Keziah gripped the shawl around her head in a vain attempt to keep her intricately coiled hair in place. She clung to the passenger seat beside Polly Doyle as George Hobson drove his cart at high speed through Ironbark village. They were late for a very special event. The whole locality had been invited by Dr Ross to an open-house celebration to commemorate the anniversary of the Battle of Trafalgar. Jake had once told her that the Doc, a surgeon in the Royal Navy since his youth, ranked Horatio Nelson’s naval victory second only to the wild celebration of New Year’s Eve that Highlanders called Hogmanay.
Despite her reluctance to visit the Haunted Farm Keziah decided to risk being confronted by the mulo of the convict Padraic. She could not pass up the chance that Jake Andersen would miraculously return in time for this party. No matter what had happened at Jake’s reunion with Jenny in Melbourne Town, Keziah was desperate to know the outcome.
The world and his dog will be there tonight. Mi-duvel, please put me out of my misery. In my dreams I saw Jake in bed with Jenny. Does that mean he’s taken her back as his wife?
Tonight Keziah had chosen to wear her best summer-weight gown but she still found it difficult to adjust to October being mid-spring in the colony. Close to sundown the air was hot, windy and filled with dust from the drought that was now in its fourth year. As they rattled past the Collins family’s few-acres farm, she saw rows of wheat sagging in the parched earth. A neighbouring farm was so derelict it signalled to Keziah that yet another defeated settler had turned to rum for consolation. As they crossed the riverbed of Ironbark creek she saw it had shrivelled into shallow pools like the beads of a broken necklace.
The destruction of the drought was as painful to Keziah as if her own body was wounded. Rain was God’s blood. She prayed The Del would give his blood to nourish the earth.
On their arrival at the Haunted Farm the party was already in full swing. Leslie Ross was standing on the veranda to welcome them. He cut an imposing figure in his full Highland regalia of red and black Ross tartan kilt with ornate sporran, silver-buttoned velvet jacket with clan sash anchored on one shoulder by a cairngorm and silver brooch, silver-buckled shoes on his feet. Keziah noted his ruddy face was flushed. I’ll bet he’s knocked back a fair few drams of whisky.
At his elbow stood Janet Macgregor, looking self-conscious without the protective armour of her housekeeper’s apron. For once her chestnut hair was loosely coiled at the nape of her neck.
The Doc’s welcome was hearty. Janet bobbed an awkward curtsy but Keziah responded with a warm hug.
‘Janet dear, how handsome you look in evening dress.’
Janet looked pleased but dismissed the compliment and ushered Keziah and Polly across the lawn to join the other guests. Many had already responded to the wine and the music and were dancing on the wooden platform reserved for the dancers. The garden was hung with Chinese paper lanterns that Keziah recognised were Sunny Ah Wei’s merchandise.
She looked around in vain for any sign of Jake.
A man’s hand on her elbow and his whispered words, ‘You look ravishing, m’dear,’ made her whirl around in surprise.
‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded. ‘I thought you were in Sydney Town buying yourself a house.’
Caleb Morgan looked dashing. He was the kind of man who even if he wore convict slops would have started a new fashion.
He snapped his fingers. ‘Signed, sealed and delivered. A fine town-house on the crest of Woolloomooloo Hill. The top floor has a nursery for Gabriel and a room for a nurse girl so you won’t have to attend him during the night. The house overlooks the harbour on three sides. You’ll love it.’ He leaned down and whispered in her ear, ‘It’s yours. Can’t wait to take you there.’
‘Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched, Caleb. I’m still legally married, remember?’ Keziah said sharply.
Caleb gave a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘A mere detail. In the circles I move in that’s easily rectified. No issue from your marriage. So an annulment will do the trick. Don’t worry, I’ll compensate your husband. A struggling artist in a garret no doubt.’
Keziah was so irritated by his confident smile that she gripped her fan so hard she snapped one of its ribs. ‘Damn!’ she said.
‘How refreshing you are,’ he laughed in response. ‘Will you do me the honour to dance with me?’
Aware people were watching them Keziah tried to remain circumspect. ‘No, thank you. If a man coughs twice in a woman’s presence in Ironbark it’s enough to start a rumour they’re bedmates.’
‘A rumour I’d be more than happy to hear given my name is linked to yours,’ he said.
Keziah forced herself to let that pass. ‘I would welcome a glass of champagne.’
