The Girl in the Hard Hat (23 page)

‘Well, if it isn’t my guardian angel.’ Sharon smiled, trying to sit up. ‘Come in, come in.’

‘Now don’t overdo it with the visitors,’ Annabel tutted. ‘I don’t want Daniel ringing me complaining that I mistreated his staff.’

‘Sharon doesn’t work for Daniel, I mean
Dan
,’ Lena corrected her. ‘She works for Carl. I’m sure he won’t be ringing you.’

‘No?’ Annabel mused. ‘I suppose not. He’s never been one to express his feelings much, has he? Even when he proposed he didn’t say it. He simply put a diamond ring in some chocolate mousse and I was left to connect the dots.’ She laughed fondly at the memory with a hand over her heart. ‘It was such a magical night, let me tell you.’

‘Please don’t,’ Wendy intervened as she watched the expression on Lena’s face morph into murderous. She didn’t want another two injured women on her watch. ‘I mean, I don’t think we need to know the details.’

‘Not a worry,’ Annabel responded cheerfully and then said to Sharon, ‘I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check up on you. Your visitors must be gone by then.’

‘Thank goodness,’ Sharon whispered as the door shut behind the nurse. ‘I love hearing about her past with Dan as much as Lena does.’

Wendy came towards the bed and took Sharon’s pale hand. ‘I’m so sorry this happened to you.’

‘Yeah, because it’s
your
fault,’ Sharon returned sarcastically, then smiled. ‘Honestly, you take too much on your shoulders, Sergeant.’

It was the first time one of the girls had called her by her nickname. But instead of the derogatory ring when the boys said it, it conveyed Sharon’s admiration. She was touched.

To cover her embarrassment, she rattled off a little about her investigation that morning and some of the suggestions made by the men that she was now thinking of implementing.

‘How’s my bus?’ Sharon asked.

Wendy’s lips curled. ‘In bad shape, I’m afraid. But nothing a panel beater can’t fix.’

Sharon grinned. ‘Well, I suppose I’m on holidays now, aren’t I?’

Lena patted her hand. ‘That’s a good way to think about it – a well-deserved break.’ She covered her mouth when she realised what she’d said. ‘Whoops, you know what I mean.’

Sharon laughed but Carl growled, getting up from his silent vigil by the bed and running rough hands through his dark hair. ‘There’s nothing fuckin’ good about this! Nothing! I could have fuckin’ lost her yesterday!’

‘Honey.’ Sharon stretched out her hand and he came unsteadily towards her, engulfing her fingers in his large paw. ‘You’re never going to lose me. I promise.’

He turned her hand over in his and said, without looking up, ‘I suppose we should get fuckin’ married then.’

Everyone in the room stilled. Expectation filled the air. Even Wendy’s own heart seemed to beat in her ears. Carl half looked up, his colour a deep red, his eyes squinting at his sweetheart’s face.

‘Carl Curtis, are you asking me to marry you in a hospital while I’m laid up in bed with a broken leg?’

‘Fuck it!’ Carl leaned over and kissed her forehead. ‘You look beautiful. Besides, I thought all women wanted to get fuckin’ married. Don’t you?’

Sharon tilted her head up and grabbed his face between her palms. ‘Not to anyone but you.’

Wendy and Lena stepped slowly back from the bed to offer the couple a little space.

‘I guess sometimes when you know you just know, right?’ Lena said tentatively, a strange expression on her usually perfect features.

‘I suppose so,’ Wendy said slowly, knowing that Lena was thinking about Dan, and Annabel George and that horrible chocolate mousse story.

Wendy put her hand on her arm. ‘Lena –’ She had been about to say something like, ‘Don’t let her get to you,’ or ‘That was years ago,’ when Sharon broke their moment.

‘What the hell are you two doing cowering at the back of the room? Come over here and congratulate me!’

Lena’s face immediately lit up. ‘Congratulations!’ She came forwards, arms spread wide. ‘I’m so happy for you both.’

