A Ring Through Time (21 page)

‘Well, you can talk to him about music, if you want, ’cos he’s pretty knowledgeable. Just find something in common that doesn’t involve your ratbag old ancestor!’

Meg’s enthusiasm was infectious. Nevertheless, Allie was determined to finish what she’d started, to honour Alice’s memory if nothing else. ‘Gotta go,’ she muttered. ‘Thanks, Meg.’ And she hurried off before Meg could detain her with any more well-meant advice.

Once again, Allie found the museums closed. She made a mental note to visit them over the weekend. Although she was tired after her restless night, she finished her homework and then spent a long time trawling the internet. She could find nothing about Alice, or Susannah, although there was a brief mention of William, who had gone to a military college in Britain and served in India. He’d died in England and was buried there.

‘I’m really interested in finding out more about the Bennett family,’ she told her father the following morning, having reached a dead end with her own research. ‘Could I see anything else you’ve got about him, please, Dad?’

‘Of course.’ Pleased by her interest, her father at once left the table. On his return, he laid a neat folder beside Allie, then put a hardback book on top of it. ‘This was written about him too, but it’s a pretty one-sided account.’

Allie glanced at the book’s faded red cover. It looked really
old. From her father’s comment, she could just imagine what it said about the commandant’s time at Norfolk.

‘Does it say anything about John Bennett’s children?’ she asked.

‘It talks about his son, William. That’s the line we’re descended from.’ Hugh Bennett screwed up his face in concentration. ‘I think it might mention a daughter too.’

‘A daughter? Just the one?’

‘I think so, but I can’t remember if it was in this I saw it, or somewhere else.’ He pushed the book closer to Allie. ‘Have a read for yourself.’

‘Thanks, I will.’

But the book and the folder would have to wait until after school. Allie sighed and stood up, steeling herself to face another day.

In her spare time over the next few days, Allie read through the new documents her father had given her, as well as the red book, in an effort to find out what had happened to Alice and Susannah after the family left Norfolk. The book mentioned that John Bennett had brought his wife and family over with him to Norfolk Island, but didn’t give the names of his children. Allie sighed in frustration and threw the book aside. It wasn’t only Alice who’d been written out of the history books, she reflected. Susannah seemed to have suffered the same fate. Only William was remembered, and then only through tantalising asides.

On Saturday morning she visited the museums. The video in the Commissariat helped her to imagine the convict settlement as it must have been, and left her chilled with shame and horror. There was no reference to John Bennett’s children during the presentation, nor could the helpful curator find any information about them for her.

Allie went out into the fresh air and wondered where to try next. She was reluctant to shut herself away any longer on a sunny afternoon. Remembering her thoughts about the cemetery, she continued to walk along Quality Row in its direction. Maybe she could find Alice and Cormac’s trysting place. She felt cold caterpillar feet crawl over her as she recalled the disastrous outcome of that meeting.

The cemetery looked sleepy and benign in the afternoon sun. It was ringed with a white fence and open to the elements, save for a grove of trees close to the road and another opposite, parallel to the shoreline. Allie entered through the white gate and began to walk between the graves, many of which were decorated with bright flowers, both real and artificial. There were plenty of names she recognised, from school or local businesses: Christian, Quintal, Adams, Young, Buffet, McCoy, Nobbs, Evans. Realising she was in the section where the Pitcairn Islanders and their descendants were buried, she moved towards the back of the cemetery, where the gravestones looked much older.

She prowled around, reading those headstones she could still decipher. Some of them dated back to the second settlement. Her pulse raced as she came to an ornately carved headstone.

ROBERTSON, E.W
.

Sacred to the memory of Elizabeth White Robertson
,
second daughter of Gilbert Robertson
,
late Superintendent of Agriculture, Norfolk Island
,
who died January 11th 1847 aged 24 years
.

Thou art gone to the grave but we will not deplore thee, Though sorrows and darkness encompass thy tomb, The Saviour has passed through its portals before thee, And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom
.

Allie read the epitaph twice. Poor Elizabeth, she thought. Dead at twenty-four, and from a disease that could now be cured. Had Elizabeth had time to fall in love? It seemed not, judging from the year of her death, so soon after Alice was writing her diary. Perhaps, knowing her fate, she’d been too afraid to trust her heart to anyone. At least Alice had known the joy of loving and being loved.

