Yet there were questions she burned to ask. She glanced across at Olivia, who was leaning back on her elbows, face lifted towards the sun. ‘I’m surprised to see you back so soon,’ she began. ‘Deloraine’s a fair ways to go.’
Olivia’s dark eyes stared back at her, the expression enigmatic. ‘It doesn’t take long once you realise what a fool you’ve been to even attempt it,’ she said, her tone flat. ‘Giles and I camped out again last night, otherwise we’d have been back sooner.’
Intrigued, Maggie couldn’t help herself. ‘Got relatives up that way, have you?’
‘Not that you’d notice,’ retorted Olivia. She stretched out on the towel and pulled her hat over her eyes.
Maggie could take a hint. Yet Olivia’s secrecy made her even more intrigued. Of course there could be a logical answer to the mysterious trip out to Deloraine, but she knew of no other English people in the area, so who on earth had she been visiting?
Maggie eyed the woman beside her and wondered what was going through her mind. She appeared so calm and in charge, yet there were obviously things troubling her. She followed suit and stretched out. The sun warmed her, but sleep was far off. Her mind was far too active.
*
Olivia closed her eyes and relaxed in the warmth of the sun. From their short acquaintance she found she rather liked Maggie, and was tempted to confide in her. Yet they were still strangers and Olivia had never been one to share confidences easily. Especially ones that were so close to her heart.
She listened to the children playing on the beach and the cries of the gulls that muffled the soft roll of the waves on the sand. This was home, she reminded herself. She had every right to be here. And yet why did she feel like a usurper? Why did she feel so out of place – so adrift? The anchor of childhood had been swept away by the visit to Deloraine, now she was struggling to make sense of it all.
Her thoughts and the memory of that visit were making it impossible to relax. She opened her eyes and looked across at Maggie, the need to talk too great for this protracted silence. ‘Have you been in Trinity long?’
Maggie rolled her head to one side and squinted in the glare. ‘Just over a year,’ she replied. ‘It’s a bonzer place, isn’t it?’
Olivia nodded. ‘In a way I wish I’d never left,’ she said with a sigh.
Maggie rolled on to her side and raised herself on an elbow. ‘Left?’ she asked. ‘But you’ve only just arrived.’
Olivia saw the curiosity in her eyes and smiled. It was easy to talk to Maggie, so why not unbend and share her thoughts? After all, it could do very little harm. ‘I was brought up here,’ she explained. ‘We lived in one of those little houses down the beach, and I went to the school in Adelaide Street.’
Maggie’s eyes were round with surprise as she sat up. ‘But you’re English,’ she gasped.
Olivia laughed. ‘I have dual nationality,’ she explained. She smoothed the hair back from her face and gazed out to the island that shimmered in the heat. ‘I was ten when I left Trinity, so the accent’s gone and I’m probably more English than Australian now.’ She sighed. ‘I do regret that, because I’ve always considered myself to be Australian and I think it’s important to be your true self, don’t you?’
Maggie nodded, her mouth pursed in thought. ‘Too right,’ she replied. ‘But sometimes it’s not always that easy – not when you have no point of reference to begin with.’
Olivia watched as Maggie dug her fingers into the sand and let it drift from her palm. There was something rather sad in her expression, a wistfulness that spoke of yearnings she had yet to understand. ‘You’re happy here, though, aren’t you?’ she asked.
Maggie’s smile seemed forced. ‘I reckon,’ she replied. ‘It’s the nearest thing to home I’ve been for a long while.’
Olivia heard the sadness behind those almost careless words, and the desire Maggie obviously felt to belong somewhere, and as it echoed her own longing, she felt a strong empathy for this other woman. ‘The war does that to people,’ she said gently. ‘I spent years living in tiny bedsits, or sharing with other nurses in places no–one would dream of calling home. Got bombed out twice, lost everything.’
Maggie tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘I lost everything when I was eleven,’ she said with such simplicity, Olivia knew she still carried the scars of that time. ‘Been on the move ever since. But this place is special, I felt it right from the start.’
