Undercurrents, Page 3

  Olivia’s smile seemed genuine. ‘Then we shall look forward to staying here,’ she said softly. She must have noticed Maggie’s look of surprise. ‘I’m travelling with a friend,’ she explained. ‘We’ll need separate rooms of course, and I don’t really know how long we’ll be here.’

  Maggie hid her knowing smile as she watched Olivia fill in the reservation docket. Separate rooms or not, she’d been in this business long enough to know ‘friends’ often shared a bed. It would be interesting to see what kind of man this cool, composed Olivia favoured. And even more interesting to discover just what the hell she was doing so far off the tourist track.

  *

  ‘Maggie said you’d be in here,’ said Giles as he came into the upstairs parlour that connected their bedrooms. ‘I hear you caused quite a stir. They’re all talking about you.’

  ‘At least they’re leaving some other poor bugger alone,’ she murmured before taking a sip of the ice cold beer Maggie had brought up earlier.

  Olivia noticed he’d changed into light slacks and a fresh shirt. He was a handsome man, with his light brown hair, hazel eyes and trim moustache, but she could see he was tired. The darkness under his eyes told of sleepless nights, and possibly some pain despite the medication. Yet Giles had never complained, and seemed to be slowly coming to terms with the amputation.

  She smiled and sank further into the softness of the armchair. She too had washed and changed, and had even snatched a half hour of sleep while Giles had a drink in the bar. Her loose–fitting cotton dress and sandals were far more comfortable than that silly suit, and she didn’t feel quite so out of place. Yet she was exhausted. It had been a long journey from Sydney to Trinity and she still couldn’t quite believe she was here. She took another sip of the beer and sighed in satisfaction. ‘Makes a change from the warm brew back home.’

  Giles placed his glass on a nearby table and sat down. ‘So,’ he began, as he often did. ‘Has the old place changed much?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not really. There are more cars about of course, and the road has been covered in bitumen, but on the whole it’s just the same.’ She took in her surroundings. The dusty aspidistra in the corner, the worn sofas and chairs, the scratched tables and dull paint were all so familiar. As was the squeaking fan on the ceiling, the dusty French doors leading out to the verandah, and the dangling fly–papers covered in black bodies. ‘In fact, if I didn’t know this was a hotel, I could have sworn it was the old house. We had a flowerpot just like that one in the corner.’

  She saw Giles was restless and knew, before he spoke, what he was going to say. Yet she needed to absorb everything that had happened today. Her senses were filled with the sights and sounds she’d thought she’d never experience again. Her mind almost overloaded by the enormity of what she was doing.

  ‘Are you going to tell me why we’ve had to come to the other side of the world?’

  Olivia silently admitted she hadn’t been fair to him. Dear Giles. What would she have done without him these past months? He was such a brick, and she’d been taking his warmth and kind heart almost for granted. ‘Did Mother ever tell you the story of how she came here?’

  Giles shook his head. ‘Eva was a mystery to me, Olivia. Actually, I don’t think she liked me very much. Never really talked.’

  Olivia nodded. ‘She could be like that,’ she admitted. ‘But I think it was shyness on her part, rather than anything else.’

  Giles snorted. ‘I’d have said Eva was the least shy person I’ve met. Despite her lack of height and her tiny frame, she had a glare that still made me quail long after I was out of short trousers. Afternoon teas at your house were positive purgatory.’

  Olivia laughed. ‘Yes, they were a bit much.’ Mother liked to do things properly. Afternoon tea was served promptly at four, with cucumber sandwiches, scones and cake. No crusts on the sandwiches of course, and lemon in the tea. Milky tea was regarded as common.

  Giles grimaced. ‘It was dreadful trying to balance plate and cup and saucer and carry on polite conversation. I never did get the hang of it.’

  Olivia laughed and had a fleeting remembrance of Giles as a young man, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the couch, cup and saucer in one hand, plate piled high with sandwiches in the other, napkin on his knee. He’d rarely managed to eat much despite Mother’s urging.

