To Touch the Clouds : The Frontier Series 5 (26 page)

‘You have something for me?’ he questioned the young, blue-uniformed police officer assigned to the Wilkes
murder investigation. The constable was ambitious and had his sights set on a career as a plain clothes investigator.

‘Yes, Sergeant,’ he said, producing his notebook from his breast pocket. ‘I proceeded to the shipping offices as you ordered and showed the booking people the photograph of Miss Macintosh. One of the clerks remembered her booking a berth on the liner leaving Sydney the day after Wilkes’ death. Except that she gave her name as a Miss Fiona Owens. He remembered her as she booked a single cabin that cost a lot of money.’

Despite his throbbing ear, Sergeant Firth smiled grimly. ‘She must have planned to kill her lover and then skip the country,’ he said, thinking out aloud. ‘Definitely a
mens rea
, wouldn’t you say so, Constable.’ Firth liked to demonstrate his knowledge of legalese in front of junior men and using the Latin helped remind them of his great knowledge of law.

Suitably impressed, the constable nodded. Miss Macintosh’s act of leaving the country under an assumed name certainly spoke of a guilty intent – especially when it coincided with the death of the Australian actor. ‘What do we do?’ he asked.

‘You find out where the ship is currently heading,’ he said. ‘Then you find out when and where it next reaches land.’

‘I have already done that,’ the constable beamed, hoping his initiative would demonstrate his ability to be an investigator. ‘The ship is supposedly two days out of Hawaii and is scheduled then to steam for America.’

‘Good work, Constable,’ Firth said with the hint of a smile. ‘Your efforts will be suitably noted.’

‘Is there any chance of getting our suspect back?’ the constable asked, returning his notebook to his breast pocket.

‘In these modern days of communications,’ Jack Firth said, ‘all we have to do is cable the Yank police in Pearl Harbour to detain Miss Macintosh, and then extradite her from American territory back to Sydney where we arrest her for the murder of Guy Wilkes.’

The constable did not want to ask further questions. His knowledge of the law extended to understanding that such an action required the suspect to be under arrest at the time of the extradition. After all, Sergeant Jack Firth had a reputation of almost a hundred per cent conviction rate in the courts and was a legend in his own right – on and off the rugby field.

16

H
err Schumann heard from one of his workers that a ship was anchored just offshore and rode down to investigate. He recognised the Macintosh trader immediately and warmly welcomed the boat load of young men who rowed into the beach.

‘Herr Schumann,’ Alex said in German, ‘these are my good friends, Herr Duffy and Herr Houston.’

Schumann shook hands with each man and turned to Alex.

‘My young friend,’ he said, ‘your visit to us is most unexpected. May I ask how you honour us, although you must know that my house is always open to you and your comrades.’

‘My family companies have decided that we should explore the sisal trade with German businesses in your part of the world,’ Alex lied. ‘And, I must confess, I was hoping that I may visit with your daughter.’

The planter nodded his head in his understanding of impetuous young love. ‘You are fortunate, Herr Macintosh,’ he said. ‘My daughter has just returned from the inland where she has been seeing to her patients. I suspect that she already thinks she is a doctor although I must admit she has proven to be very astute in her medical ministrations to the natives – especially concerning the diseases that ail the old and young.’

‘I think that Giselle will one day make a fine physician,’ Alex replied.

‘Come,’ Schumann said, gesturing towards his bungalow beyond the coconut trees waving in the mid-morning breeze. ‘Bring your friends to the house and I will arrange for you all to eat. I am sure that you will appreciate some home-cooked food.’

The three young men followed the solidly built German as he led his horse up the beach and onto a trail that went to the green lawns of his sprawling house surrounded by rows of coconut trees, storage sheds and worker compounds. Within ten minutes they had reached the house and Alex was pleasantly surprised to see Giselle standing on the verandah gazing at them. Her hand shaded her eyes against the tropical sun’s glare and when she recognised Alex she bounded down the steep steps from the verandah and ran across the lawn with her long dress flowing around her legs.

Breathless, she came to a stop in front of Alex but aware of her father and the two strangers with Alex she restrained herself from kissing him. ‘Hello, Mr Macintosh,’ she said, beaming. ‘What has brought you to this part of the world unannounced?’

