'The new order of the Sisters of St Joseph of the Sacred Heart. Now tell me about your plans for a girls' home in Fremantle.'

'Many of the foundlings and abandoned girls that we have been sheltering temporarily are sent to the Sisters of Mercy at Subiaco. The boys are well cared for at the orphanage at Clontarf. We are a small operation, a sort of halfway house for girls in emergency situations,' explained Olivia.

Father Torres gave them valuable advice, suggestions for fund raising and warned them of the pitfalls of philanthropic endeavour without an inst.i.tution to back them up. 'We have learned a lot from our experience.'

'And do your students study Aboriginal culture, too?' asked Olivia.

'I only arrived here in 1901 and have scant knowledge of the native customs,' he admitted. 'Besides, we want to train the children to fit into society as best they can as well as come to G.o.d. Bishop Salvado's ideal was to care for the Aborigines following the Benedictine lines-stability, hard work and faith. We also plan to open a boarding college for boys, St Ildephonsus' College. French Marist Brothers are coming in to run it.'

'We are thinking on a very small scale compared to your plans,' said Gilbert.

'Doctor Shaw, any comfort or succour that you can offer these troubled children will be of great benefit. I wish you both well in your endeavours.'

Following a simple but bountiful lunch of food grown in the monastery gardens, a monk took them on a tour of the monastery and its grounds.

Gilbert and Olivia settled into the train for the trip back to Perth, talking over their impressions of New Norcia and the advice from Father Torres.

'So, do we pursue the plan for a girls' refuge?'

'Of course we do, Gilbert. That is if you are still willing. While it is a modest enterprise it will be, nonetheless, a big undertaking for us and you do have your surgery as well.'

'That is why I am relying on you to run the practical side of things, Olivia. We seem to have the same feelings and thoughts about this project, maybe that is why G.o.d intended our paths should cross.'

'I want to help very much. It's not just a diversion. I feel very strongly about helping these girls. I'd rather we were just a care and nurturing centre without the religious and educational emphasis. Children need a home atmosphere. Somewhere where they can feel safe and loved.'

'Well, Olivia, you are embarking on something of a new career, again.'

'I will of course keep my interest in Star of the Sea Pearls. It doesn't take a lot of my time but I don't want to lose the connection,' she said quietly.

'Before you can make a new life you must let go of the old one.'

He spoke gently and Olivia smiled fondly at the kindly man beside her. Although older than Conrad, he reminded her of him in some ways-a trifle conservative, respectful and gentle. She also had profound respect for this good man who had devoted his life to caring for others.

After they returned to Perth, Olivia and Gilbert Shaw went to Fremantle and looked again at the large house on Cantonment Street. Partly screened from the street by high trees, it was a stone building with two wings on either side of the main hall and entrance.

'Do you think we should put up a wall, a fence?'

Olivia shook her head. 'It would make it too intimidating. I want girls to feel they can come here and just walk in and be part of a family.'

'Hmm. Perhaps we need some lights on the outside and in the garden to make it more welcoming.'

They went into the house donated by their benefactor, a wealthy spinster, and looked over the changes that were almost complete. Several rooms had been turned into a dormitory, the dining room now had smaller tables and the formal rooms were designated as day recreation rooms. Upstairs, Doctor Shaw had a clinic and Olivia an office. A nurse would be on duty with a cook and cleaner. A housekeeper and her husband lived in.

'The most important thing will be getting the word out that we're here,' said Olivia.

'I suppose you're going to walk the streets and go into every hotel and seedy hangout imaginable to tell them about us,' said Gilbert with a rueful smile.

'Come on, Gilbert. You need to get out of that stuffy surgery more often.'

'This isn't Broome, Olivia.'

'Come with me then. Not as my protector, but to get a feel for what is happening on the streets.' It was a challenge and Gilbert realised he'd be less of a man in Olivia's eyes if he didn't take it up. It was a feeling that had troubled him frequently. He was devoted to Olivia and loved her in his reserved way. But knowing the wound Tyndall had inflicted to her heart, esteem and ego, he was reluctant to show the depth of his feelings. As a result, he felt Olivia found him una.s.sertive and emotionally pallid.

