I arrived home, plugged my phone into the charger and checked all the messages I’d missed while Starkey had it. All two of them. One from Venn and one from Mum, both saying they’d missed me and urging me to go over for dinner yesterday. I felt sick when I read Starkey’s malevolent response to my mother:
BACK OFF YOU STUPID COW! I’D RATHER EAT MY OWN SHIT!!!
No wonder she’d cracked it on the phone with Dad. I called her to explain that it wasn’t me, but she didn’t believe me.
‘We all have our moments of irrational anger and sometimes fail to think before we act,’ she said. ‘But that doesn’t excuse your destructive behaviour. Your remark was highly offensive and deeply upsetting, and I expect an apology.’
I couldn’t take the blame for something I hadn’t done. Evan Starkey was obviously a nutjob and I had no desire to protect him, but I didn’t want Mum knowing what had really happened, so I said he was a friend playing a practical joke.
‘Sixteen’s a bit old for imaginary friends, Lincoln.’
‘Believe me – he’s very real.’
‘Only a sociopath would text something like that.’
‘I absolutely agree.’
‘Heaven help us all! We send you to a school that attracts some of the best and brightest students in the state, but when it comes to finding friends you still manage to scrape the bottom of the barrel.’ That pretty much ended the conversation.
I should’ve begun reading Frankenstein, my third book on the list for English, but in my agitated state I could almost hear the voice of Edwin Stroud cutting through the mental static, calling me back into the pages of My One Redeeming Affliction. I turned to where I’d left Esther planning to send back the pearl to William after his oyster hoax.
Esther returned to the Ionian during morning-tea service, hoping William would be too busy to engage her in conversation. When he finally appeared at reception he went one better by pretending not to recognise her. ‘The dining room has reached its full capacity,’ he said. ‘May I suggest the fernery? They have a butterfly cake so light it’s been known to fly away.’
‘I’ve no time for any more of your foolish tricks,’ she said. ‘The ruse with the pearl was quite enough, and I’ve come only to return it.’
‘Would your procrastination in doing so betray a degree of reluctance?’
‘No, sir. Only the unpleasant nature of the task.’ The conversation developed into something of a tennis match, Esther returning each of William’s shots with interest until finally he agreed to take the pearl, on the condition she accept his invitation to join him for a stroll the following Saturday. Conscious of the line forming behind her, she capitulated.
Independence, boldness and determination: these three qualities Esther hoped to convey with her choice of dress for the walk. The bodice featured five gold-buttoned navy bands down its centre, from which rose wide diagonal mulberry stripes. William was rendered speechless when they met at the grand staircase of the Emporium. Whether by the militaristic nature of her attire or the presence of her brother Samuel is a contested element of the story. But if my father was disappointed by the prospect of a young chaperone, he disguised it by making the boy feel most welcome, asking if he’d visited the Market Carnival.
‘Never,’ Samuel said.
‘Very well. Our destination has been decided. We shall descend to the lower reaches, where a thousand earthly delights await.’
Esther had earlier imagined they would be listening to a ten-piece German band or promenading through the Botanic Gardens, and was irked that William had not sought her approval to visit the markets. Though she figured at least she’d be less likely to encounter one of her friends there. And, as the trio descended the spiralling stairwell of oxblood-and-duck-egg tiles into the swelling laughter and chatter of the masses, the dreadfully delicious excitement of venturing somewhere slightly dangerous coursed through her being.
Millions of tiny particles from hessian sacks, corn husks and animal hides were made visible by the almost horizontal beams of golden light piercing the western windows. The dying sun, like Midas, anointed the captain and coal lumper, refined lady and sugar-refinery worker, rogue, dandy and dowager without favour, turning them all into gold. Tales of larrikins, pickpockets and gap-toothed prostitutes frequenting the Market Carnival had done little to hinder its success. Leading Esther and Samuel on a snaking route between the fruit and vegetable stalls on a carpet of pulped cabbage leaves, William nodded at two of the Chinese vendors, Ah To and Lin Cheong, the men he’d met a decade earlier on the goldfields.
‘I see you’re acquainted with the stallholders,’ Esther said.
‘Johnny and Mac are my best suppliers. Their tomatoes are without peer.’
