A Greater World (31 page)

She walked out of the bar. Harriet stared after her, stunned at the outburst, then shrugged and called to the waiter. 'Bring me another bottle of this.'

Elizabeth longed to be with Michael. If she had agreed to run away with him immediately, Will would not be wounded, Nat would still be alive and Jack Kidd would not be locked in a prison cell.

She wanted to confide in Verity, but feared the older woman would disapprove of her liaison with Michael and she didn't want to risk the only friendship and source of support she had.

The days became weeks and she heard nothing from Michael. He must be in Auckland by now so why he had not written? She had no idea of his final destination there and no means of finding out.

The silence from Michael was matched by silence from Harriet. Neither of them had acknowledged their telegrams. Elizabeth fretted that they had not been delivered but after checking with the post office was assured that they had. She tried to reach Harriet on the telephone but the housekeeper told her the girl was out every time she called.

She prevailed upon Verity to speak to Hattie. When Verity put down the telephone receiver, there were tears on her cheeks. The schoolmistress reported back that as far as Harriet was concerned, her father was dead to her.

Verity said, 'I don't understand. She was such a nice little girl, but as she grew up I let myself become blind to what she was becoming. I can't believe it – to be so cruel about her father.'

'I'm sorry you had to hear her speak that way – but I can't say I'm surprised.'

'She said Mr Winterbourne has gone overseas. Probably back to England. She sounded pleased. What can have happened between them?'

Elizabeth felt herself blushing but Verity didn't notice.

Elizabeth asked, 'Is she in contact with him?'

'No. They quarrelled before he left. She doesn't seem to care that he's gone. She kept saying she's happy to be free of him. I hope her poor father doesn't find out - as if he doesn't have enough to worry about. And the mine? What's to become of the coal mine? With both Mr Kidd and Mr Winterbourne gone and Will sick.' She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief.

'The mine! I'd forgotten about that. I must find out what his wishes are.'

'There are so many men in this town whose livelihoods depend on it,' said Verity.

'Right. They need to be paid, at least until alternative arrangements can be made.' As she spoke, she felt a surge of energy. She could not prevent her husband's incarceration. She could not bring her children back. She would be separated from Michael until he wrote to her and until the trial was over. But meanwhile she could do something about the colliery and about Will and she could try to protect the livelihoods of the miners and their families.

'I'll go there and find out what needs to be done. I don't want Jack worrying about that on top of everything else.'

'Elizabeth! Really! What do you know about running a coal mine!' Verity's face was a picture of disbelief. 'You can't possibly be serious?'

'Oh but I can! And I am!'

'But what...how?'

'I don't know. I'll find a way though!' She jumped up and rang the bell. Mrs Oates appeared in the doorway.

'Ma'am?'

'Mrs Oates, I need to talk to someone about the colliery. Does Mr Kidd have a lawyer, or an accountant – someone who knows the business and can help me understand what's going on? The workmen need to be paid so I'll have to make arrangements on Mr Kidd's behalf to keep things going in his absence.'

'Mr Oates can tell you, Ma'am. He's in the garage - I'll send him in.'

Oates raised his eyebrows when Elizabeth explained what she wanted. 'Mr Robinson the accountant might be able to give you the information you require. But...'

'I need to review the books so the employees can be paid. Oates, take me to this Mr Robinson now, please.'

'But Elizabeth, don't you think you should speak to Mr Kidd first?' Verity was looking nervous.

'No time like the present, Verity! He has more than enough on his plate.' She hugged her friend, then with a brisk 'Come on, Mr Oates, let's get a move on!' she left the room.

Chapter Twenty-Three – At the Colliery

The late afternoon sun burst through the clouds and lit up the escarpment. The ground dipped away in front, giving a view of the tall trees and the sandstone cliffs on the opposite side of the gorge. The treetops were densely packed and looked like a crumpled green counterpane. The top of the escarpment was flat and wooded above the hard edges of the exposed cliffs below, bathed in yellow sunlight with ridges and gullies carving their way down the surface, so the rock stood out in sharp contrast to the green of the trees, like a giant hunk of blue-veined cheese. It was all so wild, so vast and so empty that Elizabeth caught her breath. No matter how often she looked at these mountains, the changing light made them look fresh and different and she never tired of their savage beauty.

The car swept down the hill into a section of road that was new to her and she regretted how little she had explored the area beyond the town and Wilton's Creek in the time she had lived here. The trees crowded close to the sides of the road and obscured the view. The air was chilly and she drew her coat closer around her. Mr Oates nodded his head at the road ahead. 'We're approaching the mine, Madam.'

