The Cedar Cutter (28 page)

She stumbled into the kitchen and found the billy steaming on the hob. How long had she slept? Two plates and cups sat on the table half empty. She threw open the back door, her eyes still cloudy from sleep. Silence greeted her, an ominous, damp silence. Jane was nowhere to be seen. Ruan. Where was Ruan?

Then the squeak of the woodshed door as it swung crooked on the leather hinges. Ruan's high-pitched squeal broke the silence and her heart lurched into action, pumping blood back through her frozen veins, bringing her body to life.

‘Come, Ruan. We'll find your mam.' The calm note in Jane's voice settled her and she stepped over the threshold into the dark interior of the woodshed. Out of the daylight, only a tableau of silhouettes greeted her. Jane holding Ruan's hand, the pair of them gazing into the darkest corner.

As her eyes adjusted, she picked out the crumpled outline of a body in the corner. ‘Ruan. Come here.'

‘Mam.' He turned and ran to her side.

‘Thank goodness. I'm not sure what we should do.' Jane indicated the huddled bundle. Rheumy eyes watering, the old man's toothless mouth gaped then clamped shut against the tremors shaking his body. His skin was so dark, if it hadn't been for the white bone clasped in his hand and his eyes, Roisin wouldn't have known where his body started or ended.

‘I think he's hurt, Mam.'

‘You and Jane go inside, into the kitchen. Heat some water and find some blankets and we'll need tea and some food. Something soft. Soak a piece of bread in some milk.'

Another shudder traced the old man's body as though he was in the grip of some fever.

‘Off you go, quickly now. Leave the door open to let the light in.'

As they left she took a step closer and a corpse-like grimace spread across his face. ‘Carrick's lady.'

She bent over the pitiful, reeking old man, suppressing a shiver of revulsion as her stomach roiled from the stench seeping from his ragged clothes and old flesh. ‘Are you sick?'

‘Bit, missus, bit. Nothing bad. White man's sickness won't hurt Old Pella.' His pockmarked skin proved he'd survived the smallpox outbreak that had decimated the local native tribes.

‘Can you stand?' She reached out her hand.

He ignored it and lumbered to his feet with a groan.

‘Come inside, I have food and some tea.' She set off, hoping he'd follow. The dusty slap of his feet told her he had and she led the way across the yard to the back door.

He sank down onto the back doorstep and squinted up at the sky, searching for the sun to warm him. His trousers were ripped, and his tattered shirt left one shoulder and part of his skinny back bare, showing bruises and the clear imprint of a man's boot.

‘Did someone hurt you?'

He lifted his bloodshot eyes and screwed up his face, then pointed to his head. Her whispered gasp moved the old man's hair as she leant over him. A fine line scored his head as though he'd been beaten with a long stick.

‘Jane, can you bring me a cloth and some boiled water please, with a little bit of salt in it?' She sat down on the step next to him. ‘What happened to you? Who hurt you?'

‘Found me in the woodshed.'

‘In my woodshed?'

He rocked slowly, his frail arms wrapped around his body.

‘Who? Surely not Carrick.' He'd have called in. Told her he was here.

‘Not Carrick. He's good to Old Pella.' He shrugged his bony shoulders. ‘Blind Bunyip got Old Pella.'

Jane put a bowl down on the step beside Roisin and handed her a damp cloth. Roisin waved her away and dabbed at the blood around the slash across his head. The Paterson cutters hadn't been in town. Maisie would have told her if they'd taken to the old man again.
The Blind Bunyip.
What did that mean? ‘It's not too bad. You'll be sore for a few days and you shouldn't be out here in the cold. Come inside.'

He shook his head. ‘No good inside. I go there. Stay till Carrick comes.' He inclined his head to the woodshed. ‘Keep him away.' He waved the white bone still clasped in his hand. The least she could do was make sure he was comfortable. ‘Stay here for now and I'll bring you some food and blankets.'

She picked up the bowl and went inside. ‘Ruan, go up to your bedroom. And stay there.'

‘I have to go to school.'

‘Not today. Stay at home today.'

‘Mam!'

‘Do what I say.' She followed her words with a tight smile. Since Dankworth's reappearance everything had changed. Just when she thought it was safe again something else happened. The memory of the shadowy figures she'd seen crossing the frosted earth flickered through her mind. She shuddered.
The Blind Bunyip!
Now she believed the natives' superstitions.