‘I missed you,’ Alex answered simply in English, causing Matthew and Bob to smirk. ‘And I am also on a mission to explore the sisal trade.’

Giselle slipped her arm boldly into Alex’s, leading him back to the house with her father and the other two men following. So stunned had she been by the appearance of the man she had been regularly writing to that she had hardly noticed the other two with him.

‘I am Matthew Duffy,’ Matthew said by way of introduction, as he walked beside his cousin. ‘I had heard from my cousin that you are beautiful but he failed to say just how stunningly beautiful you really are.’

His flattery brought a scowl from Alex but Matthew simply grinned mischievously back at his cousin. ‘This other gentleman is Mr Robert Houston,’ Matthew continued. ‘But it is hard to describe someone from New Zealand as a gentleman.’

‘I think New Zealand is a far prettier country than Australia,’ Giselle replied in perfect, unaccented English, addressing Bob. ‘And the men from your country are far more polite than those of Australia. I will ignore Mr Duffy’s comment.’

‘Thank you, Miss Schumann,’ Bob said. ‘I hope that I might confirm your impressions of New Zealand men compared to our cruder Australian cousins.’

The good-natured banter between the young people continued until they reached the verandah where they were met by Schumann’s wife who also impressed Matthew and Bob with her beauty. They were surprised to hear that her English was also excellent although her husband’s was not. Within minutes, a young girl brought pots of coffee and tea on a tray. Settled on the verandah, the conversation drifted to copra prices, the social scene in Sydney and, like the picking of a scab, the news from Europe. It was at this mention that Alex sensed a tension creeping into what had hitherto been a light-hearted conversation.

‘What do you think will happen if the Russians mobilise in support of the Serbs?’ Schumann asked, leaning forward to pour himself a fresh cup of coffee. As he had asked the question in German, Alex answered.

‘That has not happened,’ he said. ‘I am sure that cool heads will prevail in Europe and the world will go on rattling sabres as it seems it is doing a lot of lately.’

‘But if the Tsar supports the Serbs that will mean the Austrian Emperor will call on Germany for assistance,’ Schumann said. ‘In turn, France will side with Russia and who knows what England will do. It could be that we are moving towards a war in which you and I will be on opposite sides.’

‘War between France and Germany does not necessarily mean England will side with France,’ Alex said. ‘It would be well and truly in England’s interests to remain neutral in such an event. After all, England did not interfere in the 1873 Franco-Prussian war.’

‘
Ja
, that is true,’ Schumann said, partly reassured by the historical example the young Australian had cited. ‘I served the Fatherland against the French in that war as a cavalry man, and it would be very much in England’s favour to remain neutral if we went to war with France. After all, Germany and England were comrades almost a century ago against Bonaparte. I pray that you are right, Herr Macintosh.’

Alex could see that his host was a little more relaxed as he sat back in his cane chair.

‘Father, I think that you should offer our guests the hospitality of our guest rooms,’ Giselle said. ‘Mr Duffy has informed me that they are able to take some leave here before travelling on to Rabaul.’

‘That is a good idea,’ Schumann beamed. ‘You may have the housemaid prepare their rooms.’

Alex thanked the planter on behalf of them all. Schumann rose from his chair and excused himself to speak with his supervisor at the packing sheds, leaving the two women and the three young men to finish afternoon tea. Alex kept glancing at Giselle, wondering how long they would have to carry on this charade of acting as if they were little more than merely friends. Each time he caught her eye he could see that the feeling was mutual. They needed time alone to express their feelings for each other. That time did not come until after dinner when Matthew and Bob Houston retired to Herr Schumann’s living room to share coffee and cigars.

Giselle and Alex slipped out of the house and walked down to the beach under a clear sky ablaze with the twinkle of stars. A gentle breeze made the evening perfect and the couple removed their shoes to walk barefoot along the dark beach.

‘I could not believe my eyes when I saw you today,’ Giselle said. ‘I have missed you so much and your letters have kept me sane counting the days until Mother and I travel to Sydney in September.’

‘All I have thought about was some reason to see you again,’ Alex said. ‘Every day and hour has been an agony without seeing you.’

‘How long will you be able to stay?’ Giselle asked.

