The Light Between Oceans(39)

‘Not at all. It’s just the change of life,’ the doctor said as he wrote up his notes. ‘You’re lucky enough to have a baby already, so it’s not as hard on you as it is on some women, when it comes unusually early like this. As for the other symptoms, well, I’m afraid you just have to grin and bear it. They’ll pass in a year or so. It’s just the way of things.’ He gave her a jolly smile. ‘And then, it’ll be a blessed relief: you’ll be past all the problems of menses. Some women would envy you.’

As she walked back to her parents’ house, Isabel tried not to cry. She had Lucy; she had Tom – at a time when many women had lost forever those they loved most. It would be greedy to want anything more.



A few days later, Tom signed the paperwork for another three-year term. The District Officer, who came down from Fremantle to see to the formalities, again paid close attention to his handwriting and signature, comparing them to his original documentation. Any sign of a tremor creeping into his hand and he wouldn’t be allowed back. Mercury poisoning was common enough: if they could catch it at the stage where it just caused shaky handwriting, they could avoid sending out a keeper who like as not would be mad as a meat axe by the end of his next stint.





CHAPTER 15



LUCY’S CHRISTENING, ORIGINALLY arranged for the first week of their leave, had been postponed because of the lengthy ‘indisposition’ of Reverend Norkells. It finally took place the day before their return to Janus in early January. That scorching morning, Ralph and Hilda walked to the church with Tom and Isabel. The only shade to be had while they waited for the doors to open was under a cluster of mallee trees beside the gravestones.

‘Let’s hope Norkells isn’t on another bender,’ said Ralph.

‘Ralph! Really!’ said Hilda. To change the subject, she tutted at a fresh granite stone a few feet away. ‘Such a shame.’

‘What is, Hilda?’ asked Isabel.

‘Oh, the poor baby and her father, the ones that drowned. At least they’ve finally got a memorial.’

Isabel froze. For a moment, she feared she might faint, and the sounds around her became distant and then suddenly booming. She struggled to make sense of the bright gold letters on the stone: ‘In loving memory of Franz Johannes Roennfeldt, dearly beloved husband of Hannah, and of their precious daughter Grace Ellen. Watched over by God.’ Then under that, ‘Selig sind die da Leid tragen.’ Fresh flowers lay at the foot of the memorial. With this heat, they couldn’t have been left more than an hour before.

‘What happened?’ she asked, as a tingling spread to her hands and feet.

‘Ah, shocking,’ said Ralph with a shake of his head. ‘Hannah Potts as was.’ Isabel recognised the name immediately. ‘Septimus Potts, old Potts of Money, they call him. Richest fella for miles. He came here from London fifty-odd years back as an orphan with nothing. Made a fortune in timber. Wife died when his two girls were only small. What’s the other one’s name, Hilda?’

‘Gwen. Hannah’s the oldest. Both went to that fancy boarding school up in Perth.’

‘Then a few years back Hannah went and married a Hun … Well, old Potts wouldn’t speak to her after that. Cut off the money. They lived in that run-down cottage by the pumping station. Old man finally came around when the baby was born. Anyway, there was a bit of a barney on Anzac Day, year before last now—’

‘Not now, Ralph,’ Hilda cautioned with a look.

‘Just telling them …’

‘This is hardly the time or the place.’ She turned to Isabel. ‘Let’s just say there was a misunderstanding between Frank Roennfeldt and some of the locals, and he ended up jumping into a rowing boat with the baby. They … well, they took against him because he was German. Or as good as. No need to go into all of that here, at a christening and all. Better forgotten.’

Isabel had stopped taking breaths as she listened to the tale, and now gave an involuntary gasp as her body clamoured for air.

‘Yes, I know!’ Hilda said, to show her agreement. ‘And it gets worse …’

Tom glanced urgently at Isabel, his eyes wide, sweat beading on his lip. He wondered if it was possible for others to hear his heart beating, it was thundering so wildly.

‘Well, the bloke was no sailor,’ Ralph went on. ‘Had a dicky heart since he was a kid, by all accounts: he was no match for these currents. Storm blew up and no one saw hide nor hair of them again.Must have drowned. Old man Potts put up a reward for information: a thousand guineas!’ He gave a shake of the head. ‘That would’ve brought ’em out of the woodwork if anyone knew anything. Even had a mind to look for them myself! Mind you – I’m no Boche-lover. But the baby … Barely two months old. You can’t hold it against a baby now, can you? Little mite.’

‘Poor Hannah never recovered,’ sighed Hilda. ‘Her father only persuaded her to put up the memorial a few months ago.’ She paused as she pulled her gloves up. ‘Funny how lives turn out, isn’t it? Born to more money than you can shake a stick at; went all the way to Sydney University to get a degree in something or other; married the love of her life – and you see her now sometimes, wandering about, like she’s got no home to go to.’

Now, Isabel felt plunged into ice, as the flowers on the memorial taunted her, threatened her with the closeness of the mother’s presence. She leaned against a tree, dizzy.