‘Shorter than you by an inch or so, thicker set than you, lighter hair, brown eyes …’ What did he look like? Could she even remember? ‘Talks too much. People like him.’
‘Accent?’
‘Australian.’
‘It’s not much, is it?’ said Martin Duffy. ‘But I’ll give it a go.’ And then he was gone, a surprisingly graceful man, hatless, in a light jacket, wearing boots in no way qualified to tackle the mud. He darted among the untidy gangs of men and as Pearl watched his back she thought how mad she must be to trust Beattie’s wellbeing to anyone so slight, let alone the fate of a fiancé probably as out of his mind as Captain Nightingale.
She steered Betty to the side of a rough hut that looked marginally more permanent than the tents and stationed herself behind it to wait for his return, remembering for no real reason Annie’s admonition over something or other. ‘It’s an affliction. You are afflicted by silly ideas.’ Then seeing the hurt on Pearl’s face, she’d softened: ‘We all have afflictions, even Jesus.’ Pearl had asked what His was. Annie had replied, ‘Talking too much.’
She waited and she waited, taking care to avoid the eyes of any man who dared to seek hers out but unable to avoid those of a burly fellow on horseback chiefly because he had only one of them. He dismounted when he saw her and attached his horse to the hitching post by the hut. ‘You waiting for someone, miss?’ he growled.
A criminal, Pearl thought, or a boxer. Neither, she saw at once. His bearing was military, his clothes neat and clean, there were medals on his chest. This was a man used to issuing orders and having them obeyed. ‘My cousin,’ she said. ‘He had to deliver a message.’
‘He should have delivered it to me.’ As if to compensate for the failure of the useless thing behind the patch that took up half his face, his good eye rested twice as long as was comfortable on the object of his scrutiny. ‘He’s trespassing. So are you. You find him and remove him. Nothing and no one enters this site without going through me. Next time I’ll have you arrested for your own safety.’
‘The men look perfectly safe to me,’ said Pearl.
‘I’m not talking about the men,’ said the soldier. He might have said more. He looked as if he wanted to say more but someone called, ‘Sergeant?’ from within the hut and he disappeared into it just as Martin Duffy reappeared at a trot.
‘You took so long,’ Pearl complained.
‘That’s how long these things take,’ he replied. He hopped up next to her and they took off at a great clip because Betty wanted to be out of there even more than her passengers. ‘I spoke to twenty men at least,’ he reported. ‘None of them was him. None of them knew him, no one had seen him and no one had heard of him. One fellow thought his mate might have met him but his mate’s taken off. The difficulty you have, Miss McCleary, is that your fiancé doesn’t want to be found. No one back there is going to give him away if they think it’ll make trouble for him.’
‘I’m trying to help him. We’re trying to save him. Didn’t you tell them that? Didn’t you tell them his family was looking for him?’
‘Half the men on the railway have families, debt collectors or policemen looking for them. We’ll need a better story than that.’
‘There isn’t a better story than that,’ said Pearl.
‘There has to be,’ said Martin. ‘And if you’d just pull this stupid horse over for a minute, I think you should tell me what it is.’ But she didn’t want to. She’d told him all he needed to know.
The man was needed at home. He had a little sister, whose health was failing. What extra detail could possibly make any difference to a man who had no idea how to put a question in such a way that it produced an acceptable answer. She said nothing. She looked straight ahead.
‘You have to trust me, Miss McCleary, or I’ll be no use to you at all. If you want me to find your Daniel Flannagan I’ll need all the help you can give me.’ There was no arguing with it. She did have to trust him. Regardless of how inadequate his help might be, it was the only help on offer.
Pearl looked from the road to Martin Duffy then back to the road, which presented even fewer possibilities for a rewarding outcome than the quest she’d undertaken. She slowed Betty to a walk. When the slush eventually gave way to firmer ground and a small clearing appeared to the left of them, she pulled into it. ‘Sandwich?’ she offered. As she reached for the picnic hamper, she composed herself to overcome a lifetime of trusting no one but herself.
