Ironbark (53 page)

Yet the moment he saw Caleb Morgan's supercilious smile, Jake wiped all these impediments from his mind, ready for action.

He nudged Mac. ‘What's that Pommy explorer doing here, mate?'

‘He's Julian Jonstone's house guest at Gideon Park. That gentry mob treat him like he's bloody royalty.'

When Jake overheard Caleb Morgan telling the circle of men that their schoolteacher, Mrs Browne, was a lady well known to his family in England, Jake saw red. Tossing down his drink, he marched across to confront Caleb, grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him aside.

‘You keep turning up like a bad bloody penny, Morgan. Come back to cause trouble for my mate, Saranna Browne, have you? Well you'll have to get past me first!'

Caleb turned his back on his admirers and cast a glance Jake's way. ‘If you're spoiling for a fight why not amuse yourself with your own kind – some
other
colonial drunk, old chap.'

Jake ignored the insult. Even though this bloke clearly knew Keziah's real identity, it was Jake's job to keep up the pretence she was Saranna Browne. He saw Gilbert Evans eyeing them from a distance. Informers had long ears.

‘I'm Saranna's best mate and I refuse to stand by and watch some half-arsed New Chum break her heart. So why don't you shove off back to the Old Dart?'

‘My intentions to the lady in question are honourable but none of your business, old chap.'

‘I've got news for you. I'm making it my business, but I'll give you the chance to prove me wrong.'

As angry as he was, Jake couldn't lie to himself. Was he already too late? If Kez had changed her mind and accepted Gabriel's father, what could he do to stop her? But the idea of Keziah in bed with Caleb Morgan drove him crazy.

‘Come on! What's going on? Do you intend to make her an offer or what?'

Caleb looked confident. ‘Already done so, old chap. Try and be civilised, what?'

Jake blocked his path to the bar. ‘
And?
What did she say?'

‘Promised to consider my offer. If I know women her answer will be yes by the end of the week.'

Jake felt deflated. ‘See you treat her right, Morgan.'

As the Englishman moved away, Jake called after him, ‘I'll be watching you!'

Feeling as if the stuffing had been knocked out of him, Jake walked away from the crowd. The sound of a waltz drifted across the lawn as he bedded down on the straw in the barn.
Am I bloody fated to go through life watching Kez live with other men?

He looked at the stars shining through the hole in the roof. Lily Pompadour had been right. In the past he had solved everyone's problems except his own. What was wrong with him? Tonight he'd almost pushed Morgan into marrying Kez, when he wanted her for himself. Why? To make her happy living the easy life he could never give her? Or was it to get himself off the hook? Repay his debt to her for saving his life?
How stupid can a man be? Morgan's offering her the bloody world but I've got one chance to beat that!

From his pocket he pulled out the dog-eared magazine picture he had carried for days.

He charged out of the barn and drove his wagon to Bran's forge. The place was in darkness but Jake hurried inside, pulled the young giant out of bed and spread out the picture on the bench.

‘Can you build me this new wagon, mate? Double quick? Ain't seen
nothing like it, right? It's a
vardo
– a Romani travelling house on wheels. Do you reckon Kez will like it?'

Bran beamed and gave a thumbs-up sign of approval.

‘Here's some money to get you started, mate, but I'll need another fight or two to pay you in full. I'll be back soon. I've got a couple of problems to fix first.'

• • • 

It was still dark next morning when Jake scrawled a note addressed to Mrs Browne and pushed it under Joseph Bloom's door. He could hardly be seen lurking around the schoolteacher's cottage in the middle of the night. But could Kez be counted on to take notice of a note that only read ‘Don't do nothing rash till I return, Jake'?

His feelings were wildly at odds with his thoughts as he galloped to Bolthole Valley.

It was almost dawn when he arrived at the House of the Four Sisters but the geranium-coloured lights still flashed through the windows.

It was Wednesday. Lily would be waiting upstairs for him. He paid Madam Fleur for the Wednesdays he had been absent then leapt up the stairs before he changed his mind.

Lily looked stunning. She was lying on the bed wearing a black lacy negligee that revealed more than it concealed. She was more than ready for him.

