Lyrebird Hill (56 page)

Bronwyn sat on a leather chair beside me, perched forward, gazing raptly into the lawyer’s face. She looked older than her eleven years: maybe it was the dark blue dress and smart black sandals she’d insisted on wearing. Then again, perhaps it was simply that she’d brightened on hearing the news of her father’s bequest. A considerable trust fund accessible when she turned twenty-one, and a huge delicate watercolour of a robin that she’d long admired.

Most astonishing was what Tony had left for me.

‘A house,’ I marvelled, shifting awkwardly. I couldn’t help wondering if there was a catch. ‘What about Tony’s wife?’

Margot nodded. ‘Carol is satisfied with Tony’s decision; she’s informed us that she won’t be contesting the will. Now . . . Tony left keys in security with our office. The probate process should take about a month, after which time the keys and all documentation will pass into your hands. In the meantime, perhaps you’d like to hear a little more about the property?’

‘Sure.’

Margot opened a folder. ‘Thornwood originally belonged to Tony’s grandfather, but I expect you already know that?’

I shook my head. ‘This is the first I’ve heard of it.’

‘Well, you’re in for a treat,’ she said, drawing out a large colour photo and placing it on the desk before us. ‘That’s the homestead – gorgeous, isn’t it? It was built in 1936, a classic old Queenslander with four bedrooms. It’s fully furnished – I’m assuming Tony decided to keep the place intact for sentimental reasons. There’s a vegie garden, orchard, creek access . . . Also,
hidden up in the hills surrounding the property, there’s a small dwelling that was probably the original settlers’ cabin, most likely built sometime in the late 1800s.’

The photo showed a magnificent residence skirted by a shady wraparound verandah. Stained-glass panels curved out from twin bay windows, and iron lacework festooned the eaves. The garden surrounding it was a maze of hydrangeas and lavender hedges, with a brick path meandering up the grassy slope towards wide welcoming stairs. Dappled sunlight danced across the lawn, where a magnificent old rose arbour sat smothered in crimson blooms.

‘The house itself is quite a feature,’ Margot went on, ‘but as with any property, the true value is in the land. The total land size is 2500 acres – that’s just over a thousand hectares. The property adjoins two other large farms, but most of it backs onto the Gower National Park. You have 200 acres of grazing pasture, with rich dark soil, dams, fencing, a permanent creek . . . and according to the report, the views are stunning.’

Bronwyn sighed. ‘Mum, it’s perfect.’

‘We’re not going to live there,’ I said hastily.

‘But Mum –’

‘We’ll sell it and buy a place of our own here in Melbourne.’

Bronwyn gave me a mournful look, but I ignored her and resumed my inspection of the photo. After Tony’s death I’d vowed to forget him . . . for Bronwyn’s sake as well as my own; how could I do that if we were living in his grandfather’s house? The old homestead looked huge and rambling and mysterious. Probably full of secrets, riddled with ghosts, haunted by other people’s memories.

Tony’s memories.

Margot drew out another photo: an aerial view that showed the property as heart-shaped and densely forested. A section of cleared grazing land rolled along the southernmost quarter, a verdant patchwork stitched with fences and dotted with brown
dams. Central to the photo was the homestead – a rectangular patch of iron roof, surrounded by sprawling gardens that rambled uphill and vanished into bushland. A ridge of hills swept to the north-west, mostly heavily treed, but there were curiously bald areas where stone formations pushed through the rust-red earth.

‘If you did change your mind and decide to live at Thornwood,’ Margot told us, ‘there’s really not a lot to do. The paddocks are mostly in agistment, which means you’ll have additional income from farmers grazing stock on your land. The rest is natural bushland, so aside from general maintenance near the house, it’s the sort of property you can simply sit back and enjoy.’

She collected the photos and slid them back into the property file. ‘Now, I expect you’re keen to know how much it’s worth.’

Shadows were creeping across the room; the light filtering through the window had taken on a grey tinge. My chair creaked as I shifted my weight. A rundown old house on a chunk of wilderness, miles from anywhere; a few grazing paddocks, some muddy dams. Nothing to get too keyed up about, surely?

I nodded.

Margot wrote on a notepad and tore off the top leaf, then placed it reverently on the desk in front of us.

Bronwyn gasped.

The lawyer smiled approvingly. ‘Certainly worth the trouble of a quick look, wouldn’t you say?’

A
nna Romer grew up in a family of book-lovers and yarn-tellers, which inspired her lifelong love affair with stories. A graphic artist by trade, she also spent many years travelling the globe stockpiling story material from the Australian outback, then Asia, New Zealand, Europe and America.

Her first novel,
Thornwood House
, published in 2013, reflects her fascination with forgotten diaries and letters, dark family secrets, rambling old houses, and love in its many guises – as well as her passion for the uniquely beautiful Australian landscape.

When she’s not writing (or falling in love with another book), Anna is an avid gardener, knitter, bushwalker and conservationist. She lives on a remote bush property in northern New South Wales.

Also by Anna Romer

Thornwood House

LYREBIRD HILL

First published in Australia in 2014 by

Simon & Schuster (Australia) Pty Limited

Suite 19A, Level 1, 450 Miller Street, Cammeray, NSW 2062

A CBS Company

Sydney New York London Toronto New Delhi

Visit our website at
www.simonandschuster.com.au

© Anna Romer 2014

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the publisher.

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

Author: Romer, Anna, author.

Title: Lyrebird Hill/Anna Romer.

ISBN: 9781922052421 (paperback)

 9781922052445 (ebook)

Subjects: Sisters – Death – Fiction.

 Suspense fiction.

Dewey Number: A823.4

Cover design: Christabella Designs

Cover image: © Mark Owen/Trevillion Images

Typeset by Midland Typesetters, Australia