A Greater World (36 page)

'Oh, Will!'

'Don't feel sorry for me. I couldn't bear that.'

'You believe you love me, but I promise you it's just a crush. Once you get out in the world and meet some young women you'll realise that I'm right. I'm years older than you, Will. You can do better than an old girl like me!'

'Don't mock me.'

'I'm sorry, Will. I don't intend to.'

'You think I'm just a snot-nosed boy who'll grow out of it. But I'm not and I won't.'

'I know you're not, Will. You're a wonderful person and one of the people I care most for in the world, but you
will
grow out of it. I love you as a mother or a big sister even, but I can never love you as a wife. And anyway, you deserve better. I know you'll find happiness because you're such a good and loveable person – not to mention a good-looking fellow. Your time will come.'

'Maybe it will. Maybe it won't. I'm not staying here waiting to find out. I've had enough of these mountains. There's no future for me here. There'll be only bad memories of all the bad things that happened. Mikey's dead. Su's dead. Hat's dead to me now after what she's done. Michael's gone. Nat's dead and Pa's sentenced to death. Then there's you and Michael. I've had enough. I want a new life. You're right, I'm young and my future's ahead, so I'm going to go and find it. I'm going to sea and I'll sail across the world. I want to look at those stars in the North skies that you told me about. Maybe I'll go to England or America. Who knows?'

'Oh, Will.'

'Don't try to change my mind, Lizbeth. I've had plenty of time to think about it and it's what I want.'

Elizabeth wondered whether to tell him about the baby she was carrying. A new brother or sister might change things for Will. But she concluded that it would be rubbing salt in his wounds. She'd wait and see if he changed his mind in a few days.

He spoke again. 'You'll say goodbye to Pa for me? I don't want to see him in gaol. I want to remember him as a free man. I've written a letter to him. It'll be full of mistakes I know – never was much good at reading and writing – but he'll understand. Give it to him for me, will you?'

She took the letter.

'If anyone can get him out, you can, Lizbeth. You don't need me for that. Tell him I said thank you. Tell him I'll try my best to make him proud of me. Then maybe one day...'

'When do you leave?'

'Now. I'll take the pony and ride her slowly down to Sydney, then I can sell her to help me get by, till I find a ship to take me. There's the money Pa gave me when Hat got wed. I can't touch it till I come of age, but I'll get by on my rabbit skin money till then. I told you that's what I was saving it for.'

'But you know nothing of the sea.'

'And you knew nothing of the bush, but you managed to get by. I'll cope. If my Pa taught me anything he taught me to look after myself.'

Elizabeth had to wait days before she was granted permission to visit Kidd. She was shocked at the change in him in the short time since the trial. He'd shrunk in on himself, like an old and infirm man. His eyes were empty, showing no flicker of emotion. His skin had a greyish hue and he had the beginnings of a scraggy beard, flecked with white.

She tried to hide her shock and instinctively reached out for his hand, only for the guard to snap at her: 'No contact!'

She and Kidd sat down on opposite sides of the small table. The guard rolled a cigarette and slouched against the wall. It was so hard to have a private conversation with a stranger watching, ready to pounce if she gave any sign of so much as grazing her hand over her husband's.

'Don't come any more, Elizabeth. You've done your duty by me. I don't want you coming here any more.'

'Of course I'll come. I'm sorry it's taken me so long – this was the earliest they'd let me visit. Your appeal is lodged so they've told me I can see you once a fortnight, but Mr Cody will keep me informed of how you're doing, as he can see you whenever he needs.'

'I don't want you to come. I don't like seeing you in this place.'

'I like even less to see
you
in this place but, God willing, Mr Cody will succeed with the appeal and get the verdict revoked and you'll be free again.'

Kidd looked at her sadly. 'I'm not going to be free again. And I don't want the appeal. I killed my son and now I'll take the punishment given me. You'll be a free woman again, Elizabeth. I'm sorry there won't be much money left for you. I don't want the appeal to go ahead. You've thrown enough money at lawyers. William will be all right when his trust comes through. What's left is for you.'

'Don't talk like that.'

'I know I've not been a good husband. I know I'm not good at talking. And I know I'm not in the same class as you with your fancy education. You're a lovely woman, Elizabeth, and you've been a good wife. When they give me the drop you'll be free to do what you want.'

She started to speak but he held his hand up.

