A Ring Through Time (20 page)

It is a plan, of sorts, and I hold on to it as I listen to the clink of cutlery against china and the muted hum of conversation around the dinner table. Susannah has gone back to say what she can to smooth matters over. I wish her well, but my thoughts are all of Cormac. Where is he being held? In the dumb cells? Has he been flogged? The images of him being punished, even tortured, torment me.

The sound of a slammed door brings me to my feet. I rush to the front of the house and look out of the window. Father is walking off in the direction of the gaol. Is he going to see Cormac? Have my sister and mother prevailed? Will Cormac be granted a pardon? Or is my father going to try to beat the truth out of him?

If only I could have talked to Father before he went out. I watch his retreating back, and the cold fear at the pit of my belly grows until it becomes too much for me to bear. I run back to my room and collapse onto my bed.
Too late
. The thought hammers through my mind in a ceaseless refrain.
Too late. Too late
. I fall to my knees on the floor and beat my fists uselessly against the wall.

I am still crouched there when Susannah, white-faced and red-eyed, comes to find me. I look at her, knowing in my heart that my worst fears have been realised.

‘Father decided not to wait. It is already done.’ Her voice quavers to a stop.

I nod slowly. ‘I know.’

I have gone beyond tears now. Beyond anything. Cormac is dead, and my life is over.

‘Mother says to tell you the evening meal is almost ready. Will you come?’

‘No. I am not hungry.’

Cormac has escaped this terrible place at last, but I am still here. I do not know how I am going to bear it.

‘You go on without me,’ I say, keeping my back turned so my sister cannot see my utter despair. ‘I wish to be alone tonight.’

There is a moment’s silence, and then I hear the door click shut and the sound of Susannah’s departing footsteps.

My diary lies where I dropped it. I unhook the chain around my neck, slip off the hair ring and place it carefully between the pages.

Cormac has gone from my life, but this will be his memorial.

It was the end of Alice’s diary. Allie stared down at the last scrawled words, speechless with shock. She’d been right there, living through all the joy and tragedy her namesake had experienced. Alice had recorded everything so carefully, and in such detail, that her life among the convicts had seemed as real to Allie as her own life was now. She gave herself a shake, trying to dismiss the darkness that had enveloped her as she’d read of Cormac’s fate.

Alice had left so many questions unanswered! What had happened to her after Cormac had been hanged? Why had she stopped writing in her diary? Had she just given up? Or had she put on a brave face and married Jack instead?

Allie quickly riffled through the remaining pages, desperate to find some clues. All were blank, save for the portrait of Cormac that she’d replaced right at the end of the diary. She studied it once more, comparing his likeness with Noah. Cormac had been some years older, of course — but
still far too young to have died such a horrible and needless death.

Hot tears of rage and shame pricked Allie’s eyes as she recalled that it was her ancestor who had killed Cormac. She knuckled them away, and lay back against her pillows. She was exhausted, but far too upset to sleep. Her thoughts turned to the ghost that she’d seen at Government House, the woman in the long blue dress. Was that Alice? Was she unable to leave the place where her lover had died? Allie felt cold and shivery as she recalled their encounter. If only she’d known Alice’s story then, she could have said something to soothe the unhappy spirit. She could have told her how the island had changed, that it was now a holiday destination for tourists from around the world. Next time, she thought, knowing that she would certainly go back to babysit if she was asked. Anything to see the ghost again. She needed to talk to her and find out her name. If she was Alice, why did no-one know anything about her? What had happened to her after Cormac’s death?

Allie looked at her watch: it was way past midnight. She closed her eyes, but knew that she wouldn’t sleep. There was too much to think about, so many unanswered questions. What if Alice had discovered she was pregnant after her tryst with Cormac? She’d probably have had no other choice but to marry. Had she managed to forget Cormac and find happiness with Jack? And what about Susannah? Allie longed to know what had become of Alice’s younger sister, who’d had such a crush on Jack herself. Had that caused friction between the sisters? And what about the fact that Susannah had shared
some of the responsibility for Cormac’s fate? Allie could only hope that both girls had managed to escape their brutal father, and that they’d found happiness with men who loved them.

Allie’s father had already said he’d never heard of Alice, or her sister. Perhaps only sons were deemed worthy of mention in family records all those years ago. Allie made a vow to keep digging, to find out the answers to at least some of the questions that haunted her.

After a moment’s reflection, she got out of bed and padded over to her chest of drawers. She opened the middle drawer and carefully slid the diary under a pile of underwear, then fetched the violin in its case from her bedside table and placed it with the diary. The action gave her a sense of completeness now that she knew her violin had once belonged to Alice. Of course she’d had to bring it back to the island! It all made perfect sense.

