“What was the point in that?” she asked with annoyance.
“That’s Frank showing you who’s boss. Let’s get this done, kiddo. I think we both know what the next step is before we even think about doing anything else.” I looked at her, hoping for confirmation that she was following me.
“We have to talk to Lightman,” she said, grabbing for her pack of Viceroys again.
“No.” She stopped and looked at me curiously.
“No?” I could feel her temper rise, her eyes drilling little bore-holes into mine.
“No. I think for the moment it might be best if I see him alone.”
“Why?” She almost turned on me.
“Steph, I have a history with him. I’m the one that ultimately put him away. I think
after all these years, if he is going to open up to anybody, it might just be the guy that he is pissed off with the most.”
“I understand, but I really think-”
“Hey, I’m on your side, remember? Look, come with me, but if it’s OK, please, let me speak to him first.” I could see she was still pissed, but my reasoning made sense to her and she was, as I would find out in due course, an excellent officer. She finally nodded, dropped her butt to the ground and walked to her car.
“Want a ride back to the hotel?”
“Sure, if that’s OK. We can head to Crab Apple first thing in the morning if you like.”
“Definitely,” she said and hopped into her side.
9.
Crab Apple Hill had been named so because of an orchard that used to occupy the site for the last half of last century. A young Walter Hancock and his wife Thelma had made the crossing from England to Australia and looked for a place that not only reminded them of their homes back in England, but also a place that would bear rich fruit. Walter had been raised on a farm that grew apples and so the newly married couple had settled in these parts back in 1855 after purchasing a thousand acres. Walter’s parents had both passed and once he was able to sell the family farm back home for a very tidy sum, it provided the financial security him and Thelma would need to re-establish a new life in Australia, then known as “the land of opportunity”.
The trees had begun to yield sweet and juicy apples within 5 years and the couple enjoyed tremendous success, eventually employing permanent farm hands to help with year-round labour. They enjoyed the views from atop the solitary hill that occupied their land and around 1860, built a permanent stone cottage, now home of the prison hospital wing. It was around 1865 that Walter began to toy with the idea of planting some Crab Apple trees in a plot off to the side of the cottage, as a side project, so to speak. He chose Dolgos, a variety imported from Russia, as the tartness of the fruit proved the perfect taste he was hoping to adopt in a new line of Ciders. A local field, about 15 miles to the south of their property, had been adopted by locals as the perfect location for a farmer’s market the previous year. It was still classed as crown land back then and had three of the biggest farms flanking it on all sides, the main road from Daylesford to Clunes running through its middle.
Walter’s eventual concoction proved to be so popular with the locals that within a few months, word had spread far and wide about the amazing cider that was being produced in the area. Eventually, a permanent market was erected where people would come searching for goods all week long. More and more stalls were opening up as the popularity of the market gathered strength. The stalls were more of a “roof with no sides” kind of design and everyone realised very quickly that they would only serve as a temporary solution. Finally, it was decided that a hotel, named The Railway Hotel because of the train tracks that ran past the site, would be built to provide lodgings for visitors and, it proved to be the first official building ever to be constructed in the field. More businesses, including a storefront for Walter’s Cider, quickly emerged and within ten short years, a brand-new town was born, named Cider Hill, after its most popular beverage.
But as with any fine story, an ending must follow, and tragedy would strike in the early 1880s. Walter, never one to pass on performing his own duties, had been transporting a wagon load of Cider to his storefront. His foreman, Will Tucker, had offered to take the wagon himself, but Walter refused, instead giving his longest serving employee the day off. His kindness and generosity had been legendary. Folklore has it that, one morning in November, this was about 1870, Walter had been making a delivery to his store when he came upon a lady sitting in the middle of the track. She had been taking her own wagonload of produce into the town when her horse was spooked, bolted, and subsequently broke a leg as well as damaging the wagon beyond repair. The lady, Mrs. Norma Purcell, was a widow, her husband having passed a few years before. Walter, of course, helped the lady into his wagon and took her straight to the Doctor. She had suffered some bruising, a broken wrist and quite a bump to the head. Imagine her surprise, when not a day later, Walter and Thelma delivered a brand-new wagon, together with a fine animal to pull it. Mrs. Purcell had been in tears, overcome with joy and relief. This was the generosity with which his legend grew.
Anyway, it had been along