'Let me have my say, woman. I did wrong to force you to wed me. I took advantage of your father and then I took advantage of you. But I fell for you as soon as your father showed me your photograph. I'd never seen anyone like you. I wanted you, but I wanted to punish him too. It felt as though he was looking down his nose at me and I wanted to show him and the world that I was as good as he was. I've had plenty of time to think about what I've done and I want to say I'm sorry.'

'You don't...'

'Damn it, woman, let me finish! I've said bad things to you and I'm sorry. I had no right to call you the names I called you. My first wife was a good woman and a good mother but she wasn't like you. When you... you know... in bed...when you seemed to take pleasure... you know what I'm saying... it was different. She acted like it was one of the household chores like hanging the washing out or scrubbing the floor. It was different with you and I'm sorry that I didn't show you more kindness. But you need to know you made me happy. I'm sorry I didn't have the guts to show you at the time. I know you don't love me. And don't try to lie to me that you do, Elizabeth. But I like to think there's a connection between us. An understanding. You've been good to me and I'm thankful, but now I want you to go and get on with your life. Find some happiness. You deserve it.'

'Oh, Jack.'

'My daughter wrote me a letter. Said she was sorry that what she said had made things worse for me. She asked to visit me, but I've told her I don't want to see her again. I can't forgive her for the lies she told about you and Mick and the shame she brought on us all. I should never have pushed Winterbourne into marrying her. I knew she was a basket of trouble and I can't say I'm surprised he walked out on her. She's had all she'll get from me. There's not a lot left but what there is goes to you.'

Elizabeth began to sob.

'Don't cry, girl. I'm not worth your tears. You've done enough crying for our baby girl and the little lad and your father. Don't waste your tears on me. I don't deserve them.'

'Jack, we're having another baby. I found out the day after the trial. I've seen Doctor Reilly and it's due in five months. I'd been so preoccupied I hadn't even noticed.'

Kidd looked away.

'Did you hear what I said? We're having a baby! You have everything to live for now. A new life. New hope! We're going to fight to get you free again. You have to believe. This baby is a sign, Jack. You mustn't despair. One day you'll walk out of here a free man and I will be waiting with our child for you so we can take you home.'

He looked at her, his eyes filled with tears.

'You've made me very happy, Elizabeth. I'll treasure the thought of the baby in the time I have left. But it's all the more reason why I don't want to appeal. I want you to leave McDonald Falls, bring the child up where no one knows its father was a murderer. And don't let the child know either. Say I died of a heart attack before it was born. Will you do that for me, Elizabeth?'

He reached for her hand and this time the guard chose to look the other way.

'I'm ready. Just let me get it over with. I told Cody this morning to drop the appeal. He said you'd never agree, but I'm begging you now to accept my decision and not argue with me about it. I feel old. I'm tired. I've done wrong and I don't regret what I did. If it happened again I'd do the same thing. That boy had the devil in him. He was responsible for his mother's death and I wasn't going to have him seeing for you too. I'm ready to meet my maker and take my punishment. I'll die happy now, knowing you'll have a child to care for and love; a kid who'll grow up clever and smart and speak well like you. I'll know that I'll have fathered at least one child who'll have a chance of leading a life that's better than its old man's.'

Elizabeth swallowed and fought back her tears.

'Will you do that for me, Elizabeth? Please?'

'I can't let you give in like this.'

'Please. Do this for me. Let me go. I've had my innings and I'm tired. I want to say goodbye today and I don't want you coming here again, especially not for the end. I don't want you here for that.'

She looked at him through a blur of tears.

He squeezed her hands in his and bent his head to kiss them.

'Go now. Be happy. Live long. Bring up my child and tell it that its Pa would have loved it. Loved it almost as much as he loved its mother. Will you do that for me, Elizabeth? I beg you.'

Chapter Twenty-Five – Glebe Harbour

She was drunk. That wasn't unusual, but there had been a kind of desperation in her drinking tonight. The money had run out. So had her so-called friends, even Tommie. She'd expected him to stand by her. After all hadn't she kept him in champagne and cocaine for the last twelve months? When the others dumped her after her father was executed, he had been a constant presence. He chivvied her, tried to cheer her, and reassured her that she was not to blame for what happened. He coaxed her into leaving the house and accompanied her on visits to drinking dives. But now that the money had all gone he too disappeared into the ether and no longer answered her calls. The only person who had any time for her these days was Verity, telephoning faithfully each week. She had offered to take her in, but Harriet couldn't face the prospect of returning to McDonald Falls, where everyone knew her as Jack Kidd's daughter. So she had stayed in Sydney but now the bailiffs had called and she had to quit the house before the end of the week or somehow find the rent.

