Golden Hope (15 page)

The physician came bearing gifts – a large box piled high with vegetables and fruit. Planted at the heart of it was a bouquet of Sweet William and pansies.

‘A small house-warming gift from my sister Adelaide to welcome you to Hoffnung, Mrs Hart.'

Clearly the ‘Mrs' was honorary but Dolores bowed her head politely.

‘Most kind, Doctor. Please convey my thanks to your sister. Clytie and I look forward to meeting her.' She added tentatively, ‘Perhaps she would care to call on us . . . or we could call on her?'

Clytie knew they were on unsure ground concerning local etiquette. The doctor's words put them at ease.

‘Indeed I trust you will, one day. I'm afraid Adelaide is rather shy, indeed some consider her reclusive. She emerges but rarely to collect mail at the Post Office each month. But she was indeed most impressed with Wildebrand Circus – I regret I was unable to attend myself. She asked me to convey to you her admiration for your performances.

Dolores nodded in acknowledgement of the praise. ‘That was Clytie's night of triumph. I myself was unwell that night. I rarely miss a performance.' She looked directly into the doctor's eyes. ‘May I offer you a glass of wine, Doctor? A fine South Australian claret, I'm told. I have no way of knowing. I am teetotal.'

Clytie caught the exchange of glances.
Is mother flirting with him?

Clytie reached for one of her mother's best wineglasses but Doc Hundey held up a hand to halt her.

‘Thank you, but I too am teetotal. I'd gladly stop and chat but I'm on my way to attend a patient on the far side of those hills.' He gestured to the track that disappeared in the direction of the mountains behind which gold and crimson streaks fanned out from the setting sun.

Doc rose, smiling. ‘I also came as the bearer of good news, Mrs Hart. That idea you had for the Diggers' Rest – Mr Yeoman is happy to grant you the use of a room. He believes your skill will attract custom. I see patients in my own rooms there each Friday. Perhaps our paths shall cross again.'

He doffed his hat to her, nodded to Clytie and Rom and drove off.

Following her mother inside the house, Clytie kept her voice low.

‘Why didn't you tell me you planned to work at the hotel? That's not a good idea, Mama, and you know it.'

‘You think I can't be trusted? Don't worry, I won't be in the bar. I plan to read Tarot cards and palms like Zaza taught me. I'll charge for each reading. I don't have to pay Yeoman rent on the room until the end of the month. I'll place a discreet advertisement in the local newspapers. Now stop worrying. It's a golden opportunity to make good money.'

‘I'm sorry I doubted you. Please leave the dishes to me. You look very tired. Please ask Doc Hundey to prescribe you a tonic.'

‘Nonsense, I'm as fit as a flea. Just weary, is all. I could do with an early night. Make sure you don't stay up late yourself – he's a handsome lad,' she jerked her head in Rom's direction. ‘But you're barely sixteen and he has a silver tongue in his head, so keep a tight rein on yourself, girl. I'll say goodnight to him.'

Clytie began to wash the dishes but strained her ears to the conversation on the veranda.

Her mother sat down beside Rom, and poured herself a glass of ginger ale.

‘Don't get me wrong, Rom. I'm grateful for all you did for us today.'

‘But . . .?' he asked.

‘There's something that needs to be said – and I'm the one to say it. You are a man. I don't think less of you for wanting what every man wants. My daughter may seem worldly on the surface, but she has a trusting heart. I can't protect Clytie from falling in love – that will happen sooner or later. I can and will warn her against men who are liars – which from my experience are most of the male race.'

‘You're calling me a liar? Look, I may exaggerate a bit but –'

‘Allow me to finish. I just want you to swear to me that you won't promise her more than you intend to deliver. No lies. I can't prevent nature from taking its course – but I won't stand by and see her trust a false heart. Don't ever tell her you love her unless you really mean it.'

Even from the angle of his profile Clytie could see Rom was taken aback. He nodded thoughtfully then offered his hand. ‘You have my word, Mrs Hart.'

Dolores silently shook his hand.

‘Break that promise – and stand warned. I'll come back and haunt you.'

