‘Is Harriet older or younger than you?’ she asked.
‘She was older.’
‘Was?’ Hannah’s face telegraphed her surprise. ‘You mean—’
‘Yes, she’s dead. Apparently…’
Her expression was astonished. ‘You don’t know?’
‘After what happened to Pa and her role in his conviction, I didn’t want any more to do with her – I was angry – and like I said, she’d gone off the rails. I didn’t even say goodbye when I went to sea.’
‘How do you know she’s dead?’
‘There was a fellow on my ship from Australia too. For some reason he had it in for me. I never figured out why as I never did him any harm, but he told me a couple of months ago that she’d drowned herself in Sydney Harbour. She was drunk or drugged up to her eyeballs.’
‘He might have made it up. How would he know she was your sister?’
‘My old man’s trial was headline news. And Hattie’s intervention in it. She was dressed to kill and the flashbulbs were popping. Once Cassidy knew who I was and realised I didn’t know she’d died, he took great pleasure in telling me.’
Hannah’s eyes welled up. ‘Oh, Will, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if my sister died. I wouldn’t want to go on living.’ He felt the pressure of her hand squeezing his.
‘Hat and I were close like that when we were kids, but we’d grown apart. She left home to board at the school in town after Ma died. She got all full of airs and graces, then when she married Michael she made his life a misery.’ He turned away to look towards the sea, afraid that his emotions would break through under the intensity of Hannah’s sympathy. ‘I miss how she used to be my friend as well as my big sis. But I don’t miss the woman she turned into.’
They walked on in silence for a few minutes, until Hannah spoke again. ‘If my father were to die, I wouldn’t mourn him at all. I don’t love him at all. I can’t. I’ve tried. Really hard. But I just can’t. Do you think that makes me a bad person?’
Will smiled, longing to kiss her again, but fearful of frightening her away. ‘I could never think of you as a bad person, Hannah. If you don’t love your father, then that must mean he doesn’t deserve to be loved.’ He wanted to ask her again about the reason she had covered her face that other day on the beach, but something made him hold back.
‘He has been very cruel to my mother. I think he may have been cruel to Aunt Elisabeth too and that’s why she went away.’
Will smiled. ‘Well, he can’t be all bad: if he hadn’t caused her to come to Australia I’d never have met you.’
‘I must go,’ she said, her demeanour changing.
‘Let me walk back with you.’
‘Only as far as Seaforth. I don’t want to risk anyone seeing us.’
‘Why not? We’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘My father wouldn’t agree.’ Her eyes welled up.
Will felt a rush of emotion. ‘Then let me talk to your father. If you feel you like me at all, maybe you would go out with me? I know we barely know each other, Hannah, yet I feel I already know you so well. And I want to get to know you better.’
She looked up at him and, in that moment, he knew with unshakeable certainty he loved her. Her eyes told him she felt the same way. It was as if they were already bound to each other.
But then she turned her head away. ‘You mustn’t talk to Father. Please promise me you won’t even try. He’ll never agree, and you’ll make things worse for me.’ She turned back to look at him. ‘He has a terrible temper. When he discovered I was hiding a photograph of Aunt Elizabeth he threw it on the fire. If he found out I’ve been talking with you… if he knew you wanted to see me… I can’t tell you what he’d do. He’s capable of anything.
‘Now, I have to go, Will.’ She started to walk away, then stopped and hurried back. He felt his heart lift.
‘I forgot to tell you. My mother wants to talk with you.’
Will felt a surge of hope and must have shown it in his face, as she frowned, holding up her palms in front of her in a blocking motion. ‘She wants to speak with you about Elizabeth.’ She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper and wrote on it with a pencil. ‘This is the address. 15 Bluebell Street. Please go one afternoon so you won’t run into my father.’
‘Wait!’ He called. ‘When will I see you again?’
‘I don’t know.’ Her face looked anguished. ‘I often come here. Maybe we might meet again here on the seashore. But please, don’t go near the office, and apart from when you call on my mother, please, don’t go near our house.’ Her eyes were filled with fear.
