The Tunnels of Tarcoola (17 page)

‘And Oskar?' asked Kitty in a small voice. ‘What happened to Oskar?'

‘I'm sorry, Kitty. One little boy, in the ghetto . . . '

‘Does it say anything more about him in any of the letters?'

‘There is only one veiled reference. It says something like “Oskar has been taken.” '

‘Is that good?'

‘No, I can't imagine that's good. I don't think Josef's friend could bring himself to give more details. You don't want me to tell you what they did with small children, now, do you?'

Kitty, Martin and Andrea were wide-eyed, but they all nodded. David shifted uncomfortably. He had heard all this before.

‘Well, they rounded them up from time to time and took them away, in trucks or trains. Away from their parents. They took small children, old people, the weak, the sick – anyone who was not useful. They were never seen again. I don't want to say any more than that.'

Kitty's mother hugged her tight.

‘But anyway,' said Paul O'Brien, ‘all this proves that Clarissa Gordon is the surviving Mrs Woolf, and she really owns Tarcoola?'

‘Absolutely,' said Moshe, as the other adults nodded and murmured assent.

‘I can sort of understand why Josef couldn't bring himself to tell her the story and left her these papers instead,' said Kitty's mother, ‘but why didn't he make sure she understood how important they were, and tell her she must show them to someone after he died?'

‘Well, he probably never imagined that Myrtle would ever show up and make trouble. But then Clarissa had a stroke of bad luck.'

He reached over to the sideboard and produced a printout, a facsimile of a newspaper article.

‘I went through the newspapers at the State Library with, I must say, infinite patience. I found this small article from 1946. The tone is rather unpleasant so I'll just summarise. Apparently Clarissa was kind enough to put on little garden parties for American servicemen stationed here after they entered the war. One of them happened to be Myrtle's cousin. He eventually made his way home to some desolate mid-west town, described the experience in detail and told the story of the mysterious Mr Woolf and his suicide. So word reached Myrtle's ears.

‘Now I think that, being a bit of a gold-digger and being in possession of her own copy of the sham marriage certificate, Myrtle decided to descend on Australia and claim to be the real Mrs Woolf. It worked like a dream. It's a great pity Josef hadn't told Clarissa that the papers in the box would help her in such a circumstance.'

‘Poor Miss Gordon,' said Kitty. ‘Mrs Woolf took everything she had. She didn't want her to take the box too, so all she could think to do was to keep it hidden.'

Moshe sighed heavily. ‘Josef knew there were bad times coming. But even he never imagined how bad it was going to be. They must have all thought the war would finish, and everyone would go home, and everything would just go back to the way it was before.'

‘Come on, Papa,' said his daughter, putting an arm around him. ‘We've done something good here today.'

‘We certainly have!' He beamed around the room. ‘Let's you and I get all this paperwork processed, then we'll give Buckingham the good news. Then Kitty, you can give Clarissa her treasure back.'

Kitty nodded happily.

‘I have put the word out about Oskar,' Moshe went on gently. ‘I still have quite a network of friends – my parents' friends really – all over the world, and there are organisations that trace people from the ghettos and the camps. Sooner or later we'll find out what happened to him.'

‘What are you going to do about the solicitor's letter? From Harold Buckingham?' asked Kitty's mother.

‘Oh, Linda's drafting the sweetest reply, informing them that the documents don't belong to him. She'll include relevant photocopies. Wouldn't you love to see Buckingham's face?'

Cleaning up afterwards, David said to his grandfather, ‘Those men really were going to kill us.'

‘For what it's worth,' said Moshe, ‘Josef Woolf would have believed you. He understood that there's evil in the world.'

MARTIN
picked up the phone in the hall. It was Samantha.

‘I don't suppose I should be calling you,' she said meekly.

‘Well . . . you know . . . '

‘Only, that day we talked . . . later on that day my dad got really, really mad, and he's been really, really mad pretty much ever since. So I wondered if maybe something happened.'

‘Why don't you ask him?'

‘You're kidding, right?'

There was a silence.

‘Well—'

‘I—'

‘No, you go first.'