She was about to climb back into bed when another thought stopped her. She picked up the china dish with the pink roses and took out the ring made of black hair. It no longer disgusted her; she felt only a deep sadness that Alice’s love had led to such heartbreak. But how could Alice have parted with the ring, how could she bear the loss?

There was only one answer to that. She must have married Jack. Of course she couldn’t take her diary with her. Nor would she have wanted Jack to see Cormac’s ring.

Allie had intended to replace the ring inside the diary, but she changed her mind and slipped it onto her finger instead. Feeling slightly calmer, she hopped back into bed, switched off
her light and then lay awake in the darkness while questions continued to tumble through her mind.

At the forefront was the knowledge that John Bennett was everything the islanders believed him to be. Noah and his family were justified in their rage against her brutal ancestor. The question was: now that she held the key to what had really happened so long ago, what was she going to do about it? She didn’t want to share Alice’s diary with everyone, but how else could she explain her sudden turnaround regarding Bennett? She would have to look for some other sources, information she could share that wasn’t quite so personal.

The thought of what had happened to Cormac brought tears once more. She wiped her arm across her face to dry them, but could not wipe away the dark horror of Alice’s life and the love that had gone so wrong.

Her thoughts moved back to Noah. Should she show him the ring that Cormac had woven from his own hair and given as a love token to Alice? A sudden memory jerked her upright. Noah had mentioned a ring, passed down through the family from Cormac’s brother, Paddy. Could she ask to see it? Would it be the twin of the ring she now wore? Allie fingered the ring that fitted so snugly on the small finger of her left hand. She was quite sure she already knew the answer. What made her hesitate was the fear that Noah might think she was implying a connection to his family because of it.

But there was a connection! Allie had felt it right from the beginning, when she’d first met Noah. She hadn’t understood
it then, but she did now. It gave her goosebumps to think that the love between Cormac and Alice had been so strong, so powerful, it had traversed time.

Allie shivered involuntarily. It was also a love that had ended in disaster. But things were different now, she reassured herself. She and Noah were free to fall in love and even to live happily ever after!

Love! She gave a little huff of amusement. There was no way she could say anything about this to Noah. She’d never hear the end of it if he thought she was using a story about their way-back ancestors to come onto him. And if their relationship was rocky now, how much worse would it be when Noah found out that it was because of Alice that his own ancestor had been tortured and hanged? He’d never want to talk to Allie again once he knew the truth.

After tossing and turning for another hour, Allie came to the conclusion that she should do nothing and tell no-one — not Noah, not her parents, not Ms Elliott. The truth was just too hard to bear. She twisted the ring on her little finger, taking comfort from the fact that there were a couple of things she could do on her own in memory of Alice. She could find out what had happened to her, and to her sister and brother, and she could keep wearing Cormac’s ring.

In spite of her resolve, Allie slept badly that night. She dreamed she was being swept out to sea, powerless to fight the surging rip, struggling to stay afloat, to take another breath into her
oxygen-starved lungs. She woke, struggling for breath. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt as if it was going to tear right through her chest. She gripped the bedclothes tight, trying to stop shaking as she relived the terror of being swept out to sea once before.

She put on her bedside light to dispel the demons, but they returned as soon as she switched it off and tried to go back to sleep. Now she saw the spectres of the convicts as she’d seen them on her night visit to the gaol, but this time she could sense Alice’s presence among them. Again, she heard the haunting refrain of a violin, a lament mourning the loss of love and freedom.

Allie awoke with a jolt and fumbled for the light switch, feeling relief as the phantoms retreated into the shadows. She kept the light on, determined not to go back to sleep. She knew now why Alice had shown herself at Government House, and also the significance of the violin music. And she marvelled at the strength of the tie between past and present.

After her broken night, Allie was half-asleep as she walked through the school gates.

‘Hey, Allie!’ Meg stopped beside her as Allie shrugged off her backpack and began to rummage through it for the books she needed. ‘You look like crap. What’s up?’

‘Nothing.’

Meg was silent for a few moments. ‘Listen, I know what it’s like trying to fit in here. I’m new to the island too, sort of. We’ve been here four years and even now I’m not sure if I’ve really been
accepted.’ She gave a rueful laugh. ‘You have to remember, this is a small community and they’ve all known each other since they were babies. Any outsiders are bound to be treated with suspicion at first. You just have to get used to it.’

Allie swallowed over a hard lump in her throat. Meg’s unexpected kindness, combined with a sleepless night, were enough to undermine her completely.

‘Yeah,’ she managed to croak. ‘I understand. It’s a bit different from Sydney all right.’

Meg smiled in sympathy. ‘And Melbourne, where I come from. My dad’s a chef — he’s managing a restaurant over here. I nagged him for a whole year to find a job back in Melbourne so that we could go home, but he and Mum were keen to get away from the city. I really like it here now. Took a while, but.’

