The Postcard (35 page)

What she needed now was a stiff drink to soothe her anxiety. She walked across to the hotel but the bar was closed so she lay on her bed thinking that those meagre clues were a thin thread to
string her hopes on. But she’d not come all this way to be defeated.

Later that evening, she walked into the bar, flinching to see the men clutching their beers staring at her as if she were from another planet. An unshaven man in dungarees staggered up to
her.

‘I hear you’ve been asking after my wife.’ She could feel the anger in his voice as he eyed her up and down. The jungle drums had been beating fast. ‘I know who you
are.’

‘And I know who you are, too, Mr Kane, and what must have made Jessie runaway with my son on Christmas Day.’

‘Louie’s your son?’ He stepped back, looking to his mates for support. ‘What sort of mother leaves her son in the hands of that whore?’

All her training flared into the instinct to punch him where it hurt, but she drew breath and said loudly, ‘One who was captured by Nazis and held in a concentration camp, Mr Kane. Who
couldn’t make it home in time, like so many of your prisoners of war.’ The bar fell silent at her outburst. Everyone was listening. Callie had not spoken of her experience to anyone but
she wanted to fell this man at one swoop. He was a bully who needed flattening. ‘And if I hear from my son that you harmed him in any way . . . Watch out. I know where you live and, believe
me, I was trained to kill, so you’d better tell me what you know about where they’ve gone.’ The steely look in her eye had its effect, but Kane was not about to lose face.

‘Where do you think, missus?’ he smirked. ‘To her fancy man in Adelaide, and good riddance to another whingeing pom.’ He turned his back on her in triumph and swaggered
to the other side of the room but no one moved with him.

‘Thank you, that’s all I needed to know,’ Callie called after him in defiance. She turned to the barman. ‘I need something to take the smell of that rat away . .
.’

Desmond sat at the dining table in Maitland Avenue, looking across at Big Jim in admiration. He couldn’t believe he’d made his dream come true. They were sitting
down for lunch with a white cloth and flowers on the table, with plates of lamb and roast potatoes, in a room with magic carpet rugs and pictures on the wall. Now they were sleeping in a bedroom
with pretty curtains and with no smells of sheep and dirt. The Boyd house was a palace made of brick, not wood, with big windows and a garden to play in. It was like being in heaven after that tin
shack in Ruby Creek. Jess was smiling at everyone and telling Jim’s parents how kind Jim had been on board ship.

Jessie was nervous when they’d knocked on the door but old Mrs Boyd asked them inside and called her son at his workplace on the telephone. ‘It’s the little Scottish boy who
sent you the card from the Outback and his mom . . .’

Jim came rushing back to greet them. ‘I read your note and was coming to visit you after Christmas, but you beat me to it. You can stay with my parents until you get sorted.’ He was
looking at Jessie and smiling. ‘I think yer mom needs a rest, by the look of her.’ They went into another room to talk.

Des liked it when people called Jess his mom. All he could think of now was being safe from Uncle Bob, safe from being knocked around, safe in a town with proper shops and streets with parks
everywhere.

‘I’m going to look for work,’ Jessie warned. ‘And you’ll have to go to school.’ Des couldn’t think of anything better. ‘And we can’t stay
here. It’s not proper, so don’t expect anything fancy like this. It’ll be two rooms for us.’

‘I don’t mind,’ he said. Anything was paradise after Ruby Creek. However, he had some secret plans. He knew Big Jim liked Jessie and she liked him. If they stayed here long
enough, then they might get together and be one family.

Jim took Desmond to his building supply depot and he stared up at the great bays of sacks of concrete and sand, and stacks of timber. There were trucks for lifting sacks, special tools and
buckets, machinery parked in rows. Cats were darting everywhere. He ran to try to play with them.

‘Watch out or they’ll bite. They keep the vermin down. All this material is helping building new homes for the soldiers coming home from the war and settling down. Do you like
it?’

Des smiled up at him in awe. If Jim hadn’t given him his address and he hadn’t sent the Christmas card, what then? Now all the dark clouds had melted into sunshine and he could feel
the warmth all over him.