With a weary laugh she rose and returned to the house. Passing Clytie, she silently kissed the crown of her daughter's head.

‘Rest easy, Mama.'

The door to the bedroom closed behind Dolores leaving Clytie feeling uneasy. Her mother had lost weight in recent weeks – but she told herself that living with Vlad's ugly temper was enough to test anyone's health. Now she was free of his domination she would grow stronger.

Rom was sitting on the steps by the front door gazing at the moon. Clytie squatted beside him, hoping he would be the first to break the silence. He did not.

‘I can't thank you enough for all you've done for us, Rom, but it is getting late. I'd better turn in for the night.'

‘You've only got one bed,' he said. ‘I'll track down another mattress for you tomorrow.'

‘No need. There's plenty of bedding in the wagon,' she said hastily. ‘Anyway, you've done more than enough already.'

‘Right. So I'd best say goodnight.' He rose and turned back as if the thought had just occurred to him. ‘But before you turn in, it would be wise for me to point out the old cabin where I'm living with Shadow. Just in case there's any emergency during the night – y'know, like a death adder under your bed or something.'

Clytie hesitated between alarm, curiosity and native caution.

Rom continued without pressure. ‘It's just a stone's throw from here.' He held out his hand to her. ‘Come on, the moon will light our way. Then I'll walk you back.'

Placing her cool fingers inside the warm hollow of Rom's hand, she walked beside him.
What is that Chinese proverb? The longest journey begins with a single step. I wonder what they say about the shortest journey.

The moment she saw the jagged outline of the miner's right cabin etched against the moonlight, Clytie caught her breath at the mysterious beauty of the scene. It was like an illustration in a Grimms' Fairy Tales. Shadow lay across the stone doorstep, as if lying in wait to protect them. But from what?

‘Want to see inside? There's only one room so it won't take long. I've just discovered a sort of diary cum scrapbook that must have belonged to the old digger who built the place. It's a bit of a mystery. Full of pictures of a beautiful dark-haired dancer called Lola something. Ever heard of her?'

‘Lola Montez? She's a legend, notorious the world over.'

‘Yeah, I remember now. Didn't she do an exotic Spider dance based on the Tarantula that sent the diggers half crazy?'

‘They say the stage was littered with nuggets after every performance.'

She followed him inside, drawn to the lure of the book. The interior was rough in the extreme. No furniture, nothing on which to rest the heavy book filled with newspaper cuttings and diary entries. The floor was made of pressed earth so Rom spread the sole blanket on the ground, gesturing for her to sit down.

‘Don't want you to soil your clothes.'

‘Never mind my dress, this book is an absolute treasure.'

They knelt over it, their heads close together as they turned the pages and read snippets of the material to each other. Each page was covered with photographs and portraits of Lola Montez and yellowed newspaper cuttings from every corner of the globe.

Rom read out Lola's hand-written letter of thanks to the unknown writer for his gift of a hat pin with a gold nugget the size of a walnut.

‘Hey, that would be worth a small fortune today!'

Clytie pounced on the story of Lola's notorious love affair with King Ludwig of Bavaria, who gave her the title Countess of Landsfeld. When his scandalised nobles tried to force him to abdicate, she fled the country.

‘Where on earth did you find this amazing book?'

‘It was tossed in the bush like rubbish – he found it.'

Rom jerked his thumb at Shadow, who lay like a furry rug across the doorway, his head resting on his paws, his eyes following their every move.

On impulse Clytie sprang up and kissed the crown of his head. ‘Clever dog, Shadow!'

Rom pulled a wry face. ‘Hey, don't I rate a reward too?'

Clytie gave his cheek a hasty peck, and was soon engrossed in the book again.

She pointed to the defaced portrait of King Ludwig with its eyes blacked out like a blind man. ‘The owner of this book was in love with Lola himself!'

‘What a little Romantic you are,' Rom teased. ‘What about me? Do I stand a chance?'

There was no mistaking the message in his eyes. She turned back to the book.

‘Here's a diary entry describing the first time he saw Lola dance. And the day she horsewhipped the
Ballarat Times
editor Henry Seekamp down the main street as pay-back for his vitriolic attacks on her character.'

