As the year advanced Rachel grew stronger and was able to give up wearing the boots prescribed by the Kenny clinic. Delighted with her progress, she had a trip into Richmond, and for the first time in years bought a new pair of shoes, good strong walking shoes that fitted snug around her ankles. Most of her efforts and thoughts went into looking after the twins. She had a feeling of guilt, believing that because of her illness they had been neglected, especially Shaun. They had also been separated, something she vowed would never happen again. It became obvious that the twins were different in many ways. Casey Ann, her long blonde hair in tight ringlets. A happy child, curious about everything and every one. Full of fun and mischief, just like Pauline and Jillian when they were very small. She was concerned about Shaun. Even though her hair was blonde, it was short and straight.
"Easier to keep clean," her sister-in-law told her, "too much for me when it's long. Arthur told me to keep it that way."
Shaun seemed contented just to be on her own. Never crying to be picked up and loved, in fact, Rachel thought, hardly ever crying at all. She was happy to sit in her cot or her high chair. When she did play with other children she appeared to be dependent on her sister. Her mother thought she was withdrawn, even a little retarded. She spoke to the doctor in Richmond about it.
"She'll grow out of it eventually," the doctor told her, "you worry too much Mrs Maclaren. Treat both the girls the same, be sure you don't favour one more than the other."
Rachel blamed her sister-in-law for Shaun's problems.
"How could anyone leave a tiny baby in a cot, day after day without ever picking her up," she said angrily, "never making a fuss of her, never talking to her. Never trying, or wanting to love her."
Her anger with Jane for neglecting her dead brother's baby overwhelmed Rachel, and she was determined to talk to her. Then she remembered her father telling her when she was in the clinic that she should be thankful Shaun was being looked after by relations, instead of being placed in a foster home. She knew Jane and her husband were an elderly couple and realized they would have very little patience with tiny children. Rachel thought about asking Jillian, just sixteen to help with the twins. She knew she would refuse. Jillian had always wanted to be the youngest in the Maclaren family. She hated being the middle child, and the thought of looking after two small children abhorred her. Not only was she jealous of the twins, but she thought that a woman of her mother's age had no right in getting pregnant. Secretly Rachel disgusted her.
The running of Luckham Downs was becoming more than Rachel could cope with. The banks were a constant problem. On occasions they threatened to take some action against her. but every time she managed to resolve the situation. She knew Susan and her husband had borrowed more than was really necessary.
Rachel made some inquiries about her father's property, and was told he died intestate, and it would take at least a year to obtain administration of his estate.
When George came home on leave he helped where he could, but it was obvious the Station was beyond being saved. Joey and Ilarra, with most of the station hands had gone walk-about.
Somehow Rachel Maclaren survived the winter and was sustained through the spring by letters from George and Pauline, who eventually got a divorce and came home to her mother with two very small children. After many sleepless nights Rachel decided to go to Richmond, sell Luckham Downs and stop the banks from foreclosing. She hoped to come out with enough money to buy a cottage close to the town, or even somewhere near the sea. Feeling happy that at last she had made up her mind to leave Luckham Downs, early the following morning she dressed the twins in soft white blouses and their best tartan skirts and went to the real estate office in Richmond. On the way she bought the two girls a gold signet ring, which they showed to anyone who happened to glance at them.
Sandy Highfield was the only real estate agent in Richmonds. He had known Rachel for years and when her husband was killed, more than once he was tempted to visit Luckham Downs. He never married, and his happiest moment was when Rachel Maclaren walked into his office with the twins. He was fond of all her children, in his eyes they could do no wrong, and more than once Pauline had confided in him about her marriage.
Secretly he wished all of Rachel's children were his, but the twins, and especially Shaun were his favourites. He was a year older than Rachel and had come to Richmond to work as a delivery boy in her father's general store. He fell in love with his employer's youngest daughter, and when she married Ian Maclaren, Sandy Highfield was heart-broken.
He began selling real estate. His dealings were in money; real money, or it's mysterious, volatile ghost; credit, and the people of Richmond were finding it hard to remember him as the boy on a trade bike delivering John Carlyle's merchandise.
Sandy Highfield had his defenders, although he had no real friends. When he agreed to do something, he did it promptly, efficiently and to the extent he had contracted. He was firm on money matters, and took opportunities to create business whenever he could. He did nothing against the rules that applied to business or politics and it gained him respect.
