‘We should go in for morning tea, Francis,’ she said.
‘Mrs Wilson made cake for you,’ Francis said to Archie. ‘You could come in and have some and meet Louis. He’s the cleverest baby ever. Dorothea thinks he’s very advanced for his age.’
‘Does she now?’ said Archie with a puzzled air. Dorothea thought Francis was quite fascinated by this man’s lovely face so that his father’s stern presence, usually a dampener on his enthusiasm, did not touch him. Archie laughed at his dear, earnest expression.
Francis’s face blossomed to a grin. ‘Dorothea is the best at looking after us. She’s kind and lovely andmeravigliosa!’ He said this while putting his fingers to his lips and making a dramatic kissing motion as if he were an Italian in the films. Dorothea was proud he’d remembered the word, but Edward’s stony face had her on edge.
Edward turned to Archie. ‘You head in for morning tea, old chap. We’ll follow you in.’ Archie hesitated, noting the steely grip Edward now had on Francis’s upper arm. Emotions flitted across his face, until he finally seemed to land on faintly amused. ‘Goodo. See you in there.’ He walked away.
‘I’ll take Francis in to finish lessons,’ said Dorothea, as Archie retreated. But Edward ignored her. He watched Archie until he disappeared. ‘You are not to discuss Louis or Dorothea with outsiders,’ he said to Francis. ‘And I asked you to spend your mornings inside in the schoolroom. Did I not make that clear?’ His fingers were now prongs in Francis’s shoulder.
‘It’s my fault, Edward. We came down to get some rocks for our study of geology. We can take them inside now.’
Edward ignored her. The boy’s eyes were filled with tears, pleading with Dorothea. Edward began dragging his son towards the lake.
‘Please, Edward,’ she cried hopelessly.
‘Be quiet!’ he hissed.
Edward dragged Francis to the end of the jetty. ‘I mean it. Do not discuss our business with outsiders. Ever.’ Then he hurled Francis into the water. Edward strode back past Dorothea to the house, ignoring her horrified look and the boy’s splashing cries.
Dorothea ran along the jetty and dropped to her knees. She grabbed Francis’s hand and hauled him up onto the timber slats. The wind whipped across his shivering, sopping body.
‘Let’s get you changed, my boy. Quick sticks.’ She put her arm around his shoulders and ushered him, sobbing, across the lawns towards the kitchen, where nobody in the library would catch a glimpse of him.
Her mind fizzed with anger. Edward Fitzhenry was cruel and insane. Utterly deranged.
47
LOTTIE
NOW, NSW SOUTHERN HIGHLANDS, AUSTRALIA
I’ve always wondered why Phyllida had painted the bookshop such a deep, dark blue. Not navy, but a shade of deepest ocean with a hint of green. She’d mentioned once that she’d copied it from a shop she’d liked as a girl, and when I asked for more details she’d said, ‘Oh, just a lovely place I visited once.’ Then she’d complimented me on my new bag and changed the subject to deliveries that were overdue.
It is midday on Saturday, but the shadowy blue hue gives a sense of perpetual twilight in the bookshop. Some days this feels comforting; the deep window seat, the squishy leather armchair in the corner for those who wish to read. It can be the perfect haven for hiding from the world. But today I am tight with anxiety.
I head into the second room of the shop. Sienna is crouched in the far corner, reading. The filing trolley is still half full.
‘Having fun?’ I ask.
Her head jerks up guiltily and I try not to smile.
‘I was just’—she sniffs noisily—‘reading some Celtic stuff about witches.’ She stands. ‘So I can sell the books better,’ she adds, holding my gaze in challenge.
‘Great idea,’ I say.
‘Do you know whatspodomancyis?’ She barely pauses before assuming I don’t. ‘It’s like when they burn stuff and read the ashes for portents, which is like signs of the future, and you have to do it on a certain surface and you can burn sacred wood and animal bones and stuff to get the signs, and work out what to do with your life. They did it in heaps of cultures and witches did it too.’ She takes a breath.
‘Interesting,’ I say.
She glances wide-eyed at the book, then at me, as if she is incredulous that this information exists and there seems to be so much of it, and how could she not haveknownthis before? ‘There’s these druid stones and all these pagan symbols and they’re really cool and people get tattoos of them.’ She pauses. ‘The tattoo bit isn’t in the book, I just know because I googled it last night and it’s a really good way to show your interest in paganism.’
‘Please don’t get a tattoo.’ I consider her, wonder if I am meant to stoke this kind of passion during work hours. I decide I am. ‘If you come and learn how to operate the system now, I’ll let you read for half an hour after that. During your paid time. As you say, you need to know what’s here.’
‘Yeah, true,’ she says, as if this is entirely her due.
I experience a warm glow of pride in how far Sienna has come in such a short time. Not only is she reading books, butshe hasn’t checked her phone for the entire shift. It only started twenty minutes ago, but you take your wins where you find them. At the counter I point to the stock I’ve brought in. ‘I’ll get you to unpack those boxes and enter all the titles into the system.’ These book boxes have been in the back room for ages. ‘I’m trying to get everything tidied up before Phyllida gets back.’
