Tears of the Moon (49 page)

The dirt road wound through lightly timbered and open countryside and the young monk chatted over his shoulder, telling them of many facets of life at the monastery.

‘What is Father Torres like?’ asked Olivia.

‘Very clever, he has degrees in art and science from the University of Barcelona and he teaches maths and science.’

‘I understood he had some medical knowledge as well,’ said Gilbert.

‘Oh yes, it has been very useful. He is also well versed in philosophy and music.’

The first sign of habitation was well-tended vine-yards.

‘We Benedictines are famous for planting grapes wherever we go,’ grinned their driver.

They passed orchards and ploughed fields and
several barns and farm buildings and soon what looked like a small township came into view. Gilbert and Olivia were effusive with their admiration for the settlement as they drew up before the imposing mellow stone monastery.

The monk lead them through a quiet stone corridor to the reception room to meet Father Fulgentius Torres. The handsome Spanish priest greeted them warmly and offered a glass of the monastery wine before luncheon.

‘I’ve heard of the good work your order has done here with the Aborigines, Father. This is far from the bush mission I had expected,’ said Gilbert.

‘Bishop Salvado did great work. Now I have inherited his mantle, I have plans to give the mission a new direction as a centre for education for Aborigines. I am also supervising the construction of a boarding school for girls—St Gertrude’s College.’

‘Who will run it?’ asked Olivia.

‘The new order of the Sisters of St Joseph of the Sacred Heart. Now tell me about your plans for a girls’ home in Fremantle.’

‘Many of the foundlings and abandoned girls that we have been sheltering temporarily are sent to the Sisters of Mercy at Subiaco. The boys are well cared for at the orphanage at Clontarf. We are a small operation, a sort of halfway house for girls in emergency situations,’ explained Olivia.

Father Torres gave them valuable advice, suggestions for fund raising and warned them of the pitfalls of philanthropic endeavour without an institution to back them up. ‘We have learned a lot from our experience.’

‘And do your students study Aboriginal culture, too?’ asked Olivia.

‘I only arrived here in 1901 and have scant knowledge of the native customs,’ he admitted. ‘Besides, we want to train the children to fit into society as best they can as well as come to God. Bishop Salvado’s ideal was to care for the Aborigines following the Benedictine lines—stability, hard work and faith. We also plan to open a boarding college for boys, St Ildephonsus’ College. French Marist Brothers are coming in to run it.’

‘We are thinking on a very small scale compared to your plans,’ said Gilbert.

‘Doctor Shaw, any comfort or succour that you can offer these troubled children will be of great benefit. I wish you both well in your endeavours.’

Following a simple but bountiful lunch of food grown in the monastery gardens, a monk took them on a tour of the monastery and its grounds.

Gilbert and Olivia settled into the train for the trip back to Perth, talking over their impressions of New Norcia and the advice from Father Torres.

‘So, do we pursue the plan for a girls’ refuge?’

‘Of course we do, Gilbert. That is if you are still willing. While it is a modest enterprise it will be, nonetheless, a big undertaking for us and you do have your surgery as well.’

‘That is why I am relying on you to run the practical side of things, Olivia. We seem to have the same feelings and thoughts about this project, maybe that is why God intended our paths should cross.’

‘I want to help very much. It’s not just a diversion.
I feel very strongly about helping these girls. I’d rather we were just a care and nurturing centre without the religious and educational emphasis. Children need a home atmosphere. Somewhere where they can feel safe and loved.’

‘Well, Olivia, you are embarking on something of a new career, again.’

‘I will of course keep my interest in Star of the Sea Pearls. It doesn’t take a lot of my time but I don’t want to lose the connection,’ she said quietly.

‘Before you can make a new life you must let go of the old one.’

He spoke gently and Olivia smiled fondly at the kindly man beside her. Although older than Conrad, he reminded her of him in some ways—a trifle conservative, respectful and gentle. She also had profound respect for this good man who had devoted his life to caring for others.

