Page 159 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt
In that moment, Eddie was a five-year-old child again, and I felt moved to put a comforting arm around his shoulder. ‘I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again. I’m sure you won’t recall, but I remember you as a little boy. I was on the boat that brought you over here.’
Eddie smiled. ‘So my father told me. He really thought very highly of you, Mr Tanit. He’d often tell stories of how you saved those men in the opal mines.’
That dramatic day seemed a lifetime ago. ‘Well, without your pa, I’m not sure where I’d be. I owe him a great deal.’
The memorial was very well attended, with well over one hundred people present to watch the priest inter Ralph’s ashes in the gardens of the hall. After the ceremony, I tracked down Ruth Mackenzie, who seemed very touched that I had made the effort to come to Alicia Hall to honour her husband.
There was, however, one individual that I had been desperate to reconnect with in Adelaide today – Sarah. Arguably, I owe all I am today to her caring nature. During the darkest time of my life, her optimism and warmth literally dragged me out of the depths of my despair. But there had been no sign of her.
‘Do you remember her, Ruth?’ I asked.
‘Of course I do, Mr Tanit! In fact, she and her husband have visited Alicia Hall on several occasions over the years. She’s even married to a Mercer!’
‘Is she?’ I asked, my heart soaring for her.
‘Yes. He’s a gentle man called Francis Abraham – the son of Kitty’s boy, Charlie, and her maid’s daughter, Alkina.’
The universe truly did work in mysterious ways. Never could I have predicted that Sarah the orphan would one daybecome a member of one of the world’s wealthiest families. I recalled her ambitions from our first conversation: ‘I’m ’oping I’ll get a job and make some money of me own. And find a fella!’
Ruth continued her story. ‘It’s a very sweet tale, actually. Sarah met Francis at the Hermannsburg Mission when she visited with Kitty. And never left!’
I clapped my hands together in joy. ‘I’m so thrilled she had a happy ending, Ruth. Goodness knows she deserved one.’ I noticed Ruth wince slightly at my words. ‘Might I ask why she and Francis are not in attendance today?’
Ruth sighed. ‘I know that Eddie tried very hard to contact them. Sarah meant a lot to him in particular. But they proved very difficult to track down.’
‘Why so?’
‘The last address we had for them was Papunya. It’s a great little village, full of creative types. It’s where Francis and Sarah had their daughter, Lizzie.’
‘Named after Queen Elizabeth, I bet! Very Sarah,’ I reminisced with a warm smile.
‘Spot on, Atlas. But Lizzie grew up to be a bit of a tearaway. She met a man in the village, who was a painter. Toba, I think his name was? He was a very talented Aboriginal artist, but I’m afraid to report that he was also a drunken reprobate. Sarah and Francis wouldn’t give permission for their marriage. So Lizzie and the man eloped.’
It didn’t escape my attention that Lizzie shared her mother’s headstrong personality. ‘I see. Where did they go?’
Ruth sighed. ‘That’s just the thing. No one knows. Apparently, Francis takes Sarah on enormous treks through the outback to try and find their daughter. They’ve basically become uncontactable.’
Poor old Sarah. She deserved nothing but happiness, andit seemed her own flesh and blood was denying her that. ‘I would have dearly loved to have seen her,’ I said to Ruth. ‘Please say when you see her again that I asked after her, and send my very warmest wishes. I’d love to get back in touch after all these years.’
‘I’ll make sure to, Mr Tanit. Thank you again for coming.’
I spent the remainder of the afternoon milling around Alicia Hall, making conversation with employees of the Mercer empire, who all harboured immense admiration and respect for their former boss. Some still worked in the opal mines, and I greatly enjoyed exchanging stories about the old days and methods with them. As the sun began to dip lower and lower in the burning sky, I said my goodbyes to my hosts, and to Alicia Hall itself. It had been an honour to visit one final time. Before I left, Eddie came jogging up to me.
‘Mr Tanit, Mum said you were asking about Sarah?’
‘Yes. I understand you can’t contact her.’
‘No, but... I had a thought. The other day I was sorting through some of Dad’s documents, and I found Kitty Mercer’s will. Apparently she owned a house in Broome, which she left to Sarah and Francis, to pass to Lizzie when she got older. If I had more time, I’d investigate it as a lead to their whereabouts. But I’ve got the businesses to run now, and everything’s pretty turbulent.’ Poor Eddie looked terrified at the prospect.
‘How interesting. Broome, eh... Whereabouts is it?’
‘It’s a little mining town in the north-west of the country,’ Eddie informed me. ‘You’d need to hop on a plane to get there. But it’s where Kitty spent a lot of her time in the early days. So there’s that, if nothing else. Here, let me write down the address.’
‘Thank you, Eddie.’
The following afternoon, I disembarked the propeller planeat Broome’s tiny airport, having hopped on a connecting flight from Darwin. I took a bus along the port and into the town centre, which was small and dusty. The main road – Dampier Terrace – boasted a courthouse, a rickety tourist information centre and a pearling museum. I realised that the town was where it had all begun for the Mercers many years ago. I looked down the orange, barren road, and pictured the young, fair Kitty melting in the Antipodean sun and longing for the chill of the Scottish wind.
I made for the tourist information centre and asked for directions. ‘Do you know how I find this address, please?’ I asked, handing the attendant the piece of paper I’d received from Eddie.
