The Lost Sapphire (9 page)

Violet took a ham sandwich and tossed it to Romeo, who swallowed it in one bite.

‘Yes, Miss Hamilton,' Sally said. ‘Mrs Darling asked me to apologise for it takin' so long, but the kitchen is in a-whirl with the dinner party tonight. Monsieur Dufour is shoutin' in French an' throwing pans again.'

Imogen laughed as she poured tea into Violet's cup, then her own. ‘Thank goodness we're having a cosy little dinner and not a formal banquet. But at least we all know the meal will be heavenly.'

Violet took a sip of her tea then glanced up at Sally. Something about her voice sounded strained, her eyes were red-rimmed and her face looked pinched. ‘Are you all right? Has Monsieur been shouting at you?'

Sally shook her head. ‘No, miss. It's just … It's just that Frank came by this afternoon to say that Ma is worse … But Mrs Darling says it's far too busy with the dinner party tonight, so I can't check on her until tomorrow. We still have so much to do.'

Violet set her teacup down in its saucer. ‘But of course you must go to your mother.'

‘I can't, miss,' Sally repeated. ‘I've hours of work to do yet. Mrs Darling says I can have an hour off tomorrow afternoon.'

Violet thought for a moment then stood up, her chin in the air. ‘Sorry, Imogen, old thing, but I've just remembered there's something I need to do.' She turned to Sally.
‘Come along. Imogen doesn't want anything to eat, so bring all that food back to the kitchen. I'm going to have a word with Mrs Darling.'

‘What do you mean?' Imogen demanded. ‘I'm starving.'

‘No, you're not,' Violet insisted. ‘Think of that lovely new dress you want to have made for our Russian Ball. Remember, the latest fashion is to look like a skinny boy.'

Imogen grabbed two triangles of ham-and-lettuce sandwich from the plate. ‘If you'd spent all night dancing, you'd be starving too.'

‘Come on, Sally,' Violet ordered. ‘There's no time to waste.'

Sally obediently took the plates of food from the table and loaded them back on the tray, following Violet back across the lawn, up onto the terrace, in through the servants' entrance and into the service wing. Romeo followed hopefully, but stopped at the servants' door – he knew better than to brave the wrath of Monsieur Dufour.

The back corridor led past the scullery, where a teenage girl was scrubbing a huge pile of greasy saucepans, her arms elbow-deep in grimy water. Further along were the pantry, storerooms and laundry, then the maids' sitting room. A narrow, steep stairway climbed up to the maids' bedrooms and provided the servants with access to the family bedrooms at the front of the house. A laundry maid bustled past, hefting a basket almost as big as she was.

Unlike the front of the house, the servants' quarters were painted a utilitarian grey, with small, high windows and bare timber floors. Before she reached it, Violet could hear the sounds of the kitchen – oil sizzling, pans clattering
and banging, Monsieur Dufour shouting in French, ‘
Allez, vite. Vite!
'

Rich buttery smells drifted out the door, and the fresh, tangy scent of fresh herbs from the kitchen garden. Above the door were the servants' bells, each a different size for every room, so the servants would know where to go when summoned.

Violet turned into the kitchen, which was hot and stuffy, despite being the only spacious room in the back quarters. Monsieur Dufour, sweat beading on his forehead, was chopping thyme, rosemary and parsley, his long steel knife flashing with great speed. He threw chopped onions and garlic into the sizzling butter and tossed them in the air, flamboyantly stirring them with a wooden spoon.

The housekeeper, Mrs Darling, was sitting at the scrubbed pine table with Annie, one of the other maids. They were counting and polishing the silver cutlery with soft rags before stacking them back in the timber canteen. Mrs Darling saw Violet and rose quickly, nudging Annie to do the same.

‘Miss Violet, can I help you with anything?' Mrs Darling asked.

‘Yes, please, Mrs Darling,' Violet replied. ‘I have an important errand that I need to run just now, and I need Sally to accompany me. We won't be very long.'

Mrs Darling glanced at Violet and then at Sally behind her. ‘Sally has lots of work to do to get ready for tonight,' Mrs Darling explained. ‘We're expecting seven guests for dinner, and your father has instructed that he would like an exceptional meal.'

Monsieur Dufour slammed a pot down on the table. His knife chopped the ends off a pile of asparagus in one quick motion.

Violet smiled winningly. ‘Yes, I understand that, and I'm sure Sally can catch up when we return, but I do need her for a little while.'

Mrs Darling crossed her hands in front of her chest and nodded. ‘Then of course, Miss Violet.'

‘Sally, could you please run to the carriage house and tell Nikolai that I need the car immediately?' asked Violet. ‘I'll meet you and Nikolai out front.'

