She kept holding the book and let it fill her consciousness; it had its own clear presence. As she thought of it she felt it enter her mind, it had a face, half human, half crocodile. She should have been frightened, as on the day when she glimpsed the crocodile tearing at her children. But there was none of that, just a faint regretful curiosity, wondering where this man had gone.
Now his crocodile part dissolved and only the man remained. It was a regular man’s face, weather beaten edges and an eye crinkling smile, not quite handsome, but utterly arresting. It looked into and captivated her soul.
With a pang of pain she knew she had utterly and totally loved this man. His departure had been the most devastating thing she had ever known. She loved Vic no less, but the sense of the loss of this earlier love was so powerful and poignant that it dwarfed all else in her mind. She could feel tears trickling down her cheeks.
She turned the pages forward a little way and started reading. She was reading the story of E or Elfin, become the Elfin Queen. This man had loved her too, fully and completely. It did not take from what Susan knew was his love for her and hers for him. As she read of how E had died and he buried her in the boat he had made, somewhere out in the desert by a river, she felt tears streaming down her face. He was desolate, heartbroken. She shared in his heartbreak.
She read on, various odd stories were interspersed, one about a metal bird and a man named Vic, she realized with a shock this was her Vic, he was this man’s friend. They had shared much together.
There were more stories about him and other characters over the pages that followed, along with other stories she realized were set in the Australian Outback, musters, cattle, horses, more helicopters, shooting and fishing, and crocodiles, lots of places with crocodile stories and images. There were some references to other girls too, but they seemed to pass like ships in the night, lighting pages only for brief spaces, then their lights were gone.
Then a second significant person came along, B, or Belle, or as time went by “my beautiful B”. It began as a lovely story of friendship, meetings and re-meetings. Then it told of a road journey together, to a faraway place in part of Australia called the Kimberly, from Broome heading north. It was a trip of joy and wonders, friendship morphing into deep love. It was clearly a two way thing; she read it in Mark’s words and read it also in the elegant cursive script of Belle, some parts French, some English. Belle told of her delight in her new found lover, her plans to bring him home, to meet the family, to make babies with him. It was utterly gorgeous.
Then she turned another page. She was devastated. Belle had fallen into a pool full of crocodiles, huge crocodiles, beasts that had torn her body apart. Mark, using the only weapon to hand, had finished it before she could suffer, a single shot into the head he loved so. Belle felt nothing. The crocodiles got only a body, the soul departed.
But he had killed the thing he loved. Rage and grief tore apart his soul, leaving something else in its place, a dark and malevolent crocodile spirit, hunter and destroyer. She could bear to read no further. She had no tears now, just a soul full of devastation as she shared his pain. She did not want to read on, nothing good could come past here.
So she lay in her bed, light off, and dreamt awful crocodile dreams. This time they were not of her children but of a girl, dark haired, one who looked somehow like her, her body torn apart as monsters feasted, limb torn from limb as blood darkened water, while the man watched in anguish. Then it was his body they tore at. She first thought he had thrown himself in the pool with Belle, consumed by grief. But as she watched she saw these were other crocodiles, in a different place and time. The eyes that watched were hers.
In the morning she woke up with the book on her lap and only vague remembrances of her dreams and the man. They felt to belong to another place and time. Yet a portent of unresolved doom, with tearing crocodiles at its centre, remained.
She pushed it from her mind, determined not to let it spoil this, her homecoming day. She felt mounting excitement to be on her way back to her husband, she loved the sound of that word and she loved the thought of his intense smiling face.
She was upbeat now; she wanted to share this discovery with him. Then she thought of how good her parents had been to her. They deserved for her to be more forthcoming with them too.
She knew what she would do, she was not ready to let them read the contents of the diary, after all Vic had the first right to see that. Instead, she would open the contents of the pouch with them. After all it was only a bit of old jewelry, maybe some semi-precious stones, going on what the lady at the storage place said. Perhaps they were worth a few thousand pounds, enough to ensure their bill was paid.
She put the dairy in her suitcase, under her clothes, in the place which had before held her Kashmiri book. Then she took the pouch in her hand and went out to see the others in the kitchen.
Her Gran had stopped over and the children were up, eating breakfast. The kitchen was a babble of noise. She walked in, unnoticed. As they realized her presence they looked up.
