Golden Hope (61 page)

‘He's covered in measles, Sir, something awful,' Paddy said helpfully.

‘In that case he is duly discharged from giving evidence. Please describe for the record what occurred in the cemetery.'

‘Me and my cousin was walking past the cemetery after school. He had begun to break out in spots on his face and wanted to go home. But I had my sling-shot and was on the look-out for birds to hit, when I spotted a woman swinging from a tree. There was no one else around. We ran up to see who she was. Her eyes were popping and she was all purple and –'

‘That will do, Patrick. You then ran to inform Sergeant Mangles, did you not?'

‘Yes, Sir. Is there a reward, Sir?'

‘No reward for calling the police, Patrick. That is your civic duty. But perhaps if your information should lead to the conviction of a
murderer,
the government might see their way to giving you some small compensation.'

‘Thank you, Sir!'

‘Did you notice anyone else at the time you were engaged in “shooting” birds with your slingshot?'

‘Not in the cemetery. But I seen Duffer Tibbut driving away in the pony trap he uses to deliver errands for Sister Bracken – or used to before she snuffed it.'

‘Duffer Tibbut? Is that his given name?'

Sergeant Mangles interjected, pink in the face. ‘The boys made no mention of sighting Donald Tibbut, Sir.'

‘I see. In that case it is important to speak to Donald Tibbut. Would you please arrange to escort this witness here immediately to give evidence – wherever he may be.'

‘I'm
here,
Sir!' a voice called out from the back of the hall.

Tibbut was called forth to give evidence.

Clytie remembered him from her stay at the Bush Hospital. A pleasant lad of indeterminate age, tall and lumbering, who was slow in speech but always keen to do whatever bidding Sister Bracken assigned him. His shaven head revealed several white scars on the scalp. Although eager to help he did not seem to understand the concept of taking an oath. Twyman decided not to press the matter.

Tibbut answered all questions slowly in careful monosyllables, all the while hugging a large paper bag to his chest. He agreed that he had worked at the hospital for Sister Bracken for several years, in exchange for free bed and board. He delivered parcels, collected her mail, tended the hospital's kitchen garden and collected the eggs from the hen house.

When asked when was the last occasion he had seen Sister Bracken, he thought the question over carefully.

‘When she was alive? She's gone to heaven now, aint' she?'

‘Certainly. When she was alive, Donald.'

‘At the hospital. Yesterday. When the lady came to see her.'

‘What lady was that, Donald?'

‘I don't know her. I'll get into trouble.'

‘No, you won't, Donald. You can tell me.' The Coroner beckoned the boy to approach him. ‘Is that lady here today?'

‘I can't say!' the lad said anxiously and began to cry. ‘I only came here to bring this back. I never stole nothing. Never.'

He handed the parcel to the Coroner. It contained a woman's shoe.

‘This is Sister Bracken's shoe, is it not? Good. You did right to bring it to me, Donald. Where did you find it?'

‘On the road. After Sister was gone. She said she was going to see the angels.'

There was a gasp of horror and a woman's voice cried out, ‘Holy Mother of God!'

Twyman looked disconcerted and abruptly changed the subject. ‘Think carefully, Donald. You said a lady visited Sister Bracken. Presumably this was the last person to see her alive. You won't get into trouble if you tell me what transpired between them.'

The youth looked blank.

‘That is, did you hear what they said?'

‘The window was open. They was shouting. Sister said, “Rom Delaney won't leave me in peace.” The lady said, “Neither will I!” The lady made Sister write the letter.'

Clytie flinched at the mention of her lover's name. ‘Finch, she had seen Rom! Why on earth would he be hounding her?'

‘Just listen,' Finch replied. ‘I'll explain later.'

Twyman pressed on. ‘What happened to that letter, Donald?'

‘The lady gave me this.' He produced a shiny silver florin from his pocket and showed it to Twyman. ‘She said to give the letter to Mr Sonny Jantzen and no one else. So I drove the cart to his house. The Missus there said Mister Jantzen was ill – she would give him the letter later.'

From the rear of the hall Clytie saw all heads turn to focus on the Jantzens in the front row. Sonny appeared agitated, as if questioning Noni.