After they returned to Perth, Olivia and Gilbert Shaw went to Fremantle and looked again at the large house on Cantonment Street. Partly screened from the street by high trees, it was a stone building with two wings on either side of the main hall and entrance.

‘Do you think we should put up a wall, a fence?’

Olivia shook her head. ‘It would make it too intimidating. I want girls to feel they can come here and just walk in and be part of a family.’

‘Hmm. Perhaps we need some lights on the outside and in the garden to make it more welcoming.’

They went into the house donated by their
benefactor, a wealthy spinster, and looked over the changes that were almost complete. Several rooms had been turned into a dormitory, the dining room now had smaller tables and the formal rooms were designated as day recreation rooms. Upstairs, Doctor Shaw had a clinic and Olivia an office. A nurse would be on duty with a cook and cleaner. A housekeeper and her husband lived in.

‘The most important thing will be getting the word out that we’re here,’ said Olivia.

‘I suppose you’re going to walk the streets and go into every hotel and seedy hangout imaginable to tell them about us,’ said Gilbert with a rueful smile.

‘Come on, Gilbert. You need to get out of that stuffy surgery more often.’

‘This isn’t Broome, Olivia.’

‘Come with me then. Not as my protector, but to get a feel for what is happening on the streets.’ It was a challenge and Gilbert realised he’d be less of a man in Olivia’s eyes if he didn’t take it up. It was a feeling that had troubled him frequently. He was devoted to Olivia and loved her in his reserved way. But knowing the wound Tyndall had inflicted to her heart, esteem and ego, he was reluctant to show the depth of his feelings. As a result, he felt Olivia found him unassertive and emotionally pallid.

‘I’ll be there. We should start around the docks. Apparently a lot of girls hang about down there.’

‘Good for you, Gilbert.’

It took weeks, but through the churches, hospitals, the police, the network of contacts they built up
from back doors of cheap eating houses where the homeless went for handouts, to the workers round the docks who knew where girls were sleeping rough, the word of Shaw House spread. Young girls started turning up to be treated, fed, given clothing and advice. Some just wanted a bed and a meal for a night or two, while others were sent on to the Sisters of Mercy. In some cases, Olivia tried to find employment for girls who had some education and were willing to work.

It was tiring, sometimes frustrating and heartrending, but ultimately rewarding work. It kept her mind off the past and she only took a break and made time for herself when Hamish came home for holidays. He loved his school, was a keen team participant in all sports and in the dramatic society and he looked forward to the Christmas holiday adventure of travelling to a friend’s pastoral property. It took his mind off wanting to go back to Broome, which relieved Olivia. Minnie’s daughter, Mollie, had made one trip back to Broome since coming to work for Olivia in Fremantle and reported that all was well at Olivia’s home in Broome, where Minnie lived with Alf in the servants’ quarters as caretakers.

As Shaw House was transformed from a dark and rundown boarding house into the cheerful and welcoming safe haven for ‘girls in crisis’ as Gilbert described it, Olivia and Gilbert spent more time together than ever before. Plans, renovations, furnishing and practical amenities were discussed and the workload shared. When Hamish came home he joined them, doing odd jobs and taking a great
interest in the project. The three of them ate meals together and to the childless and widowed Gilbert it was a joy to feel like part of a family.

Olivia, too, was pleased Gilbert and Hamish liked each other. The boy needed a father figure and Gilbert Shaw offered sound advice, took an interest in his sporting activities and discussed world affairs with him. Olivia realised how much Hamish had grown to look like his father. He had something of Conrad’s polite reserve and well-drilled school manners but his flashes of teasing humour she recognised as pure Tyndall. At these moments her heart lurched as she realised how much she missed Tyndall’s engaging, if sometimes maddening, sense of humour. But Tyndall’s down-to-earth manner had been good for Hamish, as had their mixed group of friends like Ahmed and the Mettas, for it had given the boy a balanced perception of people and the world. In one of his letters Tyndall had hoped Hamish wouldn’t turn into a snob by going to a posh boarding school.

