Anna took a step back and for a moment he thought she was going to run away.
'Please,' he begged her. 'I have to talk to you.'
'Keep your voice down!' Anna shook back her hair and looked him up and down. 'I heard you were in the hospital.'
'You didn't come and see me.'
'Of course I didn't come! What happened to your face?'
'It's nothing.' He was mortified that she had noticed. He had always been vain about his looks. The ordeal with the whale had crushed his nose and cheek. It had not mended too badly but his boyish good looks were blurred now. His nose would be permanently bent and the left side of his face was still swollen.
She took a step towards him and ran her fingertips along his cheek. He snatched her hand away. 'Don't be cross,' she said. 'I don't care.'
Simeon looked towards the doorway. 'Where's your father?'
'He's at sea.'
'Come here then.' He tried to pull her towards him again but she skipped away.
'I can't.'
'Don't you like me?'
'You know I like you.'
'Then why won't you let me kiss you?'
'You know why!'
She crossed her arms, pushing up the swell of her breasts like the little tease she was, watching him burn. Another toss of the head.
'I'm going to marry you,' he whispered.
'You can't.'
'I have a pearl.'
She stared at him. 'What are you talking about?'
'It's beautiful, like you. It shines like the moon. I'm going to be rich. Then your father won't treat me like I'm nothing anymore.'
'Let me see this pearl.'
He beckoned her closer. But instead of showing her the pearl Simeon grabbed her and crushed his lips against hers. This time she did not struggle so much and she even let him put his hand on her plump, round breast.
A voice shouted out her name from the nearby shack. 'Anna!'
She threw herself away from him. 'Coming, mama!'
And she was gone, leaving him angry and frustrated, the ghostly memory of her breast and her raw scent his love song to the twilight.
***
Anna hoped her mother would not notice the flush of her cheeks in the dark. But Mrs Lacey was neither stupid nor blind. She saw a man's silhouette slip away between the straggle of shacks on the beach.
'Who were you talking to?'
Anna set down her bucket and went to the table to help her mother scale the fish for their dinner. She pretended not to hear.
But Mrs Lacey didn't need an answer. It was that swarthy Manilaman again. She would have to get to the bottom of this and have it out with her husband when he got back from the sea.
***
Back in his tiny room in the Canton boarding house Simeon made sure his door was locked and then went to his mattress and took the pearl from its hiding place. He unwrapped the red handkerchief and held the stone in his palm, as he did a dozen times every day. It was a perfect round, perhaps a hundred and fifty grains in weight and tinted a deep rose, like a blood moon. They called these roseate pearls, the most precious pearls of all!
Simeon knew he could not trust a snide like this with any of the Chinese storekeepers. They would cheat him for sure. But there was one white man in town who bought snides. It was common knowledge that he purchased them for Niland and Company; he was sure he would get a fair price from him.
He would go and see Patrick Flynn.
***
Her father had aged, Kate thought. His nose was laced with the pink tributaries of broken blood vessels, a legacy of his drinking; the flesh on his face hung in pouches under his eyes and his chin. The long strands of silver on his head were getting thinner.
He settled himself into the cane chair on the veranda with a gin and tonic water. Kate sipped her lemonade and watched Jamie playing with Liddy in the garden. He was attacking her with a wooden sword.
'Jamie! Gently please!'
'He's a fine boy,' Flynn said. 'He's going to be a handful when he grows up.'
'He's handful already,' Kate said. The boy knew no fear. Once she had found him preparing to launch himself off the top of the water tank; he told her he could fly. On another occasion he cornered a taipan and was about to try and kill it with a stick when Flynn found him, and in the nick of time at that.
Just like his father, Kate thought.
She turned to Flynn. 'How's retirement?'
'Couldn't be better,' Flynn lied. He lived down in Perth these days, she guessed he spent most of his time drinking and gambling. George tried to keep him out of things as much as he could, but Flynn always came up for the lay-off. 'You're looking well, girl.' He leaned forward. 'Any more happy events to report?'