‘Okay, I’ll give it some time.’ Allie returned Meg’s smile, wishing she could confide what was really bugging her. Noah walked by, some distance away, with Nat hurrying after him. Meg followed the direction of Allie’s gaze.

‘Nat’s trying hard,’ she said. ‘But in spite of all that past-history angst, I know Noah’s attracted to you. You should do something about it before it’s too late.’

Allie sighed, and ran her fingers through her hair. She should get it cut to stop it falling into her eyes. It was beginning to irritate her.

‘What’s that?’ Meg caught hold of her raised hand.

Allie realised she was still wearing Cormac’s ring. ‘Nothing.’ She tried to snatch her hand away, but Meg held on to it.

‘That’s a hair ring,’ she observed. ‘It looks a bit like the one Noah brought in to class one time to show us. Said it belonged to his ancestor, the brother of the guy your great-great had hanged. Only his ring was made out of fair hair. Strange that, ’cos all the O’Briens are black Irish.’

Allie winced, and closed her eyes as the tragedy of Alice and Cormac came back to her in a rush.

‘Hey, take it easy.’ Meg let go of her hand. ‘What’s with you guys anyway? Why does the past seem so much more important to you than the present? Or the future?’

She looked at Allie’s ring again. ‘This hair’s the same colour as Noah’s,’ she said slowly, and fixed her sharp gaze on Allie’s face. ‘Where did you get it?’

‘It’s … a family heirloom.’

Allie debated taking the ring off, but that would be like denying Alice’s existence. And Cormac’s. She hastily bundled a pile of books together.

‘Sorry, gotta go,’ she said, and fled before Meg could ask any more questions.

The rest of the day passed in a dream. Allie continued to wear the ring despite the curious looks that came her way whenever anyone noticed it. Word must have gone around, because as she was about to make her escape from school, she found her way blocked by Noah.

‘Show me,’ he said.

Allie didn’t need to ask what he meant. Silently, she held out her hand. Meg was right: the hair in the ring was exactly the
colour of Noah’s hair. She felt a hot tide of red wash across her face as she recalled the lovemaking between Alice and Cormac, and her own fantasies about Noah.

‘You know so much about Padraic and Cormac’s time here on the island,’ she said on impulse. ‘Alice Bennett was here at the same time. Have you ever heard anything about her?’

Noah shook his head. ‘I already told you I’d never heard of an Alice. I suppose she was another of your infamous ancestors?’

He took Allie’s hand and held it up so that he could study the ring.

‘She was John Bennett’s daughter.’ Allie remembered that Alice had talked to Paddy at Cascade Bay, when he and Cormac were unloading the ship’s cargo. ‘I just wondered if Padraic had passed down any stories about the commandant’s daughter, that’s all.’

Noah shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. I could ask my parents, but frankly anything to do with the name Bennett has them frothing at the mouth.’

‘Like you.’

Noah looked a little shamefaced. ‘Yeah, I get a bit carried away sometimes,’ he admitted, adding with a grin, ‘But only when Bennett’s descendants rave on about what a great guy he was.’

Allie was unable to think of a single thing to say in John Bennett’s defence.

‘You weren’t this quiet about him the other day,’ Noah observed.

‘I’m … trying to find out more before I say anything else,’ Allie said quickly.

Noah dropped her hand. ‘There’s heaps about him on the internet, if you’re really interested. You could try the museums too. But don’t get your hopes up. All the sources will confirm that he was a sadistic psychopath.’ He strode off.

‘Why can’t you just let the past stay in the past?’ Allie shouted after him.

He raised a hand in acknowledgment, but didn’t look back.

‘Well, that went well,’ Meg said.

Allie hadn’t heard her approach and she swung around, startled and embarrassed.

‘You don’t learn, do you?’ Meg continued. ‘You shouldn’t talk about the past, Allie. It’s the future that counts. Have you tried windsurfing? Noah’s really into that. Snorkelling, too, if you want to give it another go.’

‘Does he play the violin?’ The question popped out before Allie was even conscious of thinking it.

Meg’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘How did you know?’ She gave a little chuckle. ‘He never talks about it, ’cos everyone bags him out, but he’s into all those old Bs: Bach, Beethoven and Boring. I think he’s been playing in the annual school concert since he was five or something. Actually, he’s really good but don’t say I told you. We all pretend he’s hopeless and tell him to get into the twenty-first century instead.’

‘And does he?’

‘Yeah, he plays the guitar, and sings too. Much better than all that rubbish classical stuff. Why, do you also play the violin?’

‘No.’ But Allie suddenly wished that she could.