Page 129

‘She’s single-minded and desperate to get away from the clutch of her parents. I mean, she probably loves them but their attitude frustrates her. She’s a modern woman and shows none of their hideous pretension.’

Fleur nodded. ‘How did this come about?’

Tom explained.

‘So now you have family . . . even if you only count that one lovely cousin.’

He nodded. ‘Feels good. But the best bit about Emily was that she could tell me more about the man my mother loved, the man who fathered me.’ Again Tom explained all he’d discovered. He pulled out the card and showed Fleur.

She was quietly shocked but was careful not to show it. ‘It isn’t much to go on.’

‘No. I’ve been thinking it all through since she gave it to me and I’ve decided I don’t wish to find out more about him. I had a mother and father – the only ones I knew about – and the man who came before is simply that. A man. A stranger. I’m wondering about the proverbial can of worms, Fleur. What if finding him sets off a new pile of problems and emotions I don’t need? I just want to get on with life with you. I’ve imagined how me arriving into his life – if I can find him – would be disruptive. He may have his own family now . . . a wife, other children, perhaps even grandchildren. And all I would do is create new turmoil for all of those people. It might unsettle him as he remembers Mum and their love and being forbidden to be together.’ Tom shook his head. ‘I think it’s not worth risking upset.’

She nodded, hugging him tighter. ‘We were so fortunate to find each other again. I agree, perhaps you should let that be enough and not hold on to old hurts. The hurt was your mother’s and she came to terms with it. And as you rightly say, he’s a stranger, whereas Vern Catchlove was your father in every way.’

Tom pondered this some more, nodding finally. ‘I’m glad you agree. Our child will never know his or her two grandfathers but as far as they’re concerned, that’s Henry Appleby and Vern Catchlove.’ He seemed to hesitate.

‘Sounds like you have more to say, Tom.’

‘There is more.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I heard about an old house while I was at the woolstores, and was interested in seeing it.’ When she gave him a look of enquiry, he added, ‘I think my mother gave me an interest in history. The house holds many stories of past lives.’

Fleur knew to remain patient with Tom. ‘I’m listening.’

‘It’s a rather grand old place on a hill, overlooking pasture for as far as my gaze could reach.’

‘You’ve seen it?’

He nodded. ‘I’ve been in it. They let me have the keys,’ he admitted, sounding embarrassed. ‘It’s been left to go to ruin, I gather. It was built by a gentleman landowner in the previous century – one of the early settlers of South Australia. It’s called Drumminor.’

‘Where is this house? Is it out here in the middle of nowhere?’

He laughed and she gave him an apologetic shrug.

‘Sorry.’

‘I do like the middle of nowhere at times. No, this house is north of Adelaide, further out from Prospect, and I have a feeling that the region will become part of the Adelaide metropolis as it begins to sprawl.’ He warmed to this topic, sitting forward eagerly. ‘Fleur, it has to be the next region that will feel the effects of population increase. It’s not too hilly and has a near enough straight line to the city. I think they’ll build proper roads and they’ll start carving up the land quite soon into suburbs, then begin building houses, schools, hospitals and shops.’

She turned to regard him with an interested frown. ‘Tom, you sound convinced.’

‘I am.’

‘All right. You’ve thought this through, but why?’

‘People have to live somewhere and the population is exploding. Not everyone can afford to live in North Adelaide or Unley or Norwood. The Port is already crowded. Prospect is booming and becoming densely populated, and I reckon they’ll just keep going further north from there.’

‘So?’

She watched him tense slightly. ‘So, I bought it.’

Fleur resisted the natural response to say ‘pardon’ in her surprise and have him repeat what she’d heard perfectly well. But it didn’t stop her needing to repeat it in her mind to comprehend his words. ‘I don’t understand.’

He gave her a sheepish shrug. ‘Recently I discovered my mother left some money in trust for me for when I came of age.’

‘Oh, Tom.’ Fleur sighed. ‘Why didn’t your father tell you, given she died long ago?’

‘If Dad knew about it, he chose not to mention it. At first, when I found out, I thought he mustn’t have wanted me to have it – jealous, perhaps, or maybe he reasoned that we’ve never had money, so why have it now? I was doing fine as a wool classer. Dad had an opinion that money – a surplus of it, that is – only caused problems.’

‘Irma being a very good example,’ Fleur said, in a dry tone.