‘I do know. You need to tie up loose ends,’ he agreed. ‘Maybe it’s the streak of German in us that makes us want to put our house in order before we can move on,’ he said with a smile.
‘Well, talking of putting houses in order, I’m planning to sell mine. I think I told you I bought an apartment overlooking the River Thames in London with my inheritance. It’s all been a bit of a disaster.’
‘Everyone makes mistakes, it’s part of the human learning curve, as long as you do learn from them,’ he added with a sigh. ‘If you want to come back here, my home is yours for as long as you need it.’
‘Thanks.’ I hadn’t seen his house here in the Alice yet. After arriving, we’d gone straight to eat. ‘As well as putting my apartment on the market, I also need to see my sister to make things right there.’
‘Now that really is a reason to go back,’ he agreed. ‘People are more important than possessions, I always think.’
We finished our food then got into the truck to drive to his house. It turned out to be just on the perimeter of the town, in a line of pretty white chalet-style houses with big verandas at ground and roof-level.
‘Ignore the garden. Keeping plants in order really isn’t an interest of mine,’ he remarked as we walked to the front door.
‘Star could sort that lot out in a few days,’ I said as he put the key in the lock and opened up.
Inside, I immediately got the impression that whoever had designed the interior had wanted to bring a little piece of England to the Outback. It was definitely very feminine, with pretty flower-sprigged curtains hanging at the windows, hand-embroidered scatter cushions adorning an old but comfortable sofa and scores of photographs lining the two bookshelves that sat on either side of the fireplace. The lighting was soft too, the golden glow emanating from lampshades set on brass stands.
All in all, despite the fact it had that musty smell that houses get when they’re not properly lived in, I felt cocooned and comfortable here.
‘I put the water heater on a timer last time I was here, so it should be piping hot. I’m off to run a bath for you,’ said my grandfather.
‘That’s great, thanks,’ I said, thinking of the last time I was in a bath, covered in rose petals, with a pair of gentle hands wrapped around my waist. How far I had come since then . . .
After a long and seriously fantastic soak in the tub, I stepped out and saw the water was mud-coloured, with all sorts of small insects that must have embedded themselves in the crevices of my body and hair while I was out at the hut. It felt good to be clean, except I only had dirty clothes to put back on. I padded back to the sitting room in a towel.
‘Do you have an old T-shirt I could borrow? My clothes stink.’
‘I can do better than that. Your grandmother was not far off your size, and there’s a wardrobe-full in our bedroom.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ I asked him as I followed him along the corridor and he turned on a light in the room, before pulling an old cedar-wood wardrobe open.
‘Of course not, I can’t think of a better use for them. I was only going to give them away to the charity shop anyway. Take your pick.’
Feeling a bit weird about raiding my dead granny’s wardrobe, I looked through the rack of stuff. Most of it was paisley-patterned cotton dresses, dirndl skirts and blouses featuring lace collars, but there were also a couple of long linen shirts. I put one on and walked back to the sitting room. My mobile phone had found a signal again, and there was a message from Talitha Myers, the solicitor in Adelaide. I listened to her telling me that she’d discovered the name ‘Francis Abraham’ in the ledgers and I felt proud that I’d got there before her.
Francis was now in the bath himself, so I amused myself by looking at the silver-framed photographs. Most were of him and a woman, whom I had to presume was my grandmother. She was small and pale and neat, with her dark hair fastened in a coil on top of her head.
Another was of a bright-faced little girl of about three, grinning cheekily at the camera, then another of the same child at maybe eleven or twelve, sitting between my granny and grandpa. ‘My mother.’ I swallowed hard. I couldn’t see any of her older than fifteen or so, and was just wondering about this when Francis appeared in the room.
‘You’ve seen the photographs of your mother?’
‘Yes. What was her name?’
‘Elizabeth. She was a lovely little girl, always laughing. Looked just like her mother.’
‘I saw. And as a grown-up?’ I probed.
Francis sighed. ‘It’s a long story, Celaeno.’
‘Sorry, it’s just that there’s still so much I don’t know or understand.’
‘Yes. Well, why don’t I go and make us both some coffee? Then we can talk.’
‘Okay.’
He was back within a few minutes, and as we sipped our coffees in silence, I could feel he was garnering the strength to tell me.
‘Perhaps it’s easier to go back to where we left off,’ he said eventually.
‘Whatever you feel is best. I’d love to know what happened to Kitty, and Charlie and Drummond.’
‘Of course you would, and it was through Kitty that I met my wife, Sarah . . .’
Kitty
Tilbury Port, England
January 1949
29
‘Goodbye, dearest sister. I can’t tell you what a joy it’s been having you here with us,’ Miriam said as they stood by the gangplank that would soon separate them once more. ‘Promise to come back as soon as you can, won’t you?’
‘You know I certainly intend to, God willing,’ Kitty said. ‘Goodbye, darling, and thank you for everything.’
With a final wave, Miriam made her way down the gangplank.
Milling around Kitty were relatives reluctant to let go of their loved ones who were departing for Australia. Even though she had made this journey many times over the past forty years, witnessing the human pain of separation still affected her deeply.
She felt as if she was drowning in a storm of tears as the ship’s engines roared into life and the horn hooted a final warning. Amidst the crowd, a few faces stood out, despair clear on their features: a woman weeping inconsolably and hugging her infant to her, and a gaunt, grey-haired man, panic clear on his face as he watched the gangplank being hauled up.
‘Where is she? She was meant to meet me here on the ship! Excuse me, madam,’ the man said, turning to her. ‘Have you by any chance seen a blonde-haired woman boarding the ship in the last few minutes?’
‘I couldn’t say,’ Kitty replied honestly. ‘There were so many people coming and going, but I’m sure she’s on board somewhere.’
There was a second hoot of the horn as the boat edged away from the dock and the man looked over the side as though he might jump.