She closed the door, and Charlie walked back to the house. Sitting on his bed, he tore off the brown paper, all his hopes pinned on what he would find inside. A clue, a trail he could follow, anything to lead him to her.
Having unwrapped the many layers that held the small present within, he sat with a small painting framed in driftwood that had been carved with delicate lines to shape roses. Holding it to the light, he saw that she had painted the two of them sitting together in the rose shed, his lighter head bent towards her dark one. Their hands were entwined in such a way that he could barely distinguish their individual fingers.
He closed his eyes, the painting still in his hand. And as the night wore on until morning – twenty-one years since he’d uttered his first cry – he slept.
*
Charlie would always look back and try to remember the day of his twenty-first birthday, but it passed in a blur of faces, presents and champagne, which he accepted far too freely to drown his agony. He went through the motions, acting as if he was a fully formed human being, even though every part of him cried out for Cat.
There was dancing after dinner at the Roebuck Bay Hotel and Elise Forsythe partnered him often, showing her perfect dimples as she giggled at everything he said, even if it wasn’t remotely funny. She told him she was an ‘Hon’, which was English-speak for being of aristocratic breeding, and he could see she wore it well. Charlie accepted she looked lovely in her midnight-blue evening gown, with her blonde hair and pale complexion like creamy milk. When it was time to blow out the candles on his extravagant three-tiered birthday cake, the crowd burst into applause, and Kitty glowed with pride. Charlie listened to her generous speech, his eyes downcast in embarrassment and despair. Three cheers went up for him and everyone raised their glasses in a toast.
Alone in his bedroom later, after thanking his mother profusely for such a wonderful party and for the watch by an expensive Swiss jeweller, Charlie thought he’d never been so grateful to get to the end of a day. He was due in the office at nine the next morning, as he would be every day for the rest of his life.
‘How can I bear this without you?’ he murmured, and fell asleep with Cat’s ribbon clasped in his hand.
*
‘I have made a decision, Charlie,’ Kitty announced at breakfast the following morning. ‘In a month’s time, I will be taking a trip to Europe.’
‘For work?’
‘No, that is your job now. I wish to see my family back in Edinburgh. It is five years since I last travelled there, and even then it was only a brief visit. I shall stay with them for a few months – I have nephews and nieces I haven’t even met. I also feel it is important that I leave you to find your own feet here, make a clean break, so that everyone knows you are in charge.’
‘Mother’ – a surge of panic ran through Charlie – ‘do you think that’s wise? I barely know what I’m doing. I need you here with me.’
‘We will have a month together, which is plenty of time for you to learn. Don’t you see, my dear boy? If I stay, all the employees will continue to come to me rather than you and they have to understand that you are the boss. There are changes you might wish to make – ones that may not be popular with our employees. I do not wish to be the listening ear for a stream of disgruntled staff who believe I have some sway over you. No, it is far better that I go. And besides,’ Kitty said, letting out a sigh, ‘I am not getting any younger and I am tired. I need a holiday.’
‘You are not sick, Mother?’
‘No. It seems God gave me the constitution of an ox, but I wish to keep it that way.’
‘You will come back?’
‘Of course – the freezing Scottish winter will provide the spur.’ Kitty shivered at the thought. ‘I will sail back to Adelaide before Christmas and celebrate the festive season at Alicia Hall. I hope you can join me and we can pay a visit to the opal mine and the vineyard to make sure the mice aren’t playing while the cat’s away.’
The Cat’s away . . .
‘Even though I understand you wish to take a break, I’m very concerned I don’t have the wherewithal to run the business alone.’
‘And I am perfectly sure you do. When your father left, I had no choice but to plunge in head first. I was completely alone with no one to ask for advice, except dear Mr Donovan, who will be there for you too. He knows everything there is to know, although he will reach his sixtieth birthday this year and I am aware he eventually wishes to retire. He already has someone in mind to take over from him – a bright young Japanese man who can speak fluent English. With the number of Japanese we employ, he will be able to communicate with our crews better and will be an enormous asset.’ Kitty rose from the table. ‘Right, let’s get to work, shall we?’
*
Over the next month, even though Charlie lay in bed every night promising himself that tomorrow he’d tell his mother the reason why Cat had left and that he was going in search of her, the business be damned, he never managed to utter a word. He knew his mother had spent the past seventeen years of her life running herself ragged to grow his inheritance, and all she wanted now was to take a well-earned break. How could he deny her that?
His admiration of her grew apace as he noted her voice of authority and the way she handled her staff and any problems with the lightest of touches. He also saw how the worry lines on her face had smoothed and how relaxed she seemed compared to the past.
How could he walk out on her after all she had done for him? Yet how could he not go and search for Cat and bring her back? Torn between loyalty for the two women he loved, Charlie felt often that his head and heart might explode. On Sundays – his one day off if there wasn’t a lugger coming in – he drove to Riddell Beach and swam hard to calm his tortured mind. He floated there, the waves lapping in his ears, trying to find the peace and resolution he needed. It didn’t come, and as the day approached when his mother would leave for Europe, his panic increased. He wondered if he should simply plunge his head under the waves for good to find blissful release.
Besides everything else, he didn’t feel he was cut out for the job. He had none of his mother’s air of natural authority, or the ease with which she talked to the other pearling masters at their regular dinners. Being half the age of most of them, Charlie knew they were almost certainly laughing at him behind his back and probably already planning their bids as they watched him and the company fail. His only other thought was to sell the company to one of the local pearling masters, but he knew that his mother would see it as a betrayal of his father and grandfather. The Mercer Pearling Company was one of the oldest in town, run by a family member since it began.