5 Peppermint Grove (41 page)

Brian was at the front door at seven o’clock sharp and wearing what Ruth now considered his trademark white shirt. She loved how it contrasted with his tan.

Pride swept over her as she introduced her mother to the man with the dark good looks.

“Mum, this is Brian. Brian – my mum, Angela.”

Angela’s first impressions of her daughter’s attractive friend brought a smile to her face.

“Very pleased to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Good to meet you,” he smiled.

The three got into his Jeep and drove the short trip to Fraser’s Restaurant.

Ruth had fond memories of the wonderful picnic she had shared with Brian not too long before. How they had walked through the manicured pathway paved with beautiful palms and the lights of the skyscrapers had started to turn on one by one as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

“My, look at the Anzac memorial!” Angela declared. “You know, I always think of my friend Myra’s Anzac biscuits when I hear that word.”

“I bought Anzac biscuits when I was in Coles not so long ago,” said Ruth. “They are gorgeous – although I did squash them up a bit by mistake!” She grinned over at Brian.

“Well, you never tasted anything like Myra’s. Full of oats and she used to use honey as well as syrup – lovely!”

“My mum used to make Anzac bickies too,” said Brian. “I’d take them to school when I was a kid and swap them for choccy when I could.”

The three entered the spacious foyer of Fraser’s which was built in the round so that the full expanse of the bay could be enjoyed by its patrons. The windows were tall and wherever you sat you could be assured of a good view from your seat. The maitre d’ showed them over to a window seat and they took a menu each to peruse the selection.

“Yum – I’ll have the steak, I think,” Ruth said.

“It’s really good here. Do you see anything that you like, Angela?” asked Brian.

“Oh well, there’s so much choice I don’t know where to start. Maybe I’ll have the chicken.”

Angela was impressed with Brian and she liked his relaxed easy manner. But she would reserve her judgement on him until she had spoken to him some more.

Angela was laughing heartily by the time dessert was served.

“I used to do the late shift when your father came in from work,” she said, nodding towards Ruth. “We’d scrape up the leftovers and bring them home – Kevin loved the chocolate gateaux that we served and sometimes he’d have it for breakfast – of course he wouldn’t remember that now.”

“I’m surprised that you never told me any of this before,” Ruth said with her chin resting on her palm.

“I suppose I swept any memories of my time in
Australia under the carpet – I wasn’t all that keen to remember some of it. But we did have good fun with the other waitresses. Alan Bond – you know, the businessman – came into the restaurant a couple of times but none of us knew that he was going to be such an important figure in Perth. He was very definitely a player.”

“I bet you could tell a story or two alright, Angela. And who owned the restaurant?”

Brian wondered if he might have some memories of it.

“It was owned by Charles Walters – he was a really wealthy man and this restaurant was only a folly – he made his money from shipping,” Angela said in a very matter-of-fact manner.

Ruth’s ears pricked up at the mention of Charles Walters’ name. So it was a business letter after all – written to her boss.  But, why on earth keep a letter for all those years? Like a treasured keepsake next to her diaries?

“He was good to his staff as a rule but only ever came in as a guest,” Angela went on. “He was never involved in the running of the place.”

Brian was putting two and two together and was obviously about to launch into the fact that he was working on his house. But Ruth kicked under the table to silence him.

“Tell us more about him, Mum.”

“Oh, I didn’t know much about him – but he did tell me about his history – he had come from very humble beginnings. His father was English and one of a twin – they played truant often around the streets of Perth at the end of the nineteenth century and they were sent to borstal.”

“Borstal?” Ruth quizzed.

“Yes, an industrial school – like the one in Artane or Letterfrack at home. God-awful places, by all accounts.”

“Like the boys’ reformatory on
Rottnest Island?” Ruth asked.

“That was the place – they used to send boys there – I think it was a prison for Aborigines as well. Terrible thing to do to young lads – it sounded like
Alcatraz to me when I first heard about it back then.”

Ruth was stunned. A link between this Charles Walters and Rottnest!

“Well, Charles credited his success to the fact that his father threatened him with borstal if he didn’t work hard at school and get himself a respectable profession,” Angela went on. “Apparently Charles’s uncle died in a freak accident while he was at the reformatory on Rottnest – I suppose it could have been a good beating or something that did it. Anyway I am sure they don’t keep records of that sort of thing – no more than they recorded half the deaths in the Irish industrial schools.”

“That’s amazing,” Brian said. “I’ve always been fascinated by Rottnest and it is a strangely haunted place.”

Ruth was silenced by the story. Could she have been prompted to delve further into this mystery by the ghost of Charles Walters’ uncle? She’d had such a strange experience there.

“How old was the boy when he died?” Brian asked.

“Oh, I don’t know that sort of detail – I just know that when Charles’s father returned to the mainland he was tormented and driven to become a financially successful man so that his son would never be sent to such a place.”

Ruth was beyond curious now – she was desperate to know why her mother was writing to her boss. How was everything so connected? The fact that she met Brian at Peppermint Grove and then again on Rottnest – it was like they were meant to be there at exactly the same time. And then the letter . . . what was in it and why was her mother telling her all of these facts about her time in
Perth now? When for years she had brooded over diaries and letters and kept all her thoughts to herself?

Angela looked at Ruth. “I suppose being here has me thinking about all the things that happened. Charles was a good man – a product of hard work and dedication. His father’s time spent in the reformatory would have done him good. It’s a pity the same can’t be said for all his family.”