Passing through the flower market, Esther’s arm was snapped at by two geese in a wicker cage held aloft by their new owner.
‘Don’t mind me beauties,’ the unravelling woman cackled. ‘They’ll be stuffin’ me pillers soon as I get 'em 'ome.’
Eventually the trio reached the other end of the carnival, where spruikers and hawkers were vying for custom.
‘Sav-a-deloys! Sav-a-deloys! Come try, come buy sav-a-deloys!’
‘Yes, please!’ Samuel said to his sister.
‘It might upset your stomach.’
‘Nonsense,’ William said, laughing. ‘A carnival is hardly a carnival without taking your chance on a mystery bag.’
The sausage man snapped his tongs in the air like a crab with metal pincers then retrieved two savs from the boiler, dropped them in a bun and smeared them with butter and mustard. The man and boy made a race of their consumption, William claiming first place with a gob of yellow mustard still on his moustache.
‘One of the lesser dangers of eating from a stall,’ he said, and removed the offending morsel with his tongue. ‘Now that we’ve been fortified, it’s time to put your marksmanship to the test, young man.’ He steered Samuel to the shooting gallery.
Having never used a real rifle before, the boy was unprepared for the kickback, which near dislocated his shoulder. William showed Samuel the correct way of handling, and on his third shot he managed to hit the corner of a playing card. Selecting a duelling pistol for himself, William shot out the heart, diamond and spade at the centre of three aces. The operator pulled a sovereign from the leather pouch tucked beneath his overhanging belly. ‘Don’t hurry back,’ he said. ‘You’ll send me and the family to the poorhouse.’
Further along, a crowd had gathered around a raised platform where a white-bearded man was promoting the benefits of a shilling shock from Lady Volta. ‘Reanimate torpid limbs!’ he hollered. ‘Improve circulation! What about you, sir?’ He pointed his cane at William.
‘A shilling shock may be just the thing I need,’ he said and started for the stage, but Esther caught his elbow.
‘To think you’d pay to be electrocuted in public,’ she said. ‘You need to have your head read.’
Unwilling to have his prized catch so easily stolen, the spruiker said, ‘Has virility abandoned you in the hour of need, sir?’ The outstretched cane magically lost its rigidity and drooped to the floor, causing the crowd to convulse with laughter.
‘Bawdy scoundrel,’ William said, raising a fist. ‘I’ll knock your block right off!’
‘Please, Mr Stroud,’ Esther said. ‘Not in front of the boy.’
‘You’re absolutely right.’ They walked away from the spruiker’s platform, then William pulled the sovereign from his pocket and asked Samuel, ‘Head or tails?’
The boy called tails and won the coin.
‘Spend it however you choose,’ William said. ‘On the proviso that you stay well away from Lady Volta and any other attraction that may place your soul in mortal danger. Meet us at the main entrance in thirty minutes.’ His wink, like a starter’s pistol, sent the boy dashing.
‘I wish you hadn’t,’ Esther said, trying to see over the crowd. ‘That was an extravagance disproportionate to his sense. He’s only fourteen.’
‘An age when men go to sea.’
‘Others reach thirty and still behave like boys.’
‘Marvellous, isn’t it?’ He smiled, then raised a brow. ‘Did you really mean what you said about my need for cranial examination? Because I’ve been toying with the idea of visiting Dr Eisler for some time.’
‘Who is Dr Eisler?’
‘A professor of phrenology. Apparently he’s very accurate and highly esteemed.’
‘Who says?’
‘Well, he does,’ William said, pointing to the sign.
DR MARTIN EISLER
PROFESSOR OF PHRENOLOGY AND MESMERISM
VERY ACCURATE AND HIGHLY ESTEEMED
DESTRUCTIVE AND HABITUAL BEHAVIOURS INSTANTLY ALLEVIATED
Reminded of my session with Dr Limberg at the end of my first week at Crestfield, I closed the book. Online I calculated that a gold sovereign in the late nineteenth century would’ve been worth about $170 in today’s currency. William sure paid a hefty price to make Samuel scram so that he could crack on to his sister. The kid was obviously destined for serious trouble with that kind of coin in his pocket.