Lessons In Loving (19 page)

Next morning she woke fresh, purposeful. Forgetting was not going to happen while she tarried at Kenilworth. She left the study, reminding herself to collect her books and notes later. For the moment, she could spend her last hours in the old mansion, simply enjoying it. It was permissible to remember Kenilworth, but not its owner.

She walked through the garden. In her absence, flowers had blossomed—carnations, pansies, climbing roses. Tom's homesick mother would have asked the gardeners to plant those flowers. Every year since, they'd have burst into bloom again, reminding Tom of the woman who'd given birth to him, then died, leaving him alone in a cold uncaring world.

As she walked the halls of the Big House, Kate fought memories again. The music room stood silent. The sleek wooden panels of the grand piano had gathered dust. For a moment, she saw Tom sitting at the keyboard, thundering out classic Beethoven in the early morning, with a strange, fraught expression on his face. What had happened to him that morning? Was the piano his way of recalling the deepest parts of his mother's love? In years to come Kate would smile at the memory of the country lad, tall, broad-shouldered, monosyllabic, losing himself in classical music as he sat naked at the keyboard of that polished grand piano.

As the evening chill flowed over the landscape, Kate headed for the verandah. A horse's neigh broke the silence. She imagined Tom slipping out of the saddle, leading the horse to the stable. Over many an evening she'd sat in this very chair waiting for him to come up to the house. And always, she'd enjoyed the little heart-flutter of happiness that came with knowing he was back safe from the hills. Then, perhaps as they took their glass of Madeira on the verandah, they would watch the night drape its cloak of darkness over the hills.

During the long train journey from Sydney to Armidale, she had time to recall her moments in the dark of the summerhouse at the Blackheath weekend cottage. Her skin prickled as she relived the touch of Tom's hot, questing hands, remembered the sensations sizzling through her body in the steamy dark. Why had he signalled to her from his balcony in the middle of the night? What had he been thinking? What could it mean? Why had her body responded like a fluttering butterfly wherever his hands touched it? Why had she let go of every last one of the inhibitions she'd stitched around herself all through the months, day and night, when they'd worked side by side? That night, both had known well enough that he was about to arrange his marriage to Laetitia.

Along with the other memories she'd ordered herself to erase, Kate must kill those wayward thoughts. To let them stay would keep her bleeding with hopeless longing, re-opening old wounds that would never heal. Again, she mouthed the mantra she'd repeated many times since she'd watched Tom running beside the train at Blackheath station on that sad morning. Forget him. Forget him. Forget him.

She walked round the garden to the back door to say a last goodbye to the old house. A pair of Tom's muddy boots caught her eye. She could almost hear him padding down the hall to the study in his socks, eager to take his afternoon lesson. Now, as she left the Big House for the last time, she must come to grips with cold reality. She would never see Tom again. Forget him, she ordered herself for the millionth time. She shouldered her rucksack and stood at the bottom of the staircase for a last glimpse of the purple haze blurring the horizon.

Now she must face another reality. Where to from here? First, she must drive to Croydon Creek to collect her pay from Rob Carter, Tom's manager. He'd likely be extremely curious about the outcome of Tom's Sydney visit.

***

‘A cup of tea, perhaps?' Sally Carter asked as Kate sat in the office in sleepy Croydon Creek in the rising heat of the morning.

‘Yes, please.' Kate was desperate for tea.

‘I made some sandwiches.' Sally smiled. ‘Do you have time to join us for lunch before you catch the coach to Armidale?'

‘Indeed. I have all the time in the world.'

‘Really? We thought you'd want to dash back to Sydney.'

‘I prefer to move more slowly nowadays.'

‘Oh dear. You must have caught that disease at Kenilworth?'

‘Perhaps. I've decided to let fate rule for a while. I'm not exactly desperate for a job.'

She thought of the respectable handful of sovereigns nestling in her handbag since Rob had paid her—more than enough for the passage to Perth if a certain letter should arrive from Western Australia. Rob joined Kate at the table while Sally set it for lunch.

‘Tell me all, Kate,' Rob said, clearly dying to hear the latest about his employer's courtship.

