The Lost Sapphire (14 page)

‘Why don't you come to my place for dinner?' Luca suggested. ‘Mum won't mind.'

Marli felt a rush of relief. ‘Really? That would be great. Dad left me some money to order takeaway, but I don't feel like going back to the apartment all by myself.'

‘I'll send Mum a text and ask. I'm sure she'd be happy,' Luca assured her. ‘Mum loves feeding our friends – she thinks the more the merrier.'

‘She sounds lovely,' said Marli. She twisted her bangle, thinking of her own mother so far away.

The two went downstairs again, carefully locking the tower door and the back door. Marli threaded the back-door key onto her velvet ribbon with the tower key.

It was too nice a day to be inside after days of rain, so they sat for a while in the sun on the steps. Then they
walked around the rose garden, planning how they could research more information about Riversleigh and the people who'd lived there. As he had done earlier, Luca leaned down and tugged out a fistful of long grass from between the rose bushes. Marli did the same.

At first Marli only intended to make a small start weeding, but she found she enjoyed the work and kept going. It reminded her of helping Mum in their tropical garden at home. The warm climate of Brisbane meant that it was a constant battle to keep their small garden under control.

Luca went home to borrow Nonno's brush-cutter, safety goggles and gumboots from the shed and used it to cut large swathes from the overgrown grass around the rear garden. Luckily his grandparents were out, so there were no awkward questions. Using tools from the old garage, Marli raked up the cuttings and trundled them in a wheel barrow to a compost heap they made behind the old kitchen garden.

It was hot work in the afternoon sunshine, but Marli found it deeply satisfying as the compost heap grew and the shape of the old garden gradually appeared. The labour made Luca cough, and he had to stop for short breaks to recover.

Marli took photographs to record the transformation.

After a couple of hours, Marli and Luca had a longer rest, sitting on one of the marble benches overlooking the rose garden. Marli wiped her sweaty brow with her hand, leaving a muddy streak across her face. She had grass in her hair, dirt under her fingernails and her skin was pricked with thorn scratches.

‘Doesn't that look better?' she asked, gesturing at the rose blooms nodding their heads in the breeze. The air was sweet with perfume. ‘You can actually see the roses instead of a jungle of gigantic weeds.'

‘Definitely,' Luca agreed. ‘Now the plants have some space to breathe.'

‘I'm feeling whacked, though.' Marli stretched out her back. ‘It's hard work.'

‘Let's clean up, then we can go home,' Luca suggested. ‘You can have a shower at my place and borrow some clothes from my sister.'

‘Great idea. And I'd like to pick some roses for your mother as a present for having me.'

After packing up the tools and wheelbarrow, Marli used an old pair of secateurs to cut an armful of roses in pinks, pale yellow and cream.

They crept back through the double doors at the back of the garage, hoping no-one would see them. Luca put the brush-cutter and goggles away in the shed. As they headed towards the side entrance into the flats, Nonno came around the back of the building, carrying a wicker basket filled with herbs, lettuce, cucumbers, spinach and beans.

‘
Ciao
, Luca
caro
,' he said. ‘Looks like you two have been having fun.' Luca introduced Marli to his grandfather.

‘Could you take this up to your mother for dinner tonight?' asked Nonno. ‘And tell her that Nonna is making
pitticelle di zucchine
to bring along.'

‘Yum. My favourite.' Luca turned to Marli. ‘Nonna makes the best fritters with Nonno's homegrown zucchinis. You'll love them.'

‘Mmmm,' said Marli. ‘I'm starving.'

Luca took the basket and they went inside.

The Art Deco building that Luca lived in was a block of four apartments with two upstairs and two downstairs. Luca's family lived in the upstairs apartment at the back, overlooking the river, while his grandparents lived in the flat underneath them.

Marli followed Luca upstairs and into his apartment. It was a bright, two-bedroom unit with quaint, old-fashioned features, such as picture windows, ornate ceilings and polished timber floors. Luca's three sisters shared one room, and his parents had the other. Luca slept in the narrow sunroom off the living room, which overlooked the gardens and the river.

Luca's mum, Dani, was in the kitchen chopping eggplants, while his younger sisters – Lia, Caterina and Siena – were in their school uniforms, doing homework at the dining table. Luca introduced them all. Marli immediately felt comfortable as she was enveloped in the warm family atmosphere. It was so much noisier than her own home. Delicious smells came from the pots bubbling on the stove.

‘Welcome, Marli,' said Dani. ‘It's lovely to meet you. Luca's enjoyed you coming around this week.'