‘Some places are like that,’ she replied thoughtfully. ‘It’s as if you belong there – as if you’ve spent all your time trying to find it. And when you do, you know it’s where you should be always.’
Maggie watched the sand trickle through her fingers. She squinted in the sun as she looked across at Olivia. ‘I don’t have the skill to express it as well as you,’ she said finally. ‘But you’re right. I do feel I belong here, even though this is the first time I’ve travelled this far north. Strange, isn’t it?’
‘So, what brought you here?’ Olivia set her own concerns aside. She knew instinctively that Maggie needed to talk, to unburden whatever it was that troubled her. She’d seen it so often amongst the soldiers, sailors and airmen on the wards and in the nursing homes. Troubled and afraid for their uncertain futures in the months of recuperation and prosthetics, they were nevertheless determined to remain silent in case they were thought to be weak. The British stiff upper lip had a lot to answer for – and it had been the devil’s own job to get the men to talk, to air their fears – now, here it was again, transposed to the other side of the world, where a stiff upper lip was rarely witnessed.
Maggie continued to sift the sand through her fingers, her gaze misted in thought. ‘Coming here was a mistake, really’ she said flatly. ‘Like your journey out to Deloraine.’ She looked across at Olivia and grinned. ‘But at least some good’s come of it,’ she said. ‘I’ve got my work at the hotel, my own little place – and of course there’s Sam.’
‘Sam is certainly very charming.’ Olivia smiled back, warmed by Maggie’s simple offer of friendship.
‘I dunno about charming,’ Maggie retorted. ‘He’s the most irritating, frustrating man I’ve ever met.’ She giggled. ‘But I wouldn’t change him.’ She shot a glance at Olivia. ‘He’ll come to his senses one day, so long as he isn’t distracted.’
Olivia silently acknowledged the veiled warning. ‘I can see why you like him,’ she said. ‘But he’s far too good looking in a rough, dark sort of way. I like my men fair and rather less rugged.’
‘Like Giles?’
Olivia thought for a moment. Giles was certainly handsome in an understated kind of way, with his light brown hair and trim moustache. He had good eyes as well, she realised, and quite a sensuous mouth. She stared out to sea, surprised she hadn’t really thought about him that way before.
‘We go back a long way,’ she explained finally. ‘He’s my best friend, the brother I never had, but that’s as far as it goes.’ She looked back at Maggie, a smile twitching the corners of her mouth. ‘The trouble with Giles is, I can remember him as a rather bossy little boy in short trousers. With jam smeared all round his mouth and a tin of worms in his pocket. Hardly the stuff of romantic heroes.’
They both laughed, and in that moment Olivia realised a deep friendship was possible between them. They opened the bottles of fizzy drinks and made a toast. ‘Here’s to the men in our lives,’ said Olivia. ‘May they learn to understand us.’
Maggie giggled. ‘Fair go, Olivia. What bloke ever understands a woman? We find it hard enough to get the hang of ourselves most of the time.’
‘True. But you have to live in hope, don’t you?’ They smiled at one another, at ease in the knowledge that as women they understood one another perfectly.
*
The water was cool and welcoming and after a refreshing swim they ran swiftly over the hot sand and pulled the towels further into the shade
. The sun was high, the sky clear and an impossible blue. Heat shimmered on the ground and above the trees, and even the gulls sounded weary of the endless days of sun.
Maggie felt good. The two days holiday had worked wonders, and she was finding Olivia’s company surprisingly enjoyable. Feeling relaxed and in tune with the world after the swim, she realised she was starving. She looked at her watch, amazed at how swiftly the day was passing. ‘It’s a bit late, but I’ll go back to the hotel and try and get us a cut lunch,’ she said as she towelled off.
‘No need.’ Olivia reached into a capacious beach bag. ‘I asked Lila to do us some sandwiches once Sam told me where you were.’
Maggie grinned. She’d avoided Sam these past two days in case he changed his mind about her having so much time off. ‘How’s he going?’
Olivia nodded as she bit into the chicken and beetroot sandwich. ‘Good,’ she replied finally. ‘He’s busy, but he’s got enough help. I think he’s only just appreciating how much you do, Maggie. Won’t do him any harm to sweat it out until you’re ready to go back.’