Kate stared at her father. As subtle as a kick in the shins with a boot. 'You mean, am I pregnant again?'
Flynn flushed with embarrassment. 'You know what I mean.'
'I'm sorry. I'm going to disappoint you.'
Flynn took another gulp of his gin and looked away. How could she tell him that she and George hardly ever made love anymore? The marriage had been a disaster from the start. It had been born of desperation and spite; how could it ever be anything more than spiteful and desperate?
She supposed that George still loved her. But she did not love him and never had. George had at first seemed satisfied with the arrangement he had engineered; but then even he must have realised that there was a terrible difference between possessing a thing and having it freely offered.
'I'm looking forward to seeing George again,' Flynn said. 'I have a few matters I need to discuss with him. How's business?'
'I've no idea. He never discusses business with me.'
'If you ask me, pearling won't ever be the same again. The Japs are taking over, it's as plain as the nose on your face. I wonder if George might not think about getting out.' He finished his drink and looked up at his daughter. 'What's the matter, girl? You don't seem very happy. Is he not treating you right?'
'He treats me well enough.'
They sat for a time in silence after that, staring out over Roebuck Bay.
'I don't know how things got to turn out this way,' Flynn said. 'Everything I did, I did for you. You mean the world to me. I just wanted you to be happy.'
Kate said nothing. It was half the truth, at least. He did love her. But in the final scheme of things, it was another man's love that had betrayed her.
***
Kate combed her hair with a tortoiseshell handled brush and then studied her reflection in the mirror. The green eyes that stared back at her were empty. She thought again, as she had a thousand times, about the day that Cameron had come back to see her. She had been married just a few days then; George, of course, had been too busy to take her on the promised honeymoon.
Kate, I'm sorry. How many ways can I say it? I love you, lass.
She threw the brush on the dresser. She had been wrong to marry George Niland. It was just spite. Had she jumped to conclusions about him? What if he hadn't said what he did just to get even with her father?
Now Cameron was back. She had given him up for lost, swallowed up by the Great War like so many others. But he had returned to haunt her, and the knowledge that he was so close made her travesty of a marriage that much harder to bear.
There was a knock and Liddy put her head around the bedroom door. Kate looked up. 'Yes, Liddy?'
'You want breakfast now, missy?'
'Yes, thank you, Liddy. And make sure Master Jamie's clothes are laid out on the bed, please.'
Liddy stared at Kate.
'What's the matter?'
'Father Kelly say vanity all same sin,' Liddy said. 'You look longa yourself like that, you b'long debil-debil.'
Kate threw the brush at the door. Liddy ducked behind it and was gone.
***
After breakfast Kate left to take Jamie to a Christmas party. Flynn had sold his house so he always stayed with George and Kate when he came up to Broome. He took an anc
ient copy of the West Australian out to the veranda and settled into one of the wicker chairs with a bottle of George's square face gin and a glass.
The Poincianas were in bloom, and the bougainvillea creepers that shaded the verandas were a mass of purple and crimson. Clouds had already built into white billowing mountains over the ocean. Flynn scratched irritably at the prickly heat behind the creases of his ears. He poured himself another gin.
The bottle was half empty when the white-jacketed Kendo appeared on the veranda.
'What is it?' Flynn said.
'Someone wish to talk with you, Flynn-san.'
'Who is it?'
'He not say. Manilaman, I think.'
A Manilaman! In the European quarter! Damned nerve! 'Send him away.'
'He say, tell you is very important.'
Flynn threw the newspaper on the floor. 'Well, all right, show him in. But it had better be good or I'll kick his black arse right out the door again!'
***
Simeon Espada waited until the Japanese house servant had gone, then bowed and introduced himself. Flynn studied him with distaste, his thumbs hooked into the broad leather belt at his waist. The man had been in a fight, judging by the look of him.
