Lighthouse Bay (47 page)

“Damien!” she called, waving with both hands.

He saw her and strode down. “I knocked. You weren’t home.”

“I was swimming. Hey, you know what? I’ve decided to stay in Lighthouse Bay.” She was amazed at how happy those words made her feel.

“I didn’t know you were thinking of leaving.”

“Well, I was. And now I’m not.”

“That’s great news. Are you up for more great news?” He
brandished a folder full of papers. “Photocopies of Matthew Seaward’s journal. They were in the boxes at home.”

“Including the dates you were missing?”

He nodded. “Libby, you’re going to love this.”

“And you’re going to love this: I think I know who she was. Arthur Winterbourne’s wife, Isabella. She was on board the
Aurora
when it went down.”

Damien grinned. “Ah, the mysterious past reveals itself. Let’s go inside.”

She let him into the house and kept him waiting in the lounge room while she scrambled into clothes. By the time she emerged, he had spread the photocopied pages out on the table.

“I take it you’ve managed to convince Rachel to let you back into your house?”

“And my bank accounts, yes. She’s starting to cool off. It won’t be easy, but I think we can separate fairly at least.” He tapped the documents. “The boxes had all of the journals photocopied. Granddad had made an extra set before he died. Libby, there’s buried treasure.”

“What?”

He found the page and read to her.
“This morning we buried I’s treasure. It is one hundred paces from the front door of the lighthouse, and I will watch over it for her even after she’s gone.”

“A hundred paces from . . . That’s right on my property.”

“I know.”

“Graeme Beers . . .”

“Must have the original. That’s why the journals were in such a mess at the lighthouse when I first arrived. He’d gone through them.”

A light went on in Libby’s head. “Of course. He must have read something in Percy Winterbourne’s papers that placed the
mace at the lighthouse. He came down here, found the part of the diary that mentioned the buried treasure—”

“And he’s been coming back ever since, looking for it.”

“Buried treasure,” Libby murmured, turning the idea over in her head. “Right underneath my feet. What do you think it is?”

He smiled, nodding. “I think it’s the mace.”

Libby drew her breath in sharply. “When do we start digging?”

He held up his hands. “Slow down. A hundred paces in which direction? This is why Graeme’s been poking around but not dug anything up. He’s trying to calculate the exact spot. It might even be under the house.”

“But we’re going to go out and have a look, right?”

“Absolutely.”

Within minutes, Libby and Damien were outside, measuring out a hundred paces from the lighthouse in a variety of directions. If they went straight ahead from the lighthouse’s doorstep, they wound up exactly where Graeme and his son had been searching.

“What now?” Libby asked.

“Must be what Graeme Beers was thinking.”

“Bushes, rocks. No big X marking the spot.”

Damien was looking at the ground, an expression of deep concentration on his face. “Or maybe there is.”

Libby moved her gaze to where he was looking. “It’s a rock. There are plenty of rocks out here.”

“Come and stand here, where I am.”

She did as he asked.

“Were you ever any good at cloud pictures?” Damien asked.

“No. Juliet was.”

“I was a champ. What does this rock look like to you?”

She squinted, then smiled. “A bird.”

“‘My pretty bird.’ Graeme didn’t realize because he only had
the last few pages of the journal. He hadn’t been following the love story like we have.”

“You think Matthew Seaward marked the treasure with this rock?”

“Have you got a shovel?”

A
n hour later, they hit the wooden box. As they cleared the way free with their hands they saw the brass logo on its top: the Winterbourne coat of arms. Libby thought of Mark and swallowed hard.

“I can’t believe it,” she said. “The mace was here all along. Who does it belong to? The Winterbournes? Or the Australian government?” A thought suddenly grabbed her. “It doesn’t belong to me, does it?”

“I have no idea,” Damien said. “We’re going to need a rope or something to pull it up. He buried it so deep.”