‘I’d get bored if I didn’t work,’ Maggie admitted ruefully. ‘There’s not much to do around here, and although these past couple of days have been dinkum, reckon I’ll soon be itching to get behind that bar again.’ She gave a short laugh of derision. ‘Shows a lot for my imagination, doesn’t it?’
‘I disagree,’ said Olivia as she finished her sandwich. ‘If you enjoy what you do, then why not?’ Her brown eyes were dark in the sunlight. ‘Just give yourself a break now and again – there’s more to life than pulling pints.’
‘Maybe,’ muttered Maggie. She finished her sandwich and joined Olivia by the rock pool, where they washed their hands. She didn’t give voice to her thoughts – of how to explain she felt safer in the pub – safer in the environment she knew best? It was ridiculous, but the pub had become home – her first real home for years, and she didn’t like being away from it.
‘You said it was a mistake coming up to Trinity,’ said Olivia once they’d settled back into the shade. ‘What brought you here in the first place?’
Maggie leaned against the cool, black rock, her feet dangling in a sandy pool. ‘Curiosity,’ she said, her tone flat. ‘I was searching for something, but when I found it, I realised I didn’t really want it after all.’
She gave a sigh and dabbled her feet. ‘There’s a saying, isn’t there? Be careful what you wish for, because one day you might actually get it.’
Olivia nodded. ‘I know exactly what you mean,’ she sympathised.
Maggie looked across at Olivia in surprise. ‘What more could you possibly want? You’re pretty and elegant and confident. You’re obviously rich, and Giles is besotted.’
Olivia’s eyes widened, then she tipped back her head and roared with laughter. ‘Oh, Maggie,’ she spluttered. ‘If you only knew the half of it.’
‘Go on,’ Maggie urged as she hugged her knees. ‘Tell me.’
Olivia eyed her for a moment before returning her attention to the shells she’d collected, and Maggie wondered if the other woman felt comfortable enough to share some of her experiences. She acknowledged that she’d evaded the question about her coming to Trinity, but perhaps, once Olivia had bent a little, those shared confidences would come more easily.
‘I don’t deny that my upbringing was better than most. Mother was a wealthy woman and I had the best of everything.’ Olivia stared out to sea. ‘But appearances are deceptive. I wasn’t spoilt with money and presents and was expected to earn my own living and make my own way. Mother was a firm believer in women being independent. I make my own clothes, cook, clean and do all the things any woman does when she’s on her own. I have no husband, no children, no living relatives at all.’ She tailed off. ‘Well, not ones I’m proud to admit to, anyway.’
She grinned at Maggie who recognised it as an attempt to take the bitterness out of her words. ‘I’m a nursing sister, and during the war I saw sights that gave me nightmares. Heard things that made me doubt my sanity, and that of the crazy world we were living in. Whole communities were wiped out during the Blitz. People were homeless, alone, trudging from one place to another, looking for anyone they could call family. I’ve lived in awful bedsits, shared dormitories, slept on the floor and underground in the tube stations where the rats come out and walk all over you.’
Maggie shuddered. ‘It’s like that up here in the cane fields,’ she said. ‘Rats as fat as butter, skittering about everywhere.’
Olivia fell silent and Maggie saw the conflicting emotions flit across her face. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Didn’t mean to make light of your experiences. It must have been terrible in London.’
Olivia shrugged. ‘If one was lucky, one survived. I was in the hospital when they brought Giles in. It was always the worst fear amongst the nurses that one of their patients would be someone close. He was thin to the point of emaciation, covered in sores, his arm crudely bandaged and filthy.’
Maggie saw the gleam in Olivia’s eyes as she blinked away the tears, and wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Yet Olivia seemed to want to talk, so she remained silent, knowing the healing quality of a good listener.
‘He’d been shot down, you see,’ explained Olivia. ‘He was captured by the Germans who did nothing about the appalling break in his arm. Gangrene set in, and by the time he and two others managed to escape and get back to England, the surgeons had no choice but to amputate.’
