SEVENTEEN
Seventeen
The evening flowed along with the wine and conversation. Damian loved talking about history—it was his life—but he was a little self-conscious when it came to talking about it in a social setting. A girlfriend had once mentioned she didn’t like standing around while he gave another dull lecture, and while he’d thought the comment unfair, it had stayed with him. He now often found himself trying to gauge if he might be boring the company around him, and it was no burden to ask about their lives and interests. Everyone in Banalla seemed to have an interesting story.
During the main meal, he’d taken a moment to think back on the comment he’d made to Lottie about moving to Banalla. He’d noted her surprised expression and wasn’t sure if she was horrified or delighted. After hearing how so many others had successfully tree changed, he’d started to realise just how feasible moving could be. Maybe some part of him also wanted to test the waters and see what Lottie would say … not that he had really got an answer. He couldn’t stop looking at her, sitting down the table and patiently listening to the middle-aged woman flashing up pictures of her grandchildren. He was curious to bring the subject up with her again.
‘Oh, Terry, I’m sure Damian isn’t that interested in horseracing,’ Daphney said, breaking into the story the other man had been telling over the remains of the main course. Actually, Damian had been very interested, but the formidable woman turned to him and asked, ‘Tell me, how are you finding Banalla?’, effectively shutting down the previous conversation.
‘It’s really surprised me how much there is in such a small town,’ he replied. ‘I’m enjoying my time here quite a lot.’
‘Have you tried the beer up at the top end of town?’ Shorty asked. ‘I had me doubts about this new-fangled boo-tique stuff they were makin’ up there but, I tell ya, it’s not too bad at all.’ He nodded, looking as though he was surprised he was admitting it out loud.
‘No, I haven’t gotten there yet,’ Damian said. He was about to ask more about it when Daphney cut in once more.
‘I’ll have to get you out to Glenmore Station. We open the gardens up to the public once a year and raise money for the local emergency services. My high tea is quite sought after,’ she added pretentiously. He caught Shorty and Terry rolling their eyes at each other from across the table. Mr Hindmarsh sat beside Daphney, on his third glass of scotch from what Damian had counted, deaf as a post and seemingly happy to not have to participate.
Damian was a little disappointed that he hadn’t managed to spend time with Lottie other than their brief conversation earlier. Daphney inserting herself into every conversation was getting a little irritating, and the constant touching of his arm every few minutes—each time lingering just a little longer—was increasingly annoying. He’d caught Lottie’s gaze on her hand earlier and managed to shift in his seat and withdraw his arm, but it had only lasted a few moments before Daphney had somehow managed to orchestrate another excuse to touch him.
He was conscious of the need to be polite and accessible since the committee was hosting him at the festival, and he felt obliged to not rock the proverbial boat, but the woman didn’t seem to understand the concept of personal space.
‘I think you’ve hogged our guest of honour long enough, Daphney,’ Cher said, appearing beside him. Never before had he been so happy to see a pink-haired woman in a vintage-looking poodle skirt and tight-fitting cardigan.
‘Come on, professor, all the cool kids are down this end of the table,’ she added with a wink, leaving Daphney gaping like a disgruntled fish.
‘I thought you might need rescuing,’ Cher said in a low voice as they moved down the table. He didn’t have time to reply before she was announcing, ‘Right, you lot. Here’s your chance to grill the professor over dessert.’
His seat was conveniently located between Lottie and Tori, a cheerful, round-faced young woman who looked to be in her late twenties. The conversation flowed freely and, despite Cher’s open invitation to grill him, the topic soon turned to what had drawn everyone to Banalla.
‘For us, it was simply getting out into the fresh air and having so much abundance. The produce for the cafe is all sourced locally, we grow a lot of our own ingredients,’ Tori said, grinning as she squeezed Skye’s hand. ‘We went from a two-hour commute to a zero one, living above the shop.’
