Daring Masquerade (28 page)

"Melbourne! They can't." She flung herself against the cell door. "I want to go home."

"They won't let you out, Bromley's doing, of course. Little bastard told the authorities he suspected you of being a German spy."

"A spy?"

"It would be bloody laughable if it wasn't so serious. The government is paranoid. They've interned a lot of Germans already, good people most of them."

"I'm not a German." She reached through the bars and grabbed his arm.

"The government believes there is a network of spies working against the war effort. Bromley obviously whispered innuendos in the ears of certain people about you being a sympathizer after your outburst at the mill."

"Gil always said my tongue would get me hung one day. What can we do?"

"I'll go down to Melbourne and get you a lawyer. They haven't charged you with anything yet."

"No! No! Don't leave Devil's Ridge. I've been thinking about it. Why is Bromley so desperate to get his hands on that Crown land and our place?"

"The timber I suppose, and revenge."

"No, it's not enough. He's spending a lot of money. I've thought about it before and in here. There's something else on our land."

"Gold."

"What?" Harry could not believe she heard right. Gold? On Devil's Ridge?

"Gold was discovered in the district a few years ago, but it petered out. Rumors always persisted about a vein being found, though."

"That's it. Didn't Hughie say something about surveyors? Oh, God. What are we going to do? Don't come to Melbourne, that's what they want. Stay at Devil's Ridge."

"But, Harry, I can’t let you go down there on your own."

"Andrew." She was grabbing at straws and knew it. "Major Andrew Brady at Victoria Barracks, he'll help me. Get him to find me a lawyer. Ring him up. Elsie my friend, contact her, too. Have you got a pencil and paper? This is her address." She wrote it down on a scrap of paper for him. "Sebastian Littlejohn is the man she works for."

"I have to follow you down to Melbourne, Ross would expect me to."

"No, no. Please stay at Devil's Ridge, that's what they want. Don't you see? If you leave there's no one left to protect it. You have to stay. I'll be all right." She fought to inject a note of steely determination in her voice. "If all else fails there's Judge Renshaw, the one whose son Eric saved. Don't tell Ross. I don't want him worrying."

"How did I let this happen? He relied on me to keep you safe and I've let him down." Jack closed his eyes and rested his head against the bars.

"You didn't, I brought it on myself. I lost my temper and let my tongue run away with me. I'll be all right." She put on a brave front and prayed it fooled him. "Please, you know what Devil's Ridge means to Ross."

"You mean more to him."

"No."

"You do, he as good as told me before he left. Devil's Ridge comes second, though." He gave a little smile.

"Time's up," the policeman announced striding towards them.

"You'll hear more about this outrage," Jack threatened. "The Calverts are pioneers of this district, our name still carries weight." He squeezed her fingers. "Take care."

"Don't worry about me, look after things here."

The policeman escorted Jack out and did not return, and her bravado evaporated.
I won't give them the satisfaction. They want to break me.

Gold, of course. Since biblical times men had killed for it—countries went to war over it. Yes, a horrible, greedy creature like Bromley would want it. The pieces of the jigsaw came together forming an ugly picture. With Ross away at the war and her in jail, only Jack stood in their way. Bromley would expect him to rush down to Melbourne to help. He could move his men in, peg out a claim and they would be hard-pressed to get rid of him. It sounded a reasonable scenario.

The policeman's return cut short her musings.

"You're being transferred to Melbourne," he announced. "You've stirred up a hornet's nest around here, I can tell you."

She glared at him. "If you think you've got trouble now, it's nothing to the problems I'm going to cause you. You're going to be sorry you ever picked on the Calverts. My husband has friends in high places."

She clamped her mouth shut. Why warn them about her plans to fight them to the bitter end. Better to let them think her weak and compliant. Play your cards close to your chest, Harry.

She went with him so meekly he kept giving her puzzled glances.

"I'm sorry to have caused you so much trouble. I know it's not your fault. I've been so frightened." She injected a slight whine into her voice and added a few tears for emphasis.