Will stood motionless as a statue, watching her walk away up the beach towards the docks. Lighting a cigarette, he remained fixed to the spot on the empty beach, watching, until Hannah had disappeared from view. Her absence was like an ache inside him. For a moment he had been sure she felt the same way about him, but the fear of her father was evidently greater. The idea of someone hurting her, threatening her, was like a knife being twisted inside Will. He had to find out what was happening to terrify her so much and put a stop to it.
* * *
Hannah was in turmoil as she hurried towards Morton’s Coffee. She had taken a terrible risk in meeting Will Kidd and knew that if her father found out he would be enraged. Her fear of the consequences of that rage were not only for herself but for Will too, and – as always – for her mother and sister. Yet the morning she and Will had spent together had been like no other morning. Hannah felt as though she were riding on a giant wave of emotions.
She replayed the morning in her head. The growing disappointment she’d felt when she’d thought he wasn’t going to turn up. The surge of joy when he appeared around the corner of the sand dune. How it felt as though the story Will told her about his own personal tragedy, and her aunt’s role in that, had created an intense bond between them. Yet it was the moment when he had drawn her into his arms and kissed her that she wanted to relive again and again. Her heart had wanted that kiss to go on forever, to drown in it, to be held in Will’s arms and for him never to let her go, but she knew desire was dangerous, and so she’d pulled away from him. The hurt in his eyes had caused her to wait for him at the top of the dune. All she’d wanted to do was to kiss him again, but she couldn’t take that risk.
How was it possible that, already, Will’s absence had opened a chasm in her life that had not existed before she met him? How was it possible that one could live one’s entire life until now unaware of such feelings, and in such a short time be completely governed by them? With a bewildering mixture of unconstrained joy and crippling fear of the consequences of that joy, she walked into the office and forced herself to behave as if nothing had happened.
* * *
Four days later, Hannah was walking on the shore. She had gone there every day in the vain hope of seeing Will again. Maybe he was at sea. Why hadn’t she made a firm plan to meet? Had her standoffish behaviour convinced him she didn’t want to see him again?
Hannah was confused by her own feelings. One moment she was exhilarated at the memory of him, and the next despondent that she might have driven him away. She told herself he was older than her, more worldly-wise. He probably thought she was a foolish girl, and had already forgotten her. What was it they said about sailors? A girl in every port. There was no point anyway, as her father would never permit her to go out with Will. She’d taken too many risks already. Better to forget Will Kidd and get on with her life.
But she couldn’t forget him.
Trudging along the shore, her collar turned up against the wind, Hannah started to wish she’d never met Will. It was more than she could bear to have known him and then so swiftly lost him. All her own stupid fault.
She was about to turn around and head for home, when she heard her name. Will was half running, half sliding down one of the dunes. Her heart somersaulted under her ribs and she began to run towards him. He slid to a halt in front of her, too
k her wrist and drew her against him. Before Hannah could stop him, he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back.
‘I docked at five this morning. I’ve been walking up and down this beach ever since. I was afraid you wouldn’t come.’
She flung her arms around his neck, no longer caring who might see them. ‘I’ve been here every day. I was terrified you wouldn’t come back.’
He held her close, kissing the top of her head. ‘How could I not come back, my darling? I’ve been counting the days, hours and minutes until I’d see you again.’
Chapter Fifteen
Will stood on the doorstep of 15 Bluebell Street, nervous about what might be in store. He knocked tentatively, half hoping Hannah’s mother would be out.
Mrs Dawson opened the door immediately. She was wearing a sling on one arm, which was in plaster.
Behind her, the interior of the house was gloomy and cramped. There was a small hall – little more than a porch, with two doors leading off it.
He told her who he was, and she showed him into the rear of the house, a poky parlour with an open grate, where there was a fire laid but unlit, and a small deal table and chairs. Beyond was a scullery tacked onto the back of the building. She apologised for the lack of ceremony. ‘Mr Dawson uses the front room as his study. We make do in here.’
