The Light Between Oceans(83)

But then she would remember the man who had stepped in to save her from God knew what, years ago on that boat. She remembered how safe she’d suddenly felt in his presence. The irony made her catch her breath even now. Who could tell what someone was like on the inside? She’d seen that air of authority he’d adopted with the drunk. Did he think he was above the rules? Or beyond them? But the two notes, that beautiful handwriting: ‘Pray for me.’ So she would return to her prayers, and pray for Tom Sherbourne too: that he be dealt with justly, even though some part of her wanted to see him suffer for what he had done.



The following afternoon, Gwen slipped her arm into her father’s, as they walked along the grass. ‘I miss this place, you know,’ she said, looking back towards the grand limestone homestead.

‘It misses you, Gwenny,’ her father replied. After a few more steps he said, ‘Now that Grace is home with Hannah, perhaps it’s time you came back to your old dad …’

She bit her lip. ‘I’d love to. I really would. But …’

‘But what?’

‘I don’t think Hannah can manage yet.’ She pulled away and faced her father. ‘I hate to be the one to say it, Dad, but I don’t know she’ll ever cope. And that poor little girl! I didn’t know a child could be that miserable.’

Septimus touched her cheek. ‘I know a little girl who used to be that miserable. Fair broke my heart, you did. Went on for months after your mother died.’ He stooped to smell one of the old red roses, just past its full, velvet bloom. He breathed the scent deep into his lungs, then put his hand on his back to straighten up.

‘But that’s the sad thing,’ insisted Gwen. ‘Her mother’s not dead. She’s here in Partageuse.’

‘Yes. Hannah is right here in Partageuse!’

She knew her father well enough not to press the point. They continued to walk in silence, Septimus inspecting the flowerbeds, Gwen trying not to hear the sound of her niece’s distress, so sharply etched in her mind.

That night, Septimus thought hard about what to do. He knew a thing or two about little girls who had lost their mother. And he knew a thing or two about persuasion. When he had settled on his plan, he nodded off to a dreamless sleep.



In the morning, he drove to Hannah’s, and announced, ‘Right. All ready? We’re going on a mystery outing. It’s about time Grace got to know Partageuse a bit better; learnt where she’s from.’

‘But I’m in the middle of mending the curtains. For the church hall. I promised Reverend Norkells …’

‘I’ll take her by myself. She’ll be right as rain.’

The ‘mystery outing’ began with a trip to Potts’s timber mills. Septimus had remembered how, as children, Hannah and Gwen had delighted in feeding apples and cube sugar to the Clydesdales there. The wood was moved by rail these days, but the mills still kept some of the old draft horses for emergencies, when rain washed away sections of rail track in the forest.

Patting one of the horses, he said, ‘This, young Grace, is Arabella. Can you say “Arabella”?

‘Rig her up to the cart, there’s a good lad,’ said Septimus to the stable hand, who jumped to. A short while later, he led Arabella into the yard, drawing a sulky.

Septimus hoisted Grace on to the seat, before climbing up beside her. ‘Let’s have an explore, shall we?’ he said, and gave a giddy-up to the old horse’s reins.

Grace had never seen such a big horse. She had never been in a real forest – the closest she had got was her ill-starred adventure in the scrubland behind the Graysmarks’ house. For most of her life, she had only ever seen two trees – the Norfolk pines on Janus. Septimus followed the old milling tracks through the towering karri, pointing out kangaroos and goannas here and there: the child was engrossed in the fairy-tale world. From time to time she picked out a bird or a wallaby. ‘What’s that?’ And her grandfather would name the creature.

‘Look, a baby kangaroo,’ she said, pointing to a marsupial hopping slowly near the track.

‘That’s not a baby ’roo. That little chap’s a quokka. Like a kangaroo but tiny. That’s as big as he’ll ever get.’ He patted her head. ‘It’s good to see you smile, girlie. I know you’ve been sad … You miss your old life.’ Septimus considered for a moment. ‘I know what that’s like because – well, that’s what happened to me.’

The girl gave a puzzled look, and he continued, ‘I had to say goodbye to my mum, and go across the sea, all the way to Fremantle on a sailing ship. When I was just a little bit older than you. Hard to imagine, I know. But I came here, and I got a new mum and dad, called Walt and Sarah. They looked after me from then on. And they loved me just like my Hannah loves you. So sometimes, you don’t just have one family in your life.’

Grace’s face gave no clue as to what she had made of this conversation, so he changed tack. As the horse walked on gently, the sun came dappling through the high branches here and there. ‘Do you like the trees?’

Grace nodded.

Septimus pointed to some saplings. ‘See – little trees, growing back. We chop down the big old ones, and new ones take their places. Everything grows back, if you give it time. By the time you’re my age, that tree’ll be a giant. It’ll come good.’ A thought occurred to him. ‘This forest will belong to you one day. It’ll be your forest.’