She said. “I thought, before I go home today, we should open this pouch of supposedly old jewels to see what it contains.”
She handed it to her mother. “Perhaps, as you were there with me when I collected it, you should do the honor of opening it.”
He mother nodded, looking thoughtful and a bit tense. She untied the strings and tipped the contents gently onto the table. As the stones rolled out she let out a gasp, which was mirrored by her Gran and her father.
There were about fifty stones, with only two made into settings. These two were a gorgeous milky pale blue stone set into a ring and another stone, almost identical, made into a pendant. She saw their blue clearly.
Susan felt her eyes riveted to just these two objects. Without knowing where they came from her words came tumbling out, “He said he chose them to match the colour of my eyes.”
She shook her head, “I don’t know why I said that, I don’t even know who he is, but I know he gave them to me.”
The others seemed to have barely noticed her words. They were gazing, as if awestruck, at the rest of the pouch’s contents, big stones in many different sizes, shapes and hues. Susan knew they were many colours though she could not make these out; just the two blue pieces had colour.
Her father was shaking his head, saying, “Unless I am seriously mistaken, this is a lot more than some bits of old jewelry and semi-precious stones. See all the colours, red, blue, orange, green, milky, clear and sparkling. I think this is the real stuff, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, diamonds, nothing but the best.
“I would not begin to be able to guess what these are worth. It must be a huge amount. If each is worth ten thousand pounds, and many are worth much more than that, we are looking at half a million pounds on the table.”
Susan looked at her Dad as if he was crazy, “Dad, you are joking. Why would someone put such things in a locked box and forget about them?”
He replied, “Sweetie, I don’t know, I did not put them there. But look for yourself. Then tell me if I am wrong.”
So she looked. While she could not see the colours except for the blue of her amazing opals, she realized it must be true.
He said, “This stuff needs to go into a bank vault somewhere until we can make arrangements to have it properly assessed and valued. Whoever’s it is it is far too valuable to just leave lying around.”
Susan felt disappointed, she had been looking forward to taking these home to Vic and admiring them together, “Oh, Dad, I don’t know. Can’t I just take them with me, home on the train and show them to Vic. I can’t wait to see his eyes open wide when he sees them. I want to surprise him.”
Her father shook his head in disbelief, “Susan, what a crazy idea. What if happens if something happens to them, what if they get lost or stolen? They are far too valuable to be careless.”
Now she felt annoyed. “Dad, they have been sitting, forgotten in a box for three or four years. Before that God only knows where they were and for how long. Yesterday I carried them home in that little bag in the car without anybody thinking anything of it. Then last night they sat in my bedroom without any lock and key. We are the only people who even know about them. Why would something suddenly happen to them now. Not to mention that if I had not remembered that code yesterday they could have sat in that storage place forever.”
She could see her mother and Gran nodding with her in agreement. Reluctantly her father gave way. “Well, I suppose that is true. It is like you were meant to discover them. But you must let one of us come with you on the train, I am sure your Gran would be glad to come with you.”
Her Gran nodded, “Of course, pet, I am free and would love to come. I have barely been introduced to your children. A day with them on the train would be wonderful. And who is safer than an old lady with a walking stick.”
Now they all laughed and it was agreed. Today she and her Gran would go on the train to Scotland. Tonight they would show them to Vic. Tomorrow they would be taken and stored in a bank vault in Edinburgh or Glasgow until they were valued and assessed.
The trip home was uneventful. Vic was there to meet them all, encasing everyone, Gran included, in a group hug. Susan felt her news bursting on the tip of her tongue but she held it in. She would save it for after supper when it was just the two of them. Then she would show him both the diary and the stones together. In doing this she knew she must ask him to tell her about this Mark, his friend. She could run away from that knowledge no longer.
As they were sitting over supper, chatting around the table with the whole family, telling of the trip and the book from Kashmir, the phone rang. Her aunt got up to answer it. In a minute she had a puzzled look on her face.
Finally she said, “Just a minute,” and turned to address Susan, “There is a girl, Cathy, on the phone. She says she had a letter of introduction from your friend Anne. She has just arrived from Australia. She asks if she could come over here now and give this letter to you. She is staying nearby and could come straight away if it is alright.”
Susan was looking forward to the rest of her night alone with Vic, but could think of no polite way to say no to someone who wanted to meet her at Anne’s request. So she shrugged her assent.