They bundled her into the back of a motorcar. She could not see anything through the window because it had been blacked out. She gritted her teeth to stop from bawling like a baby. They could take her somewhere and murder her, and no one would ever know.

Two policemen accompanied her. One drove, the other sat in the front passenger seat. They manacled her hands to a ring attached somehow to the back of the front passenger seat. Trapped. A prisoner until they decided otherwise.

Chapter Fourteen

By the time they arrived at their destination it was pitch black. As they dragged her out of the car, Harry trembled on seeing the grotesque shape of the dark stone prison looming in the blackness. Cobblestones, hard and uneven, caused her to stumble. Her mouth dried up so much she could barely swallow as her jailer prodded her in the back with his truncheon. Terror held her in a steely grip, tightening its hold as they passed under a massive archway. The prison seemed to be built around a square, brooding, austere and scary.

A pair of wooden iron-studded doors slammed shut behind them. Although lit with lamps, gloom shadowed the place. A thin, middle-aged matron with a rock hard face and thin lips sat in an office area. The policeman took the cuffs off her now they were inside the prison. She could not escape. There was nowhere to go.

"Harriet Calvert?"

"Yes."

The police gave the woman some papers, they signed a book and left. Just like that, dumped her off at a jail more than a hundred miles from home. Handed her over to some granite faced prison overseer in the middle of the night and left.

I have to be dreaming, this can't be happening. Things like this didn't happen to ordinary people in Australia even in war time. It was no dream. It was a nightmare.

"As it's so late you can go straight to your cell." The woman pushed two folded up gray work blankets and a dress made from some brown calico at Harry.

"You can keep your own shoes and underwear until you are officially charged."

Harry swayed with fatigue and shock. "I don't feel well, please, I should see a doctor."

"In the middle of the night, that's not possible for the likes of you."

"I haven't done anything."

"Every prisoner here claims to be innocent," the woman replied grimly.

"I am. I didn't do anything."

A younger female minced up to them.

"Take this Hun lover to the holding cell. We'll sort things out in the morning. I'll be putting in an official complaint. Dumping her off on us at this hour, special prisoner or not."

Harry followed the young guard, too scared and exhausted to do anything else.

"I need to see a doctor. I'm sick and I'm pregnant. Please, I can't lose my baby. My husband's fighting in France. If something happens to him this baby is all I have left of him. Don't you have any pity?"

"Not for a traitor like you. Most of the other women here won't, either."

The woman opened up a narrow, heavy door with a little barred window in it. "This is your room for tonight."

Glancing around, Harry saw a narrow sleeping platform with a lumpy mattress on it, a wooden chair and a bucket in one corner.

"I'll leave the flap open on the door for ten minutes so you can get ready for bed. At six-thirty in the morning someone will take you to the bathhouse to be cleaned up. You'll be wearing prison uniform from now on."

The door slammed shut with an eerie thud. Light filtering through the door grate barely stopped the cell from being pitch black. How humiliating having to use a bucket, but she was desperate to relieve herself. Kicking off her shoes and slipping out of her skirt and blouse, she laid one blanket on top of the bed and wrapped herself in the other.

The blackness when it came was absolute, but after a while her eyes became accustomed to the darkness and she realized that high up in the cell wall a grate let in air and a sliver of moonlight.

Oh, Ross. What is to become of me?

Next morning, she awoke from a fractured sleep peppered with nightmares. It took a few moments for her to realize where she was. The ghastly happenings of last night were, in the cold light of day, a terrifying reality. Slowly, stiffly she maneuvered herself from the bed. Every bone in her body ached. Never had she slept on anything so hard. The mattress felt as if it had been stuffed with bricks.

The cell was small, maybe eight feet square, with whitewashed stone walls and a floor made from blue stone blocks. A cold dampness prevailed. The chill seeping into her bones deepened their ache.

The door swung open. "All right, Calvert, to the bathhouse now."

This guard, a huge masculine looking woman, all of six feet tall, had massive shoulders and granite features.

"What about breakfast?"

"Seven-thirty, leave your bucket outside and someone will empty it."

