Golden Hope (48 page)

‘No need to buy a new one – waste of good money. I can fix it for you.'

‘What with? Magic?' she asked.

‘I'm matey with the local blacksmith. I'll have it fixed in no time. Don't worry. Women gossip, blacksmiths mind their own business.'

‘You seem to know a lot about a lot of things?'

‘For a bloke who can't remember his own name?' he asked with a short laugh.

‘I didn't mean . . .' she began lamely, and poured his coffee to cover her confusion.

‘I'm discovering things about myself every day,' he said casually. ‘Songs I recognise. Scraps of knowledge I must have picked up somewhere – if only I knew the address.'

‘It will all come back in time.' She offered the biscuits like an olive branch.

He took another one and bit into it with silent appreciation.

‘What if it's gone forever? I can't begin a new life if I don't have a handle on the old one.'

‘You can work, make new friends, enjoy music, go on bushwalks, swim in the creek. Your memory may be gone but your body is strong.'

She tried to make her last words sound casual. ‘I'm used to seeing men in leotards – so the male body means little to me.'

He nodded. ‘I'm more concerned about my head – and memories that matter.'

He savoured the coffee. ‘Good quality Jamaican, right? Thank Doc for me.' He added with a smile, ‘Time for me to move on. How does that song go . . .?'

He spoke the first line of
Waltzing Matilda
. ‘Once a Jolly Swagman camped by a billabong . . .' Then added, ‘A swagman camped in your paddock wouldn't help a girl's reputation.'

Clytie could not drain the bitterness from her voice. ‘You can hardly make mine much worse. I did that all by myself. One glorious summer with Rom – and my name around here is mud for life.'

He sat in silence, watching her intently as if weighing a decision.

‘Look, Miss Hart, I've been thinking. I want to make you an offer. Hold your horses! Let me get it out in one piece – before you decide.'

‘I'm listening.'

‘I need a fresh start. I'm not asking for charity. I can continue sleeping rough in the bush. But I'm told winter gets as cold as the Antarctic in these mountains at night. Rom's hut was a temporary measure but I don't feel right staying there.'

Clytie averted her eyes, on guard against any attempts by him to prove how sensitive he was to her past history.

‘Doc Hundey gave me a fine reference. And Sonny Jantzen has offered to meet me to discuss work. That means I need a dry place to sleep, somewhere I can wash and iron my clothes. And cook for myself.' He looked hopeful. ‘Maybe a corner of that old barn?'

He held up a hand to forestall her answer. ‘I know, I know. You're a Modern Woman and you manage fine on your own. But you could still do with a bit of help to run this place. Long Sam's getting on – I can help him by doing the heavy work. Cut your firewood, expand your garden plots to keep you in vegetables, prune your fruit trees, mend your fences and any broken window panes. At the same time
I'll take whatever work comes my way to pay for my board. I'm
not
asking for charity, lady. Just a chance to get started.'

‘I'll lay my cards on the table, Finch. I can read you like a book but it's not a book I want to read. I accept you as Rom's comrade-in-arms, but frankly I wouldn't trust you as a man among women. I love Rom – and I always will.'

‘I know. That's a given.'

‘Shadow doesn't trust you either.'

‘I
know,
' he said wryly, ‘and a dog's instincts are infallible, right?'

Clytie fought against being disarmed by his honesty. The words rushed out. ‘You know my reputation. Being a circus equestrienne put me on the lowest rung of Hoffnung's social ladder. Then I broke all the rules – with Rom. I loved him so much I didn't care. I lost him, my mother –' She faltered, ‘and the baby. If it hadn't been for Doc, Long Sam and Adelaide Hundey, I couldn't have gone on. Death seemed like an open doorway, beckoning me to leave the world behind.'

His involuntary glance at the scar on her wrist made her anxious to regain her ground. ‘What I mean is, it took time. But I'm back on my feet now. Make no mistake – I won't be sleeping with you, Finch!'

He leaned forward and looked her straight in the eye. ‘I don't blame you not trusting a man with no name, no family. But I swear to God you won't get any funny business from me. I can't get involved with
any
woman until I know if I have a wife or sweetheart somewhere, waiting for me to
remember
her – and come back to her.'

