Tears of the Moon (51 page)

Tyndall was cabled for instructions and he requested that his wife be buried up there and her
possessions sent to a charity. There was no mention of any pearls found. He had no idea of the whereabouts of Gunther’s next of kin. As to the fate of the
Sylph,
Tyndall told them to burn it.

Tyndall booked his passage to Fremantle, had new clothes made and packed what pearls had been found during the last of the season. He planned to deliver them to Monsieur Barat in Perth.

On the dock before he boarded the steamer, Ahmed pumped Tyndall’s hand, a broad grin spread across his face. ‘You bring back mem. We miss mem.’

‘Me too, Ahmed. I guess I have to believe in fate after all. You always said things would work out and they have. Tragically as it turned out, but there you are. Life goes on.’

‘Good luck, tuan.’

‘Thanks, Ahmed. I still have a lot of talking to do.’ But Tyndall couldn’t help smiling too. He was convinced Olivia would come round now that matters had been conveniently solved without loss of face or dignity. He anticipated her asking for a discreet waiting period, but marry him she would.

He was nervous, and smoothed his unruly hair, ran his finger round the high collar of his white pearling master’s uniform and presented himself at the door of the house in Phillimore Street.

The door was opened by a young Aboriginal woman whom he recognised as Minnie and Alf’s daughter, Mollie. He introduced himself as she opened the door wide, smiling and nodding. He
passed on greetings from her parents and asked to see Mem Hennessy.

Mollie shook her head. ‘Not here, boss. She working at the clinic. She go to the office every day.’

‘Where’s that, Mollie?’

‘Same place Master work. Shaw Clinic, on Cantonment Street.’

‘The Master?’

‘Doctor Shaw. Mem now Mrs Shaw. They come back tonight but.’

Tyndall was having difficulty taking in the casually thrown out words.

‘Mem
married
Gilbert Shaw? The fellow she set up the girls’ home, or whatever it is, with?’

Mollie nodded smiling. ‘You bet boss. Mebbe two month ago. Me was there. Oh, it was lovely. Big cake an’ everything.’

Tyndall mumbled a goodbye and stumbled into the street, his world falling about him. The pain that burned in his chest made it hard to breathe and he walked towards the port in a daze before turning into the Fremantle Hotel on High Street and ordering a whisky. He sipped it slowly and was tempted to order another but decided he could not put off the ordeal of seeing her any longer. As he trudged to Cantonment Street he prayed Shaw would not be around.

He was ushered upstairs into the small room that served as Olivia’s office. She stood in front of her desk, her hands clasped in front of her, biting her lip. They stared across the room at each other as a girl quietly closed the door.

So much passed between them in the space of a second or two; memories of the past they’d shared, of joy and of pain. No matter how hard they tried or how much time had elapsed they could not ignore the threads that united them. The physical chemistry between them was undiminished and it unnerved Olivia to find she was just as drawn to Tyndall as she’d always been. She struggled to compose her face into a neutral expression.

‘This is something of a surprise, John. A nice one. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? How are things in Broome?’ She gave a hesitant smile.

Her politeness disturbed Tyndall. He’d been more prepared for anger, fierce questioning. He, too, adopted a civil, slightly formal tone. ‘Er, there have been a few developments. I wanted to come and tell you in person.’

Olivia looked immediately concerned. ‘Is something wrong? Has anyone been hurt? The business … ’

‘No, not exactly,’ he cut in, paused then started awkwardly. ‘It’s about Amy … ’

Olivia’s face set and her lips tightened.

Tyndall plunged on. ‘She’s dead.’

Olivia stared at him in shock, her lips parted, but unable to speak.

‘I wanted to tell you in person.’

‘What happened?’ whispered Olivia.

‘Murdered. In the Straits of Malacca, by pirates.’

‘How horrible, John. What was she doing there?’

‘She was with Karl Gunther. Ran off with him. He was killed too. I was sick. I’d been wrecked—lost the
Shamrock
—Ahmed found me. While I was out of
it, she took over caring for me. I nearly died in the process, an accident … I think.’

‘I knew that, but I can’t believe all this. Why didn’t someone contact me … ?’

‘I haven’t finished. She got into the safe and took most of the season’s pearls. We’ve picked up a few more, but she took the best ones. Good haul it was. I’m sorry, Olivia.’

‘I’m sorry too, John. For everything. What a shock.’

‘There is one good thing to come out of this. I’m a free man. So my first thought was to come to you. I’ve never stopped loving you, Olivia, and I have been utterly faithful to you. I knew you were hurt … the whole thing with Amy was painful and embarrassing. I don’t want to rehash it all. But I hoped we could start afresh. And now I find out … that you … ’ He couldn’t go on.

Olivia turned away from him, tears in her eyes, her thoughts jumbled, a wild desire to scream welling in her chest. She took two long, deep breaths and turned back to Tyndall, wincing at his hurt and accusative blue eyes. ‘Yes, I was deeply hurt. And humiliated. Gilbert is a good and kind man. We worked closely together and he was a great comfort. I was lonely … ’

‘So was I, dammit, Olivia! I never went near Amy. I swore to you I would sort things out. Why didn’t you wait for me, Olivia?’

‘Please stop shouting, John. Don’t forget the circumstances, and how hopeless it looked. You lied to me, Amy was not about to let go of you. What was I
supposed to do?’ Her voice rose. ‘I chose to get on with my life. I have a son to think about.’

Tyndall was glaring at her and although he lowered his voice, it was filled with seething anger and bewildered pain. ‘Why didn’t you at least tell me you were thinking of marrying? Given me a chance?’

‘What good would that have done? You couldn’t do anything about it.’

‘I might have been able to change your mind.’

