‘Then why didn’t he write to me?’ ”Pride, I guess. He wasn’t the type to cry for help when he was in a spot.’ She stared at me, frowning slightly. ‘Would you have come if he’d written to you, if you’d known he was innocent?’
‘I–I don’t know,’ I said.
‘But you came when you heard he was dead. Why? Because you thought there might be oil here?’
The trace of bitterness in her voice brought me to my feet. ‘Why I came is my own business,’ I said harshly. ‘If you want to know my plan was to live up there.’
‘Live there.’ She stared at me. ‘All the year round?’
‘Yes.’
‘Whatever for?’
I turned and stared angrily at her. ‘I’ve my own reasons, the same as you have for living in this dump.’
She shifted her gaze to the fire. ‘Touchee,’ she said softly. ‘I only wanted to know-’ She hesitated and then got to her feet. ‘I’ve some things here that belong to you.’ She went over to an ottoman and brought out a cardboard box tied with ribbon. ‘I couldn’t bring any more, but these things I know he wanted you to have.’ She placed the box on a table near me. As she straightened up she said, There’s a question you still haven’t answered. What did you do after the war?’
‘Just drifted,’ I said.
‘Did you go back to the City?’
‘Yes.’ I was thinking of the grimy brick building in Queen Victoria Street, of the long room with the typists and adding machines and the little frosted-glass cubicles that had served as offices. She made it sound so damned important.
She hesitated, her hand still on the box. ‘You said your plan was to live up in the Kingdom?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, but that was before I came to Come Lucky.’
‘You’ve changed your mind then?’
‘I didn’t know there was a half-completed dam up there.’
‘I see. So now you’re going to sell out and go back to England?’
I laughed. The sound was harsh in that pleasant little room, but it gave vent to my feelings. ‘It’s not as easy as that. I’ve rather burned my boats. You see, I’ve emigrated.’
‘You’ve-’ She stared at me, the thin line of her eyebrows arched in surprise. ‘You’re a queer person,’ she said slowly. ‘There’s something about you I don’t quite understand.’ She spoke more to herself than to me. I watched her as she went back to her seat by the fire and sat there, gazing into the flames. At length her eyes came round to my face. ‘What’s made you change your mind?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘When you came here you’d already turned down Henry Fergus’s offer for the Kingdom.’
‘How do you know that?’ I asked.
‘Gossip.’ She laughed a trifle nervously. ‘You can’t keep anything secret in this place.’ She turned and faced me squarely. ‘Why have you changed your mind?’
‘I haven’t yet,’ I told her.
No, but you’re going to.’ She waited for a moment and when I didn’t say anything she said, ‘I suppose Peter has been getting at you. And the old men …’ There was anger and contempt in her voice. ‘I suppose they’ve tried to tell you that you’re under an obligation to make good some of their losses?’
She seemed to expect some sort of reply so I said, ‘Well, I suppose from their point of view I am being a little unreasonable.’
‘Unreasonable! Was it Stuart’s fault they went oil-crazy and bought up half the mountain peaks around here regardless of the geological possibilities just because he reported a big oil seep at the head of Thunder Creek.’ She leaned suddenly forward. ‘Do you think they helped him when things went wrong? When he was on trial in England for fraud they swore affidavits that he was a liar and a cheat. And when he came back here they hounded him up into the Kingdom so that all the last years of his life were spent in solitude and hardship. When Luke Trevedian died Stuart hadn’t a friend in Come Lucky. You owe the people here nothing. Nothing.’ She paused for breath. The fierceness of her tone had had something personal in it and I found myself unconsciously toying with the idea that she might after all be the old man’s natural child. ‘Now you’re here,’ she added in a quieter tone, ‘don’t believe everything people tell you. Please. Check everything for yourself.’
She spoke as though I had all the time in the world. I passed my hand wearily across my eyes. ‘Am I to take it that you believe my grandfather was right?’
She nodded slowly. ‘Yes. It was impossible to live with him for any length of time and not believe him. He had tremendous faith — in himself and in other people, and in God. He wouldn’t understand that some people-’ She stopped, her mouth suddenly a tight, hard line. ‘I met many fine men — during the war. But he was one of the finest…’ Her voice died and she stared into the flames. ‘I want him to be proved right.’ Her hand had tightened on her jaw. ‘I want desperately for the world to know that he wasn’t a crank, that he believed everything he said and that it was the truth.’
‘But what about this survey?’ I said. ‘I understand it proved conclusively that there was no oil in the Kingdom.’
‘Of course it did. Do you think Henry Fergus would have agreed to postpone his plans for a whole season without ensuring that the results proved what he wanted them to prove? I tried to warn Stuart. But he was getting old. He couldn’t believe he wouldn’t get a straight deal from his old friend Roger Fergus. He couldn’t understand that Roger Fergus was an old man, too — that it was his son, Henry, who really controlled his affairs. And Henry has all the meanness of a man who has taken over wealth that someone else has made for him.’ She looked across at me. ‘Before you do anything, go and talk to Boy Bladen. He’s here in Come Lucky now. Ask him what he thinks of that report.’
‘But-’ I stared at her. ‘I’ve already spoken to Bladen. He agrees with it.’
Tie does not.’ Her eyes were wide. ‘Ever since he saw the results of the first charge he’s been as enthusiastic as your grandfather. It just isn’t true that he agrees with the report.’
‘Well, that’s what he told me, and scarcely two hours ago.’
‘I’ll talk to him,’ she said. ‘He’s coming to see me this evening. There’s something behind this. I’ll send him straight over to see you when he leaves here.’
I was suddenly remembering the expression of violent anger on Bladen’s face as he had pushed past me on the steps of Trevedian’s office. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Perhaps if you have a talk with him-’
There was a knock at the door and Miss Ruth Garret entered with a tray. ‘I’ve brought you some tea, dear.’ Her sharp, inquisitive eyes seemed to miss nothing.
‘That’s very kind of you.’ Jean Lucas got up and took the tray. ‘Is Pauline still here?’ ‘ ‘Yes, she’s waiting for Mr Wetheral.’
‘We won’t be long.’
Miss Garret stood there uncertainly for a moment, her eyes fixed on the box on the table beside me. Then she turned reluctantly and left us. ‘Poor old thing,’ Jean said. ‘She just loves to know everything. Once they went as far as Prince George and saw the river steamers and the trains. That was thirty years ago and I don’t think they’ve been out of Come Lucky since.’ She glanced at the box beside me. ‘You’d better have a look at the things I brought down for you. It may help you to learn something about your grandfather.
I took the box on my knees, slipped the ribbon off and lifted the lid. Inside everything had been carefully wrapped in tissue paper. There were faded photographs and medals from the first war. A little silver tobacco jar carried the outline of an oil rig on the lid and inside the inscription: To Stuart Campbell from the Management of the Excelsior Oil Company of Turner Valley on his leaving to form his own company — April 8, 1912. Good luck, Stuart! The first of the signatures was Roger Fergus. There were several other personal oddments, including a mining diploma.
As I laid them out on the table beside me, I said, ‘When did he give you these?’ I was thinking he must have known he was going to die.
‘He didn’t give them to me. I brought them down myself. I knew what he wanted you to have. I suppose I should have sent them on to you, but I didn’t know your address and somehow I was convinced you’d come here yourself.’