Finding the Boyds in Adelaide wasn’t too difficult. It was a good Scottish surname and there were plenty listed in the telephone directory in alphabetical order. But it
was too hot to visit each one on foot, so Callie decided to sit down and ring round until she found the right family. The man in the hotel desk was helpful, but as she went from one name to the
next, it was beginning to look hopeless. ‘Keep going,’ he encouraged, offering to do some himself for her. They listed all those from whom there’d been no reply and just when
Callie was starting to feel despondent she struck lucky.

‘I’m looking for a Mrs Jessie Kane and Desmond Lloyd-Jones travelling with her from Ruby Creek to see a Mr Boyd. Have you had any one of that name call recently?’ she asked the
woman who had answered the telephone.

There was a pause. ‘Who’s that speaking?’

‘This is Mrs Caroline Jones, Desmond’s mother.’ Callie was trembling.

‘I’m sorry, we’ve no Desmond Jones here,’ came the answer, but there was something about her hesitation that made Callie persist.

‘His full name is Desmond Louis . . . It’s just possible you might know him as—’

‘Oh, you mean, Louie.’

‘You know him? He and Jessie, they are with you?’ Her voice was rising in excitement.

‘Not exactly, but I think you’d better explain yourself, Mrs Jones.’ The voice was more cautious now. Callie began her story but soon the woman interrupted. ‘We can take
this matter further in person at our address in Maitland Avenue, perhaps after tea? I presume you have proof of your connections . . .’

‘Oh, yes!’ Callie staggered with relief, still holding the ear piece in her hand.

‘Are you OK?’ The man at the desk rushed over, seeing her swaying. ‘Bad news?’

‘No, I think I’ve found them in Maitland Avenue. My son’s here in the city. Now all I need is a taxi.’

‘A nice part of town, madam,’ the desk clerk said, but Callie wasn’t listening
.

He’s here and I shall see him soon. I must get changed, look my best, prepare my papers. I can’t believe this is happening.
She could hardly stand still in the lift up to
her room. There was such a lot to do before she made a triumphal appearance at the Boyds’ house.

Des ran all the way from school to the building-supply depot as he always did on a Friday night. He stayed there until Jessie got back from working in the baby nursery and
mothers collected their children. He loved Fridays, the best night of the week, going out to the pictures and then back to their lodgings in Pitcairn Street for a fish supper, with two whole days
of no school to look forward to. Tomorrow, they might go to Elder Park to watch a cricket match while Jessie did their washing. Then he stayed with the Boyds while she and Jim went out alone. He
stayed the night for a barbecue and went to church in the morning, to Sunday school. They all went for a walk in the parks and he sailed his yacht.

When he ran through the gates today, however, Jim’s dad was looking serious. ‘Got to take you home. You’ve got a visitor,’ he said, ushering him into the black saloon car
that was always polished to a sheen for the weekend.

It must be an important visitor for Jim to leave early, and who would come to visit them? Then his heart sank. Bob Kane must have traced them here and come to fetch them back. We’re never
going back there, he thought. They were settled here now. Des liked his school and his mates. He felt himself beginning to tremble all over. He’d tried to block out all those awful times on
the farm but sometimes in the night Bob’s face jumped out to frighten him and he cried out. Jessie came to hug him better. What if Bob brought a policeman and said they had to go back?

‘Who is it?’ he asked Jim’s dad, and his voice came out squeaky.

‘Don’t ask me, just got a call to say come back at once.’

Des cowered back in his seat, dreading the moment when he’d come face to face with his sworn enemy.

Callie stepped out of the taxi on the avenue in the Westbourne Park suburb, admiring the line of gracious bungalows set amongst shrubs and parkland. This looked a prosperous
household. She walked up to the porch, trying to compose herself. How could she bear to see Jessie Dixon with her son, and what was she going to say to him? Oh, just get on with it, she goaded
herself, striding forward to ring the bell.

A woman with iron-grey hair and a bronzed face lined by years of sunshine welcomed her inside. ‘Mrs Jones, come in . . . I’m Mrs Boyd and this is my son, Jim.’ She smiled,
pointing to a tall young man who filled the door frame with his height.

Callie nodded politely as she was led into a large drawing room with huge glass windows with shutters on the outside and a door leading out down a lawn to a wide swimming pool.

‘Can I get you something to drink . . . a shandy?’

‘Just water, thank you.’

‘I’m afraid there’s just the two of us here. My husband will bring the boy later, and Jess is at work. It gives us the chance to talk privately. We’re curious to know
what brought you so far from home.’