Libby went inside and tied a piece of blue rope to a coat hanger, which they dropped in the hole and hooked around the handle. Slowly, they hoisted it up onto the ground. The box was not heavy enough to suggest it held treasure.

Damien grinned at her across the pit. “What will we find?”

“Bugs? Diamonds?”

“Let’s see.” He flipped the box open. It was empty.

Damien laughed, sitting back on his haunches. “No treasure. Perhaps somebody has been here before us. Graeme Beers?”

“Why would anybody bother re-burying the box?” She reached in and felt around the crevices. Her fingers brushed a small, hard lump and she dug for it and pulled out a tiny bracelet. Not a treasure: the beads were coral and the clasp was silver that had
tarnished black. Libby studied it in the afternoon sun. “It’s a baby bracelet.”

“Why did Seaward call it a treasure?”

Libby remembered what Emily had told her: Isabella Winterbourne had lost a baby. “Things don’t have to be worth a lot to be treasured.” She fingered the beads gently.

A feeling of the past overlying the present flickered over her skin. Her heart pinched and she found herself overwhelmed. Tears were suddenly in her eyes and she had to look away from Damien, embarrassed.

“Yeah,” said Damien softly. “I feel it too.”

A moment went by, as the past slipped once again into history, and Libby said, “Look at us. We’re filthy. Do you want to come in and have a shower?”

He shook his head. “I’ll go back to Juliet’s now. I hope she’ll be happy to let me stay for a bit longer if I keep working on her kitchen.”

“Oh, she’ll be happy,” Libby said with a broad wink.

Damien looked puzzled and hopeful. “Have you spoken to her about me?”

“Go on,” Libby said. “She’s waiting for you.”

Libby watched him go and then she returned to the house. The photocopied journals still lay on her desk, and she picked them up and fanned herself with the pages a few moments, thinking. Then she slid them carefully into an envelope and sat down to boot up her computer.

Dear Emily
, she started to write,
I think I may have solved a Winterbourne family mystery . . .

J
uliet was cleaning down the tables on the deck when she suddenly felt somebody watching her.
Please, no more customers
. She had been working long hours since Cheryl left, not able yet to find a good replacement. Melody was helping all she could, but it was Juliet who had the ultimate responsibility to work harder. She had begun to wonder if she could ask Libby to come and help, but doubted her sister had it in her to be any good at making breakfasts and being nice to customers.

She turned. It was Damien. Her heart fluttered.

“You’re filthy,” she said.

“I’ve been digging up treasure.” He laughed.

She smiled, puzzled. “How did that go?”

“It was a bit of an anticlimax. Look, Juliet. You’re probably busy, but . . .”

Juliet threw down her cleaning cloth and took two steps towards him and encircled him in her arms. He caught his breath, then pressed her hard against him. She could hear his thundering heart. He took her chin gently in his fingers, turned her face up, and moved his lips over hers. Twenty years; she hadn’t kissed anyone in twenty years. At first she worried that she had forgotten how, but his lips were warm and soft and molded against hers in such a way that her spine began to sing.

“I’m not busy,” she murmured, pulling away. “I’m going to have an afternoon off.”

2012

L
ibby was glad Juliet had moved back into the front apartment; she deserved a view of the sea from her lounge room.

She let herself in with the spare key. Juliet’s usually tidy flat was strewn with unfolded laundry and empty teacups. All was quiet and she didn’t want to disturb, but then Juliet’s voice rose through the apartment. “Is that you, Damien?”

“No, it’s Libby. Just brought your shopping.” She dropped the bags on the kitchen bench.

Juliet emerged from the bedroom, still in her pajamas at eleven in the morning, hair a mess, but with an irrepressible smile on her face. “You’re a darling. She’s sleeping.”

“Can I look at her? I’ll be very quiet.”

Juliet nodded. Libby went to the bedroom, and hung moony-eyed like only a proud aunt can over the crib. “She’s so beautiful. She’s grown since you came home from hospital.”

“I know. It’s only been two days.”

“Three.”

“I lose count.”