'I'll be there. We should start around the docks. Apparently a lot of girls hang about down there.'

'Good for you, Gilbert.'

It took weeks, but through the churches, hospitals, the police, the network of contacts they built up from back doors of cheap eating houses where the homeless went for handouts, to the workers round the docks who knew where girls were sleeping rough, the word of Shaw House spread. Young girls started turning up to be treated, fed, given clothing and advice. Some just wanted a bed and a meal for a night or two, while others were sent on to the Sisters of Mercy. In some cases, Olivia tried to find employment for girls who had some education and were willing to work.

It was tiring, sometimes frustrating and heartrending, but ultimately rewarding work. It kept her mind off the past and she only took a break and made time for herself when Hamish came home for holidays. He loved his school, was a keen team partic.i.p.ant in all sports and in the dramatic society and he looked forward to the Christmas holiday adventure of travelling to a friend's pastoral property. It took his mind off wanting to go back to Broome, which relieved Olivia. Minnie's daughter, Mollie, had made one trip back to Broome since coming to work for Olivia in Fremantle and reported that all was well at Olivia's home in Broome, where Minnie lived with Alf in the servants' quarters as caretakers.

As Shaw House was transformed from a dark and rundown boarding house into the cheerful and welcoming safe haven for 'girls in crisis' as Gilbert described it, Olivia and Gilbert spent more time together than ever before. Plans, renovations, furnishing and practical amenities were discussed and the workload shared. When Hamish came home he joined them, doing odd jobs and taking a great interest in the project. The three of them ate meals together and to the childless and widowed Gilbert it was a joy to feel like part of a family.

Olivia, too, was pleased Gilbert and Hamish liked each other. The boy needed a father figure and Gilbert Shaw offered sound advice, took an interest in his sporting activities and discussed world affairs with him. Olivia realised how much Hamish had grown to look like his father. He had something of Conrad's polite reserve and well-drilled school manners but his flashes of teasing humour she recognised as pure Tyndall. At these moments her heart lurched as she realised how much she missed Tyndall's engaging, if sometimes maddening, sense of humour. But Tyndall's down-to-earth manner had been good for Hamish, as had their mixed group of friends like Ahmed and the Mettas, for it had given the boy a balanced perception of people and the world. In one of his letters Tyndall had hoped Hamish wouldn't turn into a sn.o.b by going to a posh boarding school.

'Wrong again, Tyndall,' Olivia thought. She never wrote to Tyndall about her personal life though she knew Hamish wrote to Tyndall. She kept her correspondence restricted to business matters. She also tried to keep her memories of Tyndall in check. If she allowed herself to think about the beautiful times they'd shared, the joyous future she'd imagined with him, and then the betrayal and invasion of Amy, it caused overwhelming pain and sorrow. If she kept busy, kept distracted, kept her distance, she figured she would get through this tragedy in her life.

Time and again she thanked whatever lucky stars, fate or providence had thrown her together with Gilbert Shaw. He was understanding, gentle and caring. She could see the growing love in his eyes for her and it gave her a warm and supportive feeling. Knowing he was there made her feel less like she was battling on her own. The strength that had helped her through her dark days was still there, but she felt softer, more mellow. She didn't have to fight so hard. She wasn't alone. She liked the companionship, having someone to share things with, and do things together. Their work life now blended with the social and, without anything ever being stated, their lives began to meld.

Gilbert was an attractive man, slim, fit, hair turning silver and the lines in his face spoke of compa.s.sion for others and a pleasant nature. He was easy to be with, calm and self-a.s.sured. Had Olivia known it, she would have been surprised to learn Gilbert was feeling increasingly uneasy about his feelings for Olivia. He worried that he may seem boring compared with the mysterious Tyndall, that he looked like her father, or uncle, that he aroused no s.e.xual pa.s.sion in her. Beneath his beautiful manners, quiet nature and easy smile was a desire to behave like a rash impetuous youth. Olivia's energy, enthusiasm and strength stirred feelings he thought had pa.s.sed for him, and he longed to show her how he really felt; that inside his correct and tailored suit there was a virile young man as swashbuckling and rollicking as he imagined Captain John Tyndall to be.