‘What about you ladies?’ Damian asked the three older women across the table. He’d been introduced to them earlier—Carol, Janelle and … Christie? No, Christ ine .
‘We’re all born and bred right here in Banalla,’ Carol replied, glancing at Janelle beside her.
‘And you’ve been here all your lives?’ he asked.
‘Yep. I married my boyfriend from high school. His family are farmers, so there wasn’t really ever a question of moving away.’
‘We’re all farmers’ wives,’ Christine put in.
‘I moved away for a few years, but I ended up coming back,’ Janelle offered. ‘There’s something nice about having your kids and grandkids going to the same school you went to.’
Damian envied that. Maybe it was the historian in him once more coming out, but that continuity, the tangible connection to your past … he liked that idea. As a kid, his family had moved around quite a bit, so he didn’t have any kind of link to a particular town, just the odd memory of certain points in his life connected vaguely to places he could sort of remember. Nothing like a local with generational ties would have to a place like Banalla.
‘How’s the research going?’ Cher asked as she scooped a bite of cheesecake into her mouth.
‘What are you researching?’ Terry asked, drawing up a spare chair to join them.
‘My next book is covering the gold rush era. Part of it is about Alexander Compton and his gold mine.’
‘I reckon there’d still be some gold left in that mine,’ Terry said.
‘It caved in, though, a long while back. It’d take a big operation to come in and clear it up,’ Janelle put in.
‘I’ve still got to get that family tree stuff to you,’ Cher remembered, looking up. ‘There’s quite a bit about Kate O’Ryan and her life that might interest you.’
‘I look forward to seeing it.’ Kate O’Ryan, nee McNally, had led a colourful life and he was genuinely interested in looking at anything that might relate to her.
Once dessert was done, Daphney once again took the reins and talk was centred firmly around the festival. Damian was impressed by the list of events the day would be holding, especially the re-enactment they had planned. He raised an eyebrow slightly at the cabaret show based on the life of Kate O’Ryan and he thought he heard Daphney’s voice stiffen when she read that bit aloud. If the smirk on Cher’s face was anything to go by, there was clearly a story behind that.
Finally, the evening came to an end and he made his goodbyes as everyone left. He was waylaid for ten minutes by Daphney before he managed to escape.
Taking out his phone, he saw a text message from Lottie.
Lottie: Night cap and debrief?
Damian: Always happy to debrief with you
Lottie:
He grinned as he put his phone back in his pocket and headed up the hill.
‘Cher said she was coming around later to drop off that stuff she mentioned last night,’ Lottie informed him the next morning as they drank coffee at her breakfast bar.
Damian frowned, trying to recall what stuff Cher might be referring to. A lot of people had told him a lot of information last night, and then he’d been preoccupied by less intellectual pursuits.
‘It’s probably the research on Kate O’Ryan,’ Lottie supplied. ‘She’s very proud of her heritage. I know it probably has nothing to do with what you’re researching, but I think she’s looking forward to showing you. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘No, of course not. I think it’s great she’s so into her family history—and a pretty cool one at that. I know lots of people who’d like to be able to trace their ancestry back to an infamous bushranger family.’ The fact there were so many locals in this town who could do just that still amazed him.
‘It is pretty cool,’ Lottie agreed.
‘Do you think she’ll work out I stayed here last night? Will that be a problem for you?’ He knew she wasn’t keen on making this thing public—which didn’t bother him one way or the other, but had people known they were an item then maybe he wouldn’t have had to fend off Daphney all night.
‘I actually sent her a text this morning,’ she said looking sheepish. ‘She’s my best friend, so I felt like I had to tell her anyway. I don’t mind if she knows.’
Cher soon arrived in a flurry of chiffon, placing her sparkling, bejewelled hands with the terrifying-looking talons on either side of his face and planting a loud kiss on his cheek. ‘Congratulations on baggin’ my girl, you sexy stud, you.’ She chortled and then leaned back to level a serious stare at him. ‘But if you break her heart—they’ll never find your body.’
