I lay sleepless in my four-poster that night, wondering about the marriage of Lucian and Laura. Camilla had implied that she had been a poor creature in the hands of the fire-breathing Jemima. Then why had he married her? One could not imagine Lucian’s being a weakling, drawn into a situation against his will.

That woman Jemima had given me an uneasy feeling. What had Camilla said?

“She acts as though she thinks we murdered the girl.” Who?

Lucian?

There was something mysterious about the whole affair. I may have been right when, on our first meeting at the roadside, I had sensed that there was something which disturbed him. He had changed. Well, a marriage like that was enough to change anyone. I longed to know his true feelings about his marriage, about the child. This engendered a certain tenderness in me. In the past, he had seemed so strong and, in my childish mind, invincible. Now he was vulnerable and I had been right when I thought something had happened to change him.

I longed to know his true feelings.

Perhaps that was why I kept him constantly in my thoughts.

The weeks were passing and I was still with the Hysons. I could not help feeling guilty for staying so long, but when I suggested leaving, there were protests from Gertie in which Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Harold joined.

“It wouldn’t be the same without you, dear,” said Aunt Beatrice, and Gertie added: “I need you. There is the house to think of and then there’ll be all the preparations for the wedding. Of course you can’t go into some hateful little hotel.”

I had no wish to go. I found I was feeling much better than I had ever thought possible. However great one’s grief, it must fade with time, and what was happening in the present must impress itself over the past. And a great deal was happening. Life was becoming interesting.

Even Gertie, absorbed as she was in her exciting prospects, had time to consider mine. She was very amused and talked about two strings to my bow-no, three, when you considered poor old James digging for opals in the Outback.

She had wanted to hear all about the visit to the Grange.

I told her something, omitting the existence of Bridget and the strange Jemima Cray. That would have titillated her imagination too far, and I could imagine the wild melodrama she would have indulged in.

She was particularly interested in Lucian who, to her, represented the romantic hero. The noble doctor Lawrence Emmerson, though, was not forgotten. He would make a good though unexciting husband, she decided, and I should be well looked after by Miss Dorothy; everything would be done for my own good whether I liked it or not, but it would be the ‘right thing’ for me.

There was another alternative. I could go back to Australia and marry James, with the choice of being an opal millionairess or spending the rest of my life in a tent in the opal fields, which Gertie feared might be the more likely.

“Look what could be yours!” she cried.

“Take your pick.”

I laughed at her.

“The only one which could be open to me is the opal fields. And it would not surprise me if James had found himself a wife by now.”

She sighed and put on one of her worldly-wise expressions the experienced woman advising the innocent.

Whatever happened, I should hate to lose Gertie. We had been friends for so long.

I paid several visits to the Emmerson cottage. I was becoming more and more friendly with Dorothy. She was a lively companion, interested in most subjects and especially in art and music. Now and then she had tickets for some concert or art exhibition and, if Lawrence was working, she and I would go together.

Then there were visits to the Grange, and I was finding my time fully occupied.

Gertie and Aunt Beatrice had found the house, and furnishings and wedding plans had to be discussed. Gertie had written to her parents, telling them that she and Her nard would try to get out to Australia in two years’ time.

“Perhaps you would come with us,” she said to me.

With so much innuendo in the Kensington house, it would be impossible for me not to wonder what were the intentions of my two men friends towards me.

Dorothy’s conversation rather led me to believe that she thought it was time Lawrence married and, if that were so, I was sure that she considered me as likely tp be worthy of him as anyone she could find.

And if she thought it was right, Lawrence would be made to think so, too.

Perhaps that was not fair to Lawrence. Lawrence was absorbed in his work and he naturally left certain decisions to Dorothy. But marriage would be too important for that and he himself would be the one to decide. His sister might choose his food and the material for a suit, but his wife was a different matter.

