At last the day came and Miss Graeme and I left Danesworth House. We boarded the London train and sat side by side looking out at the green fields and the wheat which was turning to gold. Gold! I thought angrily. If he had never gone to look for gold he would be here now.

My eyes filled with angry tears. Why had he not been con tent to be an ordinary person! But then he would not have been himself. Miss Graeme touched my arm lightly and I saw that there were tears in her eyes.

She started to tell me that sorrow came to us all and we had to ‘bear up’ and go on with our lives. There was ‘someone’ who had ‘never spoken’ but who had intended to and would have done so if he had come home from the war, but he died unnecessarily and cruelly on the battlefield. In the Crimea, I supposed; and so, instead of being a buxom and happy mother, she was a wizened grey-brown mouse of a school teacher.

I listened and tried to show my sympathy; then we ate our sandwiches and in due course arrived at the London station. Flustered and aware of her responsibilities, Miss Graeme hailed a cab and we went to Charing Cross station where finally I was put into the train.

The last I saw of Miss Graeme was her spare figure in the brown coat and skirt and the hat with the brown veil, looking forlorn and wistful as the train carried me away.

Now I began to feel apprehensive. The new life had begun and I was on my own. I could run away now if I liked. I had a little money very little; I could take a post as governess. I had my teacher’s experience. But my father had wanted me to go to the Lynx, so I was given no choice. Suppose I arrived in Australia and hated it. Suppose they did not want me. I knew so little of what lay before me. I had not asked enough questions. I had been submerged by my misery; and now suddenly, here I was, speeding along to Canterbury, looking out at the orchards of apples and pears which would not be ready for picking for almost another two months and then I should be far away. We went past the hop fields which in another month would be alive with the activities of the pickers; cowled tops of oast houses dominated the scene. I wanted to cry to the train driver: Stop. I am rushing towards the unknown. I want a little time to think.

Perhaps in that moment my grief had receded a little since I could feel this misgiving for the future when previously I had felt nothing but the tragedy of the present. But the train rushed on relentlessly.

We were at the station. I alighted and the porter took my bags. The fly which was to take me to the Falcon Inn was waiting for me.

We drove away from the station, past the ancient walls of the town and out into the country.

“Is it far to the Falcon Inn?” I asked the driver.

“Well, it’s some little way out, miss. Most people stay in the town.”

I wondered why Miss Herrick who had come to England to collect me should have arranged for the meeting to take place at this spot. It was as Miss Emily had remarked ‘unusual’. Perhaps the Lynx had ordained it.

The countryside was lusciously green, we passed through several villages clustered round the church—village greens and ancient inns; and at length we came to the village of Widegates with its old church and row of houses, most of them Tudor, some earlier still. I caught a glimpse in the distance of grey towers and asked what they were.

That would be Whiteladies, miss. It’s the big house round here. “

“Whiteladies. Why is it called that?”

“It was a convent once and the nuns wore white habits, so the saying goes. Some of it still stands. The family built the house there keeping what was left of the convent.”

“Who are the family?”

“Their name is Cardew. The family’s been there for three hundred years or more. “

We had pulled up at the Falcon Inn. The stone steps which led to the door were worn away in the middle; the sign on which was depicted a falcon was freshly painted and over the door was the date 1418.

The driver brought in my bags.

“Everything’s settled, miss,” he said.

So I went to the reception desk and told them who I was.

“Ah yes,” said the receptionist.

“I’ll have you shown to your room.

There is a message for you. Will you go down to the parlour when you are ready. “

I went to my room which was large but rather dark because of the leaded windows; the floor sloped slightly and the wooden beams proclaimed its age. There was water in the ewer so I hastily washed and combed my thick dark hair.

When I was ready I went down to the inn parlour to which I was directed by a maid. There was no woman there but a man rose as I entered. He put his hands behind his back and watched me. I remembered Miss Emily’s injunctions not to speak to strangers. I certainly should not speak to this one if I could help it for his look struck me as being a trifle insolent.

