Tears of the Moon (40 page)

Olivia started to tremble. She had never admitted to herself that there had been some fateful pull between them since they’d first met. She had fought her feelings, fought against the sheer physical attraction of the man, determined not to be conquered by him. For as she’d always known, once she let herself go, and fell into his arms, she would be bound to him for ever. She’d never known such sexual passion, such a deep sense of knowing they belonged together.

Since they’d become lovers she had dared not think past every moment they’d shared.

‘Olivia … say something.’ He reached for her hand and felt her trembling.

She put her fingers to his lips. ‘It’s all right. Everything is all right. I love you, too. Yes, John Tyndall, I will marry you.’

He swept her into his arms and kissed her fervently, his mouth lingering on hers.

Later, holding hands, they broke the news to Minnie.

Minnie beamed and nodded sagely. ‘Thought so.’

Olivia told Hamish when they were alone together after dinner that night. He was immediately delighted and relieved. Since his father’s death he had felt insecure and worried about the future. The burden of responsibility for his mother quickly slipped from his young shoulders.

Tyndall was against a formal announcement and they simply told friends and acquaintances about their plans as they saw them. However word spread quickly around the community. The news did not surprise anyone. Most people considered it a logical and convenient arrangement. But few realised the depth of passion and emotion between them. For both what had gone before was special and not to be demeaned or dismissed; but this connection between them, this physical and emotional bonding became their life blood. They gave each other’s life new meaning and fulfilment. They were almost afraid to show the world how joyous they felt.

Plans for the house were eventually finalised and building began. Tyndall and Olivia would start and end each day by walking hand in hand about the site, visualising the rooms and what would be in them.

The wedding date was set for several months ahead—a simple affair in the small wooden church to be followed by a reception in the garden of the
Continental Hotel. They’d tried to keep it simple but the town had taken the event to its heart and everyone wanted to be involved, help or just attend.

‘It’s probably going to be the most egalitarian and mixed party they’ve seen here for a bit,’ laughed Tyndall. ‘The RM and Mrs Hooten rubbing shoulders with our crews and everyone we do business with!’

Indeed, it rankled a little with some of Broome’s white society when Tyndall and Olivia made known their plans to include all races and classes of their friends. Ahmed was to be best man, Hamish would proceed his mother down the aisle and Mabel Metta would be matron of honour. Minnie was given her own invitation and had bought bright new hats for herself and her daughter Mollie especially for the occasion.

The day before the wedding, the steamer from Fremantle arrived on the afternoon tide. Tyndall and Olivia planned to sail on it after the wedding reception for a honeymoon in Perth.

There was the usual flurry of activity and socialising when the steamer docked. But one of the passengers elicited more interest than most. She was an attractive woman, although some ladies might be inclined to regard her as a little bit ‘loud’ in manner and dress. A white linen ensemble showed off her curvaceous figure and trim ankles, and under close scrutiny her hair appeared unnaturally fair, her lips artificially red. She stood on the wharf, her blue eyes sweeping over likely candidates to assist her. Holding
her hat and a parasol, she had a cabin boy fetch a porter. An enterprising Indian boy, a relative of the Mettas, was first to hoist her bags.

‘There are still trunks to come, I do hope there is some conveyance at hand.’

‘Oh yes, mem, many sulkies and carriage to take you to hotel. No trouble at all.’

‘Oh, I’m not going to a hotel. I’m going to my husband’s house.’

‘Very good, mem.’ He hastened ahead and put the first of her bags in a sulky and helped her settle herself.

She snapped open her parasol. ‘I’m very hot. Could you get the rest of my luggage later?’

The boy hesitated and the driver shrugged. ‘Very good, mem. Where you stay?’

‘With Captain John Tyndall. The pearling master. I am his wife—Mrs Amy Tyndall.’

The porter and the driver stared at her.

‘Captain Tyndall? He know you comin’?’ asked the Indian driver.

She gave a pretty smile. ‘No. It’s a surprise. I’ve come all the way from London.’

The Indian porter shrank back through the crowd as the sulky pulled away. Instead of retrieving the trunks labelled ‘Mrs Amy Tyndall’, he raced along Dampier Terrace directly to the offices of Star of the Sea and rushed up the stairs.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T
yndall had difficulty grasping what the perspiring porter was telling him. It was too fantastic to believe.

The porter struggled to get the words out. ‘White lady, yellow hair, fancy clothes, say she wife of Captain Tyndall and tell my brother take her to your house. He tell me I tell Captain Tyndall, quick smart. I got her trunk there; in sulky.’ He wrung his hands feeling wretched, fervently wishing he wasn’t the bearer of this unwelcome news.

Tyndall flipped a coin at the man and thanked him. Then he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

He saw himself as the hesitant young man who had been spellbound by the flirtatious blue eyes, laughing mouth and lusty body of Amy. His father had warned him to stay away from ‘a girl like that’, but she contrived to be in his path wherever he went. The seduction had been swift, and he an eager
accomplice. How naive he’d been. She wept and fretted and wailed when she found out she was pregnant. So, once he was over the shock, he had shouldered his responsibility and married the prettiest girl in the village.

The memories of the sagging narrow bed, the smoky grimy cottage, the coughing of her inebriated father, the nagging and whining and paddy temper of what he recognised was a spoiled and lazy girl, drove him swiftly to Belfast and then to London seeking work. He wanted to make the marriage work and hoped that once they were on their own, things would be better. He recalled the freedom of being at sea and the feeling of guilt at leaving his young wife. He had never intended to shirk his duty to Amy. It was simply easier to earn good money at sea. The eventual news of the loss of the child and Amy’s apparent demise had saddened him but also given him a welcome sense of relief, of freedom from guilt.