Jake leant back against the door and drank her in slowly.

‘Sorry I've taken so long to keep my promise, Lil. Had a few things on my mind but I got lucky with a couple of fights.' He took out an envelope and tossed it on the bed.

‘This wipes out your Uncle Charlie's debt to Madam Fleur. You don't belong here, never did. I want you out of here. Go somewhere no one knows you. Never get stuck in this dead-end business again. I know a good woman when I see one. There's some decent bloke waiting to jump through hoops for you. If he doesn't do right by you – I'll sort him out!'

Lily looked at the envelope but didn't touch it. She gave him a funny little smile.

‘That's quite a speech, sweetheart. From a man who prefers action to words.' She crooked her little finger. ‘How about we celebrate one last time?'

Jake sighed. ‘I'm going to hate myself in the morning for saying no but I'm on my way to bail my daughter out of a convent.' He turned in the doorway. ‘Can I kiss you goodbye?'

Lily nodded. Jake kissed her with his eyes wide open. He felt like a soldier who was going into battle, knowing he would never return.

• • • 

Three days later on the western edge of Wiradjuri tribal country Jake found what he was looking for. The double-storey building stood at the heart of a farm where shaven-headed convicts were pitching hay. There was no outward sign to say it was a convent. Maybe Catholics weren't too popular in this part of the bush. There appeared to be only two Sisters running the place. The older nun beckoned Jake to follow her.

Inside Sister Mary Bridget's office Jake introduced himself, hat in hand.

‘I'm Jakob Andersen, ma'am. I'm only half a Catholic. Ma is. Pa ain't. I'm sort of agnostic. What I mean is, if I say things wrong, no disrespect intended.'

Sister Mary Bridget nodded. ‘Thank you, my son. I shall take that into account.'

‘My daughter's a pupil here. Haven't seen her for a few years. It's a real long story and you're a busy woman but here's her mother's permission.'

The nun read Jenny's letter carefully. ‘You appear to be the victim of a hoax. There's no Jenny Pearl Andersen under my roof.'

He heard his voice rise in frustration. ‘What? She must be here under a false name. Have you got a girl by the name of Troy? Or della Lorenzo? Let me see your muster!'

Sister Mary Bridget's glare was formidable. ‘This letter does not entitle you to visit any of my students. Kindly leave at once!'

‘Have a heart, Sister. I've been searching for my daughter for years. Can't you see this is a trick her mother's played on me?'

In a matter of seconds Jake found himself being prodded towards the iron gates by three assigned labourers armed with pitchforks. He could have beaten them off with one hand tied, but if Pearl
was
here somewhere he didn't want her first impression of him to be violent.

Sister Mary Bridget watched expressionless from the porch as a gaggle of schoolgirls in identical grey dresses mushroomed out of nowhere to witness the scene.

In desperation Jake scanned the smaller girls' faces but none seemed to bear any resemblance to his memory of Pearl.

Jake shoved a pitchfork out of range and yelled out to Sister Mary Bridget. ‘Ask these girls if anyone recognises me!'

The nun made no reply so Jake addressed the students himself. ‘I'm looking for a little girl called Jenny Pearl Andersen, maybe her mother changed her name. I'm her real father. No matter what her mother told her, I never walked out on her and I never will!'

An aggressive gardener planted his pitchfork on Jake's chest, forcing him down onto the gravel path. As Jake looked up through the sunlit canopy of an apple tree, he saw the shadowy face of a little girl peering through the branches at him. Before he had time to get a good look at her face she leapt down from the tree and bolted for the cookhouse. Unlike all the other girls she was dressed in a navy blue dress covered by an adult-sized pinafore.

He grabbed the pitchfork, rolled free and shouted out to Sister Mary Bridget. ‘Let me talk to that little girl in your presence. What have you got to lose, Sister?'

The two nuns conferred in whispers, then signalled the labourers to return to work.

Sister Mary Bridget beckoned Jake to follow her down the corridor.
The floor was polished and slippery. Jake eyed the line of framed pictures on the walls that showed a young bloke with his eyes rolled towards the sky.
Jesus wept. He looks as edgy as I feel.