'Well, what do you want?' Flynn growled.
Simeon reached into his pocket and took out a red handkerchief. He unfolded it carefully.
Flynn took his thumbs out of his belt and stood up. He swallowed hard. When he finally found his voice he sounded as if he had swallowed gravel. 'Christ, where did you get that?'
'Is it not a beautiful pearl?'
Flynn held out his hand for it. Simeon dropped it in his palm. Flynn held it to the light. Holy Mother of God. He had only ever seen one pearl bigger than this and that was the one he had taken from Cameron McKenzie.
'Why did you come to me with this?'
'They say you are an honest man, boss.'
'How much do you want for it?'
'A thousand pounds,' Simeon said.
Flynn shook his head. 'Five hundred, that's it. Take it or leave it.'
Simeon held out his hand for the pearl.
The boy had more nerve than he bargained for. 'Look, my boy, it's just not worth a thousand.'
'No, boss, it's worth a lot more and we both know it. A thousand pounds. Not a penny less.'
'A thousand pounds is a lot of money.'
'A lot of money is what I want.'
Flynn shook his head. Impudent little dago. He tried a more conciliatory tone. 'Well, see here, my boy. I'll see what I can do. I can't promise anything, mind, but I have a few friends who may be interested. You leave it with me.' He started to put the pearl in his waistcoat pocket.
Simeon took two quick steps forward. 'When you have the money, you can have the pearl.'
'It will be safer with me, my boy. There's a lot of thieves in this damned town.'
'I know. There's two of them standing here right now.' Simeon held out his hand. 'The pearl.'
Flynn calculated the odds of the Manilaman pulling out a knife if he tried to bluff him out. They were pretty damned good, by his estimation. Never knew with this dagos. He sighed and handed it back.
'If you want to do business with me you'll have to trust me.'
'I never trust anyone.'
Flynn chuckled. 'All right. So how much do you really want for that pearl?'
'A thousand pounds.'
'What if I can't raise that sort of money?'
'You will, or you won't get the pearl.'
Little bastard. Needs teaching a lesson. But the pearl first. 'I'll see what I can do for you.'
'I'll come back tomorrow.'
'No, wait a minute, you can't come back here, my boy.'
'Where then?'
Flynn thought a moment. 'The beach. By Niland's store.'
'Tomorrow night?'
'Whoah, my boy, I've got to get my hands on the cash first. I'll cable my bank, that will take two or three days. Make it Wednesday night, ten o'clock.'
Simeon nodded and then was gone.
Flynn settled back in his chair. A thousand pounds! He could make four or five times that profit from a pearl like that. Perhaps more.
He picked up his newspaper but he couldn't concentrate. He finished his gin, had Kendo fetch his hat and cane, then walked into town to cable his bank.
Chapter 23
Cameron rose naked from the bed. He lit a cigarette and offered one to Rosie. She felt him watching her and she pulled up the sheet, embarrassed.
'Now that's a strange thing to do right now, Rosie. Do you think I did it with my eyes closed?'
'It makes me uncomfortable. I think you're picking out all the faults.'
'You have nae got any faults. You're as slim as a nymph and the shape of you would make a bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window.' He pulled back the sheet. 'I do nae like to see so much beauty covered up. It's nae right.'
Rose folded her arms across her breasts anyway and drew up her knees. 'I've never had any man talk to me like you do.'
Cameron grinned. 'Do you mind?'
Rosie smiled in spite of herself. No, she didn't mind at all. 'Sometimes,' she said.
Cameron started to dress. 'How much do you charge, Rosie?'
'That's none of your business.'
'I'm a customer, lass.'
Rosie glared at him. 'You know you're not. Don't say that. I do it because ... because I want to.'
Cameron slipped his shirt over his head and sat down on the edge of the bed. He reached out to stroke an errant lock of hair away from her cheek. She twisted away from him.
