“Isn’t where you’re not supposed to be the very spot where you’re most likely to find the vital clue?”
“I shouldn’t think so. The Lauds are so unobtrusive. I doubt whether Mrs. Laud would have allowed any clues to be placed in their apartments.”
“Nevertheless, we’ll look around.”
“I’m interested in this little terrace,” I said. “I had no idea it existed.”
I stepped out on it and looked up at the sky where the Southern Cross shone down, reminding me that I was far from home, where no one would be missing me very much—and I thought, with a trace of bitterness, no one here cared either.
I looked over the side of the terrace wall to the sheer drop below. We were indeed very high.
Then I heard voices. Mrs. Laud was speaking and I stepped back into the room. Ezra was standing at the table and Mrs. Laud was at the door.
She was saying: “I had no idea anyone was here. There’s nothing up here, you know. I wouldn’t have dreamed of letting them put clues here. Oh, there’s Mrs. Madden.”
“I’m sorry we intruded,” I said.
“Oh no, it’s not that. But there simply isn’t anything here.”
“Then we’d better get on,” I said. “We’ve wasted our time, it seems.”
Mrs. Laud laughed apologetically. “It’s of no importance. I was just startled when I opened my door and saw a man in the room.”
Ezra apologized in his hearty way, and we went downstairs.
“You’ve got a treasure in that woman,” he said. “I remember old Ben’s saying what a manager she was. Mind you, he’s done a lot for her children…brought them up, you might say. She’s very grateful, is Mrs. Laud. I’ve heard her say it again and again.”
“I don’t know what we’d do without her.”
“And Jimson’s good. The way he can juggle with figures just takes your breath away. It’s rare to find people out here who can do that. Most of them want to do the exciting things…but to find someone who really likes figures…that’s a godsend. We thought we were lucky to get Paling, but Jimson beats him…as we discovered after the buggy accident.”
“Do you know the daughter?”
“Lilias. Why, yes. Sweet on Jeremy Dickson if you ask me. I reckon they might well make a match of it. I don’t know. Lilias seems to blow hot and cold.”
“Does she? I thought she liked him.”
“Well, I reckon it’s just a bit of coyness or something. It would be nice to see them wed. Married men are much better in the town. They get more settled and stable.”
“I can hear the sounds from below,” I put in. “I believe they’ve got a winner.”
I was right and delighted that it was the little fair-haired woman and her partner—the one who had left her new baby in the charge of her pregnant sister.
Joss made me stand with him to present the prizes. “Don’t forget,” he whispered to me. “You own half of this now and everyone must be made to realize it.”
The fair-haired woman came up with her partner, the opals were presented and everyone crowded round to examine them.
Joss said to me: “Tactful of you not to win.”
“You too,” I answered. “But did this please your acquisitive friend?”
“My acquisitive friend was forced to accept the inevitable.”
“I wonder if she will demand another Harlequin as compensation.”
His eyes met mine—a little stormy, a little mocking and veiled.
“I wonder,” he murmured.
Saturday Night
The next morning when I went down to breakfast, Joss was alone in the dining room. He asked how I had slept after last night’s revelries. I told him very well and trusted he had done the same.
“It gives you an insight into one of our traditions here. It’s Ben’s idea to keep the workers happy. They’re far away from the bright lights of a big city so we have to make their entertainment.”
“When is the next occasion?”
“My dear Jessica, there are occasions once a week. Saturday nights are regular. It’s time you attended a Saturday night. I must introduce you to them.”
The prospect of being with him delighted me, and I must have looked eager.
“There’s no time like the present. We’ll go next Saturday.”
That day in the office an incident took place, and I did not realize until later how very disturbing it was. I overheard raised voices coming from Joss’s office, and as I passed, Joss and Ezra came out. I had never seen Ezra look angry before, but then his large face had completely lost its benignity. It made him look quite different. Joss looked fierce and stern. They both acknowledged me rather curtly as though they were not in the mood to talk to me at that moment.
Later when Joss and I were riding back to Peacocks I said to him: “You and Ezra seemed at cross purposes this morning.”
“It happens now and then,” said Joss lightly. “We don’t always see eye to eye. Ezra’s a good man, but he’s not always practical. There’s always trouble about the houses in the town. Those who have been living in the calico tents are naturally anxious to get them when they fall vacant. Ezra had promised one to a man he liked, but I’ve given it to someone who is a much better worker and who has been with us longer. Ezra had the unpleasant task of telling his man he’d have to wait a bit.”
“So that was it.”
Joss looked at me quickly, but he said nothing. I was thinking: Ezra can stand up for himself then. Was it really about the dwelling house, or had he perhaps told Joss that he was getting tired of seeing him with his wife?
The next time I saw Ezra he was his beaming, hearty self so I thought no more of the matter until later. Saturday had come, and it was dusk as Joss and I rode into the township.