The nun's lips were pursed and her eyes as sharp as an eagle's. She directed Jake to the seat opposite her desk. Before the child arrived she ordered him not to prompt her memory. Jake was forced to agree to her terms. He knew it was a slim chance that little girl would turn out to be Pearl but what other choice did he have?

‘Tell me, Sister. Why was she dressed different to the other girls?'

Sister Mary Bridget looked slightly discomforted but quickly regained her air of authority.

‘That child's father has not paid her fees for a year. We don't know where he is. These are tough times. We cannot afford charity cases. A deserted child must pay for her keep by working in the kitchen. I supervise her reading, writing and arithmetic lessons at night free of charge.'

Jake held down his rising anger. Whoever this kid was, her family had left her to work as a slavey. ‘She can't be more than seven, Pearl's age. You mean that man just dumped her?'

The nun raised her voice against Jake's. ‘She knows who her father is. So don't think you can trick her or me, young man. I can spot a lie a mile off!'

Jake leaned forward and returned her stare. ‘Then you'll know
I'm
telling the truth.'

There was a timid knock at the door. Jake's heart sank when he saw the little girl from the apple tree. She was skinny with mousy brown hair and unblinking blue eyes. Her navy blue dress was threadbare, her little boots down-at-heel. She didn't look remotely like Pearl, more like some street urchin from The Rocks.

Sister Mary Bridget's voice was firm but not unkind when she ordered the child to speak only when spoken to and remember her manners. The child made Jake a hasty curtsy.

‘What's your name, girlie?' he asked.

‘Gianna di Felice,' she whispered.

‘Pretty name. My name's Jake Andersen. Have you ever seen me before?'

She shook her head and turned to the nun. ‘Have I done something wrong, Sister?'

‘No. Just answer the questions, Gianna.'

Jake wanted to prompt the girl but he knew he'd be kicked out if he asked leading questions.

‘What's your mama's name? What does she look like?'

She looked embarrassed. ‘I forget. But Mama brought me here in a carriage with a man. I remember she wore pretty dresses. She told me they were going away but she'd come back for me before Christmas. She never did.'

Jake stalled for time, trying to recall some memory that would prove the truth one way or another.

The child took a step closer. ‘I was in the apple tree. I saw the gardeners being mean to you. You said you were looking for Jenny Pearl Andersen. Is she lost? I don't know her.'

Sister Mary Bridget rose from her chair. ‘I think you have all the proof you need, Mr Andersen. Gianna di Felice has told you who she is.'

Jake held up his hand determined to stay her. ‘One more question.' He smiled at the girl and knelt down on one knee to draw level with her eyes.

‘When I was a little boy the very first thing I can remember is sitting on my pa's knee, eating a sticky lolly. Tell me, girlie. What's the first thing
you
remember?'

She did not hesitate. ‘A nice man gave me a white puppy that rubbed its cold nose in my face. Do you know what happened to my puppy, Flash?' Her eyes suddenly widened. ‘I remember the man had red hair that went yellow in the sun. Just like yours. Are
you
my papa, Mister?'

Then she did something Jake remembered Pearl had done as a toddler. Her mouth formed a small ‘o' as she reverently tucked a long strand of his hair behind his ear.

She cocked her head to one side. ‘I remember you. Do you remember me?'

That simple question broke his heart. The little princess whose memory he had carried in his heart for years had died inside him. In her place was this funny little girl who looked like a rag doll with popping eyes and a flat face. Jake felt his eyes stinging, but there were no tears. All those lost years that could never be reclaimed – thanks to Jenny. He forced himself to lie.

‘Hey, I'd know my little princess anywhere!'

Jake turned to the nun and his voice cracked. ‘How much proof do you want, Sister?'

Although Sister Mary Bridget continued to question the child, Jake sensed the battle was going his way. He listened as the nun explained to Pearl her real father had been searching for her for years. Her mother had gone away but had sent a letter giving him permission to see her.

Jake felt utterly empty. He knew he was supposed to do something, say something important, but what? How in hell could he bridge the barrier of lost years between them? The lump in his throat felt large enough to choke him.