‘Thanks for having me.' Marli handed Dani the armful of roses. ‘I brought you these.'

‘Aren't they divine?' said Dani, burying her nose in the blooms.

By the time Marli had showered, brushed her hair and changed into one of Lia's floral sundresses, the table had been transformed. The homework had been packed
up and the table set with candles, colourful painted crockery and two vases of roses. Nonno and Nonna had arrived, as well as Luca's father, Mark, home from work. Lia, Caterina and Siena helped their mother make salad and bruschetta while Luca showered.

‘Oh, don't you look lovely, Marli,' said Dani. ‘Please take a seat there. Just move Chiara.'

Chiara was a fat, grey cat curled up on Marli's chair. Marli lifted the cat onto her lap and sat stroking her, making Chiara purr. Soon the whole family were sitting around the table, laughing, chatting and joking as Dani passed around platters heaped with antipasti – one with Nonna's zucchini fritters and the other with tomato-and-herb bruschetta on toasted garlic bread.

‘
Buon appetito
,' Dani called out. Everyone clinked glasses and replied, ‘
Buon appetito!
'

The food was delicious and plentiful. The antipasti was followed by homemade pasta with a ragù of eggplant, tomato and olives with shaved parmesan, then the main course of chicken parmigiana and salad greens from the garden tossed with lemon and olive oil.

The girls chattered about their day at school. Dani and Marc talked over the plans for the week ahead. When everyone had finished, the children cleared the table and then Dani served the dessert that Nonna had made. It was an Italian specialty called
cannoli
– pastry tubes filled with vanilla ricotta, shaved chocolate and homegrown strawberries.

‘It's nice to see Luca eating again,' said Nonna, kissing him on the cheek. ‘He's hardly eaten a thing since he's had that nasty cough. He was fading away to nothing!'

Luca looked appreciatively at his piled-up bowl. ‘How could I resist your cooking, Nonna? It's
bellissimo
.'

‘So what did you and Marli get up to today?' Dani asked. ‘It was too lovely to watch movies again all day.'

Luca and Marli exchanged glances. They had agreed to keep the garden and their research as a secret for the time being.

‘Not much,' Luca replied. ‘Hanging out, a bit of a walk …'

‘Exploring the neighbourhood,' Marli added. ‘There are some pretty gardens around.'

‘You must come and see Nonno's garden,' said Nonna. ‘He can grow anything.'

‘I learned gardening from my father, Giuseppe,' Nonno explained, putting his spoon down. ‘He worked in the gardens next door for many years, when it was a private house, and then later when it became a soldiers' convalescent home. Now
that
was a special garden.'

‘Did he tell you anything about the history of the house?' asked Marli, trying not to sound too eager. ‘Do you know anything about the family who lived there?'

Nonno gazed dreamily out the window towards the high wall of Riversleigh. ‘He was a good storyteller, my father, and he loved to tell stories of the old days, before the Second World War. He said that many sad things happened to the Hamilton family. He thought that perhaps someone had cursed them with the
malocchio
…'

Luca glanced at Marli meaningfully. ‘Cursed with the evil eye?'

Nonno nodded. ‘Giuseppe and his cousin were impoverished peasant farmers from Veneto, in the north near
Venice. Like many Italians of their generation, they were very superstitious and believed that bad luck could be caused by someone cursing you. My father always wore this charm.'

Nonno pulled out a small silver charm that he wore on a chain around his neck. ‘A
cornicello
,' he explained. ‘It's a horn, which is supposed to ward off bad luck. I don't believe in curses and amulets, so I don't believe the Hamiltons were cursed, but I like to wear the charm to remind me of my father.'

‘The Hamiltons did experience a lot of tragedy,' Marli said. ‘My grandfather told me that both brothers, Lawrence and Archie, died in the final months of the First World War, which must have been devastating. And then their mother, Margaret, died soon after, but we don't know how.'

Nonno turned to Marli, his face serious. ‘I know what happened to Mrs Hamilton. The servants knew all the family secrets, of course. It was very sad. Would you like me to tell you?'

‘Oh, yes please,' Marli begged. ‘Luca and I have been wondering.'

‘Mrs Hamilton died of grief,' Nonno began. ‘She just faded away, hardly eating, hardly sleeping, her face to the wall, refusing to see her daughters or her husband.'

Marli felt a shiver up her spine – how devastating for Violet and Imogen, and their father. Violet must have felt that her mother had abandoned her, that she didn't love her enough to have something to live for.