They passed under a wooden archway bearing the roughly painted words
Black Water Colliery
. It didn't inspire confidence in the scale and professionalism of the operation. The road ahead was a rough dirt track, bordered on both sides by dense ferns and bushes but as they rounded the corner, the site opened out to reveal a collection of buildings: a tall brick chimney, a pair of large wooden towers with wheels and pulleys and a collection of single storey buildings and sheds. In front of it all were heaps of coal and a number of wooden trucks, filled with yet more coal, ready to make their way down the hill on a single-track railway that disappeared into the trees at the edge of the site. In the distance there was a collection of huts, some with canvas stretched across tree bark frames, others made of galvanised tin. Small children played in the dirt in front of the huts – or humpies as she knew they were called: the humble dwellings of many of the mineworkers and their families.

Oates pulled up beside one of the brick buildings and a short fat man with a bow tie and a resemblance to Fatty Arbuckle waddled over.

'It's Mrs Kidd, isn't it?' He held out his hand to her. 'I'm Henry Robinson, Chief Accountant at Black Water.'

Elizabeth resisted the temptation to dislike him at first sight. Everyone deserves a chance she told herself, while shuddering as his limp, sweaty palm held hers.

'Mr Robinson, as you know, my husband is in some trouble at the moment.'

The man nodded.

She hesitated, and then decided to say as little as possible. 'I need to understand the financial situation. Following my husband's absence and the departure of Mr Winterbourne, I've decided to find out how things are and see how I can help.'

The man barely tried to conceal his derision, letting a little snort escape and then half heartedly attempting to cover this up by pretending to cough. 'You don't need to worry, Mrs Kidd. I have those matters under control.'

'Who's in charge?'

'I am. I do the books and pay the wages. The men turn up for their shifts or they don't get paid. The shift foremen make sure the work gets done and the chief engineer checks everything's working as it should. Nothing for you to be concerned about, Ma'am. I've been here twenty years, since Mr McDonald was the owner and I run a tight ship.' His face was smug and she had a sudden desire to slap it.

'I'd like to see the books.'

'I don't think that's either necessary or appropriate, Mrs Kidd.' He folded his arms and puffed out his chest, over the top of his large sloping stomach. His brown suit was so tight that the waistcoat gaped between the buttons to reveal little splashes of white fabric from the shirt underneath. It must have been a long time since he'd seen his feet.

'Well, Mr Robinson, I do. So shall we get on with it?' Before he could answer, she swept past him into the building. Three men were sitting with their heads bent over ledgers and plans. All of them looked up in surprise as she wished them a good afternoon. She looked around the room. The walls were furnished with a blackboard, a map of the surrounding area and a series of charts showing geological cross-sections and technical drawings of the coal seams and the mine workings.

Mr Robinson was looking alarmed. 'I don't know what Mr Kidd would have to say about this? It's most irregular.'

'Let me worry about Mr Kidd, you just show me the books and explain what's going on. I want to understand everything. Where the money's coming from, how much is going on wages, expenses, everything.'

Robinson was about to answer when she continued 'We can do this the easy way and you can talk to me like a grown-up person and tell me everything I need to know and then I'll be gone. Or we can do it the hard way, in which case I'll be spending a lot of time with you until I have the answer to every one of my questions – no matter how long that takes.'

He sighed pointedly, then said, 'Where do you want to start?'

Two hours later, with the help of a couple of large ledgers and a lot of scribbled figures which he made on the blackboard, Mr Robinson had given Elizabeth a comprehensive overview of the Black Water Colliery's finances.

Elizabeth inhaled slowly. 'So, if I've understood you correctly, the mine is in a perilous position? The main seam is getting too thin to work economically; opening a new seam involves significant risk and investment; on top of that, the price of coal is dropping as many newer, more automated mines are entering the market? As a result my husband had already begun to look for a way out, but has so far been unable to identify an interested buyer? The current work-force consists of 120 men and in the absence of an alternative plan, you believe we'll need to consider layoffs before the end of the year?'

The three men at their desks all looked up at her then swiveled in their seat
s
to see Robinson's reaction. He looked as though she'd asked him to swallow a slug.

'Yes. That's it in a nutshell, Mrs Kidd. You've grasped the situation perfectly for, for ...a person new to the mining industry.'

'Thank you. For a moment there I thought you were about to say 'for a woman'. I'm so glad you didn't. Now we need a plan.'

'We do... but that's not something that you...'

'I will be back on Thursday afternoon. By then I'd like you to work up some alternatives for the business – what it would cost to develop a new seam? what possible new markets can be identified? are there any potential local buyers for the coal? – we could sell at a lower price if the transportation costs were less. I'd like the Chief Engineer to join us and anyone else you think should be present. It may be some time before Mr Kidd can attend to these matters and I don't want him to worry about this at all. Is that clear?'

'Perfectly, Mrs Kidd.' His oleaginous features were beaded with sweat and glowing red. He took a large, spotted, silk handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat and wiped his face.

Elizabeth left the room with a nod to the other men. Little work had been done that afternoon, so avidly had each of them listened to the exchanges between the fat accountant and the boss's wife.

As she drove away, she felt exhilarated. For the first time since being in Australia, apart from being a mother, she had a sense of purpose.