‘Mmm. I'd say it won't be long before Croydon Creek meets the new Mrs Fortescue.'

‘So soon. A whirlwind courtship, then?'

‘Apparently.'

‘I always thought Tom was a man who took his own sweet time.'

‘You haven't met Laetitia.'

‘I imagine there'll be a big country wedding in the family mansion in deepest Hampshire. Photographs in all the local newspapers.'

‘You're probably right.' As Kate's mind took in the picture Rob had sketched, she felt the old familiar bite in her throat. This was definitely not a time for tears.

‘It seems you delivered according to the letter of your contract, Kate,' Rob said. ‘But what of you? Now that you've finished your task?'

Kate bit her tongue. She mustn't voice the thoughts that had burned in her brain all through the long train journey from Sydney. No, she must transport herself as far away as possible from Kenilworth, physically, mentally and emotionally. Forgetting Tom remained her first concern. And on no account must Tom ever discover where she had gone. She'd be cautious about any details she passed on to Rob.

‘Oh, I don't know. Another teacher job, I expect.' She sipped her tea, put down her cup slowly, carefully. ‘I'll take the train back to Sydney. See what fate has in store when I arrive.'

***

Kate knocked at the door of her mother's tiny cottage. Her mother greeted her with a loving hug as she stepped inside.

‘Now I suppose you must wait patiently for an answer to your letter, my dear. That could be a couple of weeks or more, even with the new railway lines and the fast steamers going to and fro all the time.'

Each morning, Kate sat waiting for the postman's knock and the plop of an envelope on the hallway floor, ordering herself not to bite her nails. Then one rainy morning, it happened. She scooped up the brown envelope, ripped it open.

She'd won an interview for an English teacher position at Granite Ridge, one of the new booming gold towns a few miles from Kalgoorlie, hub of the region the whole world had lately recognised as awash with gold.

‘Given the teacher shortages all across the goldfields, Kate,' her mother said, ‘they'll give you the job if you can spell the word English more or less recognisably.' She smiled at her daughter. ‘So much has happened since those goldfields were discovered some ten years ago. These days, they're called the Eastern Goldfields. And money! My goodness, the mining companies are buried in it—throwing gold into building railway lines, towns, roads, shops, schools, even gambling saloons and restaurants.' She laid her hands on her daughter's shoulders as she sat clutching the letter.

‘And all to attract miners to dig the gold for them. Those miners, along with their families, tend to head for the towns owned by the highest bidders. And so, Miss Kate, I'm quite sure you'll be welcomed with wide open arms—grabbed, more likely, and tied to your teacher's desk with pink ribbons.'

‘I'm so sorry to be leaving you, Mother, but—'

‘I understand, my darling child. But I understand as well that at your tender age, you must make a living. And who knows, you might just happen to meet a decent young man …'

Days later, Kate took ship for Perth on the
Western Princess
, a steamer which regularly plied the cities between Sydney and Perth. Then a train journey on the newly built Kalgoorlie line which passed through the village of Granite Ridge a few miles before it reached the gold boom's bustling centre.

If the Granite Ridge station was reasonably civilised, the rest of the dusty mining town was not. Mr Lawson, the local education administrator, met Kate at his office. As he drove her to the school in his sulky, they passed a string of huge sheds, a cluster of shops, an inn pretentiously labelled The Great Eastern Hotel, a mob of stray mongrel dogs—all powdered dull red by the dust that covered everything.

As Mr Lawson had predicted, Kate flew through the interview like a graceful eagle.

‘We surely need someone like you, Kate,' the friendly headmistress said as they shook hands on the contract they'd negotiated. ‘You're young, idealistic, no ties back east. Let me show you to your cottage. It's a five-minute walk from here.' The matronly woman, who would be Kate's superior as of next Monday morning, led her across the schoolyard.

‘The mining companies are so desperate to attract teachers, they've provided free accommodation to bait the hook,' she said. ‘And it's not by any means a tin hut, my dear. It comes with all mod cons, courtesy of the companies. They're making so much money, and they want their miners to stay, to resist the offers they receive from other booming mines on the Eastern Goldfields. So they've assigned generous funds to build the school and entice the teachers to stay. I trust you'll enjoy your life at the Ridge.'

