Chapter 12
Sydney 1980
The next morning Billie was up early keen to go to the house, the information she’d gleaned from Primrose nagging at her heels. Would the suitcase still be there? She drove with the windows down, the breeze blowing in her hair. What a refreshing change from the city. Sheep scattered as she ambled up the driveway, scaring wood ducks to flight as she got closer to the house. Billie parked next to an old white Holden ute, battered with age and full of builder’s equipment.
Billie got out and shut the car door, her mind already racing ahead with ideas and decided a walk around to get her bearings before she started taking photos would be a good idea. They could even wait until later in the afternoon when she picked up Mr. Wilkes and Primrose, it would save her doubling up and wasting precious research time.
Billie stood in the driveway and spun a full circle, taking in her surroundings. Down towards the main road, cattle roamed in the fields, weeping willows along what would be a rivers edge swayed in the undulating breeze, farm houses dotted the sloping hills as far as the eye could see. Turning back toward the house, she sought out the lake. The evaporated mud puddle was nothing like it would have been in its heyday. The picture on Mr. Wilkes’s hallway showed an expansive inland sea with a backdrop of sweeping grass up to the house. A prickle of recognition shivered over her neck. She brushed it off and concentrated on the facts.
Now there was only about quarter of the lake left, an overly large pool in a shell of dry cracked mud. The crypt on the other side of the lake stood out on a sad patch of dry thirsty grass. A forest to one side grew a lot denser than the photo had shown and she could see blocks of colour from the roses beyond. It was as though someone had given up tending them and nature doing her best not to let them die. The last meagre offering of flowers before she let them shrivel up and die. Mr. Wilkes would be horrified to see all his years of hard work had been left to struggle when he’d retired.
Footsteps clanged down the concrete steps and she glanced around. A tradesman in black shorts and faded blue t-shirt headed to his work ute, jammed a pencil behind his ear and opened a toolbox.
“Excuse me.” He raised his eyes and focused on Billie, his gaze travelling the length of her body, finally coming to rest her face. “Hi. I’m Billie Stanford from the Sun-Herald. I’ve been sent to do a piece on the estate.”
“Right.” He nodded his head with a scowl adding to the tension lines on his face. “Nobody told me I had to let anyone in, but who am I? Just the bloody builder on an impossible schedule.” He slammed the lid down on his toolbox and slid the hammer in the loop of his tool belt. “Hope you’re not expecting a guided tour because you’re shit out of luck, love.”
Talk about friendly. This guy must have been in the back of the queue when they handed out manners. “No, I’m not. I was told I could have a look around myself and that’s what I was planning to do. I didn’t want to get in anyone’s way.”
“Well, if you can keep out of mine, I’d appreciate it. Haven’t got the time for waltzing around this place. If you need to chat, I don’t mind answering questions while I work. That’s if you can hear over the noise.”
“I’ll bear that in mind. Thanks.”
He seemed to think over his words because he stepped forward, reached out a beefy hand to her. “Name’s Pete. Sorry if I sounded gruff. Too much to do and not enough time. Way more work here than they let on and I’m struggling to make any headway at all. ’Course they expect it sooner and for less money like every other idiot around. Like that’s going to happen.”
“It sounds as though you have your work cut out for you. Is there anyone else here helping out today?”
“Bloody well should be. Had the plumber organised as well as a sparky, but do they turn up? No. Freaking units the pair of them. Lazy buggers won’t be getting any more jobs out of me, I can tell you that much.” He nodded toward the door. “I’ve got to get on with it, but if you want to, go for broke. The place is all yours.”
Billie followed him up the stairs and stepped back into history. Aged pale grey timber floorboards with a light sheen of dust echoed under her feet.
“This is the main entrance, library to the right next to the dining room and morning room to the left. Bedrooms and private sitting rooms upstairs, kitchen to the back behind the staircase and too many other rooms to mention and most of them will never be open to the public anyway according to the powers that be. Staff quarters etcetera right at the top. If you get lost, don’t expect me to come looking for you.”
“No, that’s fine. I wouldn’t expect to interrupt your schedule.” She blew out a breath as she gazed up at the ornate second floor walkways open to the entrance hall. “This place must have been incredible in its day.”
Pete stood with his hands on his hips and followed her gaze. “Yeah, guessing it would have. Built to last too, the kind of quality work you rarely see anymore. Pity nobody thought to keep up the regular maintenance though. Silly old fool didn’t even put anything in his