Waiting until Ruan had climbed the ladder to the attic, she busied herself breaking bread into the bowl of milk Jane had prepared.

‘Did he tell you what happened?' Jane kept her voice low.

‘Only that there was a blind bunyip.'

‘Well blind or not it certainly did a decent job on him. He's been well and truly beaten.'

‘He said he'd stay until Carrick returned. It's almost as though he's protecting us. I don't know what …' Her voice petered out and she sank down into the chair. ‘You don't suppose …? Oh, God, surely not.'

Jane dragged up the chair next to her. ‘It's time you told me what's happening.'

‘I think I'm going insane. I see shadows where there are none. I hear voices, laughing, heckling. And just when I thought it was over—this.'

‘You're worried. The man that came, he's worrying you. It's time to tell me, share your worry.'

‘Maybe it is, Jane. Maybe it is. I didn't want to involve you.'

Jane reached out and clasped her hand. ‘Roisin, I count you as my friend and I'd like you to think the same of me.'

‘I do. I do. But you have had enough problems of your own. I don't want to …'

‘Stop. You've turned my life around. Given me a job, a purpose. I've never been happier. You make everyone you touch happier. Look at Elsie and Maisie with their petticoats. What about Grace Winchester and her exquisite dress? And Mrs Blackmore—a turkey into a swan. You said those were her very words. And Lady Alice, that poor miserable, cowering woman, proud to stand at her husband's side.'

‘The biggest mistake I ever made.'

‘How can you say that?'

‘Shall we have a cup of tea? This is a sad and sorry tale.' Roisin forced herself to her feet, every bone in her body aching. Was it possible to feel like an old woman at the age of twenty-one?

‘Let me.' Jane stood and indicated to the chair.

‘No. Can you take this out to the old man?' She handed Jane the bowl of bread and milk. ‘And give him this blanket. When you come back I'll tell you. It'll be easier if I'm doing something,' she said, her voice wry. If she didn't share it with someone soon, it would eat away at her until she shrivelled up like the frail man outside on the doorstep. She filled the billy and measured the tea.

Jane returned in a matter of moments and closed the door behind her.

‘Is he all right?'

‘He's stopped shivering. I can't get him to move. He insists he's staying until Carrick gets back.'

‘I really don't see what Carrick has to do with all of this.' Roisin banged the billy with a piece of kindling and set two cups onto the table.

‘Something, I have no doubt. Why don't you start at the beginning?'

Roisin sucked in a deep breath. Now that the moment had passed she wasn't really sure she wanted to talk to Jane. She snatched a breath and swallowed. ‘Lady Alice's husband is Ruan's father.' There. Done before she lost the courage.

Jane's mouth gaped, literally gaped, open. ‘He … I … the man who collected the dress and the corset? Who didn't like your work?'

‘He didn't even look at it.'

‘Does Lady Alice know?'

‘I have no idea, but I also have no doubt she will soon if Dankworth gets his way.'

‘What does he want?' Jane slurped her tea.

‘Ruan.'

Jane set her cup down on the table and rocked back in the chair. ‘Can you tell me everything from the start?'

‘Dankworth is the reason I left Sydney. He discovered Ruan, realised he was his son and he wanted him. He said the law was on his side and he had every right to the boy.'

Jane's face blanched. ‘He does. If he's Ruan's father.'

‘He does not. He has no right. He raped me when I was fourteen, and beat my mother to death. He knew nothing of Ruan until he stumbled upon us in the street. He cares nothing for me. And nothing for Ruan. He didn't even know of Ruan's birth until then.'

‘Then why would he want him?'

‘That I don't know and I didn't wait to find out. The man is evil. He will not have my son.' She stood up and the chair clattered to the ground. A red haze of anger seeped into every corner of her soul. But for Ruan, she'd kill him, take a knife to him and happily hang for it. ‘My mam walked down to Pitt Street to meet me after work. It was a balmy evening, the end of summer, the days getting shorter but still pleasant. We bought an ice cream on the way home.'

‘You don't have to tell me, Roisin, you really don't. It's the past. Try to forget.'