Contrary to how Gilbert saw himself, Olivia thought him attractive and appealing. In his stillness she saw strength and support, in his shyness she saw cultured manners and a gentleness towards all people. His touch was one of respect and admiration and made her feel glad about herself. They were comfortably compatible and she felt at ease and safe with him. There would never be the wild pa.s.sion, the unexpected or the boiling emotions generated between herself and Tyndall. No, Gilbert Shaw had come along at a point in her life that was right for both of them.

Amy had quickly become Tyndall's ferocious guardian. She banished the servants from his room and stood watch over him round the clock, sleeping on the chaise tongue chaise tongue by the window. The doctor had left a small phial of laudanum which he said contained morphine for the pain from Tyndall's ulcerous legs. With it he gave strict instructions on dosage. Tyndall still had delirious attacks and when not mumbling incoherently, he lay in a fitful sleep. by the window. The doctor had left a small phial of laudanum which he said contained morphine for the pain from Tyndall's ulcerous legs. With it he gave strict instructions on dosage. Tyndall still had delirious attacks and when not mumbling incoherently, he lay in a fitful sleep.

During the hours she sat in his room Amy thought carefully about her future and her choices.

Ahmed visited the house daily and each time Amy refused him admittance. Concerned, he went to Rosminah and asked her to see or find out how Tyndall really was. She told him that the bedroom was kept locked and when Amy left it to go to the bathroom or wash, she locked it and took the key with her. 'I can't see the master. He no eat very good. You get doctor come and check tuan,' Rosminah pleaded.

Ahmed looked concerned, 'Doctor's gone to Beagle Bay. He say he leave medicine with mem. She giving him medicine?'

Rosminah shrugged.

Ahmed sighed and told her to look for any opportunity to check on Tuan Tyndall.

Several of Tyndall's friends called by, but Amy politely turned them all away, pleading her husband's need of rest. Sergeant O'Leary called as soon as he heard of Tyndall's condition and Amy had allowed him to glimpse the sleeping Tyndall, then ushered him out, promising that she would let him know as soon as she felt Tyndall was well enough to see him. The policeman's visit had shaken her, but he had spoken warmly and wished her well. He said he would take a statement from Ahmed to advise the authorities about the sinking and apparent death of other crew members of the Shamrock Shamrock. The interview with Tyndall could wait, he added sympathetically.

Initially, Amy fled to Tyndall's side out of fear, fear that he was not seriously ill and would soon discover the theft of pearls from his safe. Then when she found he was in such a bad way, there was a flood of relief and a little compa.s.sion.

But she became increasingly agitated as the days pa.s.sed and Tyndall showed slight signs of recovery. He began to eat more and was sleeping better. He tried to make conversation with Amy but quickly tired since she made little effort to contribute to the exchange, doing little more than urging him to rest, and go back to sleep. Several times he called out in his sleep for Olivia, which angered Amy enormously.

Amy soon became aware that an almost permanent confusion of thoughts was sapping her energy. Gunther had told her the boat would be adequately provisioned and ready for sea in a few days, but he needed time to wrap up some unspecified business deals, and to receive telegraph messages from Sydney.

Now that she had the situation under control there was time on her hands, time to think, and time to wonder what she had done and what she had to do. And she knew, too, that she had Tyndall's life in her hands. It was that power, the power of life and death, that at once exhilarated and appalled her, that kept her awake for hours when she desperately wanted to sleep. And in the loneliness and dark one sleepless night she found herself pondering on what advantages would accrue if Tyndall died. She could perhaps have a claim on everything. There would be no need to put to sea with Gunther. But then the robbery bound her to Gunther, didn't it? That could not be undone.