Ruth’s ears pricked up – was Angela going to elaborate even more?

“So,” Angela continued, “Ruth tells me that you are an architect, Brian – do you enjoy it?”

Brian was also curious to know more about Charles Walters but Angela had obviously said enough for one night.

“I love my job – I’ve a partner who is boss of the building side of the business and we generally go around doing rebuilds and large extensions. Mostly on homes – we don’t do commercial as a rule.”

“Lovely – I suppose you are busy with the building going on at the moment?”

Brian nodded. “Yes, work is good. We are doing a rebuild at the moment in Peppermint Grove and it’s coming on well.”

Ruth kicked him again under the table. She wanted the evening to end on a good note. Her mother had divulged enough for one night. It was a huge revelation and she wanted to draw her mother’s story out slowly and gently.

Chapter Fifty-four

“He’s a very nice chap.” Angela said the next morning as she shared toast and coffee with her daughter over breakfast.

“I’m glad you like him – he’s full of interesting stories about life and he has a really spiritual perspective on everything – I’ve
never met anyone like him.”

“He’s certainly not a typical Australian man. But then again most Australians are only a couple of generations away from being Irish, English or Italian – especially on this side of the country.”

It was true – and Brian was keen to find out more about his Irish heritage. It was a wonderful coincidence that her mother’s letter had led her to him but also ironic that she possibly would have met him regardless as they both ended up on Rottnest at exactly the same time. She considered telling her mother the fact that she had seen the letter but instead decided to wait.

“What are your plans for today, Ruth?”

“I thought we might go out to Fremantle this evening – there’s a place called Little Creature’s Brewery that Brian said was very nice.”

“A brewery? I’m not sure I would like that.”

“They do amazing pizzas though and you do like them, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do – I like Fremantle too. That’s the town that Alan Bond transformed – he hosted the
America’s Cup out of there in the eighties – I remember chuckling to myself when I heard about him and all those highflyers. I was flabbergasted to hear he went bust in the nineties.”

“We could pop by and Brian can show you the house that he’s working on if you like?”

“I don’t mind. I think I’ll come into town and do a bit of shopping today while you’re at work.”

“That’s a good idea – we can meet for lunch so.”

Angela stood up. “Well, I’d better have my shower and get ready to face the heat of the day.”

“Great – we can go in about twenty minutes if that’s okay with you.”

Angela went into the bathroom and Ruth decided to see if Julia was online. She wanted to tell her what she had found out the night before.

It was
eleven thirty in the evening but Julia’s Skype was online so Ruth called.

“Hello, Ruth?” Julia was wearing her pyjamas and sitting up in bed.

“Hi, Julia – I’m just giving you a buzz before I go in to work. How are things there?”

“Oh, Ruth, it’s just been manic here. Michael is home and has an interview in the morning. Mum is up in Gerry’s but will be back tomorrow. Poor Odette has good and bad days. It turns out Gillian was stalking Dylan who really is a gem and I’ve been so wrong about him and now he’s announced that he plans to go around the world for a year. He’s lovely and I’ll miss him when it comes to looking after Odette – he’s so good to her and the kids. How are things with you?”

“Well, I’ve been wrong about Brian – you were right that I should give him a chance to explain – in fact, he came into my work and made me listen to his side of the story. And he has even took me and Angela out for dinner.”

“Oh wow! That’s amazing! He seems to be really interested, Ruth.”

“And it gets better – Mum really likes him and she opened up for the first time about Charles Walters – it turns out that he was her boss. She says he was really nice but he sounds like he was old – about Horatio’s age if he was still alive. But Brian said that he died not long after his son, didn’t he?”

“I wonder what the son was like? He’s the one that you need to quiz Angela about.”

“Yeah, I think so – but wait for it – remember that freaky experience I had on Rottnest?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, this man Charles Walters had an uncle who died when he was sent to the reformatory there as a boy!”

“That’s spooky – I wonder how he died.”

“No idea but Mum might know more than she is saying. I feel so connected to this story for some reason.”

“Ruth, you have to ask her straight out.” Julia was clapping her hands with excitement. “This is a brill story – oh, Angela should write a book about it all!”

“I was thinking of bringing her out to Peppermint Grove later on our way to Fremantle.”

“Do, Ruth, and tell me what happens tomorrow.”

“I will – and keep me posted on the Dylan saga!”

“Of course – and I knew there was something I was forgetting to tell you – Lydia proposed to her policeman and it turns out that he doesn’t want to get married – he just wants to live with her until they get to know each other better. And she was selling her apartment and everything – I swear some men just take the biscuit!”

“Wow, you are busy in Dublin! Look, we’ll talk tomorrow – sleep well.”

“Have a good day and give my love to Angela.”

Ruth was brimming over with excitement. She was getting closer to her mother by the minute and she hoped that visiting Peppermint Grove would bring her some peace.

Angela had a short rest when she got back to the house after shopping. It had been a lovely day wandering around all the new shops that weren’t there in the seventies. At this rate Ruth would be home soon. When she’d met her daughter for lunch the two had chatted with closeness that Angela had never enjoyed before. Maybe coming to Australia was the move that they both had needed.

For Angela it was wonderful to enjoy her daughter’s company without her husband’s presence. He had always been protective of his relationship with his daughter and Angela was well aware why. But this was a good place to tell Ruth the truth. There had never been a good time and for many years Angela had considered never telling her at all but now that she was here she had a duty to come clean.