Twice he had run for Mayor of Richmond, twice he had lost, knowing it was because of his being a bachelor. He realized he should marry, had been tempted more than once, but his undying love for Rachel Maclaren put all thoughts of marriage out of his head. He joined the church, attended Sunday service regularly and contributed varying amounts of money as he prospered. Every man in Richmond had his own set of ethics, and those who were in a position to be critical of Sandy Highfield made a compromise.
Sandy was prospering, perhaps, some thought at the cost of strict adherence to a code of honourable conduct. But he behaved himself, lived respectably, and those bold enough to question his unmarried state were reminded of his love for Rachel Maclaren. Whenever he consumed too much amber fluid at the local hotel he would loudly declare his love for her. He arranged to sell Luckham Downs as quickly as possible, and to stop the banks from foreclosing, without Rachel's knowledge, advertised the Station extensively. In a last desperate attempt to stop her from losing everything, he bought Luckham Downs himself, and a cottage large enough for Rachel and her family at Westhill-on-Sea.
Rachel hated leaving the Downs and as she went about the homestead on the last day she was conscious of a terrible weariness. Her legs seemed to have lost the power to move, and remembering the feeling when the twins were born forced herself to walk. Her throat ached, and there was a pain in the middle of her chest she had not experienced before.
In the empty hall of the homestead dust had settled everywhere. The men who Sandy had sent to take some of the furniture to the cottage had torn a strip of wallpaper off and left it hanging. There was straw from the packing cases in one corner, and through the door could see branches of bougainvillea dangling around a window, tapping against it in the wind, until a shutter blew and stopped it.
Rachel walked through the rooms, her footsteps echoing, ghosts moving about her. Ghosts were dying, perhaps passing on. Angus, Ian and his grandfather Shaun Casey Maclaren. They wandered about trying to find a place to remain, but everything they had lived among was gone . The dust on the floor their ashes. The sound of hammering came from the verandah. There were men outside, repairing, replacing broken and worn boards. Sandy had told her that the new owner wanted the homestead renovated, and as she climbed the stairs, wondered who had bought Luckham Downs.
The midday sun came through the slats of the room that belonged to Angus Maclaren. The room where she had eventually learned to walk, and had fallen so many times onto the canopied bed, exhausted after hours and hours of trying. The room Angus allowed no one to use, but when the old man went out for an afternoon, the room where Pauline was conceived. Rachel turned away, wishing she had taken Sandy's advice, who told her she should not go back to the homestead.
"It's always best," he said, "to keep the bright glowing images of the past as if they went on continuously. There was no danger in the place where they had been created."
As the hammering continued Rachel felt she had reached the end of a phase in her life. Wanting to leave it all behind she ran down the stairs. There was a slip of paper in a crack in the woodwork of the bottom step. She picked it up, it was Ian's last letter.
She remembered spending hours searching for it, wondering where it could have gone. She sat on the step and read it. The homestead seemed suddenly very cold. With an effort she stood up, shivered and ran out of the door.
It was dark when Rachel arrived back at Westhill-on-Sea. There were lights shining from the windows of the little town. The lamp that hung from the breakwater pier drew a moving wavy line across the water, revealing that the great darkness in front was the sea. There was a soft lap, a splash on the beach below and a smell of fresh seaweed in the air.
Rachel woke early the next morning and looked out of her bedroom window. She had slept only a few hours. Perhaps the bed was not as comfortable as the one in Angus Maclaren's old room. Perhaps it was the twins on her mind. She leaned out of the open window, saw a soft throbbing light that made the stars grow pale, and as it strengthened flush the sky from east to west with a rose colour that turned the great sky of cloud into a deep purple gloom.
She saw the grey little town that nestled around a grey little church. At the end of the beach there were cliffs that rose majestic, grim, uncompromising, then dip down, as if on purpose to allow the fishermen of Westhill to launch their boats. Headland after headland came into view. And as the sun showed it's bright face over the horizon, the crimson sky and shore were bathed in a sea of light.
There was a rush of small feet behind her; then she was dragged down stairs by the twins who begged her to take them to the beach. They dug in the sand, caught tiny crabs and picked up empty shells. Rachel marvelled at the sudden change in Shaun. Playing with Casey Ann away from the Downs she seemed a happy, ordinary little girl and Rachel was thankful she had decided to move.
For hours they played on the beach by the pools in the rocks with seaweed that waved as pale little crabs sidled away. Tiny fish that flitted over stones on the bottom. Stones that looked like priceless gems until they reached them; slippery boulders over which it was exciting to climb.