Violet quickly looked around the kitchen, noticing the large leg of ham that had been carved to make the sandwiches. She turned to the other maidservant. ‘Annie, could you please pack up all this leftover food into a basket for me, please? And assuming that Monsieur Dufour doesn't need it for this evening's meal, can you please put that ham in a bag as well, along with any fruit, potatoes and bread we can spare?'

Mrs Darling hesitated for a moment and then reached for a wicker shopping basket on the sideboard. ‘There's also half a chocolate cake, a dozen scones, a bottle of milk and a packet of tea. Would you like those as well?'

Monsieur Dufour huffed loudly and muttered something that Violet translated to mean ‘spoiled daughter of a pig'. Violet smiled sweetly at the chef and murmured back, ‘
Merci beaucoup, Monsieur.
'

He flushed, forgetting that both Violet and Imogen spoke quite passable French, and Violet had just said, ‘Thank you very much, sir.'

Annie and Mrs Darling began wrapping the food in
tea towels and packing it into the basket. ‘Perfect,' said Violet. ‘Would you mind putting that in the car for me, please? I'll just dash upstairs and fetch my handbag, hat and gloves.'

When Violet hurtled back downstairs, Nikolai was waiting with the back door of the car open. Sally sat in the front with the huge basket on her lap.

‘Could you drive us to Sally's house as quickly as you can, please Nikolai?' asked Violet. ‘We don't have much time.'

Nikolai saluted. ‘It would be my pleasure, Miss Violet.'

‘I just have to grab one more thing,' Violet said.

Inside the garage on a back shelf was a box of old sporting equipment that had belonged to Archie and Lawrence. Violet rummaged around and pulled out a cricket bat and a leather ball. She hesitated for a moment, the bat heavy in her hand as memories crowded in of backyard games with her brothers. She pushed the memories away and hurried to join the others.

Nikolai was as good as his word, driving quickly but safely through the crowded streets of Richmond. Once again he parked outside the little row of terraces where the gang of children were playing football, using a ball made from crumpled newspapers tied with twine. This time they were boisterous and welcoming when they saw the bright yellow car.

‘The food is for your family, of course, Sally,' said Violet. ‘It's not much, but it's something.' She fumbled around in her handbag and pulled out a small paper bag. ‘I didn't know if you'd have any medicine for your mother, so I brought some things from our medicine
chest – aspirin, cough wafers and Mrs Darling's chest rub. I hope they help.'

Sally's eyes welled with tears, and she tried to blink them away as she took the package. ‘You're too kind, miss.'

‘Not at all. I only wish I could do more,' said Violet. ‘Now hurry – we need to head back in about ten or fifteen minutes.'

Nikolai helped Sally with the heavy basket as she climbed out of the car.

‘Would you like to come inside, miss?' Sally asked. ‘You could look at Ma and see what you think is wrong. She made me promise not to get a doctor, because we can't afford it, but she doesn't seem to be getting any better.'

Violet hesitated. She knew nothing about illness, and for all she knew it might be highly contagious. The newspapers were always full of stories of the dreadful diseases that festered in the slums. She saw the hope in Sally's face.

‘Of course I will.' Violet turned to the children crowding around the car. ‘But first I have a little present for you all to share.' She handed the cricket bat to Ruthie, the girl with the withered leg, and the leather ball to Paddy. ‘Have fun.'

The children squealed with joy as they all squabbled to touch the new treasures. Violet took a brown paper bag of fruit from the basket over Sally's arm and passed it to Nikolai to distribute to the children.

‘It's a very simple house, miss,' Sally explained as she led the way onto the porch. ‘It's a little crowded when everyone is home.'

Maisie answered the knock at the door. Violet followed Sally down a narrow hallway, with paint peeling from the
ceiling and walls. There were two tiny, dark bedrooms at the front of the house, which were crowded with beds and belongings. The third room was a kitchen overlooking a small, dusty yard.

In the corner, a gaunt, grey-haired man was sitting on a chair, staring at the floor and absently stroking a tabby cat on his lap. He looked up, rather confused, as they came into the room. Violet suddenly realised that one shirtsleeve was empty – he was missing his right arm.

Sally leaned over and kissed him on top of his head. ‘Can I make you a cup of tea, Da? Have you had anythin' to eat?'

‘Sal, my girl,' he said in a hoarse voice, as though he rarely spoke. ‘What're you doin' here? Is it Sunday already?'

Sally heaved the basket onto the kitchen table. ‘No. It's Thursday. I'm just here to check on Ma, and Miss Hamilton has brought us all some food from Riversleigh.'

Violet shook his limp, listless left hand. ‘Glad to meet you, Mr Burke.'

Sally took a triangle of sandwich from one of the cloth packages and gave it to her father, who nibbled at the crust.

The atmosphere of sickness and squalor saddened Violet. Sally had often chatted to her about her family and the cheery meals they had whenever she went home on her afternoons off, and Violet had imagined an idyllic, cosy cottage with roses around the door. The reality was much bleaker.