“Saturday night at the camp,” said Joss. “There’ll be revelry. Oh, not what you’d call revelry. No masked balls and powdered footmen, I do assure you.”
“You’ve no need to reassure me. I am not expecting them, nor am I accustomed to them. Didn’t I tell you that I was brought up in a Dower House and though the family had seen Better Days, I was only with them in the worse ones.”
“What a mercy!” He surveyed me ironically. “Now perhaps we shan’t disappoint you so much. Saturday night has to be seen. The week’s work is over. Sunday is a day of rest, but not for the gougers who have to do their washing and clean their homes then, but there has to be revelry before the work begins again.”
“What sort of revelry?”
“You’ll see.”
As we approached the township I saw that outside it a bonfire was burning.
“We’d rather have it in the center of the town,” Joss explained, “but it’s too dangerous with so many wooden buildings. A wind in the wrong direction and the whole town would be ablaze. We’ll take the horses in and leave them at Joe’s and then we’ll wander out to the bonfire. They’re starting to cook, and it’s a communal feast. No stranger is turned away. You’ll find a few sundowners coming in on Saturday nights.”
I sensed the atmosphere of excitement as we rode through the town to the blacksmith’s forge and came away on foot.
Joss took my arm, and we went past the wooden shacks and tents. Outside the children were dancing and calling to each other and the elderly were seated watching them.
“Supper will be in that large tent over there,” Joss told me. “It’s kept for Saturday nights. Roast pig, I believe, and there’ll be beef and mutton.”
“Who provides the food?”
“The Company. It’s part of their wages. They look forward to Saturday nights all the week. Ben always believed that incentives make people work harder, and so do I.”
“So it’s not for charity.”
“Not a bit of it. That’s Madden policy, as you’ll discover.”
“You’re a
little calculating, aren’t you?”
“We’re in business and it’s got to be successful. If it wasn’t what do you think would happen to these people? They might find places elsewhere, some of them. Many would starve and some would die of despair.”
“And you like seeing them enjoy themselves?”
“Of course I do. It means they’re contented. We’ll get a better day’s work out of them than if they have grievances.”
“Why do you always present yourself as the hardheaded businessman?”
He turned me around to face him, and his face glowed in the firelight. “Because that’s what I am,” he said.
“You look like a demon in this light.”
“I’ve often thought they might be more exciting to know than the angels. I’m sure you’ll agree, because you’re not exactly angelic yourself.”
“Indeed.”
“Oh, most certainly. There’s a flash of fire in you. They named you Opal rightly…Opal Jessica. There’s no one who knows more about opals than I do.”
“Naturally,” I mocked.
“Of all varieties,” he pointed out.
“I think perhaps you overestimate your powers in some directions.”
“Don’t you believe it. All opals come within my province. Particularly those which are in my collection.”
“What about Isa Bannock?”
“What about her?”
“Do you see her as an opal?”
“That’s an interesting idea.”
“Of course I couldn’t hope to compare with her brilliance.”
He pressed my arm against his. “You mustn’t underestimate yourself…or pretend to, must you?”
“What a foolish conversation!”
“Yes, isn’t it…and on a Saturday night!”
Just ahead of us lay the calico tents, looking weird in the firelight. Someone was playing on a fiddle the old tune “Ash Grove” and it made me think of Home suddenly—the fields and lanes and the Dower House with Poor Jarman working on the flower beds, and Miriam and her curate, and I wondered whether Xavier had married Lady Clara yet.
Two children in gingham frocks were turning somersaults and they stood upright and bobbed curtsies as we passed by. Someone had joined the fiddler with a mouth organ, and now I could smell the roasting pork.
Joss and I sat down on one side of a hillock on which grew clumps of mulga, and from this slight eminence we had a good view of the scene. From the tent came the smell of food and excited voices.
“They’re cooking in there,” said Joss. “It’s safer inside. We don’t want to start a fire. God knows where that would end here. When they’ve eaten the fun will start. After the pork, there’ll be plum pudding. You should take some just to show you’re not too proud to join in.” He grinned at me. “Don’t forget you’re one of the family. You’ll have to follow our customs.”
“You find this a pleasant one?”
“One of the bosses is expected to join in most Saturdays. We take turns. Ben used to go often. Then I’d go, or Ezra would. We have to show we are one of them. That’s very important. Here Jack’s as good as his master. Don’t forget it.”
“Yet it seems to me that there are some masters who think themselves highly superior.”
“Only because they are. A man commands respect for what he is out here.”
“Doesn’t he everywhere?”
“I mean he’s not superior just because he has had a better education or has money. He’s got to show himself as a man and then he’ll be accepted as such.”
“And if men rely on others to provide them with the means of earning a living they might think it advisable to show them some respect?”
“They’d be fools not to.”
