Page 117 of The Pearl Sister
‘I arranged for it to be sent, yes, but I didn’t use these hands to earn it. Nevertheless, it is yours by rights. Through my . . .ourfamily.’ His eyes crinkled into a warm smile. ‘You look like your great-grandmother. Just like her . . .’
‘Was that the daughter of Camira? The baby with the amber eyes?’ I hazarded a guess from what I had listened to so far on the CD.
‘Yes. Alkina was my mother. I . . . well.’ He looked as if he might cry.
‘Oh,’ I said.
‘So.’ Francis visibly pulled himself together. ‘Tell me what you have discovered so far about your kin?’
I told him what I knew, feeling shy and uncertain because this man had suchpresence,an aura of calm and charisma, that made me feel even more tongue-tied than I usually did.
‘I only got up to where theKoombanahad sunk. And the dad and both brothers had been lost at sea. The person who wrote the book seemed to be saying that there’d been a really close relationship between Kitty’s husband’s brother – Drummond, was it? – and her.’
‘I have read it. It suggests that they had an affair,’ he agreed.
‘I know how people just write stuff to sell books, so I didn’t necessarily believe it or anything,’ I babbled, feeling terrible that I might be slandering a close member of his –ourfamily.
‘Celaeno, are you telling me you feel this biographer may have sensationalised Kitty Mercer’s life?’
‘Perhaps, yes,’ I hedged nervously.
‘Celaeno.’
‘Yes?’
‘When you hear what I have to tell you, you will know that she didn’t sensationalise it enough!’
I watched in amazement as Francis put his head back and laughed. When his eyes turned back to me, they were full of amusement. ‘Now, I will tell you the real story. A truth that was only told to me on my grandmother’s deathbed. And we are not laughing about that, because she was one of the most dear, precious human beings I ever knew.’
‘I understand and, please, don’t tell me if you don’t want to. Maybe we should get to know each other better, so you know you can trust me?’
‘I have felt you since you were a seed in my daughter’s womb. It is you I worry for, Celaeno. To never know your roots, where you came from . . .’ Francis gave a deep sigh. ‘And you must know the story of your relatives. You are kin. Blood of their – and my – blood.’
‘How did you find me?’ I asked. ‘After all these years?’
‘It was my late wife – your grandmother’s – last wish that I look once more for our daughter. I didn’t find her, but instead I found you. To help you understand more, I must take you back. You know the story up until theKoombanasank, taking all the Mercer men with it?’
‘Yes. But how do I fit in?’
‘I understand your impatience, but first you must listen carefully to understand. So, I shall tell you what happened to Kitty after that . . .’
Kitty
Broome, Western Australia
April 1912
22
Kitty had often wondered how humans made it through the darkest moments of loss. In Leith she had visited families in the tenements, only to discover that they had been decimated by an influenza or measles epidemic. They had put their faith in the Lord, simply because there was nowhere else to put it.
And I’m surely on my way to hell,she thought constantly.
In the week that followed, though outwardly her daily routine didn’t alter, Kitty walked through it like a wraith, as though she too had departed this world. The windows of the stores along Dampier Terrace were hung with black cloth and there was barely a family in town that had not been touched by the disaster. To add to their shock, news reached them that the ‘unsinkable’Titanichad also been swallowed by the ocean, with few survivors.
No one had any idea how theKoombanahad gone down, taking her precious cargo to the bottom of the sea. A cabin door, a Moroccan-leather settee cushion . . . these were the scant remains that had drifted to the surface. No bodies had yet been found, and Kitty knew they never would be. Hungry sharks would have feasted on their flesh within hours.
For once, Kitty was glad of her small community and its shared grief. The usual social rules were ignored as people met in the street and held each other, allowing tears to fall unchecked. Kitty was humbled by the kindness she received, and by the condolence cards pushed through the letter box so as not to disturb her.