  ‘Mother’s Victorian upbringing was deeply ingrained, unfortunately, and I think that was her main problem. She often said she never felt she fitted in over here. There was no class system, you see, nothing tangible she could hold on to. And when she finally went back to England she found so many things had changed she was at a loss as to how to deal with them.’ Olivia sighed. ‘Bless her heart. I do miss her, you know.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ he said softly. ‘It can’t have been easy to watch her die. I don’t know how you did it.’

  Olivia looked out of the window and saw how the sky was now darkening, streaked with purple and red. The sunset was going to be spectacular and she wished she could escape this room and the memories and return to the beach. Yet, she had come so far, now was not the time to back off and wish things were different.

  ‘Years of nursing gives you a tough shell. But nothing prepares you for the death of a loved one.’ Her voice broke and she blinked. She could remember Eva from those early years. She’d been full of life and nothing had seemed to get her down. Yet, Eva had never been a tactile mother. Never one to suddenly sweep her up in a hug and rain kisses on her. There had been many times when Olivia had yearned for her to break from the stilted constraints within which she was imprisoned and show some emotion. It had taken a long while to understand it didn’t need kisses and hugs to prove she was loved.

  ‘In the end it was a release for both of us. She had so much pain, and hated being helpless.’

  ‘Quite so,’ murmured Giles. He paused for a moment and fingered his moustache. ‘I admired her in a way, even though she terrified me. She always seemed so strong, so in control. That’s why I was surprised she packed you off to boarding school. One would have thought she’d have appreciated your company. Being alone, as she was.’

  Olivia grimaced. ‘Ghastly place. Still, Mother thought she was doing what was right. I needed educating, refining and to be taught to behave like a young lady, not a tomboy. They did that for me alright.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘But I can’t pretend I wasn’t lonely, and if hadn’t been for Priscilla, I don’t know if I’d have lasted.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Priscilla.’ Giles smiled, the teasing sparkle in his eyes not lost on her. ‘Still around, is she?’

  Olivia laughed. ‘Only now and then. We’ve grown up and don’t need one another quite so much any more.’ She cleared her throat and took another sip of the beer. She felt calmer, ready to begin this frightening journey into the unknown. It was time to tell him something of the history behind this extraordinary journey.

  ‘When Mother died last year I had to deal with all the bumph that goes with winding up the estate and so on. I was clearing out her bureau when the drawer became jammed.’ She grinned at him. ‘You know how impatient I am. Can’t bear being thwarted. I stuck a screwdriver under it and practically ripped it out. Damaged the drawer, of course, but once I’d seen what was hidden behind it, it no longer seemed to matter.’

  Giles sat forward in his chair, the empty shirtsleeve dangling. ‘Always loved a good mystery,’ he enthused. ‘What did you find?’

  Olivia smiled despite the turmoil of her thoughts and the images that were haunting her. There was still so much of the boy in Giles, despite the horrors he’d been through. Yet how to describe the appalled shock she’d experienced when she realised what she had found. She could see herself now, sitting in the middle of the floor, the broken drawer upended beside her, the tears rolling down her face unheeded as the grandfather clock chimed one hour and then another. Her world had been turned upside down. S
he hadn’t known what to believe.

  Olivia emerged from her dark thoughts and realised Giles was still waiting for a reply. Yet she didn’t want to spoil this first day home by recounting those terrible hours. Better to start right back at the beginning. That part of the past didn’t have the power to hurt her, so it was safe. ‘I’ll tell you soon enough,’ she murmured. ‘You’ll have to be patient with me,’ she pleaded. ‘This isn’t going to be easy for either of us.’

  Giles frowned as he leaned back in his chair, his hazel eyes searching her face for some sign of what was troubling her. But Olivia was determined not to be rushed. She wasn’t yet ready to voice her true concerns, and if he was to understand why they were here, then she had to put things in order. She and Giles had always been close – he would understand eventually.

  She made a concerted effort to relax. Her quest for the truth had begun, and like Eva Hamilton all those years ago, she had no idea where this journey would take her.

  3

  Olivia was exhausted. The retelling of Eva’s story was too much after such a long journey. She looked at her watch. ‘Time for dinner,’ she said. ‘Come on, Giles. I’m starving.’

