The Road to Gundagai (32 page)

‘My grandfather started the company. Dad managed it. Dad’s will didn’t mention the company. And then … I was hurt the night after the will was read. I never had a chance to ask questions, or have things explained to me. Dad’s will said I only inherit after I’m twenty-five, or if I get married. But is there any money I can use now? Can … can my aunts claim me back if they find out where I am?’ She stopped, unwilling to burden him with even more. But he didn’t seem burdened. The glint of interest he’d had in his eyes when he spoke of Sheba was even brighter now.

‘I should be able to find out that for you. Do you know the name of your father’s solicitor?’

At least she knew that. ‘Mr Cummins.’

‘I’ll get the operator to find his office number and put a call through to him. Better still, I’ll put my own solicitors onto it. Mr Cummins is more likely to be open with them than a stranger. Excuse me for asking, Miss Laurence, but how old are you?’

‘Seventeen. But please call me Blue.’

‘From what I know of the law, unless you are in moral danger your aunts can’t force you back. And even then if you don’t wish to live with them, the court can appoint another guardian.’ The grin was back, almost as cheeky as Fred’s, despite the grey hair, the wrinkles, the drooping mouth. ‘I can promise you that you are in no danger here, moral or otherwise.’ The grin grew wider. ‘My wife would never permit it.’

It was as though Blue had been carrying pails of water and had at last put them down. ‘I … I can’t thank you enough.’

‘A pleasure. Damsels in distress have always been my specialty. Especially if they arrive with an elephant. Is my wife downstairs, do you know?’

‘I think so.’ She’d last seen Miss Matilda in the hall, making no pretence of not listening while the sergeant made phone call after phone call, drinking cups of tea and eating cherry cake while he waited each time for the telephonists to connect him to other police stations.

‘Thank you.’ He nodded politely. She watched him limp carefully down the stairs, a step at a time, pausing to lift his unresponsive left leg each time.

Someone moved downstairs. Fred bounded up the steps, then paused to let Mr Thompson pass. ‘Good morning, sir.’

Mr Thompson nodded.

Fred climbed the rest of the stairs and pulled a straight-backed chair up next to Blue.

‘You all right, princess?’

‘Yes. Fred, did you know about Mrs Olsen?’

He looked at her carefully. ‘Yes and no.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I knew enough not to ask questions. And that the Señor Zamorano stuff was all malarkey. I did think Mrs Olsen was too young to be Gertrude’s mum. Gertrude doesn’t look like her and Ginger neither. Knew Mrs Olsen was scared of someone too. But like I said …’

‘You didn’t ask questions. Fred?’

‘What is it, princess?’ he said gently.

‘That first evening after you all rescued me. You said I was pretty. Prettier than Gertrude.’

He looked at her, serious for once. ‘You are.’

She let that slide. ‘I wasn’t then. I know how I looked in the mirror. I looked horrible. Did you … did you just say that because you knew that I might have money?’

‘Yes,’ said Fred flatly. He took her hand, kissed it briefly and put it back in her lap. ‘Marj never said you were going to be rich. But when she told us we had to rescue you I talked with Madame and it only made sense if you were going to be rich. Why’d the old biddies want to bump you off if it weren’t for money? Then a few days later there it was in the paper, calling you an heiress.’

‘So you thought you’d charm the ugly rich girl.’

‘I’d have charmed you anyway,’ said Fred. He grinned at her.

That’s probably true too, thought Blue. Fred could charm the cockatoos out of the trees. She looked at him, wanting to find the right words for her next question. Had the whole past year of his friendship been a lie?

Fred watched her, no smile now. ‘We’d have saved you anyway, even if you’d never had a bean. I’d have done it for Marj, and Madame, well, she likes making the world to fit the way she wants it to be. The money you might inherit was just icing on the cake. Do you remember the second time I told you that you were beautiful?’

‘The day I put on the mermaid’s costume,’ said Blue slowly.

‘Well, it was true then. And it’s been true ever since. Yeah, I wondered if I could get myself a rich wife, for a while. But not once I’d got to know you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Because you’re special,’ said Fred. ‘The most special person I’ve ever known. And because I’d be no good for you as a husband. I don’t just mean with what I did hanging over me. When I came up the stairs you looked like you belonged here.’ He gestured at the hall, the gold-framed paintings on the walls. ‘Yeah, bare feet and all. And I don’t. Don’t want to neither.’

He met her eyes. Blue was startled to see what might be a tear. But when she looked again it was gone.