‘Indeed, just what you need to relax after a day in the schoolroom. Allow me.’
He made a little bow and walked off in the direction of the refreshments table. Keziah seized the moment to break free and circulate in the crowd, hoping to find Jake alone. There was no sign of him.
The sound of a waltz drifted across the lawn as she passed the open door of the cookhouse. She knew she should not eavesdrop but her instinct was too strong to tear her eyes from the scene. Leslie Ross was standing beside Janet Macgregor, who was flushed in the face and trying to keep her composure as she tied on her apron.
‘Ye are a stubborn woman, Janet. Dinna I make it clear? I’ve paid good money to hire servants to free ye from the kitchen. Tonight I’m your host, not your master.’
With great deliberation he untied her apron and let it fall to the floor. Janet looked as alarmed as if he had undressed her in public.
‘What do you think you’re doing, man?’
‘Inviting you to waltz, lassie.’
Janet pulled away but remained within reach. ‘You know full well Wesleyans don’t hold with the dancing.’
Leslie asked softly, ‘What kind of God forbids a man to enjoy music in the arms of his ain true love?’
Janet gasped. Her resolve crumbled. ‘I dinna know how to dance.’
‘I’m just the man to teach you, lassie.’
Janet bit back a smile. ‘Get thee behind me, Satan.’
Leslie slipped his arm around her waist and kissed her.
Keziah smiled wistfully as she moved away unnoticed, leaving them to explore the moment.
At least Dr Ross has the courage to ignore gaujo law and claim his happiness when baxt offers him the chance.
She averted her eyes from the old well where she’d once seen the mulo. Hurrying back to rejoin the guests her head ached as she tried to avoid Caleb and search for Jake. Finally she gave up.
When George Hobson announced he needed to rise early, Keziah seized the chance to depart with him. Polly Doyle sat beside her on the journey home, dejected because Mac Mackie hadn’t asked her to dance.
At the sound of horses behind them, Keziah turned in time to see an old wagon veering off down the track to the Haunted Farm that they had just left behind them.
Jake! What rotten timing. If only I’d waited another few minutes!
‘Damn me for a fool!’ she muttered angrily under her breath.
Polly gave her a broad grin and whispered, ‘Nice to see proper ladies like you are human just like the rest of us.’
• • •
Jake arrived weary and travel-stained to find the Doc’s party had reached the stage when men fired with grog were ready to start a fight or try their luck with a woman. He unharnessed Horatio from the wagon and led him to the water trough.
‘By rights this should be your celebration, mate. Horatio Nelson being your namesake.’
Leslie Ross gave Jake an expansive hug of welcome. ‘My thanks for coming back in time to celebrate Nelson’s victory, laddie. The Battle of Trafalgar seems as fresh tonight as if it happened yesterday.’
‘Wouldn’t forgive myself if I’d missed it, Doc.’ Jake wanted to ask if Keziah was here but shied off drawing attention to his quest. He had a heap of plans in his head he was itching to set in motion. But first I’ve got to make sure Keziah is still free – and available.
The Doc supplied Jake with two double whiskies. They drank a toast to Lord Nelson then the Doc was dragged off to perform the Highland fling to the drunken cheers of his guests.
Mac Mackie made a beeline for Jake and confided his frustration over Polly Doyle.
‘Jesus, Mac. You mean the girl still hasn’t a clue how you feel about her? If you don’t put your bid in quick smart, Hobson’s going to snaffle her up to be his kids’ stepmother.’
‘Do you reckon she’d take me on? I ain’t no oil painting.’
‘Trust me, Polly Doyle would have you churched before you can say Jack Robinson.’
When Jake downed his second whisky he caught sight of the figure at the centre of a circle of men who were firing questions at him. Jesus wept! Caleb bloody Morgan.
Jake could hardly bear to look at him. The Englishman reeked Quality. He was wealthy, a gentleman, unmarried – and Gabriel’s father!
What in hell do I have to offer Kez? Not a bloody thing! Not even my best mates would be guilty of calling me a gentleman.
What was far worse, Caleb Morgan had enough money and influence to pull strings to gain a divorce for Keziah. Jake would never be free to marry her. He didn’t have a roof to put over her head. His income was haphazard, topped up with prize fights she hated. He had a prison record. And now I’m on the brink of abducting Pearl from a convent – more bloody trouble with the law!