Libby reached into her handbag. “I have something for you.”

“Is it a twenty-four-hour nanny? If it’s not, I’m not interested.”

Libby laughed. “Have a look for yourself.” She pulled out the jewelry box and gave it to Juliet, who looked at it curiously, then flipped it open.

“Oh!” she gasped.

“I had it cleaned and repaired. Doesn’t it look beautiful?”

Juliet teared up. But that wasn’t unusual at the moment. Since her daughter’s birth she seemed to spend all her time blissed out with a smile on her face or sobbing from happiness. She leaned over the crib and picked up the baby’s tiny, light arm, and fastened the bracelet around it. The baby stirred but didn’t wake.

“It’s a bit big,” Libby said.

“She’ll grow into it,” Juliet answered. “Thank you so much. Are you sure you want to give it away?”

“I’m sure. Damien found it, really.” She touched Juliet on the shoulder.

“He’s going to love it.”

“Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Must go prepare for the lunch rush.”

“I wonder if Scott Lacey will be in for his usual,” Juliet said, a teasing edge in her voice.

“He can ask all he likes. I’m not going out with him.”

“You’ll change your mind. I’ve seen you two looking at each other.”

Libby hugged her. “Love you, sis.”

“Same.”

1902

I
sabella and Matthew stand in the sunshine on the wharf as Isabella scans the crowd for her sister. The city unfolds around them, noisy and brimming with promise.

“Where is she?” Isabella says.

“Don’t be anxious, my pretty bird. If she didn’t get the telegram, we will simply make our own way there.”

Isabella turns to him and smiles. Her belly is growing round and her cheeks are rosy. He smiles down at her, his new wife. The Captain married them just off the coast of Hawaii, and she has embraced her new name with relish, signing
Isabella Seaward
with a flourish on the exit register of the ship. “You are very reassuring, my dear.”

“We have nothing to fear, my pretty bird. Not anymore.”

Then Isabella sees Victoria making her way through the crowd in a bell-sleeved jacket and blue skirt. “Isabella!” she calls, her brown hair catching the winter sun. “Isabella!”

Isabella lurches forward, through the crush of people. Her heart hammers inside her throat. Despite the chill air, her face and body flush warm with delight. “Victoria!” she calls, and the crowd parts as though making way for this happy reunion.

And then she is in her sister’s arms, crying for joy.

M
ary-Rose MacColl, whose humor, warmth, and generosity humble me.

Selwa Anthony, who provided all the best ideas in this book.

My “sisters”: Bek, Char, Fi, Meg, Nic, and Sal, who went on this journey with me whether they wanted to or not.

Ollie, Mish, and Chad for opening up the Sunshine Coast to my imagination, and opening up their hearts to my arrival.

Angela Hannan for her wonderful job of my website and online community.

Nadene Holm for keeping me sitting at the desk . . . literally; and Shar Edmunds, for keeping my head screwed on.

Special thanks to staff of the John Oxley Library for their knowledge and support, and to Katie Roberts, Laurie Johnson, Ian Wilkins, Michael Berganin, Brian Kennedy and Susan Bush for bits and pieces of research help.

Vanessa and Roberta for their enthusiasm and expert editorial input.

Mum, Luka, and Astrid for the love. And Mirko and Nikki for making it all so easy.

Facebook fanclub: you know who you are.

Lighthouse Bay

In 1901, a ship sinks off the coast of Queensland, Australia. The only survivor is Isabella Winterbourne, now a widow, who carries with her a priceless gift meant for the Australian parliament. In the unfamiliar world of Lighthouse Bay, Isabella must determine who she can trust and where she truly belongs.

Over a century later, Libby Slater returns to her small hometown of Lighthouse Bay after losing her lover. Before she finds the peace she’s after, however, she must navigate her dark past and a rocky road to reconciliation with her estranged sister, Juliet. Both Isabella and Libby must learn the hard way that only by leaving the past behind can they discover what lies ahead.