Suddenly apprehensive, Allie scooted around the other headstones, fearing what she might find. To her relief, there was no memorial to Alice. Or to Susannah. There was nothing to commemorate Cormac either.

She frowned at a fancy headstone, recognising the name.
Alfred Essex Baldock, late Chief Constable of the Island
. He’d drowned in a boating accident. Allie closed her eyes, the better to remember. This wasn’t the officer who had tried to woo Alice, this was someone else. And then it came to her. One of
John Bennett’s spies. The man responsible for tracking down Cormac at the cemetery. Allie shivered, feeling the dead closing in around her again.

She was about to move on when an old headstone collapsed to one side caught her eye. She stopped as she recognised a name. The inscription was so faint it was almost unreadable.
Mary, beloved wife of John Bennett and devoted mother of Susannah and William. Requiescat in Pace
. It was dated six months after Alice had stopped writing in her diary.

Allie stared at the fallen stone, speechless with rage. What about Alice? Where was her name? It seemed that she’d been cast out from the family in disgrace, as if she’d never existed.

I’ll make it up to you, she vowed silently. I’ll find out what happened to you — and to Susannah — and I’ll make sure that everyone knows at least something about you.

Allie wasn’t sure how she would manage this, but she’d do everything in her power to fulfil her promise. She wished she could go back to Sydney, just for a little while, to visit the Mitchell Library. The curator at the museum had told her that most of the island’s early records were housed there.

‘When they closed down the penal colony, they took just about everything with them,’ she’d said. ‘We have very few records left here; we have very little of anything. If you want information about John Bennett’s family, you’ll need to go to the Mitchell.’ She’d looked sideways at Allie. ‘Your ancestor?’ she hazarded.

Allie gave a reluctant nod. ‘I’d keep quiet about that if I were you,’ the curator had advised. Allie nodded again. This advice was getting boring, but at least the curator had been helpful. And friendly.

As Allie walked home, she wondered what to do next. She was almost out of options so far as research on the island was concerned, but Sydney was out of her reach for the time being. Could she perhaps ask Steph and Sara to help her? It would mean taking them into her confidence, telling them about Alice and Cormac and why she needed to know more about the family. She shook her head. No way. She hated the idea of them giggling and gossiping about the ill-fated love affair and John Bennett’s role in the tragedy. Besides, they’d already made it clear that they’d moved on, and out of her life. Added to that was the fact that Allie was sure they’d rather walk over broken glass than spend time poking around in a library, no matter how urgent her need.

But there was someone she knew who spent most of her time with her head in a book or staring at a screen. Georgy, or as Sara and Steph had called her, the Geek! She and Georgy had been paired for an assignment once. Allie remembered how Georgy had always known where to look for the information they needed. At the time, she’d thought that Georgy seemed more comfortable with books and technology than people — so that made her the ideal person to ask for help now.

Could she present it as a puzzle for Georgy to solve? She might agree if Allie made it sound intriguing enough.

She didn’t have Georgy’s email address, but she could get her phone number. What if she phoned first, just to see if Georgy was interested? Her courage almost failed her at the thought. What if Georgy laughed at her? What if she spread the story around Allie’s old school? Allie decided she’d just have to take that chance; she didn’t have any other choice.

Once home she was about to check Georgy’s home phone number when her mother came to tell her that Sylvia Armstrong had called, wanting her to babysit the following weekend.

‘I didn’t commit you to anything,’ Catherine said. ‘I didn’t know if you’d made other plans?’

‘No. Sure, I’ll do it,’ Allie said. It would give her a chance to try out another idea she’d had.

‘You’d better ring Sylvia then. She’ll give you all the details.’

Allie picked up the phone.

‘Hi. This is Allie,’ she said, when she heard Sylvia’s voice. ‘I’m free next weekend if you want me to babysit.’

‘That’s wonderful.’ Sylvia hesitated. ‘I should warn you, it’s a reception for visitors from Australia and it’s on Saturday afternoon. That means both the children will be awake and needing entertainment, I’m afraid. Maybe you could take them for a walk or something. I’m sure they won’t be any trouble.’

Allie had been expecting to go to the house at night, and have the freedom to look for Alice’s ghost while the children were asleep. Watching over a lively youngster and a baby wasn’t what she’d had in mind at all. She was about to say she’d just
remembered an assignment she had to complete when Sylvia said, ‘I’d be so grateful if you could do this for me, Allie.’