Yet the moment he saw Caleb Morgan’s supercilious smile, Jake wiped all these impediments from his mind, ready for action.
He nudged Mac. ‘What’s that Pommy explorer doing here, mate?’
‘He’s Julian Jonstone’s house guest at Gideon Park. That gentry mob treat him like he’s bloody royalty.’
When Jake overheard Caleb Morgan telling the circle of men that their schoolteacher, Mrs Browne, was a lady well known to his family in England, Jake saw red. Tossing down his drink, he marched across to confront Caleb, grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him aside.
‘You keep turning up like a bad bloody penny, Morgan. Come back to cause trouble for my mate, Saranna Browne, have you? Well you’ll have to get past me first!’
Caleb turned his back on his admirers and cast a glance Jake’s way. ‘If you’re spoiling for a fight why not amuse yourself with your own kind – some other colonial drunk, old chap.’
Jake ignored the insult. Even though this bloke clearly knew Keziah’s real identity, it was Jake’s job to keep up the pretence she was Saranna Browne. He saw Gilbert Evans eyeing them from a distance. Informers had long ears.
‘I’m Saranna’s best mate and I refuse to stand by and watch some half-arsed New Chum break her heart. So why don’t you shove off back to the Old Dart?’
‘My intentions to the lady in question are honourable but none of your business, old chap.’
‘I’ve got news for you. I’m making it my business, but I’ll give you the chance to prove me wrong.’
As angry as he was, Jake couldn’t lie to himself. Was he already too late? If Kez had changed her mind and accepted Gabriel’s father, what could he do to stop her? But the idea of Keziah in bed with Caleb Morgan drove him crazy.
‘Come on! What’s going on? Do you intend to make her an offer or what?’
Caleb looked confident. ‘Already done so, old chap. Try and be civilised, what?’
Jake blocked his path to the bar. ‘And? What did she say?’
‘Promised to consider my offer. If I know women her answer will be yes by the end of the week.’
Jake felt deflated. ‘See you treat her right, Morgan.’
As the Englishman moved away, Jake called after him, ‘I’ll be watching you!’
Feeling as if the stuffing had been knocked out of him, Jake walked away from the crowd. The sound of a waltz drifted across the lawn as he bedded down on the straw in the barn. Am I bloody fated to go through life watching Kez live with other men?
He looked at the stars shining through the hole in the roof. Lily Pompadour had been right. In the past he had solved everyone’s problems except his own. What was wrong with him? Tonight he’d almost pushed Morgan into marrying Kez, when he wanted her for himself. Why? To make her happy living the easy life he could never give her? Or was it to get himself off the hook? Repay his debt to her for saving his life? How stupid can a man be? Morgan’s offering her the bloody world but I’ve got one chance to beat that!
From his pocket he pulled out the dog-eared magazine picture he had carried for days.
He charged out of the barn and drove his wagon to Bran’s forge. The place was in darkness but Jake hurried inside, pulled the young giant out of bed and spread out the picture on the bench.
‘Can you build me this new wagon, mate? Double quick? Ain’t seen nothing like it, right? It’s a vardo – a Romani travelling house on wheels. Do you reckon Kez will like it?’
Bran beamed and gave a thumbs-up sign of approval.
‘Here’s some money to get you started, mate, but I’ll need another fight or two to pay you in full. I’ll be back soon. I’ve got a couple of problems to fix first.’
• • •
It was still dark next morning when Jake scrawled a note addressed to Mrs Browne and pushed it under Joseph Bloom’s door. He could hardly be seen lurking around the schoolteacher’s cottage in the middle of the night. But could Kez be counted on to take notice of a note that only read ‘Don’t do nothing rash till I return, Jake’?
His feelings were wildly at odds with his thoughts as he galloped to Bolthole Valley.
It was almost dawn when he arrived at the House of the Four Sisters but the geranium-coloured lights still flashed through the windows.
It was Wednesday. Lily would be waiting upstairs for him. He paid Madam Fleur for the Wednesdays he had been absent then leapt up the stairs before he changed his mind.
Lily looked stunning. She was lying on the bed wearing a black lacy negligee that revealed more than it concealed. She was more than ready for him.
Jake leant back against the door and drank her in slowly.
‘Sorry I’ve taken so long to keep my promise, Lil. Had a few things on my mind but I got lucky with a couple of fights.’ He took out an envelope and tossed it on the bed.