On the wood stove was a large, black kettle that Sally took outside to fill with water from the tap near the outdoor washhouse. Sally stoked the fire with kindling from a bucket and put the kettle on to boil.

‘Ma's in the second room,' said Sally. ‘I'll just check on her an' straighten up a little.'

‘Why don't I make the tea?' Violet suggested. She had never made tea at home, but how difficult could it be?

Sally smiled back at her, as though at a helpless child. ‘No, that's all right, miss. It might be best if I might make the tea. I know how Ma likes it.'

Violet looked out the back door at the courtyard with its washhouse, single tap and rope washing line laden with drying clothes. A stack of firewood was piled against the sagging fence. A makeshift table held iron buckets and a bar of soap for washing. Another tabby cat ran across the paving and jumped up onto the roof of the lean-to next door.

Sally came back to the kitchen after a few minutes to make the tea in a big enamel teapot. She poured an earthen ware mug for her father, and his one hand trembled so violently as he held it that the hot liquid slopped over the sides.

‘Leave it till it cools down a little, Pa, or you'll burn yourself,' Sally suggested, calmly wiping up the mess.

Violet declined the offer of a mug of tea, following Sally back into the bedroom. Mrs Burke was sitting up in a dishevelled bed, the sheets tangled around her. Under her grey nightie she was very thin, and when she coughed her whole body was wracked with spasms.

‘I'm fine, Sally, don't fuss,' Mrs Burke said, her voice raspy and breathless. ‘It's lovely to see you, but I'll be better after a couple more days in bed.'

Sally handed her mother the mug of tea. ‘Well, I'd feel better if you ate somethin'. Miss Hamilton brought you a basket of good food to help you get better.'

Mrs Burke shook her head weakly. ‘Maybe later. I'm not hungry now, but I'll take a sip of this tea.'

Violet wanted to help, but she felt rather useless as Sally straightened the sheets and tucked them in. She was not used to doing any domestic chores. Finally, Violet hung back near the door, out of the way.

‘I'm sorry, Sally,' Violet said, checking her wristwatch, ‘but we can't stay any longer. Mrs Darling will be furious if I don't get you back in time to help with the dinner.'

Mrs Burke nodded at the girls. ‘You go, Sal. We can't have you losin' your job right now.'

Sally hugged her mother. ‘Everythin'll be all right, Ma. We'll muddle through.'

Hawthorn, modern day

Marli chained up her bicycle to the pole outside the gates of Riversleigh and peered through the bars. The house seemed more beautiful to her now that she had seen the photographs of what it looked like in its heyday. Marli was determined to explore the estate more thoroughly. Perhaps she could even find a way into the house.

Violet's scrapbook was stowed safely inside her backpack, along with her dad's digital camera and its long zoom lens, which she'd borrowed to take photographs of the house and garden. Hearing Didi talk about her great-grandmother's love of photography had reminded Marli how much she loved taking photos. Marli pulled the camera out and took a photograph of the wrought-iron gate with the Keep Out sign.

There was no-one around, so she crept into Luca's
front garden, scrambled up the tree and onto the wall. She felt a buzz of exhilaration as she dropped over to the other side.

She waded through the thigh-high grass, photographing the summerhouse almost swallowed by the wisteria vine and the rose garden with its snub-nosed cherub statue. She tried to take a photograph of the fairy wren chasing insects through the waving grass, but he was far too quick and the photo was just a blue-and-brown blur.

While grass and weeds had overtaken many of the formal beds, there were still some flowers that bloomed regardless – a ragged hedge of pink hydrangeas, a bank of blue agapanthus and a drift of white freesias under a spreading oak tree. It was so different to her tropical garden in Brisbane, which was filled with frangipanis, hibiscus, palms, birds-of-paradise and an ancient mango tree.

A familiar hacking cough sounded behind her. It was Luca, once more wearing his uniform – black jeans, grey T-shirt, white earphones – and walking around the side of the terrace.

‘Hi,' he said. ‘Hope you don't mind, but I saw you from my bedroom window and thought I'd come over.'

Marli wasn't sure if she was annoyed at the interruption or happy to have someone to talk to. ‘Sure,' she replied. ‘I'm just poking around.'

Luca came closer. ‘I talked to Nonno about the gardens. He said this area here, to the north, used to be the croquet lawn.'

Marli looked around. She tried to imagine it as a smooth rectangle of manicured lawn, but it was impossible.

‘There used to be a boathouse down near the river,' Luca continued, ‘but it was swept away in the big floods of 1934.'

‘What a shame,' Marli said.

Luca gestured to the left. ‘Our block used to be the horse paddocks, then our apartments were built in 1923. There's still a door that leads from the old carriage house into our garden, but it's locked now.'