‘He must be something for you to love him,’ said Martin Duffy softly, and here trust deserted her. She wanted with her whole being to yell that she didn’t love him, that he loved her and that he’d so swamped her with the weight of his love that she couldn’t breathe or think and had only ever wanted to push him as far away as she could and now she’d be pleased if he was dead. But instead she said, ‘He’s a marvellous man.’
‘How old?’
‘Twenty-seven. No, twenty-six.’
‘And his sister is called …’
‘Beattie.’
‘Does he love Beattie?’
‘Of course he loves Beattie. We all love Beattie. You won’t find a lovelier, gentler, kinder girl. But her heart was weakened by flu and we don’t know how long she’ll live.’
‘Your Daniel doesn’t sound like a very caring brother.’
Pearl frowned. Stupid Mr Duffy was forcing her to defend Daniel when she was in no mood to. But she would because Martin Duffy wasn’t half the man Daniel was and frankly if she was angry with anyone right now it was with Martin Duffy. ‘Of course he’s caring,’ she snapped. ‘He tried to look after her when their mother died but she needed a proper home and he had to work and study. So, Mrs McGuire took over raising her. Mrs McGuire who interviewed you.’
‘What kind of study?’
‘Law. He wants to be a lawyer.’ Here she might have gone on to say, But he never will be one because he can’t stick at anything. But she didn’t.
Martin Duffy rubbed his cheek. ‘So, he has a good heart and he’s trying to help the family of a soldier who died. Remind me why anyone would want to kill him?’
Pearl shrugged wearily. ‘To get rid of him. That’s all I know. Now let’s go home.’ They both sighed as Pearl took up the reins.
‘It’d be easier if he minded his own business,’ said Martin Duffy. ‘Has anyone said that to him? It would be kinder to his family and better for us all if he just let bygones be bygones.’
And although Pearl in her heart agreed with him, she felt only fury that Martin Duffy should say it out loud.
Chapter Twenty-four
Adelaide had passed the day growing more furious with her housekeeper, silently congratulating her husband on putting his foot down about the trap when Miss McCleary, of whom she knew nothing, had no business even asking for it. Quite clearly she intended to place her own needs before everyone else’s even though she was contributing no more to Mr Duffy’s upkeep than anyone else and even though he was staying in desperate Louisa’s house and Adelaide was sure she’d seen more horses being shunted into the overcrowded paddock that very lunchtime.
Salt had been rubbed into her wound. She’d heard from both Maisie Jenkins and Mrs Lambert that her housekeeper’s cousin had been locked away with Mr Stokes yesterday, talking about heaven only knew what but rousing the curiosity of everyone. Had he mentioned this to her? Had the man to whom she was paying good money to sort out the mammoth problem of her thieving store manager shown her the courtesy of an immediate report? He hadn’t. He’d run off with the housekeeper, whose ridiculous idea he’d been in the first place.
She would confront him. She would confront them both. No, she’d take him aside when the housekeeper wasn’t around and she’d stake her claim to his attentions because surely hers were the most serious. If the Nightingale family went broke the whole town would go down with it, taking Louisa and the O’Connells with them. Miss McCleary would, of course, make her own arrangements since that was apparently what she meant to do anyway.
&n
bsp; By tea time, Adelaide was standing by the front gate with Freddie on her hip, waiting for that same Miss McCleary to return because she was lonely and tired and desperate to discuss her concerns with the only person in whom she had any confidence. Her eyes were aching with the strain of peering through the Arch. Her brain was addled from the torment of wanting the woman home this instant so she could let her know who was boss around here. Her heart thumped with fear that she was drowned in a ditch, killed by the stupid cart she’d been forced to hire. It was almost a relief to see Louisa crossing the road so she could relieve herself of the agony. ‘She should be home. Do you think Lambert’s carts are safe?’
‘You wouldn’t get me out there in a month of Sundays,’ Louisa replied.
‘Have they delivered more horses? I’m sure I saw a few more being shunted through the back gate.’
‘I couldn’t give two hoots,’ said Louisa. ‘It’s no longer my problem.’ The thought might have startled Adelaide had not Pearl emerged finally, on her own, coated in dust, hair in disarray, and looking for all the world like a wife whose part-time husband had pushed her off the cart. ‘I hope it went better than she looks.’