“Your philosophy of life is worked out to give you all the advantages.”
“Now isn’t that the wise way?”
“You bring everything to your personal view.”
“It’s you who do that. You brought me into this analysis.”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“That’s right,” he went on, “a woman should always admit when she’s beaten.”
“Beaten! I!”
“Only in argument of course. There’s a saying at Home:
A woman, a dog and a walnut tree
The more you beat them the better they’ll be.”
“Some arrogant man no doubt made that up. I’ve never heard of beating walnut trees and the thought of beating dogs nauseates me. As for women, men who use physical violence against them usually do so because they know they will be beaten in verbal battles.”
“You do very well. I hope it doesn’t become a test between us. My strength, your brains. Oh dear, what a contest!”
“We do seem to get involved in the most absurd bickering.”
“It’s really due to your verbal agility.”
“Now you’re mocking me.”
“And once again we’re forgetting we’re here to enjoy Saturday night.”
I turned my attention to the scene before us. People were crowding into the tent and some were coming out with slices of roast meat and bread which they were eating with great enjoyment. They sat about and talked together, shouting from group to group and taking little notice of us seated on the hillock. Children came out with trays on which were slabs of pudding with which they were drinking what Joss told me was home-brewed ale.
I was given a piece of the pudding which was like hot cake. Both Joss and I took it in our fingers and ate it. It was good.
When the eating was over the revelry began. The two children who had been turning somersaults darted about turning cartwheels. One man did some conjuring tricks. There were two violins and several mouth organs in the camp and they played the songs the people knew and everyone sang them. It was a moving scene there in the light of the campfire which glowed on the faces of men, women, and children as they sang the old songs we knew so well. Always they were songs from Home which many of them must have learned before they left and others had picked up from those who had brought them across the sea.
There was one song which they sang with more feeling than any other and that was “The Miner’s Dream of Home.” This told the story of how the miner fell asleep and dreamed. Everyone joined in. I remember some of the words and I think I shall never forget them:
I saw the old homestead, the faces I loved
I saw England’s valleys and hills.
I listened with joy
As I did when a boy
To the sound of the old village bells.
The moon was shining brightly
It was a night that would banish all sin
For the bells were ringing the Old Year out
And the New Year in.
As the song finished there was a deep silence in the company. They were in no mood to sing more for a while. They wanted to think of the people they had left at home; perhaps some of them longed to return and knew they never would.
The silence was broken by the sound of horse’s hooves and a man came riding up. The tension was relaxed.
He cried: “Is Mr. Madden here? I must see Mr. Madden.”
Joss rose and went over to the rider who was surrounded by a group of people.
“Oh, Mr. Madden sir,” I heard him say, “Mrs. Bannock has sent me to find you. She says to tell you, sir, that Mr. Bannock has not been home all last night and not through the day and now his horse has come back without him. She’s worried and says would you go over to the homestead.”
I heard Joss say: “Go back at once, Tim. Tell her I’m coming over right away. Like as not I’ll be there before you.”
He walked off and left me standing there. I felt sick with rage and anger. She only had to send for him and he forgot my existence. Then I thought of Ezra and was ashamed. What could have
happened to him? I made my way to the blacksmith where Wattle was patiently waiting for me. Someone was already there. It was Jimson.
“I’m to take you back to Peacocks, Mr. Madden says,” he told me.
“Thank you, Jimson,” I answered. “Let’s go.”
So I rode back to Peacocks with Jimson, all my pleasure in the evening departed and a terrible anxiety about Ezra beginning to disturb me.
***
I went to my room and took off my riding habit, put on my trousseau dressing gown, and loosened my hair.
I sat up waiting. It was midnight when Joss returned. He came straight to my room as I had hoped he would.
“Jimson brought you home all right?” he said.
“Yes. What of Ezra?”
He frowned and looked very anxious. “I can’t think what’s happened. He’s missing. I don’t like it. There must have been some accident. His horse coming back without him. I’ll send out search parties tomorrow. Isa will let me know if he turns up.”
“You’ve said so often that people can get lost in the Bush,” I said.
“Not a man like Ezra. He could only have been going between the Homestead and the town. He knows his way around blindfolded.”
“You don’t think he’s gone…”
“Gone?”
“He might have been tired of being Isa’s husband.”
Joss looked at me incredulously. “What about his horse’s coming back like that?”
“He might have wanted to make it look like an accident…” Joss shook his head and then his eyes dwelt on me almost tenderly. “It was a bad ending to your first Saturday night.”
“I do hope Ezra’s all right. I like him so much. He was very nice to me.”
He laid his hand on my shoulder lightly and pressed it.
“I didn’t want to disturb you, but I thought you might be awake and wanting to know.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He smiled, hesitated and I thought he was going to say something, but he seemed to change his mind.
“Good night,” he said, and left me.