‘It must have been gorgeous, surrounded by paddocks,' said Marli. ‘I have some photos here of the house and the garden as it was. Would you like to see them?'

Luca's face lit up. ‘Sure. That'd be great.'

Marli thought it was the first time he had looked friendly. ‘Why don't we go and sit on the steps?'

They wandered back towards the house. Luca stooped and pulled a few clumps of grass from between the freesias. He began to cough severely and had to lean over until the spasm passed.

‘Are you all right?' asked Marli, feeling concerned.

Luca didn't answer for a moment, his face red with the effort of breathing. ‘Sorry,' he replied in a raspy voice. ‘I have whooping cough.'

‘That sounds nasty,' Marli said, inadvertently stepping back. Didi's younger sister had died of whooping cough as a baby.

‘I'm not contagious anymore, but the cough goes on for ages. It's exhausting. The Chinese call it “the hundred-day cough”. So the doctor said I had to stay home for the rest of term to build up my strength.'

Marli felt a wave of sympathy for the thin, pale boy. ‘So you're missing school too,' she replied. ‘I'm down here
to spend “quality time” with my father while Mum's away overseas. But Dad's at work all the time, so I hardly see him.' She explained about her mum's trip to Cambridge and missing all her friends.

‘I know what you mean,' he replied. ‘My sisters and all my friends are at school every day. Now that Mum's gone back to work, I've just been hanging around, visiting my grandparents and watching TV. It sounds like fun, but it's dead boring after a while.'

‘Tell me about it,' said Marli, rolling her eyes.

The two sat on the stone steps in the sun. Marli carefully took out the old scrapbook from her backpack.

‘It's Violet's scrapbook from 1922,' Marli explained. ‘My grandfather gave it to me.'

The two pored over the pictures of the house and garden, and the servants lined up on the driveway.

‘I wonder if one of them might be my great-grandfather?' Luca said, examining the photo. ‘Perhaps Nonno could tell us?'

‘We can ask him,' Marli said. She turned the page. ‘There're some incredible shots of barefoot children in the slums here.'

‘It must have been a very hard life to be poor in those days,' Luca added.

‘A huge contrast to life at Riversleigh.' Marli hesitated, then looked behind her at the boarded-up doors of the house. ‘I was thinking, it would be pretty awesome if we could get inside and explore.'

Luca looked uncertain. ‘You mean break in somehow?'

‘It's not trespassing,' Marli assured him. ‘Didi will get the key in a couple of weeks, but I can't bear to wait
that long. We might be lucky; there could be a window or something open. Shall we take a look?'

Luca laughed. ‘I've lived next door to this house all my life, and I've always been curious about it. I'd love to see inside.'

The two circled the house to see if any of the doors or windows might open, but all were securely boarded up. On the southern side of the house was a bluestone cobbled courtyard, a collection of outhouses and a large, two-storey garage with a set of stairs on the outside.

‘The old carriage house and stables,' said Marli.

‘I think the door that leads to our garden is in there,' said Luca. ‘The door's locked, but perhaps we can open it from this side.'

The carriage house had an old-fashioned arched doorway with blue timber double doors, one of which was hanging lopsided from its hinges. Luca dragged it open.

Light flooded inside, revealing rusty tools, an old mower, paint cans, a pile of musty furniture and a jumble of milk crates. Right at the very back was another set of double doors with peeling blue paint, which were locked with a wooden crossbar.

Luca pulled away some of the junk to make a path through to the back wall. Marli dragged back the crossbar and the door creaked open, revealing a glimpse into Luca's garden.

‘We can get in and out now without breaking our necks,' Marli joked.

Luca rummaged through the carriage house, setting aside two wooden chairs and an old chest. ‘I wonder if this stuff belonged to your family, or if it was just hospital junk?'

‘It all looks really old,' Marli said. ‘And look, there's an old gramophone. I bet that didn't belong to the hospital.'

The brass horn of the gramophone was tarnished and blackened with age. Marli rubbed at the dust.

‘I wonder if there're any old records in here?' Luca said. ‘This place is like a time capsule.'

Marli picked up a cracked china doll with one arm. ‘Maybe this belonged to my great-grandmother.'

Luca reached for a rusty rake with a snapped handle and brandished it in the air. ‘Perhaps this was used by my great-grandfather.'

Marli laughed and put the doll aside. ‘I wonder what happened here. Do you think the Hamiltons were really cursed? It all sounds so mysterious.'

‘Perhaps we should try and find out,' Luca suggested, sitting backwards on one of the chairs. ‘We could search the internet to find out some of the history. There must be newspaper articles or records that will tell us something.'

‘That would be brilliant,' Marli agreed. ‘Would you really help me?'

‘Try and stop me,' Luca said, his eyes alight with enthusiasm. ‘It'll be an adventure.'