Around five that afternoon, Kate walked to her new home clutching a bag of groceries, a bundle of books, and a set of house keys. As darkness slid down from the hills and blanketed the dusty town, she sat on the back verandah, angled her chair to take in the view, and poured a glass of the Madeira she'd come to enjoy of an evening. She'd found all manner of wines and spirits at the inn.

‘Miners ain't short of a shillin' or two,' the innkeeper told her. ‘And they likes their drinks.'

So Fate had decreed that she put in time as a Granite Ridge woman. The best thing about Granite Ridge was that it was a long way from Kenilworth, and a man called Tom Fortescue—a man she'd spend the rest of her life forgetting. She'd come to this dusty desert town for one reason—to heal. She'd blend with the comings and goings of Granite Ridge, lose herself in her teaching as life flowed by in the untamed rusty-red landscape.

***

From her first morning in the classroom, Kate fell in love with her pupils—a colourful bunch of mine workers' children, hailing from China, Canada, the United States, even Australia. One afternoon, a week after her arrival, the mother of one of the pupils buttonholed Kate.

‘Good afternoon, Miss Courtney. I'm Emily Coleman.' She beamed a wide smile. ‘Welcome to sunny Granite Ridge. You won't be lonely here?'

‘No. I'm very comfortable, thank you, Mrs Coleman.'

‘No man waiting for you back east, Kate?'

‘No,' Kate said as she waved a hand toward the skyline. ‘I'm as free as those eagles hovering over the range.'

‘Women are rather scarce in these parts, Kate. Lots of interesting men are on the lookout for an eligible woman. Or even a not-so-eligible woman.'

‘Indeed. But I'm not really looking.'

‘Why ever not? You're young, pretty. And the single men round these parts—mostly young, good-looking, and very well paid. Engineers and such. And all seem to be set on searching for the girl of their dreams.'

‘One of these days, perhaps. I'm in no hurry.'

‘Ah. If I were to guess, I'd say you came here to heal from a broken heart.'

‘Well, yes.' If Mrs Coleman asked for details, Kate would think of a polite lie. But the kindly woman ignored her silence.

‘Let me remind you,' Mrs Coleman said, ‘if you can't be with the one you love—you know the rest.'

‘Thank you, but I'm most certainly perfectly happy in my own company.'

‘Very well. But if ever you change your mind, don't hesitate to give Aunt Emily a nod.'

‘Thank you, Aunt Emily. If ever I change my mind, you'll be the first to know.'

CHAPTER 15

The man ahead of Kate in the waiting line at the grocer's shop kept turning to look at her, beaming a friendly smile each time their eyes met. When he headed for the street as she stepped up to the counter with her shopping bag, she allowed herself a sigh of relief. She definitely was not ready for such a blatant approach. As she stepped outside, her hands full of heavy bags, he stood waiting near the stables, looking exactly like one of the men Emily Coleman had mentioned.

‘You must be Miss Courtney,' he said, his smile a yard wide.

‘Indeed I am.' Now Kate could take a proper look at the man. He stood tall, trim. He was clean-shaven—unusual for a man in these parts. His blue eyes never faltered as he held his gaze. A swathe of light brown wavy hair fell across his forehead, and his clothes looked as if they were fresh from the washerwoman. Also most unusual. How did he know her name? He was likely too young to have a child at school.

‘I'm Darcy Forbes,' he said. ‘Chief engineer at Northern Consolidated.'

A brilliant opening line, Kate thought, biting back a smile. Northern Consolidated was the biggest mine in the region. Darcy was very young to be holding down a senior job there. As she mulled over what to say next, he stepped into the breach. He held out a hand. She shook it, trying not to compare its feel with Tom's.

‘Emily Coleman told me about you,' he said. ‘Bruce Coleman—that's Emily's husband—we work together.' He paused. ‘They had me to dinner last weekend. Emily said you were new in town. Didn't know many people. Suggested we should meet up. Suggested I should take you for a cup of tea one weekend. Soon.'

‘Mmm,' Kate murmured. ‘One of the best lines I've heard this year. I'd give you eight out of ten for it.' Now she could let her smile out of its box.