Her bursting back into his life set his mind spinning and emotions churning. Tyndall felt a burning anger. Why should she come back into his life now, just as he was about to find the joy he’d always sought with Olivia?

He sat bolt upright. My Lord. He’d have to be first to tell Olivia. What a nightmare! He realised he must still be legally wed to Amy, unless she’d had the marriage dissolved, citing his disappearance so many years before. But his heart sank again at the knowledge that she was here and claiming to be his wife. Well, this had to be stopped and sorted out swiftly.
He sprang to his feet, snatched his hat and rushed from the office.

Rosminah and the Chinese cook hurried to meet him as he came up the path, noting the sea trunk on the verandah.

‘Lady come, tuan, she no go away. Come inside, sit down, want tea and lemonade. She say she Mem Tyndall. She no listen to me when I tell her go away,’ cried Ah Sing, the cook.

‘Don’t worry about it, Ah Sing. I’m fixing things up. Where is she?’

The cook, in a lather of sweat, his round face shining, answered. ‘She in sitting room.’

Rosminah padded behind Tyndall as he strode down the hall. ‘Mem tell me unpack and wash her things. What I do, tuan?’

‘Do nothing, Rosminah. I’ll speak to her.’ Tyndall drew a breath and walked into the formal room that he rarely used in the centre of the house. He stopped and stared at Amy sitting in a cane chair, neither spoke as the years vanished and they sized each other up. They would have recognised each other in an instant. She’d kept her figure though the voluptuous curves seemed laced in place.

She was holding a tea cup which she carefully put to one side. Holding out a soft hand, she said triumphantly, ‘Hello there, Johnny Tyndall.’ There was obvious amusement in her expression and she looked more than happy as she took in the striking and handsome man before her. ‘You look well. I chose you for your looks and you haven’t disappointed me.’

Tyndall stayed where he was. ‘Why are you here, Amy? This is bloody madness. I still can’t believe you’ve just walked into my life as though nothing had happened. You should have written and told me. Not just landed on the doorstep.’

‘That’s not much of a welcome. It’s been a long trip to find you.’

‘And it’s going to be a long trip back. You can’t stay here.’

‘Now, you can’t mean that. I’m your wife. You’re just in shock,’ she said placatingly. ‘I know how you feel, Johnny. It was a shock for me too when I read about you in the London
Telegraph
. After all these years, suffering over what had become of you, how you’d run off and left me. Your little wife. What did I ever do to deserve that, Johnny?’ Tears welled in her blue eyes and her voice dripped with self-pity.

‘I thought you were dead for God’s sake,’ shouted Tyndall. ‘You couldn’t wait like a dutiful wife. No, you had to go to the bright lights of London then just take off and let your father and me believe you’d died. What the hell have you been doing?’

‘I don’t believe you are entitled to shout at me,’ she snapped in a steely voice. ‘It wasn’t easy for me, you know. I lost the baby, there was a flu epidemic and I went to Scotland while waiting for you to come back. But you never did, did you?’

‘There was no point in going back. The priest wrote to me that your father had died and that they had heard you’d died in London. What was I to do? And how did you get to Scotland?’

She lowered her eyes. ‘I had a kindly benefactor. I
would have been lost without Lord Campbell … and his dear family,’ she hastily added.

‘I see,’ said Tyndall, seeing too clearly how Amy had survived. ‘So why are you here now? If it’s money you want, you could have written.’

‘Would you have answered such a letter?’ she asked, giving him a challenging stare.

‘There are some honest men left in this world, it might surprise you, Amy’

‘I don’t want money. Oh, indeed no.’

‘So what do you want?’

‘
You
, my dear husband. I feel God and fate have reunited us after a dreadful misunderstanding. I am here to take my rightful place by your side.’ A cloying smile curled about her lips.

‘That’s what you’re going to tell everyone, is it?’ He imagined she had rehearsed her lines carefully.

‘It’s the truth, isn’t it?’

‘No, Amy, it’s goddamned not! I’ve had a lot of time to think about things over the years and you know what … I came to the conclusion you tricked me. And I’ll tell you something else, Amy. You’re too late. I’m about to marry the woman I truly love.’

‘How can that be?’ she asked calmly with mock sweetness, spreading her arms in a querying gesture. ‘You’re married to me.’

‘Not for long. We’re getting a divorce. No way can you walk back into my life. You smell money. You’re only here because of the pearls.’

Amy’s face was hard, her mouth set in a firm line. ‘I will never give you a divorce. I will fight you every inch of the way. I have come prepared with
documents, marriage certificate and letters. I can claim you deserted me and get … restitution.’ She resumed her artificially sweet pose. ‘Is it such a poor proposition, Johnny? For me to be your wife? Many men would envy you. There is nothing for me back there. I intend to stay here. With you.’

‘But I don’t want you!’Tyndall shouted in frustration. Through his anger came the dawning realisation that this woman was dangerous, conniving and unpleasant.

‘Think it over. This is a shock. You’ll get used to the idea. By the way, you’d better inform your lady friend of your true situation,’ she added with some smugness.

‘You can’t stay here,’ said Tyndall stubbornly, feeling the ground giving way beneath his feet.

‘What are you going to do? Send me to a hotel? Throw out your wife? I would be very distressed at that. Whatever would people think?’