But he spoke to me.

“You are looking for someone?” His accent was faintly unusual; he himself was tall and lean; his face was weathered brown as far as I could see, for he was standing with his back to the light and there was not much of it in any case as the windows were similar to those in my bedroom.

I nodded coolly.

“Perhaps I can help you.”

“Thank you. I don’t need any help.”

“Oh, I can see you are very self-sufficient.”

I turned away. Perhaps I should go to the desk and ask for Miss Herrick. I felt Miss Emily would not approve of my waiting in this room with a rather forward stranger, and although I did not intend to allow Miss Emily’s judgments to rule my life, in this instance I was in agreement with her.

“I am sure I can help you,” he said.

“I don’t see how.”

“Then I will enlighten you. You are looking for a Miss Herrick.”

I looked startled and he laughed. It was very irritating laughter. He was truculent, very sure of himself.

“That’s happens to be so,” I said primly.

“Well, you won’t find Miss Herrick here.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I say. I always say what I mean.”

“Are you mistaking me for someone else?”

“You know very well I’m not. You are Nora Tamasin. Right’.

I was annoyed by the manner in which he answered his own question.

Also I was bewildered. How could he know so much about me?

“And you have come here to meet Miss Herrick. She is not here.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know where she is ” Where is she? “

“About forty miles north of Melbourne.”

“You are mistaken. The Miss Herrick I have come to meet is here in this inn. She sent a fly to meet me at the station.”

“I sent that fly.”

“You!”

“I reckon I should have introduced myself a little earlier. I just liked teasing you a bit because you looked so haughty. Adelaide, my sister, hasn’t come. There was too much for her to do at home so my father thought I should be the one to come for you. Besides he wanted me to see a bit of England. So I’m here to take you back. Stirling Herrick, named after the Stirling River, just as Adelaide, my sister, is named after the town. It was my father’s tribute to the country of his adoption.”

“Your father is Charles Herrick?”

“You’ve hit the nail right on the head, as they say. I’ve come to take you back. You’re looking doubtful. You want to see my credentials?

Right. Now here’s a letter from that firm of solicitors, Marlin something . and I can prove to you over and over again that I am who I am. “

“This is all very strange.”

“It’s all very simple. My father has promised to look after you so you’re coming home with me. I’m a sort of brother. You’re not looking very pleased about that.”

I said: “I can’t understand why he should have sent you.”

“Perfectly simple. He wanted me to come to England. I’ve been having talks about marketing our wool.”

“Here in Canterbury?”

“Oh yes. My business takes me all over the country. I had to ask you to come here so that we could have a day to get to know each other before you were rushed on to the ship. Now I am going to suggest we send for tea and over that we’ll talk.”

He pulled the bell and when the maid came ordered tea. When I saw the thin bread and butter and scones with cream and strawberry jam, I realized I was hungry. He watched me while I poured out and there was amusement in his eyes, which were an unusual shade of green; they almost disappeared when he laughed and he looked as though he were accustomed to screwing them up against the strong light-which was very likely. I guessed he was in his twenties-about eight years my senior perhaps—and I thought it very unconventional that a young man should have been sent to be my travelling companion. Very different from the Miss Herrick I was expecting. I was sure Miss Emily would disapprove and that pleased me. I felt better than I had since I had received the news of my father’s death.

“Why was I told that Miss Herrick would be waiting for me?” I demanded.

“It was arranged that she should come at the start, but Lynx decided that the house could not be run without Adelaide. He could spare me better.”

Lynx! The magic name. It was the first time he had used it so I said interrogatively: “Lynx?” wanting to hear more of that strange man.

“That’s my father. People often call him that. It means he has sharp eyes.”

“I gathered that.”

“You are really smart, I can see.” His smile was ironical.

I said: “Does he really want me … this Lynx?”

“He’s promised your father to look after you so of course he wants you.”