The woman marched along so fast Harry had to run to keep up. They went outside and crossed over the courtyard. She took in several quick deep breaths. It was wonderful being able to see the sky and to inhale fresh, clean air.

If she had felt humiliated by having to use a bucket, nothing had prepared her for the indignity of being forced to strip off in front of three guards. Several other women stood there also, all naked, and she nearly fainted with shock. Worse followed. They had to stand in a row while water running along a pipe gushed out on them. It was freezing. The piece of soap the guards supplied had a greasy texture and smelt like rancid lard.

"Like me to wash your nice white body, slut?" A brazen young woman leered at her. "Such soft, white skin." She put out a hand and Harry backed away.

"Keep your filthy hands off her you dirty harlot, or you'll answer to me," another prisoner warned. "What's your name?"

"Harry."

"I'm Ruby," the prisoner said. "Are you really a German spy?"

"No, I've been framed."

"You've got a kid in your belly."

"Yes, I am having a baby."

Ruby's speech sounded coarse and she looked brassy and common, but Harry was grateful for this guardian angel coming to her rescue.

"Keep washing yourself," Ruby instructed in a gruff undertone. "Otherwise the guards will do it for you. Nothing those big gorillas like better than touching fresh young things like you. Two of them are queers."

"Queers?"

"Yeah. Like other women."

Harry gasped in horror. She had heard of such women, but never in her wildest dreams would have imagined meeting one.

"That filthy slut trying to touch you is one, too. Bloody shocking. I'm in here for prostitution."

"Oh." Harry didn't know what else to say, but nevertheless, edged away.

"Only with men."

Feeling absolutely degraded, she dried herself on a coarse towel, and dressed under the eagle eye of the guards.

"How long are you in for?" she asked Ruby.

"Six months, got two months to go."

"You get so long for that?"

"I've been running a house of ill repute as well."

"You mean a brothel?"

Harry could barely comprehend what was happening to her.

"Yeah. Don't be shocked, I provide a service and get paid for it. The authorities never charge the men, always the poor bloody women. Come on." She gave Harry a nudge. "If we wait outside, we get longer in the fresh air. Unusual bringing someone in late like they did, you must be special."

"The local police thought there might be a riot. They arrested me on trumped up charges." She gave Ruby a brief outline of what happened.

"Jesus, and your husband is away fighting?"

"Yes. My brother died because of his war injuries. It's a nightmare. I'm scared for the baby. If something happens to it and Ross gets killed, I've got nothing."

"You need a bloody good lawyer."

"I know. Jack, Ross' uncle, is trying to organize one for me."

The woman Ruby called 'the gorilla' rounded them up and took them back inside. There were cells on three levels she noticed, giving a shudder when Ruby pointed out the gallows.

"Do they hang spies?" she asked feeling almost sick with terror.

"A firing squad for spies," Ruby said with a grin, and Harry's steps faltered.

"I'm only joking."

"I don't think I'll be able to survive if I'm here for very long."

"You can survive anything if you want to bad enough. I've got a kid, you know." Momentarily her diamond hard eyes softened. "The welfare people took her away."

"I'm sorry." She didn't know what else to say.

"Got adopted out. Some rich family with no kids of their own took her. They can give the poor little bugger a better life than me."

"Do you ever hear how she's going?"

"No. Better if I don't."

"Oh, Ruby, life can be so unfair."

In the mess hall they lined up for thick, lumpy porridge. Harry forced herself to take it and revolting as it tasted, ate it all. She had to keep her strength up. Ruby's cheerful company, even though she was so crude, boosted her confidence and resolve.

"They'll put you on work detail later on," Ruby explained. "I'll see if I can get you in the sewing shop with me. Don't suppose you've got any cigarettes?"

"No, sorry."

"The guards can be bribed if you've got something to barter with."

"I don't have anything. Everything happened so quickly. They took me to the town jail. I thought they'd let me go when they found out it was all a mistake."

"You've got nothing of value? Jesus. No jewelry?"

"Only my wedding ring. I'd have to be dead before anyone got that off my finger. I can't do heavy work. I can't risk my baby."