‘This wipes out your Uncle Charlie’s debt to Madam Fleur. You don’t belong here, never did. I want you out of here. Go somewhere no one knows you. Never get stuck in this dead-end business again. I know a good woman when I see one. There’s some decent bloke waiting to jump through hoops for you. If he doesn’t do right by you – I’ll sort him out!’
Lily looked at the envelope but didn’t touch it. She gave him a funny little smile.
‘That’s quite a speech, sweetheart. From a man who prefers action to words.’ She crooked her little finger. ‘How about we celebrate one last time?’
Jake sighed. ‘I’m going to hate myself in the morning for saying no but I’m on my way to bail my daughter out of a convent.’ He turned in the doorway. ‘Can I kiss you goodbye?’
Lily nodded. Jake kissed her with his eyes wide open. He felt like a soldier who was going into battle, knowing he would never return.
• • •
Three days later on the western edge of Wiradjuri tribal country Jake found what he was looking for. The double-storey building stood at the heart of a farm where shaven-headed convicts were pitching hay. There was no outward sign to say it was a convent. Maybe Catholics weren’t too popular in this part of the bush. There appeared to be only two Sisters running the place. The older nun beckoned Jake to follow her.
Inside Sister Mary Bridget’s office Jake introduced himself, hat in hand.
‘I’m Jakob Andersen, ma’am. I’m only half a Catholic. Ma is. Pa ain’t. I’m sort of agnostic. What I mean is, if I say things wrong, no disrespect intended.’
Sister Mary Bridget nodded. ‘Thank you, my son. I shall take that into account.’
‘My daughter’s a pupil here. Haven’t seen her for a few years. It’s a real long story and you’re a busy woman but here’s her mother’s permission.’
The nun read Jenny’s letter carefully. ‘You appear to be the victim of a hoax. There’s no Jenny Pearl Andersen under my roof.’
He heard his voice rise in frustration. ‘What? She must be here under a false name. Have you got a girl by the name of Troy? Or della Lorenzo? Let me see your muster!’
Sister Mary Bridget’s glare was formidable. ‘This letter does not entitle you to visit any of my students. Kindly leave at once!’
‘Have a heart, Sister. I’ve been searching for my daughter for years. Can’t you see this is a trick her mother’s played on me?’
In a matter of seconds Jake found himself being prodded towards the iron gates by three assigned labourers armed with pitchforks. He could have beaten them off with one hand tied, but if Pearl was here somewhere he didn’t want her first impression of him to be violent.
Sister Mary Bridget watched expressionless from the porch as a gaggle of schoolgirls in identical grey dresses mushroomed out of nowhere to witness the scene.
In desperation Jake scanned the smaller girls’ faces but none seemed to bear any resemblance to his memory of Pearl.
Jake shoved a pitchfork out of range and yelled out to Sister Mary Bridget. ‘Ask these girls if anyone recognises me!’
The nun made no reply so Jake addressed the students himself. ‘I’m looking for a little girl called Jenny Pearl Andersen, maybe her mother changed her name. I’m her real father. No matter what her mother told her, I never walked out on her and I never will!’
An aggressive gardener planted his pitchfork on Jake’s chest, forcing him down onto the gravel path. As Jake looked up through the sunlit canopy of an apple tree, he saw the shadowy face of a little girl peering through the branches at him. Before he had time to get a good look at her face she leapt down from the tree and bolted for the cookhouse. Unlike all the other girls she was dressed in a navy blue dress covered by an adult-sized pinafore.
He grabbed the pitchfork, rolled free and shouted out to Sister Mary Bridget. ‘Let me talk to that little girl in your presence. What have you got to lose, Sister?’
The two nuns conferred in whispers, then signalled the labourers to return to work.
Sister Mary Bridget beckoned Jake to follow her down the corridor. The floor was polished and slippery. Jake eyed the line of framed pictures on the walls that showed a young bloke with his eyes rolled towards the sky. Jesus wept. He looks as edgy as I feel.
The nun’s lips were pursed and her eyes as sharp as an eagle’s. She directed Jake to the seat opposite her desk. Before the child arrived she ordered him not to prompt her memory. Jake was forced to agree to her terms. He knew it was a slim chance that little girl would turn out to be Pearl but what other choice did he have?