‘I’m a rover, princess. Got to like seeing what’s over the horizon. Having a wife means having kids, settling down. It’s not for me.’

‘Fred.’ She lowered her voice, in case the nurse inside overheard. ‘I’m pretty sure the sergeant doesn’t believe you’re Mah’s cousin.’

‘He’s no fool. But he ain’t arrested me either. Reckon he’s more interested in finding out who cut the head off that bloke. A murder’s more important than an old robbery that wasn’t on his patch.’

‘You really don’t know anything about someone being beheaded?’

‘Course not. Gives me the willies to think of it hanging in the next tent every time I went to bed. I must have brushed past that skeleton a thousand times.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t see any of the others putting it there either. Circus folk is superstitious. And there’s a lot safer ways to get rid of a body than hanging it up for every customer to pay sixpence to gawp at.’

‘Hidden in plain sight,’ said Blue softly. ‘Like you and me.’

‘And the Olsens. Nah, I reckon it was someone else put it there, before Madame even bought it. Her eyes were none too good for a long time. Probably never even looked at it closely. Good thing she don’t know about it now either,’ he added. ‘She’s been telling fortunes next to it all these years. Probably give her the willies too. But look, it’s gone now, princess. Nothing for you to worry about. And you’re with good people here. You let them take care of you.’

Suddenly he bent over and kissed her. His lips were cool on hers, and softer than she had thought a man’s lips would be.

‘There,’ he said lightly. ‘I’ve kissed the mermaid. You goin’ to the station to see the Olsens off?’

She touched her fingers to her lips, then nodded.

‘Wish them good luck from me. I need to see a man about a dog. Got things to do,’ he added, when he saw she didn’t understand the term. ‘See you later, princess.’

Blue watched him lope down the stairs. He didn’t look back.

Chapter 27

Joseph’s brother Andy drove the Olsens to the station to catch the ten to four train, with Mah and Blue squeezed into the back with Gertrude and Ginger.

Andy McAlpine was as tall as his brother, with the same craggy build. His hair was sandy, well greased to keep it neat, and his wide moustache was waxed to two points. His eyes had shadows that his brother’s lacked, but they had kindness too. He asked no questions. Perhaps, thought Blue, as the car turned in to the station, his brother had already told him all he knew.

The wind whipped grass seeds along the platform. Blue brushed the flies from her eyes and looked down the empty train track. There was no sign of the friendly stationmaster.

‘Train’s usually a bit late,’ said Mr McAlpine. ‘Hang on,’ he added to Mrs Olsen. ‘Mrs Mutton packed you some dinner. It’s in the boot. Back in a sec.’

Mrs Olsen nodded wordlessly as he vanished back through the waiting room. She looked nervous, but younger somehow, as though the weight of secrets falling away had taken the years with them. Gertrude looked apprehensive too, realising perhaps the work, and luck, needed to make her dreams reality. Even Ginger was subdued, despite the joy of anticipating his first train ride.

‘Do you think they’ll let me help steer?’ he asked hopefully.

‘No,’ said Blue. ‘I’ll miss you all,’ she said to the three of them, for the hundredth time.

‘We’ll miss you too. I’ll get someone to write,’ said Mrs Olsen.

‘Write us lots,’ said Gertrude. She wore one of the white dresses now, and the black patent leather shoes, though Ginger still wore his shorts and bare feet. Blue doubted he’d ever worn shoes in his life, except the slippers he needed as Tiny Titania and Prince Alfonso.

‘Give Madame our love when she wakes up.’ Mrs Olsen had said that countless times too. She wore a big straw hat that Blue had never seen before, with roses around its crown. ‘Tell her I’m sorry to leave her like this. But she’ll understand.’

‘Of course she will,’ said Mah.

And she was right, realised Blue. Madame, of all people, would know how life’s tides might bring you together, and then drive you apart.

‘The train’s coming!’ Ginger gave a small dance of excitement. ‘Can we go in the carriage behind the driver?’

Suddenly the stationmaster appeared. Mrs Olsen vanished into the station with him to buy the tickets. She had raided Madame’s cash box after all. Blue didn’t know how much she’d left. But she knew that whatever Mrs Olsen had taken would be fair.

‘Here you are.’ Mr McAlpine appeared, a wicker basket in his hand. He passed it to Ginger. ‘You look after that, youngster. There’s a cherry cake and a Thermos of tea and some of Mrs Mutton’s special lemonade. She said the sandwiches are mutton and chutney, and cheese and lettuce.’