It hardly mattered to Adelaide whether it had or it hadn’t. She had her rock back and now life would return to as normal as it had been yesterday. ‘I wasn’t sure what you wanted to cook,’ she said as soon as Pearl was within hearing distance. ‘I’ve put out some carrots. Freddie’s been fretting for you all day and I really need to hear what Mr Duffy had to say about his meeting with Mr Stokes.’
‘Give the woman a chance,’ said Louisa, but Adelaide was already through the front door and holding it open for Pearl, who had time only to wave briefly at Louisa before it was closed, leaving Louisa alone in the road to check the paddock, agree it did look fuller and to decide that Adelaide’s rudeness shouldn’t go unchallenged. She waited just the single second before she knocked on the Nightingale door. When it was opened she said, ‘Oh hello, Marcus. I just wanted to ask Miss McCleary if her cousin was coming home for his dinner.’
Marcus replied, ‘Come in, come in, Louisa. I bet you’d like a drink to settle you.’ And because there was no sign of Adelaide or Miss McCleary – or Martin Duffy on whom she’d been waiting with an impatience as urgent as Adelaide’s – and because she thought she could do with a drink, and because she knew Marcus had taken a shine to her, Louisa smiled radiantly in reply. ‘Just a small something, Marcus. I have a lodger who’ll need feeding. Where are the others?’
‘Where they usually are. With that boy of ours. He’s running them ragged,’ said Marcus. ‘Into my office quick, before they come and nab you for themselves.’
They didn’t even consider nabbing because they were being run ragged in the nursery soothing Freddie, who was screaming blue murder to celebrate the return of his best friend who should never have left him, and Pearl was singing at the top of her voice to divert him. Regardless of the distraction, Adelaide wanted immediate reassurance on the matter of Martin Duffy, who was clearly ignoring her needs in favour of everyone else’s. ‘I really don’t think he is,’ said Pearl, breaking between verses. ‘It was my decision to take him to the railway.’
‘But he’s living with Louisa and they have miles of time to talk about her problems. Maggie was over there yesterday before you could say Jack Robinson, and you’ve had all day with him. Yesterday when he should have been seeing to my situation, he spent ages with Archie Stokes and not a word to me about the outcome. Not a single word. He should have come straight here from the shop and told me what Mr Stokes had to say on the matter of the missing money.’
Pearl stifled a groan. She wanted with all her heart to groan very loudly because that was preferable to screaming. ‘That might be because he didn’t mention the money to Mr Stokes. He’s supposed to be my cousin, not a private investigator. He can’t go wading in and making accusations on behalf of his cousin’s employer when he hardly knows her, now can he?’
‘I do think –’ began Adelaide but Pearl would have none of it.
‘But there’s nothing,’ she said firmly, ‘nothing at all to worry about. If he’s going to make any headway he needs to tread carefully.’ She handed Freddie to Adelaide, who reluctantly undid the buttons of her blouse. ‘Now I’ll get dinner for us while you give Freddie his.’
If Pearl, on leaving the nursery, heard a laugh that was unmistakably Mrs Worthington’s coming from the office, she ignored it. She was exhausted. The trip had been futile. The whole enterprise was ridiculous. She wished the idiot boy had never come and she wasn’t entirely sure why she’d defended him so vehemently to Mrs Nightingale.
Less exhausted, she might have been comforted by the knowledge that Martin Duffy, after an hour at The Irish Rover, far from feeling he needed defending, believed he was doing well. He reported as much to Louisa, who listened with only slight interest since it didn’t concern her. ‘It didn’t mean much at the time but now I think it could be important,’ he said between mouthfuls of something that could have been potato pie or porridge. ‘I talked to a man from Bega who hadn’t heard of Miss McCleary’s fiancé but he said there was someone on the coast who terrified the bejesus out of everyone who dealt with him. He said, if it’s him he’s after, forget it. How far is Pambula?’
‘Pambula,’ Louisa repeated vaguely. ‘It’s full of old people who want to die where they can hear the sea.’
‘Friendly place?’
‘I suppose so. Jimmy’s parents had a holiday house there. His sister still has it. I never heard of anyone there who was terrifying. A name would help. More lapin? I think I might have a little more rum with mine.’
‘There was no name. How long does it take to get there?’