And the moment to speak was lost.

It was fortunate that Sunday was already scheduled as a day off. The mines inspector still hadn’t made it out to the wharf and half the men could not return to active duties. The inspector had promised he would attend the site first thing Monday morning, for which Wendy was actually grateful – at least she wouldn’t have to cancel her plans to go to Cossack to see Yabber. It was a visit that had been simmering at the back of her mind all week and to have to put it off now would have been awful.

She was both nervous and excited about the prospect of meeting Yabber. This could be the end of her search – the possible beginning of a new relationship and the final chapter in the book that was her identity.

She would know the full truth and the knowledge couldn’t come soon enough.

Sunday morning she was up in time to catch breakfast at the mess at seven but decided it would be best not to surprise Yabber before nine o’clock. She went for a jog to kill a little bit of time. She was on her way back when she saw Gavin sitting on the front porch of his donga. On impulse, she decided to go talk to him.

They hadn’t really said anything to each other since the accident. And after everything they’d been through together, she felt like she needed to at least acknowledge it. He had been very brave. And, as much as he was a rascal, when it counted, he’d been there.

Her feet slowed down as she approached him because she noticed for the first time he was actually on the phone. She had been about to walk away when something stopped her. Perhaps it was his expression.

She’d seen teasing on Gavin’s face before. Mischief. Arrogance. Even disdain.

But affection . . . genuine love . . . pain . . . they were emotions she’d thought would never crease that brow or soften those eyes. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him. It was one of those weird moments, like the incident with the blue-tongued lizard, when she felt that she was catching a glimpse of a man nobody else knew existed.

As she got closer, she could hear what he was saying. ‘Yeah, no problem. Um . . . I don’t know, what do you recommend? Okay, orchids it is. Yeah, a whole bunch . . . Can you deliver it tomorrow? A card . . . Um, can you write,
Dear Kate, There was never a doubt in my mind that you could do it. Love you and miss you
. No, she’ll know who it’s from. Okay, thanks. Bye.’

He clicked the phone off and sat there silent for a moment looking out unseeingly at the line of dongas before him.

Who the hell is Kate?

‘So, Sarge,’ he drawled, ‘you going to say hi, or creep away?’

Her skin went hot with embarrassment. She coughed, searching frantically for words that were now stuck in her throat.

‘I just wanted to ask you how your hand was,’ she finally spluttered. ‘After the accident, things all got a bit carried away and I didn’t know if you went to the medic or you got stitches or something.’

He held up a bandaged palm that didn’t look too serious. ‘A couple of stitches. Nothing more.’

‘You were really brave.’

His smile was tentative as though he wasn’t used to receiving compliments. He said finally, ‘So were you.’

For some reason she wanted to prolong the conversation. ‘I, er . . . I thought you were going fishing today.’

‘I thought you were going to see Yabber.’

‘Just heading off now.’ She nodded, feeling like he’d snubbed her.

‘Hey, Sarge.’

She looked back. ‘Yeah?’

His brows were knitted together and his eyes were twinkle-free. ‘Good luck.’

She smiled, bizarrely buoyed by his well wishes. ‘Thanks.’

Cossack was only fifteen minutes’ drive from Wickham, sitting right at the mouth of the Harding River. The town itself was little more than a village and mostly deserted. It had an eerie, nostalgic feel to it that instantly put Wendy in the mood to explore. There were a number of historical buildings that stood out on the flat rocky red earth that was sparsely populated by shrubbery. A two-storey courthouse with white stone pillars and a wide verandah spoke of a place that had been influential in its day, though the stone jail and police quarters next door certainly implied a rough society.

There were several other historical buildings in the main part of town. A post office, telegraph office and school. Wendy strolled through these killing time before she made the ‘must see’ trek to visit the cemetery, one of the focal points of the town’s history.

It was divided into two separate areas, one for the European settlers and the other for the Japanese pearl divers who either were lost at sea or drowned while diving. In the European cemetery, she saw the grave of a ten-year-old girl who had died from tetanus after treading on a nail.