‘I think at least three days,’ he replied. ‘But we will require a favour of your father. We need to leave some crates in storage so as to make space in our ship’s hold for cargo. Do you think he would allow us to unload the crates and store them?’

‘I cannot see why not,’ Giselle answered. ‘But why speak of these matters now when we have so much to say to each other in such a brief time.’

‘I do not know whether I should broach the subject,’ Alex said awkwardly. ‘I know that we have known each other for such a short time, but events in the world seem to be conspiring to disrupt our lives.’ He stopped walking and turned to face Giselle in the dark. ‘Would you consider becoming my wife?’ For a moment his heart beat at such a rate that he experienced a tightness of the chest.

‘You would consider marrying a Jewish girl?’ she asked softly, taking Alex by complete surprise. He was glad that she could not see the look of shock on his face.

‘You are a Jew?’ he asked. ‘But I did not see any sign of that.’

‘Are we supposed to look different?’ Giselle countered with just the slightest trace of anger. ‘Are we supposed to be born with dark skin and big noses?’

‘No, I did not mean that,’ Alex hurried to defend his question. ‘It is just that my family has Jewish friends in business and, well, they act differently . . . I don’t care that you are Jewish . . . all I am saying is that your revelation was a surprise – that is all. I love you and would convert to your religion if that was necessary. That is how much I love you.’

Giselle leaned forward and kissed Alex on the lips with gentleness rather than a passion. ‘You do not have to do so but it would be necessary that our children be raised in my faith. My father is a Lutheran, but my mother is a Jewess, if you were wondering. My father chose to come to this part of the Empire to save my mother from the constant disapproval of his family back in Germany. My father accepts her beliefs and in our tradition I am Jewish because my mother is a Jewess. How will your family react to your choice of a wife?’

Alex had to think about that. His family was restricted
to his father, brother and sister. It was only his father’s approval that he really worried about. But then, he was an adult and to hell with what his father might think. ‘I don’t really care,’ Alex replied. ‘All I know is that I had decided from the moment I set eyes on you that there would be no other woman in my life.’

‘Then I will marry you, Alexander Macintosh,’ Giselle replied. ‘But I will also study to be a doctor.’

Alex swooped her up in his arms, dancing a parody of a waltz with the sand squelching under his feet. ‘Anything you desire, the future Mrs Macintosh,’ he whooped. ‘Now all I have to do is convince your father that I am a worthy son-in-law.’

‘Put me down,’ Giselle gasped. ‘Or I will suffocate before we are wed.’

Alex placed her gently on the sand and kissed her. This time it was with passion. They could feel the water around their ankles and in the tropics of German New Guinea the world was at peace.

‘You wish for my daughter’s hand in marriage,’ Schumann said rather than asked as Alex stood in the planter’s office in the late hours of the evening. A moth crawled across the desk where Schumann sat. Alex had never felt so nervous in all his life. So far his hopes for being the man’s son-in-law did not look good.

‘I love your daughter more than my own life,’ Alex offered in his desperation to impress the formidable man.

‘You do know that she has always had a dream to help the sick,’ Schumann continued. ‘Would she be able to do that as your wife?’

‘I am not a man without property and income,’ Alex
countered. ‘I may not understand her desire to become a doctor, but that does not mean I will not support her work.’

Schumann rose from behind his desk and Alex shifted nervously on his feet. The planter walked to a sideboard, paused then turned to the anxious young man. ‘She is my only child and I love her in a way you are yet to learn of. At the moment the world appears to be on the brink of a war and we do not know what will happen. Both you and I know that there still exists a terrible chance that your country and mine may find each other on opposite sides of the battle lines. Do you think it is wise to propose when you have known each other for such a short time?’

‘We have learned much about each other through our correspondence,’ Alex replied, attempting to defuse the older man’s argument. ‘We are at peace now and that should continue into the future. All I know is that your daughter is the only woman that I will ever love.’

Schumann clasped his hands behind his back and stared hard at Alex. ‘I feel that you should wait a while longer before planning to wed my daughter, and I am sure that her mother would feel the same way. After all, they are both travelling to Sydney in September when you could see my daughter under proper chaperoned circumstances. I do not ask much.’