‘She couldn't cope after her boys died,' Nonno said. ‘Everyone thought she should just buck up and get on with
things, but she went into a deep depression and couldn't get out of bed for weeks. When she died, Albert locked up her tower studio and never mentioned her name again.'

Everyone was silent for a moment, trying to imagine the terrible sorrow that Albert must have felt.

‘Can you tell us any other stories about Riversleigh and the Hamiltons, Nonno?' Luca asked.

Nonno's eyes lit up with memories. He settled back in his chair. ‘Oh, yes. I certainly can …'

Riversleigh, 22 November 1922

On Wednesday morning, when Violet came down to breakfast, Imogen was already seated at the table. Romeo bounded over to greet her.

‘Good morning, Romeo! Yes, I missed you too,' Violet said, rubbing his ears. When she took a seat, Romeo plonked beside her with his head on her knee.

‘Hello, sleepyhead,' Imogen said, putting down the newspaper.

‘You're up early this morning.' Violet poured herself a cup of tea. ‘That's most unlike you.'

‘It's a glorious day and I'm off on an adventure,' Imogen replied, indicating her loose-fitting, white blouse, navy skirt and sturdy boots.

‘Sounds like fun. What kind of adventure?'

‘I'm going hiking up in the mountains with Audrey.'
Imogen averted her eyes as she buttered her toast. ‘She's picking me up any minute.'

‘And anyone else going?' Violet asked.

Imogen took a bite of her toast and marmalade, delaying her answer. ‘Actually, Tommy O'Byrne and Jim Fitzgerald,' she replied nonchalantly. ‘Tommy has the day off.'

‘Sounds fun,' said Violet, a twinkle in her eye. ‘Don't fall down the mountain! But I guess if you do break an ankle, it'll be handy to have a medical student close by.'

Imogen rolled her eyes. ‘Very funny. What are you going to do today?'

‘I thought I'd start sketching decoration ideas for the Russian Ball,' Violet replied. ‘I've been meaning to do it for days, but I don't know where the week has gone.'

Saunders appeared in the doorway. ‘Miss Williams and Mr O'Byrne have arrived to pick you up, Miss Hamilton.'

‘Thank you, Saunders. I'm coming.' Imogen stood, dropping her napkin on the table.

‘Where's Dad?' Violet asked. ‘He's usually down by now.'

‘He left early for golf. There's a competition or something on.' Imogen picked up her wide-brimmed hat from the sideboard and checked her reflection in the mirror as she pinned it on her head. She pulled on her gloves and picked up her bag.

‘I'll come with you for a moment,' said Violet. ‘I want to ask Tommy about Mrs Burke. He might have some news.'

The girls went out the front door and down the front steps, Romeo bounding ahead. Saunders followed. Audrey
was sitting at the wheel of her green-and-silver tourer. Audrey and Tommy both jumped out to say hello.

Violet stared at Audrey's outfit in surprise. Audrey was wearing a loose white shirt and a tight-fitting green cloche hat with tan gauntlet gloves, driving coat, knee-high boots and breeches.

‘Hello,' Tommy called, sweeping off his tweed flat cap. ‘What a beautiful morning.' He was dressed in baggy knickerbockers, an open-necked white shirt, vest and hiking boots.

‘Love your hair, Violet,' Audrey cried. ‘It looks adorable.'

‘Thank you,' Violet replied, self-consciously brushing back a curl.

‘What on earth are you wearing, Audrey?' asked Imogen, putting her hand to her brow, pretending to be horrified.

‘Don't scoff,' Audrey retorted, handing Imogen a bag. ‘I've brought you a pair of breeches too. You can't possibly walk in the mountains wearing a skirt.'

‘
Breeches?
' Imogen laughed and exchanged a guilty look with Violet. ‘Whatever you do, don't tell Daddy! I'd be disinherited.'

‘Why ever not?' Violet said, raising her eyebrows. ‘It would be heavenly to have you in terrible trouble for once instead of me.'

Imogen poked out her tongue. ‘I'll race upstairs and get changed. See you in a moment.'

Violet turned to Tommy. ‘I was wondering if you've heard any news about Sally's mother.'

He smiled reassuringly. ‘Mrs Burke has been moved to the tuberculosis ward at Austin Hospital for Incurables.
Luckily, Dr Trumble believes we picked it up early, which increases her chance of survival. But even if the treatment is effective, she'll still need to be in hospital for months.'

Violet wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried. ‘Thanks, Tommy. I'll let Sally know.'

A moment later, Imogen hurried out again, wearing baggy breeches instead of her skirt, a long coat over her arm. She stood on the top step and struck a theatrical pose. ‘Tada!'

