Page 121 of The Pearl Sister
I am,she reiterated silently as they set off for the office close to the harbour.
Again, Kitty witnessed astonishment then joy as an emotional Noel Donovan embraced his boss. A bottle of champagne was procured and an impromptu party ensued. It seemed that everyone in town wanted to celebrate the miracle of Andrew’s survival and Kitty fixed a tight smile on her face as people hugged her, crying with happiness at her husband’s return. Andrew too was constantly surrounded by people, all slapping him on the back, as if testing to see if he was real.
‘Perhaps they should rename me Lazarus,’ Andrew jested that evening, as the party moved to the Roebuck Bay Hotel. It was a rare moment of humour from him, and Kitty was glad of it.
Over the following week, they welcomed a constant stream of visitors to their home, as people crowded in to hear Andrew repeat the tale of his decision to leave the ship at Geraldton.
‘Did you have a vision?’ asked Mrs Rubin. ‘Did you know what was to occur?’
‘Of course not,’ Andrew said, ‘or I would never have let the ship continue. It was nothing but coincidence.’
But it seemed no one wanted to believe that it had been. Andrew had taken on the role of Messiah, his survival a sign that good fortunes were in store for the town of Broome. It invigorated the lugger captains and divers, who had been despondent since the recent losses. Even the fellow pearling masters, who had almost certainly been eager to see the fall of the Mercer Pearling Company, embraced Andrew at the head of the table as the weekly dinner meeting was resumed.
Amongst this whirlwind, Kitty found herself moving through the days like a puppet, her arms and legs feeling as if they were operated by outside forces, her mind trapped as a witness to a life she was not meant to have. Guilt plagued her waking and sleeping thoughts constantly. By day, Andrew was courteous, kind and grateful to those who surrounded him, but at night over dinner, he barely spoke to her. Afterwards, he would retire to bed, now favouring the single cot in his dressing room.
‘Wouldn’t you be more comfortable back in our bedroom?’ Kitty had asked him tentatively one night.
‘I find myself restless and would only disturb you, my dear,’ he’d replied coldly in return.
By the end of the week, Kitty was a nervous wreck. She sat with Andrew and Charlie over breakfast, noticing that even her son was subdued in the presence of his father. Perhaps it was simply the dreadful loss that Andrew was struggling to come to terms with that had affected his attitude towards her, or . . . she couldn’t bear to think of the other reason.
‘Kitty, I wish you to accompany me on some errands today,’ Andrew broke in on her thoughts without so much as looking at her.
‘Of course,’ she agreed.
After breakfast, he helped her onto the cart then sat stiffly beside her as he steered it out of the drive. But instead of taking the road into town, Andrew took the road towards Riddell Beach.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘I thought that you and I should have a talk. Alone.’
Kitty’s heart thudded in her chest, but she remained silent.
‘Charlie tells me you went to the beach often while I was gone,’ Andrew continued. ‘Apparently you went swimming. In your pantaloons.’
‘Yes, I . . . well, it was very hot and . . .’ Kitty blinked the tears away.
‘Good God! What is the world coming to? My wife swimming in her pantaloons like a native.’ Andrew pulled the cart to a halt and tethered the pony to a post. ‘Shall we walk?’ He indicated the beach below them.
‘As you wish,’ she said, musing that if Andrew was going to tell her he knew about her affair, he had chosen the very spot where only weeks ago she’d lain with his brother and made love. Never before had Andrew suggested a walk on the beach; he’d always hated the feeling of sand in his shoes.
A pleasant breeze blew gently, and the same sea that had robbed Kitty of her love was now as calm as a sleeping baby. Andrew walked ahead towards the ocean as Kitty – who dared not remove her boots and face Andrew’s disapproval – stumbled along behind him. They reached the rocky inlet where she had so recently climbed onto a boulder and dived off. Andrew stood inches from the water, the waves frothing close to his shoes.
‘My father and brother lie somewhere out there.’ Andrew pointed to the ocean. ‘Gone forever, while I live.’
Kitty watched him slump onto a rock as his head bowed and he put his hands to his face. ‘I’m so very sorry, darling.’ She understood now why he’d come here: to cry and mourn in private for his father and brother. She saw his shoulders shaking and her heart went out to him.
‘Andrew, you still have Charlie and me, and your mother, and . . .’ She knelt down and tried to hold him, but he broke away from her, stood up and staggered along the beach.
‘Oh, forgive me, please forgive me, God, but . . .’
Kitty stood watching him, confused. He almost seemed to be laughing, rather than crying.
‘Andrew, please!’ She hurried after him as the waves started to lap over his highly polished shoes and he collapsed onto the sand, his shoulders shaking, his eyes still hidden behind his large brown hands. Finally, his head came up, and he removed his hands from his eyes. They were streaming with tears.
‘God forgive me,’ he said eventually, ‘but it had to be done. For me and for you and Charlie. My Kitty. My Kat . . .’
‘Andrew, I don’t understand . . .’ She stared at him and realised that indeed the tears were not of sorrow, but of mirth. ‘Why on earth are you laughing?’