‘I thought it would be obvious, Mrs Boyd. I’ve come to collect my son.’ Callie saw them look at each other in surprise.

‘Your son? But we thought Louie’s parents were . . .’ Mrs Boyd hesitated. ‘We thought they’d passed away in the war. That’s why she brought him out with
her.’

‘But as you can see, I’m here, at long last. Desmond was three when I joined up and went overseas, but he’s never been out of my thoughts.’

‘That was a very unusual thing for a mother to do.’ The criticism was implied but Callie stood firm.

‘They were unusual times, as anyone who lived through it will tell you.’ She looked to the son for support. ‘I thought I could be useful to the war effort.’

‘But what’s taken you so long?’

She was ready for this one, explaining about her capture and internment, her sickness and the letter that was mislaid. She said very little about her secret mission abroad.

‘And your husband? Did he not have relatives?’

‘Mr Jones left us to fend for ourselves before the war . . . I have no idea where he is now. That’s of no concern to me. All that matters is that Louie, as you keep calling him,
knows his mother is alive and has come for him. Jessie has no claim on him at all, you must understand that. She was just his nursemaid.’

Jim leaned forward. ‘But I think she has. She’s the only mom he knows.’

Callie shook her head, spilling the water on her dress. ‘Then he’ll have the advantage of having two mothers to spoil him for a while.’ She smiled but they didn’t.

‘I don’t think it’s as easy as you make out,’ Jim continued. He was looking at his watch. ‘They won’t be long now. Would you like a turn in the garden with my
mother so I can prepare Jess for this meeting? She’s not had things easy herself.’

‘As you wish,’ Callie replied, feeling uneasy. She must prepare herself for Jess’s appearance and stand firm in her demand to collect her son, no matter what.

The room was full of grown-ups when Des peered round the door, searching out the dreaded face, but Uncle Bob wasn’t there, only a lady in a blue dress and jacket, with a
hat on, who smiled at him. He smiled back politely. Jess was standing up with Big Jim and his parents were on the sofa, all looking at him.

‘Say hello to Mrs Jones. Do you know who she is?’ Jessie said in a squeaky voice. He smiled again, shaking his head, and held out his hand. He’d never seen this lady
before.

‘Hello, Desmond,’ she said. ‘I haven’t seen you since you were so high.’ She lifted her hand up to a space by the mantelpiece.

He looked to Jessie for reassurance. What was he supposed to say next?

‘Jessie here looked after you for me while I was in the war. When they thought I wasn’t coming back, she kindly brought you with her for a while. Now I’ve come all the way from
Scotland to take you home.’

Des stepped back, not understanding what she was saying, and he saw that Jess was looking sad.

‘Your mother was very ill and couldn’t get back when the war ended so I took you instead. Now she wants you to go and live with her. What do you think, Louie?’ Jess added.

He felt all funny inside. He didn’t know this lady and she was making Jessie cry. So he backed slowly out through the open door and fled upstairs into a bedroom away from all the staring
eyes. Why had that lady called him Desmond? Who was she? Didn’t she know he belonged here? He remembered the ship and Big Jim and the food and dances, but nothing before that. He remembered
bits of Ruby Creek and the poker on his legs but nothing else. He buried his head in his hands to make her go away.

The room fell silent at Desmond’s sudden exit. Callie’s euphoria vanished the instant she saw the blank look on the boy’s face. He had no idea who she was. It
was agony to see him turn to Jess as a child turns to its mother when afraid. He’d grown into a leggy young boy, his curls straightened, lightened by the sun, his skin suntanned. He was a
handsome boy with flashes of Ferrand’s dear features in his face.

Now she sat alone with these strangers lined up in their beautiful home. A strong family sitting side by side was something she’d never known. She felt their strength and bond but she
would not be defeated by numbers. They all left the room so she could talk with Jess and ask for an explanation of how she’d deceived Phoebe. It was obvious she’d made a disastrous
marriage, but how could she of all people judge her for that?

‘It was Louie who rescued us by writing to his shipboard friend. The Boyds have been kindness itself. I’m sorry but I did what was best for Louie at the time. Your mother
couldn’t cope and you were presumed dead. What else could I do? He’s known me all my life, as you knew Marthe, or have you forgotten how you sang her praises to me?’