Free Ironbark by Johanna Nicholls Page B

Saranna’s outburst in court she had not visited him or her father in gaol. Daniel suspected she had not even tried, afraid some respectable person might recognise her.
    He was grimly aware of the irony of the date – 15 July was hisintended wedding day. Gnawing hunger was uppermost in his mind. For days he had barely had enough rations to exist and he was hungry enough to eat his shoe leather – except that his boots had been stolen. The pair he was wearing he had stripped from the corpse of an elderly prisoner.
    Marching in line his fellow prisoners looked devoid of hope. Their ragged garments would be scant protection against the winter to come. A single rebellious soul sang a bawdy song as if he were setting off on holiday.
    The swirling fog was so thick Daniel wondered if it was an illusion when he saw a lone figure by the roadside. The hood of her blue cloak concealed all but her eyes.
    He knew she was real when he heard Maynard Plews call out, ‘Go home, lass. Forget me. I’m dead to thee!’
    Daniel met Saranna’s eyes and saw her cowered expression. She turned away and disappeared into the fog.
    His shackles forced him to go on, his mind filled with the agony of a single thought. Our Lady, help me! How can I survive for seven years if I can’t paint?

CHAPTER 7
    Jake Andersen felt his heart beat wildly as the housekeeper of the Rose and Crown Hotel in Sydney Town eyed him keenly. After all these months it seemed like his description of Jenny and Pearl had finally struck gold.
    â€˜Aye, pretty as a doll. Wait here.’
    Jake was left standing in the foyer. Would she reappear with Jenny? Or Pearl?
    His hope died a little when she returned alone. With a gummy smile of triumph she handed him a fancy lace-edged handkerchief with the letter J initialled in the corner. Jake caught a faint waft of the French perfume Jenny loved.
    â€˜She left this behind. Always dressed flash. Never wore the same gown or bonnet twice.’
    â€˜Was she travelling with a little girl?’
    â€˜I never saw no kiddie. But she always had her foreign gent in tow.’ Foreign. Jake flinched at this first clue. ‘When were they here? Under what name?’
    â€˜Just a few weeks back. I remember she wore furs even though it weren’t real cold. As for names – most women of her kind use Smith, Brown or Jones.’
    Jake paid her for her trouble and departed. Women of her kind. That careless phrase left a rank taste in his mouth.
    He felt like a pawn in a cruel chess game in which that mongrel foreigner kept moving Jenny one step ahead of him. But why was there no sign of his little princess? What had happened to Pearl? He placed Jenny’s handkerchief inside his shirt. His body heat caused the perfume to reactivate painful memories but he couldn’t bring himself to discardit as he rode down George Street to the Watch House.
    In the months since Jenny’s desertion Jake had registered Jenny and Pearl’s descriptions with every police office, military barracks, hospital, physician’s surgery, public hotel, inn and coach company in every town he’d visited. And he never forgot to prime gossipmongers – there was guaranteed to be one in even the smallest bush hamlet.
    He had no portrait of Jenny to aid his search but today his description had finally paid off. The fact she had recently been travelling with a wealthy foreigner here in Sydney Town meant she was probably living somewhere flash. But that could even mean the new settlement at Port Phillip they’d named Melbourne Town after some bloody Brit prime minister.
    At the George Street Watch House an old lag of a police officer listened to him describe Jenny’s fragile build then cast a cynical eye over Jake’s muscular body.
    â€˜Most wives abscond from husbands what hit them.’
    Jake repeated the worn phrase yet again. ‘I’m no wife-beater.’
    â€˜You best face the truth, Andersen.