He was always rather tender to me. I think he still saw me as the little girl lost in an alien city. He did enjoy my company and he liked to talk to me about his work and his aspirations. He was entirely dedicated. Life with him would be predictable, although, of course, one could never be sure what would happen to anyone. Marriage to Lawrence Emmerson and a menage a trois including my very good friend his sister, could be as comfortable a life as one could hope for.

Perhaps I should have been ready to accept it if it were not for Lucian.

I was almost certain of Lucian’s feelings towards me and I believed that one day, at the appropriate moment, when he had had a little more time to consider the matter, he would ask me to marry him. I knew he was fond of me. Sometimes his hand would linger on my shoulder with a certain longing. Yes, he was attracted to me. But I could not understand him as I did Lawrence. He could be very lighthearted.

During those weekends at the Grange I grew to know him very well. He could be witty, amusing and fun to be with.

I liked to ride round the estate with him and see the respect shown to him by the tenants. I could not imagine Lucian’s being dependent upon a sister. Camilla, of course, was not the type to domineer. For one thing, she was too busy with her own life.

So I thought often of Lawrence, but Lucian was constantly in my mind.

I had received two letters from Australia one from Elsie, the other from James.

My dear Carmel [wrote Elsie], How are you getting on over there ? You should have seen the excitement here when we heard of Gertie’s engagement! Her mother says she sounds very happy in her letters. I read yours to them and all round it seems as though Gertie has done very well.

Poor Mr. and Mrs. Forman! Happy as they are for Gertie, they’re a little sad. Well, naturally. This was supposed to be a holiday, and it looks as though she has gone for good. She does say that she and her husband will make a trip over to see the family and that’s a bit of a comfort to them. And now James has gone off prospecting, or whatever they call it. Well, that’s how life goes and thank goodness they’ve got over that terrible disaster.

Fancy that Dr. Emmerson being on the ship! He sounds very nice and it’s good that his sister and you have become such good friends. Well, I must say, it all seems to have turned out very well for you two girls.

You sound so much better, dear. No sense in being down-hearted. I knew a complete change was what you wanted. Gertie says that you are really having a good time.

Things here are much the same. It is grand having Joe around. He fits in here so well. He’s sitting out in the garden now, waiting for me to join him. The harbour looks just the same as it did the day you came in . that very first time. I shall always remember that day. You can picture it all. The kookaburras have been noisy today. You always liked them, didn’t you? You wondered whatever they were laughing about when you first heard them.

Well, dear, go on enjoying yourself. It’s what you need. We miss you, and when you come back, there’ll be a big welcome for you. You must decide, and remember first of all, be happy! It’s what Toby would have wanted and it’s what I want too.

With lots and lots of love from Joe and me, Elsie.

I sat for a few minutes, thinking of her and how fortunate I was when Toby took me to her. Then I opened James’s letter.

My dear Carmel, How are you getting on? There’s a lot of excitement here about Gertie’s wedding. Too bad the family won’t be there. This fellow she is marrying seems to me a gift from heaven, according to her. Hope it’s true.

Well, I went off as I said I would. We got things in order on the property and my father knew I would never be satisfied until I’d had my try, and he said it would be all right for me to go.

So here I am. I can’t tell you how exciting it is! You would like it.

There’s something in the air. All these men, some with their families.

They talk of nothing but opals. That’s on the rare occasions when they are not working, which they are doing most of the time.

It can be pretty hot here. It’s low gullies and bush and the mosquitoes can be a pest-and as for the flies! Well, you can imagine. There’s lots of fossicking going on but that’s the amateurs.

It’s fascinating and can be cruelly disappointing. Sometimes you think you’ve found something really fine and it turns out to be pure potch.

That means rubbish.

It’s jolly hard work. We live in a sort of shanty town. Tents, huts, and water is hard to come by. Some say it’s as precious as opals.

That’ll give you an idea. Saturday nights are fun. That’s when we dance, sing and swap yarns . the stories of our lives, all highly dramatized, as you can imagine. Last Saturday we roasted a pig and made dampers to go with it. It’s a hard life but worth it, especially for those moments when you hit on the real stuff.