How had it come to this? Maybe she should try and find her husband? The divorce wasn't through yet so she could try to search for him. But she couldn't even drum up the cash to buy a ticket. Besides, she didn't know where to start looking and even if she found him Michael wouldn't want anything to do with her. Not after the things she'd said to him. And being broke didn't change how she felt about him.

Today she had intended to find new lodgings. Unable to afford to stay in Potts Point she pawned what was left of her jewellery and was looking for a room in Glebe Harbour. The area was very run down and depressing, the houses small and squalid-looking and the people out of work and down at heel and Harriet found the prospect of living among them a dismal one. She sought consolation in a bar and now she could barely stand on her feet.

The night was hot and sultry, with barely any breeze and she felt lethargic. As she stumbled along the edge of Blackwattle Bay, she noticed the full moon. Its light spread out over the surface of the harbour like molten ore against the dark night waters. She sat down at the water's edge, kicking off her shoes and pulling off her stockings to dangle her legs in the cool water. She remembered how she used to do this as a small child on hot days in the billabong near Wilton's Creek with Will and her mother.

She began to cry, big, silent tears that flowed unstoppably, almost blinding her, so that all she could see was the blurry, yellow brightness of the moon on top of the dark water. It danced on the surface and she stared at it through her tears as though hypnotised. She still had the remains of a bottle of gin and took a swig, feeling the burning warmth of the liquor as it went down her throat. She hurled the empty bottle into the water and watched the ripples break up the orb of the moon's reflection, until it settled back into a calm circle again.

Then she saw her. Reflected in the water, the familiar remembered outlines of her mother's face shining out from the moon's in the large pool of yellow light on the inky water. Harriet fancied her mother was calling out to her, beckoning her, summoning her home. She leaned forward, her arms outstretched towards the light and lost her balance and toppled into the harbour. The cool, calm waters wrapped around her like a soothing balm and her limbs felt weightless. She gave herself up to the water like a bride to her lover. It was so easy. So very easy. She felt euphoric: everything was all right now. She moved down through the depths into the darkness, looking up above her towards the light of the moon as it played across the surface. She felt a perfect calm, a deep sense of tranquillity, as though she were sinking into a long and restful sleep. She opened her mouth and called to her mother and felt her arms around her as her troubles dissolved into the dark water and she moved into the light.

Chapter Twenty-Six – Sydney Harbour

December 1938

The wool brokerage was packed. Michael moved through the crowd, checking the prices and noting the quality of the different fleeces. He was happy with the business he'd done today. The prices he'd achieved were better than last season's and he was selling his wool at the top end of the scale.

It had not been easy. He'd worked hard since leaving the Blue Mountains. During the years in New Zealand he'd scrimped and saved every penny until he was able to come back to Australia and buy a sheep station and slowly expand his stock. He had done well in New Zealand but the climate there was too like England and he found himself longing to be back in Australia with its sunshine and huge empty landscapes.

For the first two years he sent money home to his parents. When his mother died he paid for his father's passage. The old man enjoyed helping him work the station, but since the move to Australia, his age had become more evident and he was mostly content to sit on the porch, smoking his pipe, watching the sun rise and set each day and calling out advice or encouragement to the stockmen, whether they wanted it or not. The loss of his wife had hit him hard and some of the spirit had gone from him. Two months back, Michael found him asleep in his chair on the porch and realised he would never wake up again.

He missed the old man. Life on the station could get lonely, but all things considered, he was satisfied with his lot. He made a decent living, despite these hard times and loved working in the open. The dankness and darkness of the mine was a distant memory, along with the filth of the coal that was never completely washed away at the end of the shift and the grumbling and unrest from the men, who were not paid as much as they deserved for the risks they took each day. Instead, he revelled in the immensity of the outback: its big skies and red soil and the land that stretched as far as the eye could see and further. He enjoyed the company of the stockmen, with their easy camaraderie and competitive spirit, each striving to outdo the other, blow for blow, as they sheared.

His isolation was not unusual. He didn't stand out: the shearers came and went from season to season, working their way from station to station. The nearest town was miles away and not much of a one at that, just a bar for a beer and a shop for essentials and collecting any mail.

