Papa grunted. “Fine, take Hughes, then. We need to get that stock sorted out and ready for the sales. The cows are about to drop their next set of calves, don’t want the place overstocked. We can’t afford the grass to get any shorter than it is with the lack of rain we’ve had lately. Besides, the money will be timely.”
“As you wish, Papa.” A wave of satisfaction rolled over her, unlike anything she had felt before. The ease with which she slotted into the role of Wilz gave her a moment of worry before she brushed it off.
They ate the remainder of their lunch in relative silence after that. She climbed the stairs to her room to rest until Mr. Hughes came back to help her with the horses.
Chapter 18
Singleton 1980
Maggie ran ahead and sniffed tree after tree in the forest, ducking under bushes and skittering around piles of dry leaves in her attempt to find something to chase. “Maggie, come on. This place gives me the creeps.”
Hamish agreed with him. “It is kind of eerie in here. Looks like it’s been unattended for so long, the undergrowth has taken over. My guess is that it was very well maintained back in the day. There’s indication from these paths that it was once clear and tidy, not quite so spooky.”
Maggie raced off barking and Alex threw up his hands in mock frustration. “That dog is going to get lost.” He hurried to chase after her, pushing his way through the bushes and Hamish followed, hoping the adventure would lead to something worthwhile.
They’d searched through most of the house and found nothing that would indicate Billie had ever been there. Pete the tradie had spoken to them again, bringing with him a camera case. “I found this in the servants’ stairwell the other day and put it to one side, forgot about it. Had no idea whose it was. Thought maybe it might be hers.”
Alex had pounced on it, a cross between a sob and sigh escaping his lips as he opened the case, taking out the camera with care. “It’s hers. Actually it was my father’s but she claimed it because he rarely used it.” The look in his eyes so full of hope, it almost broke Hamish’s heart. “I know we’re going to find her. I can feel it.”
“We’ll do the best we can, that I can promise you.”
Pete apologised. “I don’t know how I missed it. Maybe if I found it before…”
“You weren’t to know, Pete. Don’t blame yourself.”
“I should have thought earlier when we were talking that she might have gone places I hadn’t yet. I mean, the door was stuck and needed fixing so I wouldn’t have thought she’d go in there unless she came in from the top of the gallery.”
“Appreciate your help, Pete. At least we have it now. It might have some photos on it we can get developed, they might give us a clue.” He appeared despondent but after Alex thanked him again, he went back to his own job assuring them he’d let them know if he found anything else.
“Maggie, here, girl.” Alex’s voice brought Hamish back to the moment. He picked up the pace keen not to lose sight of them.
“Look at that.” Alex stood in front of an old rundown building. The paint had long since faded and peeled from the walls, the cedar tiles on the roof warped and more than a few had fallen off, a rampant vine twisted around the eaves and pushed through the gaps. “Wow. Must have been pretty once.” He took a step closer.
“Be careful. Not sure how safe this place will be.” Together they strolled over to the building and peered in the windows. Streaks of green ran down the panes, making it hard to see inside. The sour earthy whiff of decay hovered over the building. Alex tried the door handle and it gave easily, but the door stuck at the top.
“Reckon the weather has got to it by the look of that rot on the window frames. Here, let me.” Hamish grabbed the handle and put his shoulder against the door until it gave way. The door groaned and a musty odour wafted out from the inside.
“What a stink.” Alex held his hand over his nose but didn’t shy away. If anything, he seemed more interested than before. He stepped into the room. “This place is pretty cool, even if it does smell terrible. It’s like a flash play house or something.”
“I believe the word you’re looking for is a summerhouse.”
“What did they use them for?” He wandered around, touching dust covered objects. Maggie followed him, darting between chairs.
“A meeting house of sorts, a place to relax, get away from it all. The uses are varied from what I understand.”
Hamish turned in a slow circle, taking in the contents of the room, the position of the windows and the one door between them. A white wrought-iron day bed sat against one wall with a dusty patchwork covering and once plump green and pink cushions scattered over the surface. A mud wasp nest in the ceiling above it had gone brittle with age and marked the once beautifully stitched blanket.
He eyed the cane settee and chairs, deciding not to test them out. They appeared sturdy enough, but looks could be very deceiving especially after seeing how much the windows had rotted. An elaborate writing desk sat under one window, the view out the once clear glass would have inspired poetry. A dark rosewood chair stood pushed to one side as if someone had risen from it in a hurry leaving it askew.
A fine layer of dust covered the rolled timber desktop. The key sat in the lock, elaborate as one would expect looking at the craftsmanship that had gone into the desk. He turned it, heard the click as it unlocked to share its secrets.
“What have you