‘Quite a girl,' Rom said huskily, but the words seemed intended for Clytie.

The book ended with Lola's death notice in America in 1861.

‘Do you think this young man ever declared his love for her?'

‘I doubt he even met her. Just adored her from afar.'

Clytie's eyes filled with tears. ‘I can't bear it!'

‘Hey, don't cry. I can't handle a woman's tears. This is all my fault.'

Rom took her face between his hands and tilted her chin so that she looked into his eyes. Blurred through her tears, his handsome features were distorted as if she was seeing his face under water . . .

His kiss was gentle, beguiling. So unlike his first kiss the night they met, when he had been sure she was an easy conquest and he could charm her into giving him everything he wanted. This was like the explorative kiss of a young boy, startled by some discovery he could not name. His lips explored her mouth, her cheeks, touching her tears with the tip of his tongue, then traced the line of her neck. He did not hurry her, gently drawing her into his world, his feelings, the warmth of his body.

Where will the kisses end? No, I won't let them end . . .

Rom did not attempt to undress her, instead he gently drew her hand to her bodice and smiled as if there was no greater pleasure, no more natural thing in the world than for them to lie naked together. Clytie looked through the window frame that was devoid of glass at the moonlight stretched across the room like ribbons of light tracing his thighs, his chest. One sliver of silver highlighted his mouth, forming the words that caressed her.

Clytie knew that she had entered a time, a place of sheer enchantment. His hands encouraged her body to come alive in ways she had never imagined – her limbs, the hair on her head, the little cushion of hair between her thighs.

She had never before seen a man totally naked, though she accepted as natural every muscle of a man's body clearly outlined beneath a leotard.

She ran a finger in wonderment down Rom's chest, tracing the line of his thighs, feeling shy, bold and strangely privileged all in the same moment.

‘How beautiful you are, Rom. Like a Greek statue.'

‘Hush,' he said. ‘I'm real. This is real. Yet it's much more than that. I don't know why, I can't explain it. It's like a dream – outside of time. New, like it's the first time for me. I won't lie to you, sweetheart. This is far from being my first time. Forgive me, I wish it was.'

She wanted to believe him. ‘That almost sounded as if you meant it.'

‘I'll prove it to you – without words.'

His hands moved over her body so that she caught the rhythm that made her spine arch. This drew the strange, joyous cry from deep inside her, until she bit her lips, shocked by the soft involuntary sounds that came from her. Light years away from the cries of Vlad and her mother . . .

Ecstasy – is that what this is?

They lay there panting, smiling at each other, each shocked by the discovery. Rom rolled away from her, studying her, his face in shadow, his voice serious.

‘Clytie, there's more. I need to know. Will you let me take you with me? Here? Now?'

She knew she should hesitate but she heard her voice say the words. ‘I will.'

‘You understand what I'm asking?'

‘It doesn't matter. I trust you.'

He covered her mouth with his hand. ‘That is a gift – and a burden. I'll try to be worthy of it.'

The price of pleasure was total as he led her, breaking through the barrier of her pain. He kept murmuring soft words in her hair, stroking her, exciting her, giving her a moment's respite then taking
her closer and closer to some unknown place she half feared to go – yet needed even more desperately to explore.

She heard herself cry out at the moment she recognised the truth.
This is the great gift. The Creator of All Things meant us all to share this. How can anything so pure and natural be called a sin?

Reality came with first light. They both saw it at the same time – the trace of blood between her thighs.

‘I hurt you. Why didn't you tell me?' He suddenly looked shocked. ‘You mean, it was your first time? You should have told me. I've never been with a girl who's never . . .'

‘Well, now you have,' she said wryly, trying not to feel disappointed that he had accepted without question that female entertainers were ‘easy'.

Rom folded her in his arms and lay beside her, wordless, his eyes guarded.

At dawn they walked hand in hand through the bush, their silence broken only by random trills of birdsong.

In front of the priest's house, Rom ran his finger down her cheek. His kiss was the kiss she might expect from a loving brother.