‘Tell me, Sister. Why was she dressed different to the other girls?’
Sister Mary Bridget looked slightly discomforted but quickly regained her air of authority.
‘That child’s father has not paid her fees for a year. We don’t know where he is. These are tough times. We cannot afford charity cases. A deserted child must pay for her keep by working in the kitchen. I supervise her reading, writing and arithmetic lessons at night free of charge.’
Jake held down his rising anger. Whoever this kid was, her family had left her to work as a slavey. ‘She can’t be more than seven, Pearl’s age. You mean that man just dumped her?’
The nun raised her voice against Jake’s. ‘She knows who her father is. So don’t think you can trick her or me, young man. I can spot a lie a mile off!’
Jake leaned forward and returned her stare. ‘Then you’ll know I’m telling the truth.’
There was a timid knock at the door. Jake’s heart sank when he saw the little girl from the apple tree. She was skinny with mousy brown hair and unblinking blue eyes. Her navy blue dress was threadbare, her little boots down-at-heel. She didn’t look remotely like Pearl, more like some street urchin from The Rocks.
Sister Mary Bridget’s voice was firm but not unkind when she ordered the child to speak only when spoken to and remember her manners. The child made Jake a hasty curtsy.
‘What’s your name, girlie?’ he asked.
‘Gianna di Felice,’ she whispered.
‘Pretty name. My name’s Jake Andersen. Have you ever seen me before?’
She shook her head and turned to the nun. ‘Have I done something wrong, Sister?’
‘No. Just answer the questions, Gianna.’
Jake wanted to prompt the girl but he knew he’d be kicked out if he asked leading questions.
‘What’s your mama’s name? What does she look like?’
She looked embarrassed. ‘I forget. But Mama brought me here in a carriage with a man. I remember she wore pretty dresses. She told me they were going away but she’d come back for me before Christmas. She never did.’
Jake stalled for time, trying to recall some memory that would prove the truth one way or another.
The child took a step closer. ‘I was in the apple tree. I saw the gardeners being mean to you. You said you were looking for Jenny Pearl Andersen. Is she lost? I don’t know her.’
Sister Mary Bridget rose from her chair. ‘I think you have all the proof you need, Mr Andersen. Gianna di Felice has told you who she is.’
Jake held up his hand determined to stay her. ‘One more question.’ He smiled at the girl and knelt down on one knee to draw level with her eyes.
‘When I was a little boy the very first thing I can remember is sitting on my pa’s knee, eating a sticky lolly. Tell me, girlie. What’s the first thing you remember?’
She did not hesitate. ‘A nice man gave me a white puppy that rubbed its cold nose in my face. Do you know what happened to my puppy, Flash?’ Her eyes suddenly widened. ‘I remember the man had red hair that went yellow in the sun. Just like yours. Are you my papa, Mister?’
Then she did something Jake remembered Pearl had done as a toddler. Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ as she reverently tucked a long strand of his hair behind his ear.
She cocked her head to one side. ‘I remember you. Do you remember me?’
That simple question broke his heart. The little princess whose memory he had carried in his heart for years had died inside him. In her place was this funny little girl who looked like a rag doll with popping eyes and a flat face. Jake felt his eyes stinging, but there were no tears. All those lost years that could never be reclaimed – thanks to Jenny. He forced himself to lie.
‘Hey, I’d know my little princess anywhere!’
Jake turned to the nun and his voice cracked. ‘How much proof do you want, Sister?’
Although Sister Mary Bridget continued to question the child, Jake sensed the battle was going his way. He listened as the nun explained to Pearl her real father had been searching for her for years. Her mother had gone away but had sent a letter giving him permission to see her.
Jake felt utterly empty. He knew he was supposed to do something, say something important, but what? How in hell could he bridge the barrier of lost years between them? The lump in his throat felt large enough to choke him.
He rose. There would be no argument. ‘I’m taking her with me, Sister. Nothing and no one is gunna stop me.’
Sister Mary Bridget nodded. ‘Don’t forget your prayers, child.’
The time had come to begin again. Jake took Pearl by the hand and walked out into the sunlight. She needed to skip to keep apace with him.
‘Where are we going, Papa?’ she asked.
Jake lifted her up onto Horatio’s back. ‘I don’t know exactly. But you can be sure of one thing. I ain’t never going to let you out of my sight again, girlie!’