It was too hard to say no. ‘That’s fine. I’ll see you next weekend.’

Once she got off the phone, she set about finding Georgy’s number. She took her mobile into her bedroom; the last thing she wanted was for anyone to overhear her conversation. As she listened to the phone ring at the other end, she hoped Georgy hadn’t gone out. It was Saturday evening, after all. But then, she wasn’t going out either. It occurred to Allie that she and Georgy had a lot more in common now than they used to have.

‘Hello?’

‘Georgy! Hi, it’s Allie.’

‘Who?’

‘Allie Bennett. From school.’ Allie lowered her voice, hoping her parents were still in the kitchen where she’d last seen them. ‘I’m living on Norfolk Island now.’

‘Why are you ringing me?’

Georgy sounded bewildered. Allie couldn’t blame her.

‘I’m investigating a family mystery. And I need your help. Please. There’s no-one else I can ask.’

Silence. Allie crossed her fingers as she waited for a response.

‘What do you want me to do?’ Cautious. Not friendly. But not unfriendly either. At least she hadn’t said no.

Allie took a breath and launched into some of the details about John Bennett and his family, and the date they’d left
the penal colony. ‘I’m trying to find out what happened to his daughters, Alice and Susannah. And his son, William. I know he was in the army in India, but I think he spent most of his life in England, not Australia.’

‘So what’s the mystery?’

Allie hesitated; she still wanted to keep Alice’s story a secret. ‘I’ve found Alice’s diary. It’s been hidden all these years. She’s my namesake so I’m interested to know what happened to her after she left Norfolk.’

‘Why didn’t she take her diary with her?’

Georgy might be a geek but she was smart too. Allie was glad she’d thought to ask for her help. ‘I don’t know. Please don’t say anything to anyone about this,’ she continued. ‘No-one knows I’ve got the diary. No-one seems to know anything about Alice, or her sister either. I’m curious to find out what happened to them but I’ve been told that most of the early records are now in the Mitchell Library.’

‘It’s not much to go on.’

‘I know.’ A thought occurred to Allie. ‘Alice mentioned an officer who was keen on her. Apparently he wanted her to marry him,’ she said slowly, trying to recall the name. ‘Jack. Maybe she did marry him; maybe they left the island before the rest of her family.’

‘Jack? If he married Alice, I’m going to need his surname too.’

‘Jack … um …’ Allie flicked through the diary. ‘Lieutenant Jack Cartwright! That’s it.’

‘Okay, got that. I’ll visit the library after school, see what I can find out.’

Allie could have wept with relief. ‘Thanks, Georgy,’ she said awkwardly. ‘Thanks heaps. I really appreciate it.’

Georgy laughed. ‘Oh, I expect something in return. I suspect there’s a whole lot more to this than you’re telling me. So I’ll see what I can find out — but first I want to know what else was in Alice’s diary.’

Allie knew she owed Georgy. She just didn’t know how far she could trust her to keep Alice’s unhappy love affair to herself.

‘Not over the phone,’ she said.

‘Then email me.’ Georgy paused, then said firmly, ‘If I’m going to solve a mystery for you, the more details you can give me the better.’

It made sense.

‘What’s your email address?’ Allie said. She fished in her backpack for a pen and scribbled it down. ‘Okay. I’ll send you some more info. And Georgy — thanks again.’

‘I’ll do my best, Allie. And listen, I realise you want to keep this a secret. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.’

The following Saturday was a fine, bright day, the sunshine welcome after several days of heavy rain. Micaela was fractious after being cooped indoors, and the baby wailed loudly when, according to instructions, Allie put her down for her afternoon nap. She decided to take the children for a walk instead, hoping
that the baby would fall asleep in her pram. Skirting the golf course, Allie pushed the pram downhill towards Emily Bay with Micaela running beside her. She wondered if she’d see any of her classmates. Would Noah be on the beach — and if he was, would he make any effort to talk to her?

Her thoughts turned to Georgy. She’d sent her a long email about Alice’s story, and had got a brief response from Georgy:
OMG! I’ll see what I can find out
. She’d heard nothing since. Was that because there was nothing to report? She couldn’t believe Georgy would have lost interest, so what was going on with her?