She felt the pearls against her body but her mind wandered elsewhere and images of death filled her mind. But he won't die ... unless ... and she found herself thinking of an overdose of medicine. That could kill him ... morphine ... an overdose ... but that would be murder. She pushed the thought from her mind, then was disturbed when it came back, again and again, and haunted her until she fell into a sleep of utter emotional and physical exhaustion.

She awoke shivering in the pre-dawn coolness and pulled a cotton sheet up to her shoulders. She looked over at Tyndall, who was now tossing restlessly. Her eyes drifted to the bedside table and locked onto the bottle of medicine and those terrible thoughts came back, and soon she found herself weeping silently, and praying for daylight in the hope that it would expunge the dark thoughts that festered in the night.

In the early morning came a note from Gunther delivered by one of his crew.

My dear partner, Everything will be ready in two days. The evening tide will be right and there's a little j.a.p festival to keep everyone occupied. Have your bags packed.

Karl

Amy collapsed into a chair. But it was not the awareness that there was no turning back now that caused her reaction, but rather the note's reminder of the festival, a festival devoted to the dead. She found herself once again crying uncontrollably while looking at the stirring Tyndall and his medicine by the bed.

Two days later at the edge of town the O-Bon Matsuri festival got under way. This j.a.panese ceremony to honour their ancestors was a major event in the town and began at twilight at the j.a.panese section of the cemetery, which was segregated from the white section. In a solemn procession the j.a.panese community gathered by the graves with offerings of food and sake. Incense sticks burned and the graves were decorated with origami flowers or fresh blooms. A small blue lantern illuminated the name on each headstone. Following prayers, a ceremonial dance, O-Bon Odori, was performed by the j.a.panese women. These were the night ladies of Sheba Lane who rarely appeared in public, but on this night, dressed in traditional satin kimonos and with lacquered hair, they delicately swayed and turned on their high wooden zori sandals. Hands like white doves fluttered from the long folds of their gilded and coloured robes in the movements of an ancient dance. The crowd of spectators watched in silence, the haunting high pitched wailing of the women's voices and strings of the samisens rising into the night air.

The Aborigines watching in the background nodded, recognising the meaning of ceremonial connection with ancestors being played out on the red pindan dirt beneath the starry sky.

Very much later, after the feast in a park in town, the crowd followed the j.a.panese community down to the sh.o.r.es of the bay. Here the specially made little boats of mangrove wood laden with food and flowers and a miniature lantern or candle were pushed into the water. These would guide the spirits back to their ancestral home.

As the j.a.panese mourners knelt on the sh.o.r.e chanting prayers to the slow beat of a drum, the hundreds of small lights glided out across the bay with the tide.

Further down the bay, the red and black schooner slipped from Dampier Creek and sailed towards the sea.

Amy stood on the deck, watching the receding lights of Broome and the fleet of tiny lights bobbing across the bay and she was seized by a fleeting moment of doubt.

Karl Gunther joined her. 'Second thoughts?'

'Bit late for that, isn't it?'

'Yes. It is. But if you don't gamble, you don't win either,' shrugged Gunther.

'I prefer sure things when that's possible,' answered Amy.

'I thought you'd figured that out by now, Amy. Nothing is sure in this life. It's all a big game ... so play with the winners.'

'Are we going to be winners, Karl?'

'We have the pearls, we have a plan, we have a chance to make big money. Like I said, nothing's sure. But I'd say we are ahead of the game.'

Amy didn't respond at once, again thinking through her position. She had more to gain gambling on Karl Gunther than staying in Broome. Besides, she'd burned her bridges there, so she was ready to confront whatever lay ahead.

As the boat picked up a freshening breeze and heeled slightly to port, Amy took hold of a shroud and looked out to sea and the rising moon. She suddenly felt buoyant, excited and tremendously alive. Turning to look at Gunther at the helm, she said brightly, 'You're right, Karl. We're ahead of the game.'

