A Changing Land - By Nicole Alexander Page 0,100

The wonder of it is that you have been happy for so long and for the last ten years or so he has behaved himself.’

‘In matters of business?’

‘Look, the mail has arrived,’ Luke diverted. Knowing the delight Claire received from a newspaper or fashion catalogue, he passed her the bundle sitting on the wicker table. As she sorted through the pile he considered telling her of his plans, of sharing his excitement of his proposed new life in Ridge Gully.

‘Luke, there is one for you.’

The letter was addressed in handwriting unknown to him, although the address given was that of Ridge Gully. He peered closely at the cramped writing, deciphering the name Shaw-Michaels. His chest tightened with excitement. This then was the news of his new life. At the thought he looked across at Claire.

‘They expect Deakin to be elected prime minister again,’ read Claire from the newspaper headlines. ‘Oh, and Dame Nellie Melba is planning on giving a series of concerts this year.’

He sat forward in his chair, opened the envelope. There were two letters inside.

May God bless you, Luke,

Although we have never met I imagine you strong and fierce like your father and perhaps a little soft like my daughter, your mother, Rose.

Luke glanced down at the signature. It was from his grandmother, his dead grandmother.

‘And what do you think about this, Luke, the government of New South Wales is thinking about reintroducing assisted migration.’

I’ve not been one for travelling nor correspondence so you must forgive me that, as I forgive you. The doctor tells me I’ve not much time though I doubt his knowledge for it only comes from a book and I’ve never placed great store in another’s words. Still if the learned man is right then I best have my affairs in order. It is important for me to safeguard that which was manufactured by my own hands and you have your own responsibilities. Your father is in agreement.

My Rose and the little ones departed this life so long ago, God bless them. Visit your mother’s grave for me, say a prayer lad, say good-bye,

Your loving grandmother

Luke reread the contents before reading a second letter from his grandmother’s solicitor. He had been left out of her will. The entire amount had gone to some acquaintance of his grandmother’s. Stunned, he reread her letter again. Your father is in agreement.

‘Did you know?’ Luke finally asked when the reality of the letter sunk in. ‘Did you know I’d been robbed of my grandmother’s inheritance?’

‘Inheritance?’ Claire let the newspaper drop to her lap. She was just beginning to feel a little better. ‘What inheritance?’

‘Did you know?’ Luke demanded, his fingers scrunching the envelope.

‘No, no … I had absolutely no idea.’ Claire touched her temples.

‘You’re sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure, Luke. What are you talking about?’ Yet she didn’t want to know, not really. There was already too much in her life. In the space of a week she’d discovered she may be pregnant, wished her baby dead, silently admitted to her girlish infatuation regarding Luke, fallen ill and been berated by her adulterous husband. Now there was another element for her brain to contend with, a loneliness that appeared to have crept up on her like a snake and she could have wept with the realisation that her life was a mirage. Claire took the letter with shaking fingers, managed to read the brief contents though the words shifted and weaved into almost unmanageable forms. ‘Your grandmother must have good reason for this, Luke.’

‘My grandmother? I think you are mistaken, Claire. It is my father who has had the final say in this matter. Have you not read that properly?’

‘Of course I’ve read it. I just don’t believe that your father would –’

‘You don’t believe it? It’s there in black and white!’

Claire read the letter again. ‘Luke, I know you’re upset, but you have Wangallon. You are a part of Wangallon, it’s your home. You can’t honestly have wanted to leave here.’ How could she placate him? A wrong had been done, but surely it was not Hamish’s doing. ‘Luke, where are you going?’ His riding boots struck the wooden floorboards sharply as he strode away from her. ‘Luke, please?’ Claire went to follow him.

‘This is the person you married, Claire.’ He turned, took a step towards her. ‘Do you really want to know what he is like? Do you?’

She backed away from his temper.

‘He has stolen, cheated and murdered for his own gain!’ He flung his hands outwards

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