It was the longest string of sincerity she had ever heard from him. Clytie felt her chest tighten with sadness. If it was true, how terrible not to be able to remember someone you loved.

He averted his eyes, played his final card.

‘I hear circus folk don't judge a man by his colour, race or where he comes from. Only by his loyalty and how good he is at performing his work.'

That was the line that did the trick. She kept a straight face. ‘Can you milk a cow?'

‘Don't ask me how I know but I'm dead sure I could.' A smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. ‘Hey, that was a trick question. You don't even own a cow.'

‘That's because I can't stand the idea of hurting a cow by pulling its teats. But if you can milk one, I'll save up and buy one.'

Finch's whole face changed; he looked younger, the way his eyes smiled at her. He offered her his hand. ‘Let's shake on that. I'll get started mending your back fence. The wire needs replacing. An elephant could pass through it and trample your cabbage patch.'

He was out the door in a flash but she called him back.

‘When you meet Sonny Jantzen I suggest you put your uniform aside. There are some clothes of Rom's that should fit you.'

Finch smiled. ‘Thank you, Miss Hart.'

She added casually, ‘Clytie will do here on home ground. But call me Miss Hart in the town, right? Don't want to hand them any more gossip on a platter.'

Finch nodded and was gone. She could hear him whistling in the back paddock as she washed the dishes in the smallest amount of water she could manage, saving left-over water for the herbs planted in the old kerosene tin.

She looked at the photograph on the mantelpiece. Rom stared back at her, his eyes brimming with secrets.

She said the words aloud, gruff with tenderness.

‘You have my word, Rom. If Finch puts a foot wrong I'll boot him out the door. Hurry up and come home to me, my love. I miss you like crazy.'

Clytie hurried along the track to Doc's house close on the heels of Shadow. The baking dish she carried was accompanied by her hastily written note to Doc expressing her hope that his sister was in good health, because she had not even been seen at the Post Office this month.

In sight of his house, Clytie noticed the stable was empty. This was not unusual given the heavy demands on his services. What surprised her was the sight of Miss Hundey in the carriage-way. She was in the process of climbing up into the pony trap that Doc had provided for her personal use on the rare occasions she ventured out.

Clytie was doubly surprised to see that today Adelaide was dressed in a dark burgundy gown and a saucy, toning hat covered by elegant veiling. The boot on her club foot was polished to a high shine. She was the picture of matronly elegance but Clytie noticed the way her hands fluttered nervously with the reins when she saw Clytie's approach.

‘Good heavens, did I mistake the calendar? Was I expecting you for morning tea today – instead of next week?'

Clytie quickly reassured her to the contrary and stood awkwardly holding the pie dish.

‘I don't want to hold you up, Adelaide. I just wanted to reassure myself you were well. I made you your favourite blackberry pie. My first attempt. No doubt not up to your high standards, but – well, made with good intentions.'

Adelaide's face softened beneath the spotted veil. ‘How very kind, Clytie. I shall enjoy it later. Doc's out somewhere dispensing his medical knowledge – no doubt we'll be showered with the usual boxes of spuds and cabbages in lieu of payment.' Her agitation grew. ‘Right now I have an urgent call to make. Most distasteful – but it can no longer be avoided. Doc won't take a stand, so I must. Why don't you hop up beside me? You can bring me up to date with whatever fresh scandal Hoffnung's invented about me.'

Clytie was quick to climb in beside her and with Shadow bounding alongside the pony trap, they rattled off down the road at the greatest speed Adelaide could manage to draw out of the aged Welsh pony. She quizzed Clytie about the progress the council was making in the debate about the design for the Boer War Memorial. Had Clytie read any news about Vida Goldstein's meetings with the new Victorian Premier on women's issues?

Despite Adelaide's barrage of questions, Clytie instinctively felt that her mind was distracted by whatever meeting lay ahead of her. Turning the corner, she felt her stomach lurch in anxiety when they drew in sight of the Hoffnung bush hospital. She had an unbearably bitter-sweet image of her baby gripping her finger as he suckled at her breast.