Twyman pressed on. ‘What happened when you returned to the hospital?'

‘Sister and the lady – they was both gone.'

‘Thank you, Donald, you have been most helpful. No one will be cross if you tell me. Have you ever seen this lady before?'

‘Yeah. She gave me money another time to take a message for her.'

‘Do you know her name? No? Then can you describe her? What – does – she – look – like?' he asked with a sigh.

‘She had a flash hat. And she must have a sore foot.'

‘A sore foot? What makes you say that?'

‘She had a funny boot. And she walked like this.' He limped a couple of steps forward.

There were gasps from the spectators. Clytie met Finch's eyes. There was no doubting the child-like description was of Adelaide Hundey. The lad looked at the Jantzens and Doc seated in the front row then assured them nervously, ‘I didn't say nothing.'

Clytie leapt to her feet when she saw Sonny Jantzen towing an
unwilling Noni down the aisle to the exit, his face white with anger. Finch nudged her to look across to where Doc sat holding his head in his hands.

Coroner Twyman wasted no time. ‘This inquest is adjourned until three o'clock. Sergeant Mangles, I am instructing you to bring Miss Adelaide Hundey here to give evidence. No excuses by Dr Hundey for his sister's ill health are acceptable to me. Do I make myself quite clear?'

Doc and the police sergeant exchanged a long meaningful glance. Finally, at a nod of acceptance from Doc, Mangles rose and accompanied his friend from the hall. Twyman's final triumphant comment caused them both to halt at the exit.

‘In the interests of justice there must be no interference or prompting of Miss Hundey's evidence by her brother. To this end, Sergeant, you will kindly ensure that Doctor Hundey is placed under house arrest until I – that is, the jury and I – deliver our verdict.'

For a brief moment the spectators were speechless. Then angry voices shouted back at the Coroner.

‘That's outrageous, Twyman!'

‘You can't treat Doc like a common criminal!'

‘Who do you think you are? Ruddy Prime Minister Edmund Barton?'

As a score of men made a rush at him, Twyman hurriedly vacated the stage.

•  •  •

The adjournment until three o'clock left several hours to fill in before Twyman could deliver the verdict that Finch had no doubt was already concrete in his mind.

Finch took charge and steered Clytie outside into the blazing noonday sun.

‘You're as white as a sheet. Come, I'll take you home. You must eat.'

‘Eat? Are you crazy?'

Clytie grabbed hold of his arm and tried to block him with her body. Enraged, she gripped hold of his lapels and shook him, her face inches from his face. Her voice spiralled out of control.

‘I'm not budging an inch until you tell me the truth. Why is Rom involved in all this? And Doc and Adelaide? Why were they hounding Bracken? What are you all hiding from me?'

Finch was white in the face, unable to give her the answers she demanded. Clytie screamed at the top of her lungs and clawed his face. Aware her fingernails had drawn blood, she continued to pummel him. He pinioned her arms by her side.

‘I only know
half
of it. You've had enough pain for one lifetime. Rom – none of us – wanted to risk giving you more grief until we had proof positive. From Bracken herself.'

‘Of
what
? God damn you, Finch, I have a right to know.'

‘You're right. There's no stopping it now. Today is the acid test for Doc and Adelaide – and this whole town.'

‘I don't care what they've done. I am their friend!'

‘Amen to that,' Finch said. ‘All right, follow me!'

He stalked ahead of her along the path that led up the hill. Clytie picked up her skirts and ran after him, confused by the realisation they were headed for the place where Sister Bracken's life had ended only the day before. She felt sickened by the sight of the ragged end of the rope that remained tied around the bough of the death tree. The remembered image of the corpse flashed before her eyes in all its brutal, lurid detail.

Finch halted in front of little Robert Hart's headstone.

‘There's no way to break it gently, Clytie. Sister Bracken must have chosen to die in this exact place – a symbol of the guilt she couldn't bear to live with.'

‘Guilt? Why? My baby died of natural causes. She didn't kill him – oh my God, you mean she did?'

‘No. I don't doubt she did her best to revive the babe who died. The truth is, Clytie, the baby buried here may not be yours.'

