The next showed a small group of convicts standing in front of a squat building with a towering door.Convicts take a well-earned break from their work on Hartwell Gaol, circa 1830.
There was a clink of glasses and a woman with long grey hair and heavy eyeliner emerged from a room behind the bar.
‘How can I help you?’
‘Hi, I’m Meg Hunter.’
No recognition of the name.
‘I’ve got a room booked here tonight. I just wondered if I could leave my bags here until I check in later.’
‘Ah, yes. Hello, love.’ The woman smiled now, her tough edge replaced with a motherly warmth. ‘I’m Sue, I spoke with you on the phone. You can check in now if you like.’
Once they’d done the paperwork, Sue led the way up a steep wooden staircase, then down a long corridor.
‘Bathroom,’ she said, gesturing to a room with aLadiessign hanging over the doorway. ‘Three showers. Excellent water pressure. We had a new system put in last year.’
‘Great,’ Meg said brightly, trying not to convey her surprise at the shared bathroom situation, which she hadn’t realised when she booked the room.
They stopped outside room thirteen. ‘This is you.’
Sue kicked the bottom of the door as she turned the handle. ‘Gets a bit stuck when we’ve had a lot of rain,’ she explained. ‘You just need to give it a good kick.’
She flicked a switch and a cane pendant light came on, casting a dim light over the room. Meg peered inside. It was simple but stylish, with white walls, high ceilings and a double bed against one wall. In a corner under a large sash window, a wicker armchair sat next to a pedestal fan.
Meg could feel Sue watching her as she looked at the room.
‘All good?’
‘It’s perfect.’
‘Bistro is open twelve till two and five till eight. No need to book at this time of year. Too hot for most of the tourists. What brings you down here?’
‘This and that,’ Meg said, deciding to keep things vague. ‘I’m studying historic jail sites.’ She’d planned her story in the car on the way down.
Sue nodded. ‘Not much to see of this one at the moment, I’m afraid. God knows if there’ll be anything left of it once the redevelopment’s done.’ Her eyes lit up. ‘There are a few other historical buildings around town, though. I can take you on a tour, if you like.’
‘Oh, thanks, Sue, but I’ve got a few things I need to do today.’
Sue’s face fell. ‘Of course.’
‘Maybe another day,’ Meg added, feeling like she’d offended her.
‘I’ll leave you to it.’ She handed Meg the room key and started back down the hall.
‘Oh, Sue?’ Meg called after her. ‘Do you know anyone called Tina who lives around here?’
Sue shook her head. ‘Nope, no Tinas around here.’
Meg squinted in the bright sunshine as she walked out of the pub, rummaging in her bag for her Aviators as she crossed the parking area towards Hartwell Gaol, gravel crunching underfoot.
She would have a look around, she decided, see what she could find out from workers on the site, then get lunch while she trawled theSave HartwellFacebook group for people who might help her. She crossed a narrow laneway to the footpath that passed the old courthouse then ran along the prison wall that towered overhead, casting an imposing shadow.
There was something written on the wall. White letters outlined in red, contrasting against the sandy-brown wall. She stood back, trying to read it. The font was blocky, stylised, like the graffiti murals she barely noticed in her Inner West neighbourhood. Here, it demanded attention.Ashworth… something.Ashworth scum.That was it. Interesting. She took a photo and walked on to the boom gate guarding the entrance to the compound.
The open space beyond the gate was a chaotic scene. Bobcats beeped, dodging piles of gravel, building supplies and workmen smoking cigarettes. A young woman with long dark hair and long fake eyelashes held a stop-go sign. Somewhere nearby, a jack hammer competed with a drill, making an ear-splitting metallic sound. The heritage-listed building, which she’d seen in the photo on the pub wall, was completely obscured by scaffolding. On the left of the driveway, a vintage convertible Mercedes looked jarringly out of place in the midst of the construction zone.
‘You right?’