As if suddenly acutely aware of Clytie's thoughts, Adelaide's gloved hand covered Clytie's clenched fist.

‘My mistake, dear. I should not have brought you here. Wait for me, I'll be as quick as I can. My business is a private matter with Sister Bracken. The old dragon thinks she's Florence Nightingale's reincarnation. I intend to make short work of her!'

Clytie watched her climb down awkwardly from the pony trap, clutching her skirts and reticule and measuring her steps to disguise her limp. She did not bother to knock but simply pushed open the door and hurried inside the building.

Clytie counted the minutes, telling herself she would never have come here had she known the destination. Nothing good could come out of this place for her.

She had a brief flash of satisfaction to see through the window Sister Bracken half cowering behind her desk, while Adelaide Hundey thumped her gloved fist on the desktop. Their conflict was a dumb show without sound but there was no mistaking which woman held the upper hand.

Despite her desire to be quit of the place, Clytie was drawn close enough to hear their angry voices and to decipher most of their argument.

Adelaide stabbed her finger at the inkwell on the desk.

‘Write your confession –
now
!'

‘I have nothing to confess! I have always done my duty – acted in my patients' best interests –'

‘What utter garbage. You played God with people's lives. But if you own up to the wrong you've done, it's not too late to put it to rights.'

Sister Bracken pressed her hands to her temples and looked at her accuser with an expression of fear and anger. ‘I can't. I won't. Doctor would never forgive me – I'd lose his good opinion of me. Don't you understand? That's all that matters to me.'

Clytie recognised the anguish of a woman whose love is forever unrequited but Adelaide Hundey was relentless.

‘I haven't got all day to stand here arguing with you. Write that letter now, and I guarantee you won't lose your position or good name – such as it is. If I were the doctor I'd give you the boot but my brother's a soft-hearted fool.'

‘Give me time to think about it.' The nurse's tone was strangely pleading.

‘Your time is up! The longer this thing is left unresolved the greater the suffering by innocent people. If I don't leave with that wretched letter, I shall see to it Doc goes straight to the Medical Association – no hospital in the world will employ you!'

Clytie held her breath. Finally Sister Bracken dipped her pen in the inkwell and began to write, prompted by Adelaide who stood at her shoulder to ensure that the correct words grew on the paper.

Clytie was reminded of her first meeting with the eccentric woman who had described herself as an avenging angel – a role now materialising right before her eyes. She hastily resumed her seat in the pony trap moments before the pair emerged on the porch. Miss Hundey limped in triumph. Sister Bracken's face was mottled purple as she desperately sought to re-establish her authority.

‘You don't know what harm you've done raking up the past, Adelaide Hundey. My conscience is clear. At least
I
have complete control over my mind –
I
am not the one who belongs in a lunatic asylum.'

Her accuser faltered for a brief moment. ‘Better a sick mind than an evil one. I have what I came for. Now let justice be seen to be done.'

Adelaide called out for Bracken's messenger boy, who lumbered along as quickly as he could.

She handed him a letter and a coin with her instructions. ‘Thank you, Donald. I trust you will deliver this straight away.'

As Clytie handed back the reins to Adelaide she noticed the hands in the black lace mittens were shaking. But with an expert crack of the whip Adelaide drove off, leaving Sister Bracken seemingly to wither inside her nurse's uniform.

Driving off at great speed, Adelaide wore a grim smile. Clytie was careful not to question or provoke her. The pony trap drew up outside the priest's house and Adelaide turned to her, her calm restored and now fully aware of Clytie's presence.

‘Thank you for the splendid pie, my dear. And most of all for putting up with your cantankerous friend.' Her voice wavered slightly and her next words came with effort. ‘That Bracken creature was right about one thing. My mind is not always as it should be. You see, my dear, I have not exactly been a stranger to the Kew Lunatic Asylum.'

Adelaide's eyes watched her keenly from behind the veil, prepared for rejection, but Clytie did not hesitate. She leaned across and kissed the veil that covered the woman's cheek.