The Postmistress by Alison Stuart

Author:Alison Stuart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-05-27T16:00:00+00:00

5 February 1872

Adelaide passed a sleepless night, her mind churning with imagined conversations with this ghost from her past.

She couldn’t hide. The post office had to be opened and at some point during the day he would walk through the door. She set herself to work but every time the bell over the door tinkled, she started.

‘Morning, missus,’ Amos Burrell said, dumping the mailbags on the counter, sending the neat rack of inked stamps flying. He stooped to pick up the fallen stamps, which he set back in their rack. ‘Didn’t mean to startle you.’

‘Not at all. I was … deep in concentration,’ Adelaide said. ‘What’s the news from Shady Creek?’

Amos shrugged. ‘Not sure I can add anything. Old Bowen’s dead—passed away on the Melbourne coach. Quite a shock to the other passengers, I can tell you.’

‘When will Russell and the others be back?’

‘Dunno. When I left last night, Caleb was … um … trying to find out what killed the old fellow.’ He raised a questioning eyebrow at Adelaide, who nodded. ‘I guess they may be back later today, but I couldn’t say for sure. You suppose Caleb will be the new doc?’

‘I couldn’t possibly say,’ Adelaide responded.

Amos’s glance slid to the door to the residence.

‘Netty’s in the kitchen.’ Adelaide said, unbuckling the first bag.

‘Thanks, missus.’

‘Amos.’ Adelaide stopped him before he reached the door.

He turned back. ‘Yes, missus?’

‘What can you tell me about one of the passengers you brought in today?’

‘The Eyeties?’

‘No, the other one.’

Amos’s lip curled. ‘Oh, ’im. Mr ’igh and mighty. Flew into a rage when I insisted we stop at the Thompson for the night. Wouldn’t tip me for my trouble. Said it was because the coach was late. That was ’ardly my fault. We couldn’t leave Shady Creek till Mr Russell said so.’

‘Did he say why he was coming to Maiden’s Creek?’

Amos shrugged. ‘Just said ’e ’ad urgent business. Did ask me if I knew a Miss Lewis. Said I’d never ’eard of ’er. You ever ’eard of a Miss Lewis?’

Adelaide looked down at the ledger she had been working on. ‘Thank you, Amos. Ask Netty to bring me a cup of tea when she has a moment.’

Amos clumped out of the post office and she watched his head pass by the window on the path leading to her home. She had no doubt he would ask Netty to marry him soon. They’d been courting for three years and Netty deserved her happiness. She’d been loyal to Adelaide for too long.

From her counter Adelaide had a good view of The Empress hotel, where Richard had taken the best room, and as she worked, she found herself continually glancing up in the expectation of seeing him emerge. She had no intention of being caught unawares. He appeared just before lunch, incongruously clad in a fawn linen suit and a neat bowler hat. He looked up and down the street before crossing the road, heading straight to the post office.

Adelaide fought the instinct to turn and run.

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