‘Not
mine?
What are you saying?'

‘We all believe he was Noni Jantzen's son. And that Sister Bracken's shame is that she switched their dead infant with yours.'

‘Switched them? Why?'

‘Perhaps in the belief that she was saving little Robert from the lifelong stigma of illegitimacy – that she herself had suffered as a child. It was probably a spur of the moment decision, one that at the same time meant Sonny still had the son he badly wanted.'

Clytie felt the ground rock beneath her feet as she staggered towards him. ‘Do you mean my baby is alive? That little Max Jantzen is really . . .?'

‘Robert Hart,' he said softly. ‘But there's no proof – yet.'

Clytie's cry sounded like the howl of a wounded animal. She lashed out at Finch, flaying her arms, blindly trying to release the overwhelming mass of grief, anger, revenge – horrified that a woman had abused her power to rob her of her child.

Sinking to her knees she beat her fists against the stony path, as if physical pain could release the anguish that choked her.

Finch sat limp, propped against the foot of a tombstone. His eyes were dead, drained of all expression.

For Clytie, time was splintered in fragments of past and present, a crazy, broken mosaic . . .

Clytie was once again in the long dark tunnel of despair, unable to cry, placing fresh flowers again and again on the child's grave . . . unable to pray, unable to forgive The Creator of All Things . . .

. . . she looked down at the kitchen knife in her hand, its blade dark with her own blood seeping from the deep cut on her wrist . . . saw Doc wrapping the bandage around her wrist . . .

‘This is no way out, Clytie. This is a dead end. Rom needs you to stay alive.'

. . . the false, empty smile that she fixed to her face each day to make people believe she was strong, unsinkable, when in fact she was a hollow shell . . .

. . . writing letters to Rom that flew across the ocean into oblivion . . . letters with no answers from him . . . no response to the knowledge she was pregnant . . . her lies about the baby's progress . . . keeping him alive for Rom . . . Rom!

The black irony brought her back to the present.

I might have ended my life never knowing my baby was alive.

She gradually became aware of the sounds around her, the twittering of bush birds, the snuffling sound of Shadow crouched in the shadows. She saw Finch's hands as he reached out to hold her, rocking her in his arms, repeating the kind of soft, soothing words that fathers say to their injured children.

‘Hush, girl. There there, let it all out. I promise you, Clytie, we'll get your baby back some day. I don't know how or when. But we'll all fight this together.'

She shook her head. No false hope.

‘No! Noni will never give him up!' She looked up at Finch, cold with horror. ‘I believe she knew all the time. How could she do this to me? What did I ever do to harm her? Was it something to do with Rom?'

‘Hush. We don't know the whole truth yet.'

She was driven by a sudden impulse. ‘I'll go to Sonny and tell him!'

‘Wait! Not yet!' He drew her to her feet, whipped off his neckerchief and dried the tears that had unknowingly streamed down her face. ‘Right now we must stand by Doc and Adelaide. They need us! For weeks they've been pressuring Bracken to confess her guilt. You can see how Twyman is twisting the truth, trying to frame them for her murder. We can't let them down!'

Clytie nodded blindly and accepted Finch's arm as they made their way back to the hall. She could not prevent herself from glancing back at the tombstone engraved with Robert Hart's name.

‘For a whole year I put flowers on another child's grave. All the time my baby was only a few miles away – growing up to be a rich man's son. Maxie is so beautiful. They'll never let him go!' She added bitterly, ‘You know what lawyers say, possession is nine-tenths of the law.'

The blood from her fingernails had dried on Finch's face. He brushed her hand aside. He had no easy answers.

‘One step at a time, Clytie. First we must go back and fight to save Doc. Without him we have no case.'

‘This inquest is an insult to any nation's idea of justice,' Finch said as he ushered Clytie inside the hall. He didn't care who heard him. ‘This is nothing but a kangaroo court!'

Several men turned their heads to identify him.

Proceedings resumed exactly to the minute following the adjournment. There was standing room only. Clearly the entire population of Hoffnung had vacated homes, shops and farms, and the Golden Hope mine itself, determined to hear the verdict at first hand.