Reluctant to leave his father alone, he had not made this trip into the city for a long time, leaving it to his head stockman to come to the brokerage and do the deals. The much-improved prices he'd achieved this time, indicated that perhaps Joe was not the best of negotiators. He walked between the men in the crowded building, exchanging the odd g'day with other graziers, then decided to call it a day and head for the nearest bar and a welcome cold beer. He left the big, red-brick, wool brokerage and walked along Darling Harbour.

After a quick beer in the Pyrmont Bridge Hotel, he was about to return to his lodgings, nearby. Instead he stepped onto the bridge and walked across into the city. The late afternoon sun was still blazing but there was a gentle breeze over the Harbour. He put his hands in his pockets as he walked and felt the outline of the ring where it was tied up inside his handkerchief. No matter how much time passed, he knew he would never stop thinking of her. He'd almost married again in New Zealand, a few years after his divorce came through, but somehow the relationship just petered out. He couldn't summon up enough enthusiasm. Catherine was a good woman, but she was not Elizabeth and having made such a mistake with Harriet, he was reluctant to try again. He'd thought of returning to McDonald Falls and a few years back he had written to William to tell him he was back in Australia. The letter was returned marked "Gone Away".

As he strode along, he felt himself drawn towards the Domain and the Botanic Gardens. The idea of sitting under the trees, watching the sleeping bats, seemed irresistible. You sentimental old fool he told himself, but found his pace picking up as he headed past Circular Quay and onto the grassy sward beside the Harbour. He felt again the pain of those moments before his ship sailed away when they told him she was dead. A hole had been ripped in his heart that had never healed and he knew never would.

He looked up at the trees, searching in vain for the enormous bats. He asked a man sweeping the pathways where they'd gone.

'The flying foxes? The camp went years ago.'

'What happened?'

'Culled, mate. Bloody menaces. They're still around, though. Feed here occasionally but they don't roost any more, thank goodness.'

'Everything changes I s'pose.'

'You're right about that, mate. Looks like there's a war coming and all. Thought we'd seen the end of all that with the last one. Just hope we can stay out of it this time around.'

Fearing the man was set for a lengthy discourse on world politics, Michael nodded and walked away quickly. The seat in the rock was there waiting for him and he sat down and rolled a cigarette and looked out at the boats criss-crossing the harbour. Maybe he was ready now. Ready to make the trip back to the Falls. Ready to stand in front of her grave. Ready to say goodbye properly and get on with the rest of his life. He could drive up there tomorrow en route back to the station. It would add a few hours to the journey but he was in no hurry to get home.

He glanced back along the pathway and saw a boy walking towards him. The lad was barely in his teens and for a moment Michael thought he was seeing a ghost. It could have been Danny. He had the same lolloping swagger and his hair was the same dappled brown flopping over his brow, from where he swept it back impatiently, exactly the way his brother used to do. The boy gave him a friendly smile that lit up his face.

'G'day!'

Even the tone of his voice was like Danny's, though the accent was Australian. Michael couldn't speak for a moment, then he returned the boy's greeting.

'Mind if I sit here? It's my favourite spot.' The lad slumped into the seat beside Michael.

'It's my favourite too,' said Michael.

'I come every day. Sometimes on my own and sometimes with my Ma. She likes it here too. I've not seen you here before?' The boy looked up at him.

'I've not been back here in years.'

'Why not, if it's your favourite place?'

'I don't live in Sydney. Been living in New Zealand and now up north. But I had to come into the city today, so I thought I'd see if this spot's the same as I remembered it.'

'Is it?'

'Yes, except there used to be loads of big bats hanging from the trees. They killed them all off.'

'Bats give me the creeps but I like them more than snakes. I like cats. But I really wish I had a dog. Ma says I can't because we live in the city.'

Michael was convinced he was looking at his brother's ghost. The absent-minded air about him, as though he were miles away in his own little world, and the restless way he swung his legs back and forth in front of him' letting his heels crash back into the rock. It was years since Danny had died. He would have been thirty-two. Probably would have been married with a big brood of bairns. While not a day had passed in all those years when Michael hadn't thought of his brother, the pain had lessened with each passing season in a way that the loss of Elizabeth had not. He'd heard of reincarnation - something the Hindus believed in, apparently. He'd never met an Indian and he'd never given the concept much thought, but now he would have staked his life that this was his brother born again.

'Is smoking nice?'

