The Lost Letters of Playfair Street by Michelle Montebello

Author:Michelle Montebello
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Roaring Twenties, Dual narrative, Friends to Lovers, Forbidden Love, Australian historical fiction, The Great Depression, Mystery letters, Arranged marriage
Publisher: Michelle Montebello
Published: 2020-12-01T00:00:00+00:00

Estelle was right. Three grasshoppers later and Charlotte’s appetite for lunch had all but abated. She stayed long into the afternoon at Hubert’s, the alcohol loosening her limbs and making her a trifle daring. She got up to dance when the band played an upbeat version of Fats Waller’s ‘Ain’t Misbehavin’, then tried a little of Estelle’s cigarette, which made her cough uncontrollably for two minutes, much to her friend’s hysterical laughter, who was equally drunk.

As the six o’clock swill drew to a close and the public houses and bars closed for the evening, she reluctantly left Hubert’s and caught the tram home, clutching Bertie’s photograph of herself and Estelle, grinning at it. It had been the most perfect day, filled with laughter and dancing, but when she arrived back at Playfair Street, the walls of her house had an instantly sobering effect.

In her room, she scribbled an inscription on the back of the photograph, stowed it away in the larger chest with her jade-green dress, away from her father’s prying eyes, changed out of her smoky clothes, then swished water around in her mouth as he called up the staircase to enquire where she’d been.

‘Just out with Estelle,’ she called back, hurrying down to the kitchen to start dinner.

The mere mention of Estelle’s name caused Walter to nod approvingly before disappearing into the parlour. It wasn’t a lie, for Charlotte had been with Estelle, but she didn’t tell him that she’d danced to jazz music, drunk alcohol and smoked a cigarette, and it didn’t stop the twinge of self-reproach for all the other things she’d been keeping from him.

***

The rest of the week passed ordinarily until at last Saturday arrived. Before leaving to follow Alex’s clue, Charlotte tried on several dresses, deciding on a green belted tweed frock, tailored but softened with a silk vestee and crushed bow, a lovely outfit she had rarely worn but was pleased still fit. She rolled on stockings and fixed a velvet cloche over her pinned hair, then decided on rayon gloves at the last minute, green to match her dress. And to cover her engagement ring.

Walter, thankfully, was at the Lord Nelson Hotel for a card game and Charlotte left the house without the need for an excuse, walking quickly towards the closest tram stop on George Street. She boarded a tram bound for the far side of Circular Quay, to Bennelong Point near the tram depot. From there, she alighted and set off on foot through The Royal Botanic Garden for a famous chair she knew was carved into the shoreline’s sandstone. Mrs Macquarie’s Chair—A chair in a garden to gaze out over a bridge.

This time she’d worked out the clue quickly, reading from a book in her mother’s collection about Colonial Sydney. In a few paragraphs dedicated to Governor Lachlan Macquarie and his wife, Elizabeth, she’d read about a chair by the harbour carved in stone and was certain it was the one Alex referred to. The magic of her

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