It reminded her of the reason she was there.

To discover her own history.

She got into her car and drove back up to the entrance of town where she had seen Hector’s ramshackle B and B on her way in. It was certainly in need of doing up. The old shed next to the main house looked like it was still recovering from the last cyclone that had swept through these parts. The main brick house seemed sturdy enough but it was probably as old as Hector himself.

She stepped gingerly out of her car, awash with nerves. Was he her father? Would he be angry to see her? Disappointed?

Or just plain shocked?

Until this point, she hadn’t stopped to consider how she could be affecting his life and the lives of his family. If finding out she had brothers and sisters was a shock to her then it would be to them as well. And also perhaps to his current wife or partner.

She had absolutely no desire to cause problems for another family. She knew firsthand how much destruction revelations such as this could cause. Gripping her fingers together she resolved to keep her cards close to her chest when speaking to him. She didn’t need to reveal anything until she was sure.

Slamming the door of her car, she shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

Grow a spine and just do it.

She threw her head back and walked determinedly over the pot-holed driveway to the front door. It was unlocked, with a sign hanging from a nail on the front of it.

We are open. Please come in
.

She opened the creaky flyscreen and walked into what was obviously a reception area. There was a long wooden counter, an ancient desk fan blowing ribbons and a bell displayed prominently in place of an attendee with yet another sign:
Please ring
.

Again, she complied, killing the urge to bite her fingernails.

A woman immediately popped out of the back room, wiping her hands on a tea towel as though she had been in a kitchen. All smiles and a generous bosom, she could have been Mrs Claus but for those tight wiry black curls.

‘Hello, love, looking to rent a room?’

‘Er, no thanks,’ Wendy responded. ‘I just came to see Hector. Hector Warner. Is he in?’

‘Indeed he is.’ Her pink cheeks seemed to colour up even more. ‘He’s out back having a smoke. And who might you be?’

‘I’m . . . I’m . . .’ Wendy firmly swallowed her nerves. ‘I’m from the camp in Wickham. I’m working on the wharf at Cape Lambert. My name is Wendy.’

The woman’s eyes lit. ‘He’ll be pleased to get news from the jetty. I expect you know how much Yabber loves to chew the fat. Not that many people to talk to around here apart from me, I’m afraid.’

‘And you are . . .?’ Wendy prompted cautiously.

‘His wife.’ She beamed, holding out her hand. ‘Linda Warner, pleased to meet you. Do you want to follow me?’

‘Yes.’ Wendy was glad for a reprieve from conversation in order to gather her wits. The older woman led her through another door and straight down the guts of the house to the backyard. She could see that there were parts of the house they had started doing up and other sections they hadn’t got to yet. As she exited the rear sliding door, she saw a man with his back to her, seated on an old park bench under the shade of a tall gum. His feet were crossed under a wooden coffee table that had a steaming mug on it.

She gazed out over his red, ramshackle backyard, littered with shrubs and pieces of renovation debris. She couldn’t help but reflect how much the lack of order resembled her life. No clear patterns or path. Just confusion.

As she came closer to Yabber, the first thing she noticed about him was that he had ginger-coloured hair streaked with grey. She was not expecting that. He looked up when his wife walked down the uneven stone path that cut through a weed-ridden lawn.

‘Hey, darl.’ Linda was the first to speak. ‘Do you know this girl?’

He winked at Wendy. ‘Wish I did. What’s your name, lass?’

She wasn’t expecting a strong Scottish accent, especially since Linda seemed definitely Australian.

Wendy cleared her throat. ‘I’m Wendy. You don’t know me,’ she began slowly. ‘We’ve never met but I, er, heard about you while I was working at Cape Lambert.’

‘Did you now?’ Hector raised interested eyes. ‘What exactly did you hear?’

‘Well . . .’ She took a deep breath. ‘When I heard your name, it sounded familiar and I thought you might have known my mother.’

His wife stopped in the process of leaving them.