Will sat down and Mrs Dawson pulled out a chair opposite him, her good elbow on the table, leaning forward. Her gaze was an intense and penetrating appraisal. ‘I never thought I’d tell anyone what I am about to tell you, let alone a man, and a stranger at that.’
He was going to reassure her that whatever she said would go no further, but decided against it, and kept his eyes fixed on her face. Sarah Dawson didn’t look much like her sister or her daughter – at least not at first glance. Her face was slightly puffy, her complexion pale like uncooked pastry, so that the definition of her features seemed blurred. But now, as he looked at her, he saw her eyes were like theirs, and as he looked into them he began to recognise the connection. He was conscious that she seemed nervous, jumpy. She was picking at the plaster cast on her arm with her fingernails.
‘You knew my elder sister, Elizabeth?’
He nodded. ‘She was my stepmother.’
‘Was?’
‘Is. But my father is dead.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Will ignored the expression of condolence, wishing she would get to the point. ‘I was very fond of Elizabeth. She was good to me. A true friend.’
‘Yes. Everyone was fond of Elizabeth.’ She gave a long deep sigh. ‘She was a loveable person.’
‘So what caused you to lose touch with her? Why did she go to Australia?’
‘You come straight to the point, don’t you, Mr Kidd?’
‘Please call me Will.’
‘Well, I suppose we are practically related.’
He waited, expecting her to answer his question, but it hung in the air between them.
Eventually, Sarah broke the silence. ‘Was she happy?’ She leaned forward, her eyes still fixed on his. To his surprise, she reached out and touched his hand lightly, then withdrew hers so quickly he started to wonder if it had happened at all.
‘Elizabeth had a hard life when she first married my father,’ said Will. ‘He was not the easiest of men to get along with. He didn’t treat her well—’
‘He beat her?’
‘No. He wouldn’t have done that. At least I don’t think he did. But he was cold. Distant. Didn’t tell her things. Didn’t appreciate her. At least not at first. He was a wealthy man but he kept it well hidden – from me as well. He dumped Elizabeth at our place in the outback and left her to get on with it.’ He looked down. ‘A man and a teenage boy living in a shack. You can probably imagine what kind of state the place was in. But she cleaned it up. Turned it into a home again.’
Sarah leaned back in her chair, her eyebrows raised. ‘Lizzie did housework?’
Will nodded. ‘Until we moved into town. The old man had a fancy place there. A great big mansion. That was one of his secrets. Servants as well. He moved her there in time for Mikey being born.’
‘Mikey?’
‘Her first child. He was as cute as a button. A really good kid.’
‘I’m glad she has children.’ Sarah smiled for the first time. ‘How many?’
‘Two. A little baby girl later. Susannah.’ He squeezed his lips together. ‘But they both died. Diphtheria. It was a terrible thing. Mikey was only three. Susannah was a baby.’
He looked at her and saw she was crying.
‘I know how that feels. I miscarried several babies, and I lost my only son to whooping cough.’ She fidgeted, still plucking at her plaster cast, crumbling tiny pieces of plaster onto the table. ‘Poor Elizabeth.’
‘She had a lot of sorrow in her life,’ he said. ‘But she always made the best of what was thrown at her. That’s one of the things I loved about her.’
Sarah nodded.
‘But we shouldn’t talk of her in the past tense. I’m sure she’s alive and well.’
‘But you don’t know where?’
‘I expect she’s still living in MacDonald Falls. Unless…’
‘Unless what?’
‘Unless she wanted to get away from a place where everyone knew who she was and who she was married to.’
Sarah was frowning. ‘You need to tell me why that might be the case.’
So Will told her about what had happened to his father. About the terrible night when his brother Nat had turned up after years when they’d believed him dead, tried to molest Elizabeth and stabbed Will when he’d defended her. About how their father had shot Nat dead. In the back. How Jack Kidd had refused to show any remorse. Will told her about the trial, the verdict and the sentence and how his father wouldn’t pursue an appeal.