‘Very daring,' Audrey assured her.

‘But I brought a long overcoat, so I won't shock Daddy when I get home,' Imogen explained. ‘He hasn't recovered from Violet chopping off all her hair.'

Violet pulled a rueful face.

‘Well, I think you both look utterly charming,' Tommy said, offering Imogen his arm. ‘Shall we go fetch Jim?'

Saunders opened the rear car door for Imogen to get in.

Violet stood at the bottom of the front steps with Romeo as the hiking party drove off. Audrey gaily tooted the horn in farewell and rounded the carriage driveway.

Violet and Romeo headed back inside. The house seemed dark and quiet with Imogen gone. Upstairs, Violet could hear the murmur of voices and faint thumping as the housemaids tidied and dusted the bedrooms.

Violet sat at the table in the morning room, doodling scenes of children ice-skating in her sketchbook, but the drawings seemed lifeless.

Feeling restless and bored, she pulled over the newspaper that Imogen had discarded and began reading the headlines. Her eye was drawn to an article titled ‘Knight Versus Housemaid' about the upcoming election, where
Sir Robert Best was being opposed in the electorate of Kooyong by a housemaid called Miss Jean Daley. Violet enjoyed the incongruity of the image. A lowly, working-class maid challenging a wealthy male politician – maybe the world was changing. Violet hoped that the housemaid might prevail and be the first woman elected to Federal Parliament. But on second thought it seemed completely impossible.

Next she read the letters to the editor, focusing on local issues of the day, such as the Children's Hospital, the spread of noxious weeds and the need for financial support for soldiers who lost limbs in the Great War.

Suddenly an idea came to her – perhaps she could write a letter or an article for the newspaper about the injustice that she saw with the wealthy suburbs and the poverty-stricken slums separated only by the river. Perhaps she could support her article with photographs of the living conditions in Richmond and Sally's family's neighbourhood.

Violet thought about her camera and realised that she now had two rolls of film to develop and print. Then she could write an article to go with them. She decided to ask Nikolai if he was available to take her to the photography shop in Burwood Road.

Rather than ringing the bell to call for the chauffeur, Violet went looking for him. She strolled out through the French doors of the morning room, onto the stone terrace and down to the lawns, Romeo following at her heels.

Hidden away on the southern side of the house were the kitchen gardens, the poultry runs and laundry yard. Coming around the corner, Violet saw Sally with a basket over her arm, collecting fresh herbs from the kitchen garden.
Joseph was helping her. Both of them started when they saw Violet in the service area and quickly sprang to attention, Joseph tugging his cap and Sally bobbing her head.

‘I'm just looking for Nikolai to drive me on an errand,' Violet said.

‘Would you like me to fetch him, miss?' asked Sally.

‘No, no,' replied Violet. ‘I can do it.'

Nikolai was in the bluestone cobbled courtyard of the old stables, washing the Daimler, wearing a khaki mechanic's boiler suit. Sudsy water dripped onto the ground as he rubbed the sponge over the car. Romeo gambolled over towards Nikolai, trying to steal the sponge.

‘Careful, boy,' Nikolai warned. ‘Mrs Darling will have your hide if you gobble my sponge.'

‘Oh, you're busy,' said Violet with a twinge of disappointment. ‘I was hoping you might be able to run me up to Burwood Road and then perhaps to Glenferrie Road so I can look at some material for the decorations.'

Nikolai straightened up, dropping the sponge back into one of the buckets. ‘I'm nearly finished. Would it be all right if I took you in about ten minutes?'

‘Perfect,' replied Violet, feeling relieved. ‘I'll just get my bag and hat.'

Nikolai wrung out a chamois cloth and began to polish the paintwork intently. ‘Miss Violet, I had an idea about your Russian Ball. I thought perhaps my sisters might be able to help you with some of the decorations and the entertainment.'

Violet felt a flash of excitement. ‘Truly? Could they?'

Nikolai nodded as he continued to polish. ‘I mentioned it to my sisters when I was visiting on my half day off, and
we'd all like to contribute. We, of all people, want to help the starving Russians back home.'

‘Of course you do,' Violet replied. ‘Well, that would be marvellous.'

Nikolai rubbed hard at a smear on the duco. ‘My three sisters are all excellent seamstresses, so they could sew the costumes,' he explained. ‘And they can dance the old Russian dances. Plus, we know lots of people in the Russian community, so we can ask them to help too.'

The dry, lifeless list that Violet had written suddenly seemed alive with possibilities.