‘Since you ask,' Martin said stiffly, ‘it was good that you called me that day. Whatever those men were going to—'

‘Martin, I don't want to know any details, okay? Just that everything turned out all right.'

‘Oh. Yeah, everything turned out fine for us. And thanks for warning me.'

‘I'm glad I did.'

‘So your dad's upset?'

‘Spewing.' She gave a little giggle. ‘He fired those men. He says New Zealanders are useless. He's got new security guys now, and they don't speak English. He just yells louder, and wonders why they still don't understand what he's saying.'

There was another silence. Then she spoke in a low voice.

‘I don't suppose you'll ever want to speak to me again.'

‘Well, you know – after that . . . '

‘I understand, I really do. I just . . . I just wish I knew before all this . . . I really like you, you know? I wish we could have just met, and had coffee . . . '

‘That was good,' he admitted. ‘I liked that café.'

‘Did you really?'

Martin took the plunge. ‘I couldn't do that dance thing, but we could go to the café again, if you're up for it.'

‘Sure!'

‘Only this time I'll call you, okay?'

‘Sure, Marty. Any time.'

CLUTCHING
the box, Kitty bounded upstairs, tapped lightly on the door and slipped into the room.

‘Hello! I've brought you something. Oh!'

Miss Gordon was sitting in her chair by the window, her soft white hair haloed with light. Her face lit up with a radiant smile.

‘Kitty! Look who's here. ‘

A man was in the room. She hadn't noticed him at first because he was standing by the door, arranging some flowers in a vase on a small cupboard. He was a bit older than Moshe, bright-eyed, alert and well-dressed. He stepped forward and held out a hand.

‘Sorry to startle you.' He had a deep, pleasant voice and an American accent. ‘I'm Clarissa's stepson, Oskar Freudenthal. I believe I have a lot to thank you for.'

‘HIS
mother smuggled him out of the ghetto in the early days,' Kitty explained to the others. They were sitting in the grass at the tip of the park, enjoying a sea breeze at the end of a sweltering day.

‘Remember that letter that said “Oskar has been taken?” That's what it meant, but they couldn't say it outright in case the wrong people saw it. A Polish family took him in and pretended he was theirs. All they knew was his real name and that his parents were trying to get to America. After the war, when he was old enough, he migrated there himself. He spent his whole life searching, but he couldn't find them. Remember Moshe said there were organisations that trace people? Oskar was in touch with all of them, but he was looking for Freudenthals in America. He'd never even heard the name Woolf. Then Moshe's message went up on some bulletin board, and he saw it!'

‘So how does Miss Gordon feel?' asked Andrea. She and David were leaning against each other, back to back.

‘She's come alive. She's got a family now. It turns out Oskar comes to Australia quite often. His daughter lives in Sydney, and there are grandchildren. They're all going to visit her.'

‘What's going to happen to the house?' asked Martin.

‘Oskar said they'll fix it up eventually, starting with the garden. He's really interested in finding out what Mr Woolf wanted done with it.'

‘Can we meet him?' asked Andrea.

‘Yes, he wants us to show him the garden, and the little boy of course, and everything else. He's suggested we have a picnic there. I thought on the grass, in front of the lady? He's going to bring Miss Gordon! She can't walk that far, but they have wheelchairs at the home, so he'll borrow one of those. I think we'd better invite your grandfather, David.'

‘We wouldn't be able to keep him away.'

‘Miss Gordon's going to get dressed up, and she'll be wearing her special necklace. She was so happy to see it again. Mr Woolf gave it to her on their wedding day, and she didn't even know there was anything else in the box.'

‘Well, we'll all get dressed up too,' said Andrea. ‘This will be a party to celebrate Miss Gordon's new life, okay?'

‘Great,' said David. ‘We'll bring the food.'

‘Am I invited?' asked Martin sheepishly.

‘Hey, bring your girlfriend!' said David. Both girls raised their eyebrows. ‘She is a direct descendant of the wicked Myrtle,' he reminded them. ‘She can do a sort of apology.'

‘No way!' cried Andrea, throwing grass at him. His protests were lost in a flurry of arms and legs, screams of laughter and flying grass as the sky turned from violet to pale green and lights flicked on, reaching across the darkening water.