Sarah listened in silence. ‘All this is my fault. If I hadn’t sent Lizzie away. Disowned her. Thrown her onto the streets.’ Tears were rolling freely down her cheeks. Will dug in his pocket and pulled out a clean handkerchief and gave it to her.
‘Now it’s my turn to tell you why Elizabeth went to Australia,’ she said. ‘My husband is a violent man. A cruel and cold-hearted man. He has never loved me. Never shown me any kindness or affection. Nor has he offered any to our daughters. The only person on this earth I have ever witnessed him show any respect or fondness for was his mother. And she was as bad as him. Maybe worse. She died not long after he moved her in with us. Maybe it makes me a bad person but I never mourned her for a moment. I rejoiced that she was dead. She was a bitter, nasty, petty-minded woman, who did all she could to make my life a misery and to goad Charles into doing the same.’
Will was uncomfortable. He barely knew Sarah Dawson, had met her today for the first time, and it seemed wrong to hear her speaking ill of a woman long dead.
‘When the old witch died, what was already a strained relationship between my husband and me, became poisonous. Mr Kidd, you seem to be a man of the world? I presume I may speak frankly?’
He nodded, but wished he had some means of escape. He dreaded to think what she would tell him next.
‘While he shared a bed with me, he rarely wanted marital relations. And when he did, it was usually accompanied by violence. He likes to inflict pain. It makes him feel powerful.’
She stared Will straight in the face and he felt himself blushing.
‘Two days after our son died, I miscarried my next baby and then lost another when he was two months old. It was undoubtedly due to the beatings he had started giving me. They happened without warning. Without reason. Even when he had relations with me, he made it a kind of punishment. He tried to hurt me. To cause me pain, physically and emotionally.’ Again her gaze was steady, as though challenging Will to look away.
Will swallowed and moved his weight in the chair.
‘Charles Dawson is a sadist. I imagine he is a lot of other things too that I don’t know the words for. But I do know he’s a coward.’ She clos
ed her eyes for a moment. ‘And a rapist.’
Will felt the blood drain from his face. He felt his stomach churn. This was Hannah’s father.
‘He raped my sister. Elizabeth. I chose to believe him rather than her. I accused her of committing adultery with him. Of seducing him. Getting him drunk.’ She clenched her fist and brought it up to her mouth. ‘This is very hard for me, Mr Kidd, but I have to tell you everything. It’s important that you should know. Our father had written from Sydney with a ticket for Lizzie’s passage to Australia as he had found a husband for her. It was your father. Mr Jack Kidd. She would never have gone. It was unthinkable of Father to expect her to travel across the world to marry a stranger, an older man. She laughed when she read the letter and said Father must have lost his mind.’ Sarah dug a fingernail into the wooden table surface. ‘We argued. I told her that our father had put the family home in my husband’s name and Charles wanted her to leave to make room for his mother.’
She cupped her forehead with her hand and was silent for a moment, breathing audibly. She lifted her head again. ‘Then I took away her choice. My husband had started sleeping in the box room. I was expecting Timothy, my son, and he wouldn’t come near me. I used to see the way he looked at her. I knew he wanted her. Then that night – the day Father’s letter came – I’d gone to bed early but something woke me up. The bathroom door was locked so I went into Lizzie’s room. He was lying on top of her bed. Passed out and stinking of whisky. His dressing gown was open and he was naked. Lizzie came out of the bathroom with her blouse torn and bloodied, and her lip cut.’
Sarah closed her eyes but carried on speaking. ‘I knew what he’d done to her. I knew he’d forced her. Lizzie would never have had anything to do with him. She didn’t like him. She had warned me against marrying him. She never understood what I saw in him. Yet I accused her because I didn’t want to let myself believe my husband had raped my sister.’
Storms Gather Between Us Page 15