‘Wrong again, Tyndall,’ Olivia thought. She never wrote to Tyndall about her personal life though she knew Hamish wrote to Tyndall. She kept her correspondence restricted to business matters. She also tried to keep her memories of Tyndall in check. If she allowed herself to think about the beautiful times they’d shared, the joyous future she’d imagined with him, and then the betrayal and invasion of Amy, it caused overwhelming pain and sorrow. If she kept busy, kept distracted, kept her distance, she figured she would get through this tragedy in her life.

Time and again she thanked whatever lucky stars,
fate or providence had thrown her together with Gilbert Shaw. He was understanding, gentle and caring. She could see the growing love in his eyes for her and it gave her a warm and supportive feeling. Knowing he was there made her feel less like she was battling on her own. The strength that had helped her through her dark days was still there, but she felt softer, more mellow. She didn’t have to fight so hard. She wasn’t alone. She liked the companionship, having someone to share things with, and do things together. Their work life now blended with the social and, without anything ever being stated, their lives began to meld.

Gilbert was an attractive man, slim, fit, hair turning silver and the lines in his face spoke of compassion for others and a pleasant nature. He was easy to be with, calm and self-assured. Had Olivia known it, she would have been surprised to learn Gilbert was feeling increasingly uneasy about his feelings for Olivia. He worried that he may seem boring compared with the mysterious Tyndall, that he looked like her father, or uncle, that he aroused no sexual passion in her. Beneath his beautiful manners, quiet nature and easy smile was a desire to behave like a rash impetuous youth. Olivia’s energy, enthusiasm and strength stirred feelings he thought had passed for him, and he longed to show her how he really felt; that inside his correct and tailored suit there was a virile young man as swashbuckling and rollicking as he imagined Captain John Tyndall to be.

Contrary to how Gilbert saw himself, Olivia thought him attractive and appealing. In his stillness
she saw strength and support, in his shyness she saw cultured manners and a gentleness towards all people. His touch was one of respect and admiration and made her feel glad about herself. They were comfortably compatible and she felt at ease and safe with him. There would never be the wild passion, the unexpected or the boiling emotions generated between herself and Tyndall. No, Gilbert Shaw had come along at a point in her life that was right for both of them.

Amy had quickly become Tyndall’s ferocious guardian. She banished the servants from his room and stood watch over him round the clock, sleeping on the
chaise tongue
by the window. The doctor had left a small phial of laudanum which he said contained morphine for the pain from Tyndall’s ulcerous legs. With it he gave strict instructions on dosage. Tyndall still had delirious attacks and when not mumbling incoherently, he lay in a fitful sleep.

During the hours she sat in his room Amy thought carefully about her future and her choices.

Ahmed visited the house daily and each time Amy refused him admittance. Concerned, he went to Rosminah and asked her to see or find out how Tyndall really was. She told him that the bedroom was kept locked and when Amy left it to go to the bathroom or wash, she locked it and took the key with her. ‘I can’t see the master. He no eat very good. You get doctor come and check tuan,’ Rosminah pleaded.

Ahmed looked concerned, ‘Doctor’s gone to
Beagle Bay. He say he leave medicine with mem. She giving him medicine?’

Rosminah shrugged.

Ahmed sighed and told her to look for any opportunity to check on Tuan Tyndall.

Several of Tyndall’s friends called by, but Amy politely turned them all away, pleading her husband’s need of rest. Sergeant O’Leary called as soon as he heard of Tyndall’s condition and Amy had allowed him to glimpse the sleeping Tyndall, then ushered him out, promising that she would let him know as soon as she felt Tyndall was well enough to see him. The policeman’s visit had shaken her, but he had spoken warmly and wished her well. He said he would take a statement from Ahmed to advise the authorities about the sinking and apparent death of other crew members of the
Shamrock
. The interview with Tyndall could wait, he added sympathetically.