She did have to tell the story. She'd held it inside her for so long it threatened to engulf her. She wanted the whole story out in the open. For too long she'd kept it bottled up, eating away at her like a canker. ‘We took a shortcut through the lanes. There was a man standing at the end, a gentleman. I couldn't see his face, the sun was behind him. I could tell he was a gentleman because of his top hat and cane and patterned waistcoat. Some expensive embroidered material, embossed. The light glinted on the golden fabric in the weave. Mam's hand squeezed mine, clamped down so hard it hurt. That's when I knew she was frightened.'

Her hands shook and she placed them flat on the table, leaning against the rough timber, rocking backwards and forwards. ‘She pushed me behind her and when he got closer and reached out to grab her, she shouted at me to run. I couldn't. I couldn't move. He grabbed at Mam, pawed her and laughed. I hear that laugh in my dreams even now, more now I've heard it again. He dragged Mam up against the wall. I tried to pull him off. I couldn't. He lifted his cane and slammed it down across my shoulder.' She wiped at the tears coursing down her cheeks. She hadn't even known she was crying. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the sound of Dankworth's ominous laugh.

‘Mam pulled him to her, lifted her skirts. I knew what she was doing. She wanted to keep him away from me. Offered herself. All he did was laugh. Then he threw her aside and brought his cane down hard, on her head, on her face. She curled into a ball and I ran to her side. Her face was a bloody mess. She kept telling me to run. I couldn't leave her. Then he hauled me up. Shouted he didn't want tarnished goods, he'd have me instead. And he did.

‘He took me against the wall, then when he'd finished, straightened his clothing, tipped his hat and strolled away. Left us there. At first I was relieved, relieved he'd gone and it was over. Even when he was ramming into me, it didn't seem real. As though I stood outside myself and watched.' The words poured out of her, a flood of putrid loathing, bottled anger and sorrow, deep, abiding sorrow.

‘I couldn't get Mam up. I couldn't leave her there; I didn't know what to do. Next thing I remember Aunt Lil came. They took Mam back to the house, the brothel where we lived. Aunt Lil called the doctor. It was too late, he said. Mam never woke up, never opened her eyes. Three weeks later we buried her. Dankworth killed my mam.'

Through the window an eagle soared on a current of air. High above the earth, far away from the mess of her life. Perhaps Mam watched over her. She'd like to think she did. Liked to think Mam would be proud to know she'd fight the bastard, even now. She cleared her throat and turned. Jane sat, her chin in her hand, her face chalky and her tears leaving dirty track marks down her cheeks. ‘I'm sorry, Jane. I didn't want to upset you. Once I started I couldn't seem to stop.'

She shook her head. ‘No, tell me. Tell me it all. You have to get it out.'

Dear Jane, so right. Her strength was returning, the remembered anger stirring her sluggish blood. The telling had made her stronger. She needed to remember the pain. ‘After Mam died I stayed with Aunt Lil, still went to work at Madame de Lolle's. Nothing changed, but everything had. It didn't occur to me I could be carrying a child. You'd think I'd have known. Lived all my life in a brothel, seen the girls come and go. It was Aunt Lil who picked it. I thought I was just growing older, getting bigger. She knew the signs. She didn't send me away. That's when I made my quilt, while I waited for Ruan to come, and afterwards, while I nursed him. I added all the scraps of silk left over from the work Madame de Lolle sent home for me to do, and from my mam's favourite dress. See, I couldn't go to work, not when I was showing. Other girls would have … Then Ruan was born. The moment I held him in my arms it didn't matter where he'd come from, how I'd come about him. He was mine. All I had in the world that was truly mine.

‘I went back to work. Aunt Lil and the girls cared for Ruan, pampered him more like, spoiled him rotten. Even after all the sorrow we were happy. I knew Mam would want us to be happy.'

‘And you never saw Dankworth again until the other day when he came to get Lady Alice's corset … Oh, God! Lady Alice. Does she know what kind of a husband she has?'

‘I felt sorry for Lady Alice before I knew Dankworth was her husband, but now …' She lifted her shoulders, trying to relieve the weight of the memories. ‘Dankworth didn't know about Ruan until we bumped into him on the street one day in Sydney. It wasn't until I saw Ruan and Dankworth together that I realised how alike they were. The same hair, same pale skin, but not the eyes, thank God Ruan doesn't have his eyes. Ruan has my eyes.' Not those opaque, milky eyes, almost like a blind man. ‘He's not having my son.' Her horror turned to strength. Something good would come of all his evil. ‘I'm done with running.'