‘A day there, a day back. Rum for you? You might as well.’ She smiled. She had small, even teeth and lips that curled sweetly. How could a man not be bewitched? But Martin Duffy replied, ‘No thanks,’ then he excused himself saying he needed to go to bed because it had been a long, hard day.
‘The pub certainly takes it out of you,’ was Louisa’s dry reply.
Chapter Twenty-five
He was still in bed the next morning when Adelaide knocked on Louisa’s door. ‘Miss McCleary exhausted him yesterday,’ Louisa reported. ‘Are you going to the Mayberrys’ Party For Peace?’ She waved a newspaper in Adelaide’s face.
‘I didn’t know they were having one. Aren’t we having a Peace Ball?’ Adelaide followed Louisa into the dining room, where the faintly charred smell of last night’s meal lingered. ‘You need to open a window, Louisa.’
‘They’ve cancelled the ball in case it drew unsavoury elements.’ Louisa read from the paper: ‘That every other town is having a Peace Ball is no reason for Prospect to have one. The Mayor and his good lady wife will host a Candlelit Garden Party with Talks and Tableaux in the grounds of their magnificent home, which will do our soldiers returning and not returning proud.’
Of course Adelaide hadn’t read the paper. When did she have time to read a paper? ‘Why isn’t he up? It’s after nine.’
Louisa didn’t look up from the report she found so captivating. ‘Tired? Lazy? Drank more than he should have before coming home for his dinner? I don’t know, Adelaide. Can you believe the woman? She thanked the Ball Committee for their excellent work and then she sacked them. She’s running the show on her own. Maybe she has another announcement to make to the women of the nation. Cup of tea? I’ve just made a pot.’
‘Thank you,’ said Adelaide. Her hesitation was tiny. She and Louisa hadn’t sat down for a cup of tea together, just the two of them, since they’d both taken a shine to William Mayberry. It was in the spirit of this unusual togetherness that she asked Louisa how she was finding Maggie O’Connell, with whom they had also been thrown together. Odd they had nothing in common with her except access to the same stretch of road from their front doors and now a part-time husband.
‘She’s a spiky little thing, isn’t she?’ was Louisa’s opinion. ‘But you
know her better than I do.’
‘I don’t. I’ve barely spoken to her in all the years we’ve been neighbours. Far too much water under the bridge. I always suspected she was spiky. Like her father.’
‘I hadn’t heard the father was spiky. Just unlucky to have crossed your father.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean, Louisa. He tried to rob us.’
‘Don’t get cross, Adelaide. It’s nothing to do with me. I never listen to local gossip. Martin asked me what I knew about the O’Connells and it was nothing much. Weren’t her mother’s side good farmers?’
Adelaide smiled, not with her eyes but with her teeth, which was better than nothing. ‘The Careys took up their land the same time my grandfather took up ours and I think they did well. Mother was fond of Cissy. They got on famously until she married Frank O’Connell.
‘And what did you think of him?’
‘Louisa, you know very well. Dishonest. Unreliable. Greedy.’
‘Then he ran off with that awful red-haired girl, what’s her name from the Post Office. And here he is. Good morning, Martin. Sleep well?’
‘Who ran off with a redhead?’ Martin took a cup and saucer from the sideboard and poured himself some tea. ‘I love gossip. Who doesn’t?’ If he’d heard the slight on his fellow countryman he didn’t show it, merely delight in the world around him.
Louisa thought how attractive a tousled head could be on a newly woken man late in the morning, and Adelaide surprised herself by deciding that as Irish traitors went, this one at least had some tact as well as a pleasant manner. ‘Louisa apparently,’ she said lightly. ‘And how did you find the quality of Mr Stokes’ gossip?’
‘Well that was more in the way of him trying to find out as much about me as he could and me trying to decide why such a lovely old fella would want to bite the hand that fed him, namely yours. Could I trouble you for a slice of bread, Louisa?’
And where Louisa might have said to a less tousled head, Help yourself if you can find any, she said, ‘Of course,’ and went to the kitchen to bring in a loaf with some butter and jam, placing it on the table as if she’d paid for it.
Four Respectable Ladies Seek Part-time Husband Page 14