‘Oh, bless you, Nikolai. I've been thinking and thinking about how to get everything done and make the ball as authentic as possible. This is a perfect solution.'

Nikolai grinned, his toffee-coloured eyes sparkling. ‘Well, perhaps if you wrote down a list of what you'd like, I could take it to the girls and see what they can help you with?'

‘Or better still, perhaps you could take me to meet them and we could talk about it,' Violet suggested. ‘That would be much more efficient.'

Nikolai nodded. ‘They should be home this afternoon, but they don't have a telephone, so I'll send a note around to check. Would you like me to take you over for tea?'

Violet did a little hop. ‘That would be perfect.'

Violet went upstairs to fetch her hat, gloves and new chocolate bag, together with the camera and the exposed films. She collected up her drawings and notes for the ball and folded them away.

After Violet had dropped off the film, Nikolai drove her across the river to Richmond and down Swan Street.
He parked the car in a narrow stone laneway behind the shopping strip.

‘My family lives above one of the shops,' Nikolai said, pointing up to the second storey. ‘Are you sure you want to come up and meet them?'

Violet craned her head to look. The area behind the shops was stacked with crates, boxes and garbage bins. The strong stench of rotting rubbish and rancid cooking oil came through the open shop window. Nikolai looked embarrassed. ‘They'll understand if you'd rather not.'

‘Of course I'm coming,' replied Violet. ‘I'm looking forward to meeting your family.'

They climbed up the rickety wooden stairs at the back of the building. At the top was a small landing with a blue front door and an old wash tub planted with flaming orange poppies and blue forget-me-nots. A collection of old buckets were planted with lush green herbs – chives, parsley, dill, chervil and tarragon.

Nikolai knocked on the door and it was opened by a blonde-haired girl with very pale skin and brown eyes. She looked to be about the same age as Violet.

‘Nicky!' the girl cried with delight.

‘Anoushka-myshka,' Nikolai replied with equal enthusiasm. He turned to Violet and gestured. ‘Miss Violet Hamilton, this is my sister, Anastacia Petrovna Khakovska.'

The two girls shook hands and exchanged greetings. Violet noted that Anastacia also spoke excellent English with a soft Russian accent.

‘Khakovska?' Violet asked. ‘I thought your surname was Khakovsky.'

Anastacia and Nikolai laughed.

‘In Russian, the ending of the name changes depending on whether you are a female or a male, so the feminine version of a name usually ends in “a”,' Nikolai explained. ‘Russians always have three names. Their first name is followed by a patronymic name, which indicates who your father was, and lastly your family name.'

‘That sounds confusing,' said Violet, wrinkling her nose.

Anastacia led the way into the apartment through a short hallway. At the back, overlooking the laneway, were two small bedrooms and a bathroom. Violet glimpsed beds covered in colourful patchwork quilts of scarlet and indigo as she passed.

The rest of the family was gathered in the living room overlooking the street at the front, working on their embroidery. The other two sisters rose from their chairs and nodded their heads in greeting. Violet was immediately struck by their appearance: they were all tall, fair-haired and slender with brown eyes. They seemed unusually graceful, like a corps of prima ballerinas, and were dressed stylishly in flowing day dresses, white stockings and low-heeled strap shoes.

‘Mamma, may I present my employer's daughter, Miss Violet Hamilton,' said Nikolai formally. ‘My mother, Elizaveta Ivanovna Khakovska. And my sisters, Miss Tatiana Petrovna and Miss Ekaterina Petrovna.'

These sisters looked to be about sixteen and seventeen.

‘How do you do, Miss Hamilton?' Mrs Khakovska asked. ‘Please take a seat. Can we offer you some tea?'

‘Delighted to meet you,' Violet replied, shaking her hand. ‘Tea would be lovely, thanks.'

Nikolai's mother was slightly shorter than her daughters and looked careworn, but like her daughters, she was smartly dressed and stood with her spine straight and chin high. Violet suddenly felt underdressed as she sat down in the velvet armchair offered to her.

She glanced around the living room in surprise – it was beautifully but simply furnished with armchairs grouped around the fireplace, a writing desk near the window, and a timber table and dining chairs at the far end. A faded Persian rug covered the floor. The furnishings were of good quality but somewhat worn. Attempts had been made to hide the worst of the wear with well-placed cushions and throws in warm tones of crimson and rose, contrasted with forest-green velvet. Framed watercolours hung on the walls, vases of flowers brightened the room, and a number of old photographs stood on the mantelpiece in silver frames. The room was far more like what one would expect in a genteel but impoverished country house than an apartment above a busy shop.