Damian gave a weak laugh, deciding he wasn’t entirely sure if the woman was joking or not. Before he could reach a decision, she let his face go and picked up the long cardboard cylinder she’d brought with her, wasting no time unfurling a large piece of paper from inside it onto the kitchen table ‘Well, here it is,’ she said, shaking her head slowly as she stared down at it. ‘I’m not sure if it’s anything useful, but two of my aunties dedicated a lot of their time to putting together the family tree, going back to Kate and Jack’s time and beyond, all the way to Ireland. Blows my mind every time I see it.’
Sure enough, there were boxes of names neatly branching off from a very long line of names with dates that seemed far too long ago.
Damian surveyed the intricate document with no small degree of awe. ‘This took a lot of dedication,’ he said.
‘Apparently it took them years to complete,’ Cher agreed, before pointing to one of the lines. ‘That’s my great-great-great-etcetera-grandfather, Finnegan O’Ryan, one of Kate’s eleven children.’
‘Can you imagine having that many kids?’ Lottie said, shaking her head.
‘God no,’ Damian said. ‘There were four of us and that was enough bedlam growing up.’
‘And apparently, they lived in some cramped one-roomed bark hut. I remember my mum complaining about our house being too small once, and Dad telling her that if Kate could bring up a family living in a hut with a dirt floor, then she should be grateful for the house she had. Funnily enough, Mum ended up leaving him for a bloke who was a millionaire and lived on the Gold Coast in a two-storey mansion on a lagoon,’ she said dryly. ‘Apparently, size does matter in certain areas.’
Damian deliberately kept his eyes on the family tree, he wasn’t about to weigh in on that discussion.
‘Would it be okay if I take photos of this to keep in my files?’ Damian asked.
‘Knock yourself out, handsome.’
Damian lined up the shot before he zoomed in and took a series of closer photos. Maybe he’d one day write a book featuring all the families of famous bushrangers. They were often overlooked in the history books—siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles who were accomplices and abettors, as well as active members of the gangs who never managed to attain the celebrity status of their relatives. The notion began to form, and he tucked it away to make notes about later.
‘Thank you, I appreciate you taking the time,’ Damian said.
‘Not a problem. Any opportunity to watch a professional at work,’ Cher said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. ‘So, what did you think of the get-together last night?’
‘It was great to meet everyone. It seems like a very dedicated team.’
‘Daphney certainly enjoyed herself. She was practically preening for most of the night.’
Damian suppressed a snort. ‘She, uh, certainly seems like a bit of a force to be reckoned with,’ he said, trying to stay neutral.
‘She means well. The committee really has achieved a lot. She was the driving force behind its revival a number of years back,’ Lottie argued, clearly looking to be fair. Damian had noticed she did that quite often, trying to see the good in everything and everyone. He liked it a lot.
‘Yes, well she doesn’t have to be the centre of attention all the time,’ Cher said, sounding somewhat disgruntled.
Damian had realised last night there was no great love lost between the two, and he could imagine the conflicts they’d undoubtedly had over the years. He also knew enough from the few times he’d met Cher that she seemed to be a person who also liked the spotlight. Maybe that was the real issue.
‘I think the festival’s going to be fantastic,’ he said diplomatically. ‘You’ve all done a great job pulling it together.’
‘Oh, while I think of it,’ Cher said, reaching into her large handbag and withdrawing an envelope. ‘Two tickets to the cabaret show. The sold-out one,’ she added in a victorious tone.
There was no way he was asking what that was about. ‘Thanks. I’m looking forward to it. Sounds like a lot of fun.’
‘It’s going to be a blast,’ Cher assured him.
He caught Lottie’s expression and wondered if he should be worried.
Later, as he headed back to his motel to change, he shook his head and laughed. Who would have thought that a stagecoach robbery would inspire a festival, complete with a cabaret show. He wondered what Jack would have had to say about it.