'No, it's a filthy habit. Don't ever try it.'

'Well, I might try it just once. Just so I know what it's like. But not till I'm older or Ma would kill me. Didn't you like it in New Zealand then?'

Michael was slightly nonplussed by the boy's unconnected thought patterns. Again, it was just like Danny. As he studied him closer he realised his eyes were brown while Danny's had been green. And he was not as tall as Danny had been and not so skinny.

'It were all right. I like it better here though.'

'Do you want some apple?' The boy took a few bites and passed the apple to Michael. 'Go on. Have the rest. I can't eat it all.'

Michael bit into the apple. It was firm and slightly tart, just as he liked them.

The boy spoke again. 'I don't really like apples but Ma says they're good for you.'

'Sounds like yer Mam talks a lot of sense.'

The boy pulled a face. 'You talk funny.'

'That's cause I'm from England. In all these years I've never managed to lose the accent.'

'My Ma's from England but she doesn't talk like you.'

'Aye well there's all sorts in England.'

'Better go now. It's nearly time for my tea. G'day mister. See you again some time.' He jumped up and without a backward glance, set off back along the pathway.

Michael waited a few moments then fell into step behind him, not knowing why, but feeling compelled to follow. The boy walked with a lolloping gait that was almost skipping. He had taken something from his pocket and was throwing it in the air and catching it as he went along. Michael suddenly knew what it was and felt a pounding in his chest as the realisation of whom he was following finally dawned on him. But it wasn't possible. He must be a ghost. Unless...

The lad headed towards the Rocks to a large house with a well-polished door knocker and freshly painted woodwork so that it stood out in the rather shabby street. A cat was curled up on the doorstep. The boy stopped to stroke the cat quickly, before going inside. He saw the sign then. The Morton School of Music.

Michael sat on a wall opposite, took out his tobacco and rolled another cigarette. He didn't smoke often, but he needed another one badly now. His hand was shaking so much that he could hardly light the cigarette. As he sat there in the fading light, trying to get a grip on his emotions and wondering what to do next, the door opened and she stood on the threshold. She was still beautiful, her hair escaping from the chignon she continued to wear, despite the changes in hair fashions over the years. She was still slender. Her face was slightly tanned and there were now small but characterful lines around her eyes and her mouth.

'You'd better come inside, Michael Winterbourne. I've been waiting to hear from you for a long time. You have some explaining to do. And there's someone you need to meet.' Her voice was unchanged. Michael gave a guttural cry.

He ran towards her and gathered her into his arms, lifting her off the ground. 'They said you were dead. They said you were killed in a car crash. But you're not. Oh my darling, you're alive. You're here.'

'Very much so. What on earth made you think I were dead? Is that why you never wrote to me? I thought
you
had died when I didn't hear from you.'

'It were a message sent to the ship. From Verity Radley.'

'Verity? That's not possible.'

Then they both said the name at once, 'Harriet!'

He crushed her against his chest and held her tightly, overwhelmed by his emotions, almost suffocating, drinking in the smell of her, holding onto her as though if he let go she would drift away like smoke. His heart hammered in his chest and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears. 'I'll never let you out of me sight again, Elizabeth.'

'I couldn't believe it when I saw you through the window just now, Michael. I still can't believe it's really you. How did you find out where I lived?'

'I didn't.' The boy emerged from the house and stood on the doorway and Michael nodded in his direction. 'I met the lad. And then I knew.' He bent down and kissed her again on the top of her head.

'Ma? What's going on? You ok?'

'Harry, come here - I want you to meet your father.'

The road to New Hunter's Down was a long one. They drove squashed together in the cab of Michael's truck, with the back piled high with luggage on top of the empty woolsacks and bits of machinery he had picked up in the city. Elizabeth and Harry took turns to sit in the middle, and Michael rejoiced in the feeling of each of their bodies close to his in the small cramped cabin.

What a difference a few days could make. Until now, he reflected, change had usually seemed to be for the worse. A single moment dividing the innocent happiness of his youth on that other Hunter's Down, from years of loss, grief, pain and guilt. Just a few short days ago he had driven in the opposite direction, the seat beside him empty, the back piled high with wool, his heart lonely and his expectations low.

He looked past the boy with the floppy hair and the big smile, to the woman who was at last going to be his wife. She smiled back at him and stretched her hand out across the back of the seat to touch his hair as if reassuring herself that he was really there.

THE END