William’s death. I guess I always knew it was possible he wouldn’t come home, but it doesn’t stop the ache in my chest. I can function and keep going and that is what is important.
I thought I would find it lonely without him, but Tom keeps me company. He has a wicked sense of humour. The tricks he plays can just about stop my heart, but he has a kind and thoughtful side, too. Yesterday I came home after sheep work and found a pot of freshly picked wildflowers on the outside table.
I miss you, dear sister,
V x
Tessa’s tea had gone stone-cold on the bench. When she finally tore herself away from the letters she found it was late afternoon.
Unwillingly, she put the pages down and went to light the hot-water system. Her mind was in a tangle. She was desperate to keep going, to unwind this family mystery. But she was keen to get on and research Harrison’s scheme, too. And of course there was the weird conversation between Brendan and his father, back at the muster, when Spider’s name was mentioned. Oh, the webs.
She decided to focus on the letters for today. On the one hand, she felt she was intruding upon her aunt’s private world but, on the other, it was her heritage too – and if you don’t have a history, then who are you?
But why were the letters to Grace not posted? It was a mystery.
> Back inside, she spread out the letters and sorted them into piles. There were missives from Elsie, William, Ali. Ali? Now that was strange. The handwriting in Ali’s letters was printed and careful. Perhaps they were from the camel-train man? Why would he be writing to Violet? But the biggest bundle was made up of the ones Violet had written to Grace.
Fetching the diaries and a piece of paper, Tessa began to make a timeline, trying to cross-match the letters to the diaries. Hopefully then she’d have a clearer picture of what was going on.
Something was fizzing inside her – excitement, perhaps. Or was it fear of what she might find? Either way, she was almost certain that if there was a family secret, it was within her grasp. She wanted to jump up and down and jiggle all at once, but she needed to stay calm and be methodical. Otherwise, she might miss some small clue.
Tessa started with the smallest pile.
9 March 1933
Dear Violet,
Here is the recipe you asked for when I passed your way last. It will work well with mutton.
Dripping for the pan
Mutton
Onion
Turmeric
Nutmeg
Cinnamon
Cayenne pepper
Water
Simmer all together for about two hours. We wouldn’t usually add potatoes but it does help to fill out the meal.
We are travelling towards Ceduna and then I have managed to win a contract to cart supplies to Alice Springs. I won’t be back your way for a long time.
Ali
. . .
1935
Dear Violet,
I am writing to let you know I am going home. I will travel by ship in three months. As much as I would like to see you, Tom and the rest of your family before I leave, it will be impossible. I am making my way towards Adelaide now.
Thank you for all your love and support, dear friend.
Ali
Tessa was confused. Why were they so friendly? Still, Violet had been a warm person and would have made sure she greeted and treated them all as family, if they allowed her too.
At least this solved the mystery of how Spider learned to cook her famous qorma!
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