'Michael's gone away, Lizbeth.' Will was sitting in a chair in the garden, the rug that she had draped over his knees abandoned on the grass beside him. He walked slightly further around the garden each day and the colour was coming back to his face.

Elizabeth's head shot up and the expression on her face was eager. 'Have you heard from him? Where is he?'

'Nah. Not from him. I spoke to Hat last night. He's gone abroad. England or maybe New Zealand! They've split up and they're going to get divorced.'

'Yes, I did know that.'

'Why didn't you tell me, Lizbeth? I can't say as I'm surprised he's left her. But New Zealand? Why would he go there. It rains all the bloody time. Nothing but sheep and rain. Hat wouldn't have put up with that for a second! Not with her fancy clothes.' He looked at Elizabeth for corroboration but she avoided his eyes. He carried on. 'More likely he's gone back to England – he told me a while back his mum was ill. I'm sorry he's gone. He was the only person I liked at the mine. My life will be worse for him going, that's for sure.' He looked glum.

'Does Harriet know his address?' her voice was hesitant.

'No. She's going to divorce him for desertion so she doesn't want to know where he is.'

She pretended to be absorbed in her embroidery, but was stabbing the needle into the fabric, blind to the stitches.

William, unaware of the effect of his words, carried on. 'It's strange isn't it? Just a few weeks ago I'd three brothers and now I've none. Mikey's dead. Nat's dead. Michael's buggered off and when the divorce comes through he'll not be my brother any more.' The boy looked crestfallen.

'Sorry, Will. It's been very distressing for you.'

'I'm bothered more for you. Having to look after me. And all the worry of Pa's trial coming up. And the mine and everything. All this and losing little Mikey and the bub.'

She smiled at him. 'As the philosopher said, "That which does not kill us makes us stronger".'

'You're a very strong woman, Lizbeth. And you've looked after me so well.'

'Looking after you, Will, is an absolute pleasure.'

'Do you think they'll hang Pa?'

'Will! What on earth makes you say that?' She felt a stab of fear.

'Because it's the law. If you kill someone it's murder and the law says you get the drop. If they do hang him it'll be my fault.'

'What on earth are you talking about?'

'He was trying to save me.'

'And you were trying to save
me
. Once the court hears what happened, your father won't be found guilty. Certainly not of murder.'

'But he could get manslaughter and still go to prison for years.'

'If he does we'll face it together. But once the jury hear the circumstances he'll get off. I'm sure of that.'

'If he does stay in prison I can still live with you, can't I?'

'This is your home, Will. You've as much right to live here as I have. But before too long you'll be getting a home of your own. When you marry, I mean.'

'I won't be marrying.'

'Don't be silly. Of course you will. When you meet the right girl.'

'No I won't.' He looked down at his hands.

'Why ever not?'

'Because the only person I want to marry is already taken.'

Elizabeth looked up from her sewing nervously.

'And who might that be?'

'You know who I mean. Don't make me say it.'

She raised her eyebrows. 'I've no idea.' She shrugged, 'I'm sure you'll eventually meet someone else much prettier and much nicer then her, whoever she is. All good things come to those who wait! You have so much time. You're still so young!' She laughed.

To her surprise William got up and went into the house, calling back angrily over his shoulder.

'Why do you want to make fun of me?'

He slammed the french door to the dining room behind him.

The remand wing of the Willagong Prison was overcrowded. The population had outgrown the original planner's expectations in terms of serious crime, and Kidd found himself in close quarters with many undesirables and unfortunates. Not that he was afraid of roughing it: he felt more comfortable in the company of these men than he ever had mixing with the wealthier citizens of McDonald Falls. Being accused of murder, he was denied bail and it was expected to be several weeks before his trial.

The prison had been built more than a hundred years earlier by convict labour and was a stern and grim place. The days there were tedious and the routine unvarying: an endless repetitive round of being locked in the cells, let out of the cells, queuing for food and walking in the small exercise yard. Kidd hated the confinement. It was worse than being down the pit – at least there he could emerge from the depths and breathe the clear mountain air and he had decisions to make and people to marshal. Here it all boiled down to doing what the wardens told you to do, staying on the right side of the tougher long-termers, doing the odd deal for a bit of baccie and generally trying to keep your nose clean.

Unlike the sentenced men, who were allotted only twenty minutes visiting time each month, as a remand prisoner Kidd was allowed regular meetings with his lawyer and a weekly half hour meeting with Elizabeth. The sentenced men were all herded into a large area and expected to shout through a wire mesh barrier, at their assembled nearest and dearest several feet away whereas those on remand were afforded the privilege of an interview room, with only a single prison guard to look on and listen in to the conversation.

Elizabeth brought her husband fruit and some of Mrs Oates' homemade biscuits, but the guards who checked her in took them from her. There'd be smiles on the faces of their wives that evening. Still in mourning for the children, her black silk coat put her in sharp relief against the grey-painted walls of the gaol.