When Rosminah returned late at night from the Matsuri festival, she found the door to Tyndall's bedroom ajar. She ventured in, it was quite dark-no light was burning and the blinds were drawn. Slowly her eyes adjusted and she became aware of Tyndall slumped across the bed, one arm dangling towards the floor, his breathing shallow and hoa.r.s.e. The small phial of brown liquid was empty, tipped on its side, as was a gla.s.s. There was a small pool of water beside the bed. She rushed for the doctor.

As the sun rose, Tyndall pa.s.sed the critical period. The doctor rubbed his eyes and smiled at Ahmed, sitting on the other side of the bed. 'He'll be all right. Luckily he didn't take the rest of the laudanum. It must have spilled when he reached for the water. Any more would have stopped his breathing.'

'You think she give him too much?'

'You'll have to ask Mrs Tyndall that question. Maybe she didn't understand my directions clearly. I'll arrange for a competent nursing woman to stay with him.'

As soon as the doctor had left and Tyndall was settled, Ahmed began searching for Amy.

By mid-morning he had learned she had sailed with Karl Gunther. She'd left the house on the cliff, taking her personal effects with her. From waterfront gossip he learned Gunther was heading to the Far East on an 'extended trip'.

Ahmed nodded to himself and said a quick prayer of thanks to Allah. This news would no doubt hasten Tyndall's recovery.

Sergeant O'Leary called out to Tyndall as his boots thumped on the verandah.

The Chinese cook appeared, nodding and smiling. 'Master in back garden. You likee tea?'

'Something a bit stronger thanks, Ah Sing. Bring the whisky. Two gla.s.ses.'

He walked through the house and into the garden to find Tyndall stretched out in a hammock under shady trees.

'G'day, Sean,' he called cheerfully and gestured to a wicker chair. 'Make yourself comfortable. Did you tell Ah Sing to bring drinks?'

'Indeed I did, even though 'tis a bit early in the day. Sun still not over the yardarm as they say in your line of business.'

'To h.e.l.l with the yardarm.'

Ah Sing padded up with the bottle, gla.s.ses and a jug of cold water. As O'Leary poured, Tyndall slowly hoisted himself out of the hammock and joined the policeman. 'I suppose you've come to get a statement.'

'Just a formality, John. Coroner will decide if anything else has to be done. Great shame losing the Shamrock Shamrock. All in all you're not having a very good run. Cheers anyway.' He raised his gla.s.s.

Tyndall drank and sighed in satisfaction. 'd.a.m.n good medicine.'

'And not as dangerous as some,' quipped O'Leary. 'You still got no idea what happened?'

Tyndall grimaced. 'No, it's still a mystery to me. I do have some vague images of Amy giving me medicine, but she did that regularly. And I have images of me reaching out in the night for a drink. But I was going through a bad spot there just before she did a bunk. Fevers, hallucinations, the lot. Ahmed is convinced she gave me an overdose. I don't know ... it's hard to accept. I can't believe she hated me that much.'

O'Leary took his notebook from his shirt pocket, opened it, then took an indelible pencil from its holder and examined the tip carefully before writing the date. 'But there is the business of the pearls.' He made it more of a question than a statement.

'Ah, now that has the mark of Amy and Gunther about it,' remarked Tyndall. Two days after Amy had fled Tyndall had given Ahmed the keys to the safe so that the latest collection of pearls from Toby Metta could be safely deposited. At this point, the robbery had been discovered.

'Of course it is only circ.u.mstantial, but who else is suspect?' Tyndall asked.

'Good question. Ahmed?'

'Nonsense.'

'I agree. Either Amy found your keys or Gunther has skills we didn't know of. I'll note the details, but there's really not much I can do about it.'

'Know that, mate. But all things considered I don't feel too bad about it. Thanks to Yusef I now have grounds for divorcing Amy. Adultery.'

O'Leary leaned back in his chair and grinned. 'You don't give up, John, do you?'

'No. Not on this one. Olivia means the world to me, Sean. I've now got a chance for freedom and a chance to win her back.'

'Bit complicated getting a divorce when you can't find the wife,' observed O'Leary sympathetically.