‘He seems to be coping, though.’
Olivia nodded. ‘Yes, he gives a good impression of that, but I know him too well. It’s all a front. He’s still in a lot of pain, and the loss of his arm has taken away his confidence. He was about to begin his career when war broke out, now he feels no–one would take him seriously as a lawyer with only one arm.’
Her smile was sad. ‘Silly boy,’ she murmured. ‘I’d want him in my corner if I ever had to go to court. Tenacious as one of your cane rats.’
Maggie wasn’t surprised to hear Giles was a lawyer. He had a certain air about him, a solid dependable air that made him approachable. ‘There’s a lot of boys whose lives have changed because of the blasted war,’ she muttered. ‘Education interrupted, jobs lost, things changed forever. Sam doesn’t talk about it much, but he came home to find his sheep station burned to the ground and his wife and boy buried in the Station cemetery. It must take a lot to get over that.’
‘What about you, Maggie? What are your demons?’ Olivia touched her arm. ‘I know you have them,’ she said softly. ‘They’re in your eyes.’
Maggie looked into those clear brown eyes, the need to confide so strong, she felt it well up inside. ‘I came here to track a particular demon down,’ she began. ‘But soon realised it was pointless. Now I have to accept I’ll never know the answers to the questions I needed to ask. Yet the past refuses to go away – and I wish I could forget everything and start again.’
‘Go on. Let it out, Maggie. It’s obviously haunting you.’
Maggie told her about Elizabeth dying and the loss of Waverly Station. Then she told her about the long journey north in the wagon. ‘I had no idea where we were going,’ she said. ‘But Dad promised they were good people who would take care of me until he got a permanent job.’ She took a deep breath. ‘If I’d had any idea of what was waiting for me, I would have jumped off that wagon and run as far away as I could.’
*
The land owned by the Catholic order of The Sisters of Our Lady sprawled in splendid isolation to the west of the Great Dividing Range. Miles of silver grass stretched in every direction beneath the shadows of the hazy blue mountains, and the cattle looked sleek.
Water was abundant, even in these years of drought, for there were rivers, waterfalls and lakes in this great grazing part of the country. Elegant egrets picked their way through the long grass as squabbling, screeching parakeets and sulphur–crested cockatoos vi
ed for perches in the wilga trees that offered shade to the cattle and mobs of kangaroos.
‘It’s good country out here,’ murmured her father. ‘Sort of place I’d like to settle.’ His gnarled hand patted her knee. ‘You’ll be right,’ he said. ‘This is a good place, and the sisters will take care of you.’
Maggie eyed the imposing iron gates and the high brick wall surrounding the house they were approaching. It didn’t look welcoming. The house was enormous, the bricks too red, the paint too white. The gravel driveway leading up to the steps had been weeded and raked and the white columns on either side of the front door were pristine white.
‘Do I have to stay here?’ she asked. ‘Can’t you ask if they’ve got a job for you? We could find a shady place by the river and make camp.’
His chin sank to his collar. ‘There’s nothin’ here for me,’ he said. ‘I asked.’ He was silent for a long moment as they slowly approached the gates.
‘But I don’t want to stay here, Dad,’ she said with growing dread. ‘Surely there’s somewhere else I could go?’
He shook his head and slapped the reins over Hector’s broad rump. ‘Sorry, darlin’, got no choice.’
She sat beside her father as the gates were pulled open by a man who tipped his hat as they passed by, and stared in awe at the smooth, green lawns and beds of flowers. Wondered at the snowy statues of Mary that stood in the lee of drooping, shady trees. And puzzled as to why she should feel so reluctant to be here. For it looked so green and peaceful, a dream place that was far beyond the reality of any outback station she’d ever known.
Yet there was something eerie about the windows that overlooked the splendour with blind eyes. Something too ordered in the cold perfection of those silent statues.
Hector came to a halt opposite the steps. He was an old horse and they had come a long way. His neck drooped as Harold dropped the reins and climbed down. Maggie followed him and fitted the feed bag over Hector’s head. She stroked his neck and rested her cheek on his and closed her eyes. She would probably never see him again.
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