‘I couldn’t take that chance,’ said Olivia in a tired, resigned voice. ‘It all happened rather quickly … it seemed the right and logical thing to do. Gilbert proposed, I agreed and we had a small wedding, a few days’ honeymoon and back to work. I’m finding the work with Shaw House very rewarding.’ Her voice trailed off and they stared at each other for a moment.

‘You still love me, don’t you, Olivia?’ he said quietly.

She didn’t answer for a moment and closed her eyes in pain. ‘John, I have a new life. I owe Gilbert a great deal. He has helped me enormously and I owe him that loyalty.’

‘What about the loyalty you owe me? We were going to spend the rest of our lives together. You’re punishing me for something that wasn’t my fault.’

‘Please, John, let’s not go over things that can’t be changed. It’s all too late.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘I will always be your friend, we have a responsibility together for Star of the Sea, but it can’t be more than that. Not any more.’ She turned away, knowing her last words had given her away.

He walked slowly to her and sat down on a small bentwood chair by her desk, reaching for her hand.
At the touch of his fingers she pulled her hand away.

‘Olivia, we only get one chance at real happiness in this world.’

‘John … I beg you. I can change nothing. You know me, I must do what is right. And it’s right that I stay beside Gilbert and carry out the work we’ve started. It is a great satisfaction to help these girls … ’

“What about me?’

She looked at him, her heart constricting at the love in his eyes, the hopelessness on his face. ‘I don’t know what to say … ’

‘I can’t change your mind?’

But she heard the defeat in his voice. Tyndall’s fire and wildness had died. She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

He rose and turned away from her. ‘I wish nothing but the best for you, Olivia.’

‘What will you do?’ she whispered.

He turned back at the door. ‘I’ll wait.’ The door closed behind him.

Olivia dropped her face in her hands and cried softly. Why had she not waited? Her pride and anger had sabotaged their chance of happiness. Even though fate had stepped in to solve Tyndall’s marital dilemma, she’d never given him a chance to free himself and prove his love to her.

But she had made her choice. She would never hurt Gilbert Shaw as she’d been hurt. Her heart ached for Tyndall. She wished he’d shouted, been drunk, or thrown something. She would never forget the sadness and loss he showed, or forgive herself for being the cause.

CHAPTER TWENTY

T
yndall looked down at his white buckskin shoes now coated in red dust. The legs of his white duck trousers were also filmed in red powder. He shrugged and stepped out from under the sparse shade of the pot-bellied baobab tree—dust was a common denominator at the Broome Turf Club. It was still a rough and ready track with limited amenities, but at least all the bush had been cleared from the centre of the course so there was an uninterrupted view from the grandstand.

The annual meeting was one of the main social events of the year and a rare chance for the ladies to display the latest fashions. Tussore silk and voile were popular dress choices, topped with large hats with plumes and lace, or neat toques. The women suffered through the dust and blazing sun, wilting as the afternoon wore on. However, at the Race Ball they’d bloom again in different creations.

Tyndall had a fair sum riding on the Broome Cup and he moved to the rail as it got under way.

The favourite, ridden by a well-known station identity, took a comfortable early lead and punters were anticipating cleaning up. But a horse charged from the pack in the home straight and stormed past the leader, winning by a length. The jockey lifted an arm in jubilation and to everyone’s surprise, long hair flowed from beneath the jockey’s cap.

The crowd roared as they recognised the teenage daughter of one of the leading families. The steward clutched his head and club officials hurriedly conferred.

While someone searched for the club’s rules, Tyndall called out, ‘She won fair and square, let it stand.’

The crowd, some of whom had climbed onto the fence by the winning post, and those contemplating their loss, were in good humour and sided with Tyndall. The steward decreed that the win stood. A big cheer went up and there was a stampede to the bar, where everyone declared the tradition of the Broome Cup for providing great entertainment and gossip had been maintained.

Tyndall quietly collected his winnings and headed back to town for a few drinks before changing for the Race Ball.

In recent times he had thrown himself into the social scene of Broome and lived wildly, for times were booming and there was a careless almost desperate atmosphere of gaiety and high living. Talk of the possibility of war in Europe had little impact on
this distant outpost of the Empire, despite the headlines in London.

That evening at the Race Ball he danced with mothers and daughters and sent hearts fluttering. Since the departure of both Amy and Olivia, he was considered one of Broome’s most eligible bachelors, even in his forties. The roistering young adventurer had become a successful and enterprising master pearler with expanding business interests. His virile looks and charm had increased with the years, as had the mystique of his colourful life.

But for Tyndall, life was far from what he wished. He thought of Olivia every day and sometimes thoughts of his lost daughter Maya came to him, always causing him depression and a deepening sense of loss. He began to think there was a curse on the women who came into his life and subconsciously he kept all women at an emotional distance.

Tyndall kept himself occupied in the wet season working on a project with Yoshi for culturing pearls. At first he had dismissed the idea of an artificial pearl, even though he had learned that ‘seeded’ cultured pearls had appeared on the Japanese market in the late 1890s. Yoshi’s interest had been sparked by letters from friends in Japan and the occasional newspaper article. Enthused by the idea, Tyndall decided to investigate further. While he was convinced nothing would replace natural pearls, it was possible the shell beds might not last forever. All that the pearlers had learned over the years was to abandon the overworked banks until stocks replenished
themselves. Now Tyndall saw the possibility of a lucrative sideline, an alternative product that met a demand for those who could not afford true pearls. The cultured pearls of Mikimoto in Japan were finally gaining acceptance as legitimate pearls and the canny ‘pearl king’ had established two huge farms, plus a factory in Tokyo where young Japanese were trained in jewellery making. He had also opened his own pearl shops.