'You're not a customer,' she repeated.
'Aye, well, tell me anyway. I'm interested.'
Rosie pulled the sheet up under her chin. 'Ten shillings.'
'Ten shillings! That's nae enough!'
'It's more than I get working a whole day in the bar!'
'A pound at least. And five for the ugly ones!'
'I don't go with ugly men. What sort of girl do you think I am?'
Cameron laughed again. He pulled on his boots and stood up, tucking his white shirt into his trousers. 'You're a beautiful looking woman Rosie Taylor. Nae, I mean it. You've got the face of an angel and the rest of you ... well, I dare say the Almighty would nae give an angel a body like yours. Heaven would be empty in nae time. A pound and not a penny less. You're spoiling these heathen.'
Rosie looked away. There was a lump in her throat. Cameron had the knack of making her feel like a queen; then he would tip his hat, grin and walk away.
Rosie hadn't planned on doing this when she first came up to Broome and went to work at the Continental Hotel. But men being what they were, they often dropped more coins in her jar than was necessary, before whispering some lewd proposition to her. She had slapped the first few round the face, as her mother would have told her to do. But a girl had to live and she thought, well as long as I can pick and choose, what's the harm? Now she was making more money in a month than her mother ever made in a year of working below stairs as a scullery maid in London.
It was easy to live with shame when there were only strangers to witness it.
Cameron slipped a panama on his head and turned to leave. 'Don't forget, a pound,' he said, and walked out.
Rosie swung her legs over the side of the bed. There was a ten pound note on the bedside table. He had scribbled across it: Merry Christmas!
She crumpled it in her fist.
Cameron!
***
The Canton boarding house was in Bitter Moon Lane, next to a barbershop. Cameron passed two Chinese in black pyjamas on the wooden stairs, their wooden slippers clop-clopping as they went.
Simeon's room was on the second floor. Cameron rapped on the door and Simeon opened it, dressed only in white shorts and singlet. When he saw Cameron he took a step back, startled.
'Hello, boss.'
'Mister Espada. May I step inside for a moment?'
'Sure, boss.'
Cameron cl
osed the door behind him. The room smelled of sweat and boiled cabbage from the cookshop across the lane. Chevrons of light from the shutters angled across the dusty floorboards and an unmade bed. 'How are you feeling?'
Simeon put a hand to his battered face. 'Bruises almost gone now.'
'Aye. You have a new profile, by the looks of things.'
'You saved my life,' Simeon said. 'Wes told me what you did, boss.'
'Aye, well, I never lost a man yet and I never intend to.' He reached into his pocket and produced a large envelope. 'Here's the money for your lay.'
Simeon took the envelope and looked inside. 'It's too much,' he blurted.
'Aye, well, the doctors say you'll nae be able to dive again. Maybe this will help you when you get home.'
Simeon stared at the envelope. The white boss had saved his life and now he was giving him money. And there was his pearl lying just a few feet away, hidden in his mattress.
He held out the envelope. 'Can't take this, boss.'
'Aye, you can. It's Christmas, man. If you're still in Broome come the season, Mister Espada, come and see me and maybe I can find you a job as crew.'
He turned and left.
Simeon slumped onto the edge of his bed, staring at the money. He let the notes slip from his fingers and spill on the floor.
Well, too late for his conscience now. He had the pearl, and he wasn't going to give it back.
Chapter 24
Henry Lacey was shown into George Niland's office by one of the clerks. George looked up from his papers and nodded towards a chair. Lacey sat down and waited.
Finally George put down his pen. He called to the aboriginal boy outside the window to start the punkah. The air was thick, like moist treacle, and the faint movement of air was small relief. Tiny blisters of sweat formed on George's forehead and he patted them away with his handkerchief.
'What can I do for you, Lacey?'
'I've got some information for you, Mister Niland. I thought you might be interested.'
'Go on.'
'Well, there's a big snide in town.'
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