  Giles looked at her in horror. ‘You can’t leave it there,’ he protested. ‘What happened to Eva? Was Frederick drowned?’

  ‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ she said through a yawn.

  Giles hauled himself out of the chair. ‘You’re being unfair,’ he grumbled. When he got no response he gathered up his cigars and lighter and stuffed them in his pocket. ‘I don’t suppose I’m expected to wear a tie and jacket, am I?’ he asked with an edge of impatience.

  ‘Shouldn’t think so. It’s hardly the Ritz.’ She tucked the empty sleeve into the belt around his trousers. ‘Do come on, I’m famished.’

  His irritation with her vanished. ‘Yes, Matron,’ he teased. He earned a soft cuff on the chin as a reminder not to push her too far, then she linked her arm with his and they went downstairs.

  ‘Tea’s ready,’ shouted Maggie as she hurried past the bottom of the stairs with overloaded plates. ‘Follow me.’

  Like the rest of the hotel, the dining room had seen better days. But the floor shone with polish and the tables glimmered in snowy cloths. The last of the sunset was streaming through the lead–light panes at the tops of the windows, painting a golden glow over the diners. Shabby it might be, but it was obviously popular.

  Olivia and Giles took their seats at a table laid for two, fully aware of the curious stares and the drop in the noise level at their arrival. Olivia smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of the muttered ‘g’days’. She realised immediately they were objects of curiosity, but managed to keep any exchanges polite and fairly uninformative. She didn’t want everyone knowing her business, and old habits died hard. She’d been in England too long to relinquish information at the drop of a hat.

  ‘Here you go.’ Maggie placed two heaped plates of food in front of them. ‘That’ll put colour in your cheeks and no mistake,’ she said with a grin at Giles.

  Olivia smiled silent thanks, and was rewarded with a nonchalant shrug before Maggie moved on to the next table. Without being asked, Maggie had cut the meat into manageable portions for Giles, and Olivia was warmed by this thoughtful gesture. Then she looked down in horror at the meal before her. Four, no five lamb chops, a piece of steak, a mound of potato and a fried egg, all liberally covered in a thick onion gravy. Two thick slices of bread and butter were balanced on the side of the plate. ‘How on earth am I supposed to eat all this?’ she whispered to Giles.

  He winked. ‘You said you were starving. Prove it.’ He loaded his fork and began to chew. ‘It’s very good. Nice to have decent meat again.’

  Olivia sighed. It was still hot despite the sun casting the last of its light and the darkness fast approaching. Her appetite had been curtailed by rationing, and combined with the weariness and the awful heat, she doubted she’d make much headway with this gargantuan feast. But the smell of mint sauce and onions was tempting. She tucked in and was amazed that she managed to eat at least half of it. Giles was right. There was obviously no rationing here, and it had been a joy to eat a lamb chop again.

  She finally pushed the plate away and sat back in her chair, her stomach pleasantly full. As she waited for Giles to finish she took the opportunity to survey the other diners. They were all male, some of them obviously rather more wealthy than others, and she guessed these were the graziers – the nobility of the outback. These men didn’t share tables with the drovers and ringers and shearers, but they talked across as if there were no class barriers and seemed totally at ease with themselves and each other.

  What a strange place Australia is, she thought. No wonder Mother found it puzzling, for there seemed to be none of the strict codes of English society. Yet she found that cheerful informality heartening, and acknowledged that things had begun to change in England too. It had taken a war to do that – perhaps now they could all move on.

  She looked up as Maggie fetched the dirty plates and replaced them with bowls of steaming sponge pudding and custard. ‘I shall get very fat if I eat this much every day,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘Don’t reckon you will,’ replied Maggie as she put the plates on a tray. Her gaze swept over Olivia and she grinned. ‘You’re like me. Born skinny.’

  Olivia digested this bit of wisdom and wasn’t quite sure how to take it. Years of rationing and hard work had made her thin – it was nothing to do with being born that way. ‘I really haven’t room for this,’ she said as she handed back the pudding.

  ‘Give it to Giles. He could do with fattening up after what he’s been through.’

