Luke glanced at the clock, then gazed out the window to the evening scenes on the road below. Life was strange. Once, as a brash young boy, he’d foolishly felt like he owned these streets. Now, as the fabulously wealthy Colonel Buchanan, he did. He could buy and sell any man in Hobart ten times over.
The town had changed since he’d been gone, entered the modern century. Street-lighting and motor cars. Bustling crowds of pedestrians. Electric tramcars, the first in the Southern Hemisphere. Yet it was still recognisably the town where he’d grown up, and he was thrilled to be back. Thrilled to be rid of the vague, background homesickness that he’d been suffering these many years without even knowing it.
The telephone rang. Luke spoke briefly, then paused. ‘That’s good to hear. I’ll come by to see her now.’
Molly and Nurse Kendall had travelled back to Hobart with him, and shared the suite next door. Luke knocked and went in. Molly sat in a chair by the window, with a rug across her knee. Colour had returned to her face, and it lit up when he entered the room. She looked happier than he could remember, even when she and Angus were together. As if, for the first time in her life, she hadn’t a care in the world.
‘How are you feeling, Molly?’
‘On top of the world, thank you, sir.’ Her eyes had recovered their keen, bird-like quality.
The nurse seemed a little flustered that Molly sounded so chipper. ‘It will be weeks before Molly is fully restored to health. She will need me for some time yet . . .’
‘Oh, yes, do keep Evie on,’ said Molly. ‘She’s right good company, is Evie.’
Luke smiled. ‘I hope you’ll stay here with us, Nurse Kendall, until your patient is entirely well.’
The nurse beamed. Luke pulled up a chair opposite Molly. ‘Is there anything you need?’
‘Yes, sir. Some yarn, knitting needles and a pattern book. I feel so useless sitting here. And a magazine would be nice.’
‘See to it, please, nurse, but don’t let her overdo it.’ He patted Molly’s hand and stood up.
‘Sir?’
‘How often have I said it, Molly? My name is Lucas.’
‘Oh, I can’t call you that, sir. It don’t seem right, considering.’
‘Considering what?’
‘Considering there’s something I haven’t told you.’
Luke checked his watch, almost seven. ‘Tell me in the morning, Molly. I must go.’
‘But sir . . .’
‘In the morning, Molly. In the morning.’
Edward led the way up the imposing bluestone steps of Hobart’s exclusive Mountbatten Club. ‘Must you always dodge the press at your hotel like that, Colonel?’
‘Vultures, the lot of them. Just you wait. By tomorrow there’ll be wild speculation in the paper about our dining together.’
The doorman greeted Edward by name, as did the maître d’. He escorted them past Chesterfield lounges and an elephant-foot umbrella-stand to a table in the restaurant. ‘Your usual, sir?’
‘You must try this brandy, Colonel. An Armenian variety. It won the Grand-Prix award in Paris last year.’ Edward sank back in his chair with a sigh. ‘Welcome to my home away from home. Privacy, comfort and an escape from domestic bliss.’
‘Escape? You don’t receive privacy and comfort at home? Does your wife not please you?’
‘Oh, Isabelle pleases me well enough.’ Edward lit a cigar. ‘You’re not married, Colonel, no? A wise man. Living with women is not easy.’
‘What makes you think I don’t live with women?’
‘Forgive me.’ Edward flushed. ‘I meant no disrespect. African customs are, no doubt, ah . . . very different.’
‘How is business?’ asked Luke as the drinks arrived. ‘Your goldmine?’
Edward hesitated, his eyes flicking sideways. ‘Production has never been better. Of course, my company has other irons in the fire. Wool. Timber.’ Edward leaned forward. ‘Though the fact is, Colonel, I’m keen to expand my mining interests.’
‘Lucas, please.’ Luke downed his drink in two gulps. ‘You’re right, it’s an excellent drop.’ He signalled to a waiter. ‘Bring us a bottle of this brandy.’ He selected a cigar from the box on the table. ‘Is your good lady wife expecting you home early tonight, Ed?’
Edward snorted. ‘My good lady wife is not expecting me home at all.’
‘Then shall we make a night of it? It’s been nothing but business since I arrived.’
‘Capital. How about a game of poker after dinner?’
By midnight, Luke knew a great deal more about his companion’s character, none of it good. Edward Abbott was an inept gambler, who had a loose tongue when he drank too much. There was a girl stashed away somewhere, and on top of that, Edward was addicted to laudanum. He barely tried to hide the little silver hipflask with its distinctive, pungent odour. How could a man with everything, including Belle, have sunk so low?
Edward kept angling for information about the purpose of Luke’s visit. He seemed a bit too keen to get in on any commercial deal that might be afoot. Luke wasn’t sure what to make of it. Should he add greed to the list of Edward’s vices? Or was Hills End Resources not as profitable as he pretended? It wouldn’t be hard to find out.
When Edward’s losses grew too large, Luke insisted they leave the gaming table. ‘I’m doing you a favour, mate. It’s not your night.’
‘It never is.’ Edward slurred his words. ‘But you did all right. Let’s have a drink to celebrate.’
‘Not for me. I’m heading back to my hotel. Shall we share a cab?’
They pulled up at a double-storey terrace house a few minutes’ drive from the club. Luke shook Edward awake. ‘Is this where your . . . your lady lives?’
‘Fanny? Yes, Fanny’s a great girl. A real goer. Always up for it.’
She’ll be disappointed tonight, thought Luke.
Edward stumbled out on to the street, forgetting his hat, and almost fell.
The driver tapped on the hatch. ‘Shall I help the gentleman to his door, sir?’
‘No, drive on.’
Edward could rot in the gutter for all he cared. Luke felt sick. What had he done? Leaving Belle and his son to the mercy of that pathetic excuse for a man. More importantly, what was he going to do about it?