‘Cherry cake! Ain’t never had that.’ Ginger peered down the track at the train, basket in his hand. ‘It’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming,’ he chanted.

‘Oh, shut up.’ Gertrude hugged Blue hard, then Mah. ‘Good luck to you too,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I hope you both get rich husbands. Furs, automobiles, everything!’

Blue hid a smile. Trust Gertrude to assume that neither she nor Mah would ever achieve success as a performer. But there were other futures. When she was ten she’d wanted to explore down the Amazon. Perhaps she might even work out what she wanted now.

She could feel the vibration of the train now, as well as see it, its plume of black smoke three times as long as its carriages. Mrs Olsen bustled out as it drew into the station with a shriek of brakes.

Mr McAlpine and the stationmaster helped them on with their luggage, a big trunk for the luggage van, as well as two carpetbags and three hatboxes. Blue wondered if there would ever be anyone to magically produce clothes for her and Mah again. Whatever costumes were left in the circus trunks, she and Mah would have to make them fit themselves, without Mrs Olsen’s sewing.

‘Goodbye.’ She kissed Mrs Olsen, then Gertrude, then Ginger, despite his squirming, then Mrs Olsen again. She could still feel the warmth of her hug as the whistle sounded.

The carriage door closed. Ginger leaned out the window. ‘We’re off!’ he yelled.

Blue waved. She and Mah were still waving as the train’s roar faded.

‘Time to go home,’ said Mr McAlpine quietly.

Your home, not ours, thought Blue. Our home is crumbling.

The three caravans looked forlorn among the tussocks. Over in the next paddock, sheep the colour of rocks gazed at them curiously, in case the new humans might produce hay or anything else important. Only Sheba looked happy as they opened the paddock gate, rumbling at two sheep across the barbed-wire fence, as though pointing out her superior size. The elephant turned as Blue and Mah approached, and plodded over to them. She touched Blue’s neck gently with the pink tip of her trunk, and then stroked Mah’s arm. She held up her trunk enquiringly.

‘Sorry, old girl, no carrots,’ said Blue.

Sheba lowered her trunk in disappointment. Blue wondered if Miss Matilda would mind if they picked some apples. And what would they do about food? Mrs Olsen had done all the cooking, even making up Madame’s concoctions on her orders. All Blue knew how to do was peel potatoes and chop carrots. But the flour sack was full. Mah had helped Mrs Olsen make damper and dumplings and squished-fly biscuits. Maybe Ebenezer and Ephraim could trap rabbits, though these well-tended paddocks seemed free of burrows. But they knew how to fish and catch eels too — and do the messy bits like taking the guts out.

Should they use some of the money in Madame’s box to buy food? But they’d have to drive to town to get it. Petrol was expensive. She hoped Mr Thompson could find out soon if she had any money she could use now.

The Olsens’ caravan door opened. Ebenezer looked out. ‘Thought we may as well sleep in here,’ he said. ‘No one else using it now. Rain’s coming,’ he added. ‘Saves using the tents, just to get them wet.’

Blue looked at the sky. It was still blue, even and cloudless to the horizon.

‘Knees are aching,’ said Ebenezer. ‘Always do before a big rain.’

Blue nodded. ‘Where’s Fred? Is he going to sleep in Madame’s caravan?’

Ebenezer glanced back at Ephraim. ‘Fred’s gone,’ he said quietly.

‘I don’t understand. Gone where?’

‘Gone. Really gone.’

‘No.’ For a moment she felt as dizzy as she had back at Willow Creek. But her world still stood, even if he had gone.

Mah stood still for a long frozen moment, then slowly nodded. ‘Thought he might.’ She glanced at Blue and added, ‘Nothing to keep him here now.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Blue helplessly.

Mah shrugged. ‘Been without a brother most of my life.’

And you’ve been a servant too, thought Blue. You’ve had to survive prejudice and jealousy, only employed because people think they can give a Chinese girl her board and keep, not even wages. It shouldn’t be like this …

Ephraim looked at them with sympathy. ‘He left these for you and Mah,’ he said, taking two folded pages out of his pocket. He handed Blue the one marked
Marjory
. They swapped notes silently, then scanned them quickly.

Dearest Belle,

Had to go north to that job I told you about with my friend with the fishing boat. Sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye, but in times like these a good job doesn’t come along every day. I can’t afford to let it go. Remember me and don’t worry, I’ll turn up again like a bad penny. Look after Marj for me, will you? I know she’ll look out for you. You be happy. Wish it didn’t have to be like this. One day maybe it won’t be, and I’ll be back as