  Olivia saw Giles redden and guessed he and Maggie must have had a long talk while he drank in the bar. ‘Are you the only one working here?’ she asked as Maggie polished a spoon and placed it carefully next to Giles’ right hand.

  Maggie tossed her head. ‘There’s Lila and her daughter in the kitchen and someone comes in the mornings to clean the place and to help in the bar at weekends. Sam is supposed to be here – he’s the owner – but he’s gone walkabout as usual.’ Her brown eyes flashed gold in the reflected light of the lamps she’d lit earlier. ‘I’ll have his guts for garters when he does show,’ she threatened. ‘He knows Saturday night’s are busy.’

  Olivia drank a cup of tea and watched Giles plough his way through most of the two puddings. She laughed softly when he finally leaned back and wiped his mouth on the napkin. ‘I’ll be surprised if you can move after eating that lot,’ she teased. ‘But it’s good to see you’ve got your appetite back.’

  ‘Comfort food,’ he replied with a smile of satisfaction. ‘Reminds me of boarding school and the officers’ mess.’ He patted his stomach and lit a cheroot. ‘Now that’s what I call a proper dinner.’

  Olivia grinned and as Giles began a long involved conversation with a nearby grazier, she watched Maggie stride in and out with trays of plates and cups and saucers. Her expression was stormy, her mouth set. There was obviously still no sign of the errant Sam, and Olivia was beginning to feel rather sorry for this anonymous individual. Maggie was obviously not someone to cross.

  Giles had been asked to join the other men for a drink, but he wasn’t really in the mood and Olivia could tell that all the travelling was beginning to tell on him. They finally took their leave and decided to take a stroll down to the beach. They needed the exercise after such a meal, or it would be impossible to sleep.

  Olivia breathed in the soft scent of night flowers, and the crisp salty tang of the sea. It was so still, so silent, the road so empty. She linked her arm through his, enjoying the peace and the light breeze coming off the sea. Enjoying the familiar companionship.

  The beach was bathed in moonlight, the water sparkling beneath a black sky strewn with stars. Olivia kicked off her sandals, peeled down her stockings and wriggled her toes in the sand. It w
as still warm from the sun. She lifted the hem of her skirt and waded into the velvet coolness of the water.

  After struggling with his shoes and socks, Giles joined her. They stood ankle deep in that balmy water, gazing in awe at the enormous sky. The Milky Way splashed a majestic white cloud of a million pinpoints of light that seemed to have no beginning and no end. The Southern Cross and Orion twinkled coldly and clearly against the backdrop of endless darkness, and the moon was a perfect silver sixpence reflected in the ripples on the water.

  Olivia once again felt the calming influence of this place that had once been home. As a child she’d never been permitted to stay out after dark, but she’d sat for hours at her bedroom window watching the heavenly display. The stars were old friends – and like old friends they seemed to be welcoming her back.

  *

  Sam rubbed the mare down, made sure she had enough feed and water and quietly bolted the stable door. Gathering his fishing tackle and catch, he turned to look at the lights blazing from the hotel and grimaced. It was late, much later than he’d thought, and would no doubt catch an earful from Maggie.

  ‘It’s my bloody hotel,’ he muttered. ‘I can come and go as I please.’

  Yet he knew it was only bravado. He felt bad about letting Maggie cope alone and wished he had a proper excuse for his lateness. But the truth was he’d forgotten the time. Had sat there by his favourite fishing pool up in the tablelands and dreamed away the day, relishing the solitude and the peace the rainforest always brought to his soul.

  He was getting old, he thought as he decided to roll one last smoke before facing Maggie. What had happened to the tough grazier who’d fought fire, flood, drought and bullets? He’d become a dreamer, that’s what. An old bludger trying to make sense of a changing world that had moved too fast for him. He grimaced. Without Stella and the boy none of it mattered anyhow.

  His hands cupped the match as it flared in the darkness. This simple action still had the power to chill him, for it was a reminder of the war – a reminder of sniper fire fixed by the gleam of a carelessly guarded third strike of a match. A reminder that one single spark had the power to wipe out everything he’d known and loved.