With the help of Casey Ann, Shaun filled the skirt of her blue dress with shells, then she dropped most of them when she went to help her sister.
Rachel, with a sort of exhaustion that is almost pleasant, if one is left alone, even only for a few minutes, can sit still and dream, leaned against the breakwater. She thought first of Ian, then her father, John Carlyle. Life seemed so short just then and the promised land so near. She thought it wasn't hardly worth worrying about how she should manage. Luckham Downs had been sold. There was enough money in the bank to see them through the coming year, and the cottage had been paid for. Even so she still wondered who had bought the Station and secretly hoped that they were nice, kind people.
It was early when Sandy Highfield came down to Westhill the following Sunday. With the twins and Rachel, Sandy walked slowly along the beach. Somehow he had managed to hold her hand. Rachel gripped his tightly, it gave her a feeling of security.
A fishing boat anchored near the end of the pier reflected on the placid surface of the sea. It's mast prolonged in the reflection of the ripples of water that fell from the sand and sunk back with a murmuring sigh.
The gulls seemed to be resting, settling down on the water in groups. Idly rising and falling with it's gentle motion as if the strong wings that battle against storm and wind were weary. The little cracked bell of the church rang out. Rachel and Sandy decided they should all attend morning service. It was a sleepy old church, with high narrow pews, sombre galleries and dusty monuments. Sunshine streamed through the greenish glass windows, striking the head of a marble cherub and the board that displayed the numbers of psalms and hymns to be sung.
The singing, although rough and unpretending, had an honest ring and a simple sweetness that stayed in the minds of those who heard it and associated it with the murmur of the sea. The twins sat on either side of Sandy Highfield, and resting against his arms dropped off to sleep during the sermon. Delighted that Rachel's children found a kind security and comfort in him, he sat very still not wanting to disturb them.
Rachel raised her eyes on occasions to the thick crimson fringe of the pulpit cushion, over which, from time to time she saw part of the minister's black gown. She tried hard to listen to the complexities of his reasoning. Her eyes refused to remain open and at the end of the sermon she awoke with a start.
In the afternoon the twins wanted to go down to the beach again, but the beautiful morning had clouded over. It began to rain, and their mother told them that they had to stay indoors. Sandy sat in the armchair and began to doze. Rachel went upstairs to her bedroom. The twins sat on the seat in the bay-window and watched the showers of rain sweep across the sea. Sometimes the rain mixed up with the sea and the sky into one grey misty mass. Sometimes clearing off, showing an indigo, hard horizon against the sky.
Bored with the view the twins went outside. They stood under the eaves of the cottage and giggled as tiny drops of rain ran down their necks. Suddenly Shaun ran across the road, jumped over the low stone wall and raced down to the water's edge.
"Come on!" she called to her sister, "come and look at the seaweed."
"We mustn't. It's still raining. You know how cross Ma gets when we go out in the rain."
"I don't care!" Shaun shouted, "I'm tired of being indoors. I'll go on my own." Unable to resist the temptation, Casey Ann ran across the road and chased after her sister. For hours they roamed up and down the beach, jumping over rocks, squeezing knobs of seaweed, making them go Pop! They found an old crab pot, left high and dry by the tide. Inside was the claw of a crab, which Casey Ann told her sister had been left by it's owner trying to escape from the trap.
Overcome by hunger they decided to go back to the cottage. They stood for a moment by the stone wall, hoping they had not been seen. They clambered over the wall and side by side waited at the edge of the pavement making sure the road was clear. Shaun let go of her sister's hand, dashed across the road, and waited by the cottage for Casey Ann.
"Go Back! Go Back!" Shaun shouted as her sister ran towards her.
Casey Ann stood in the middle of the road for a moment.
"Go Back - Cas - Go Back!" Shaun shouted again.
Casey Ann hesitated, ran back towards the pavement. Shaun screamed as a semi-trailer dragged her sister along the road.
The grim presence of death in the cottage seemed to have swept away all times, seasons and objects for doing anything. Shaun at the age of seven, and even with that startling power of rapid recovery granted to children, sat by her sister's empty bed and cried.
She lost all power to speak or move, and when her elder sister Pauline and her mother insisted she leave Casey Ann's bed, there appeared to be no power on earth that would shift her. After two days and nights they tried picking her up, but she screamed and kicked her way out of their arms.
Four days later Sandy Highfield penetrated her dulled brain and managed to bring her back to consciousness, everyone thankful he had succeeded. There was no way of knowing how long she would have remained by her sister's empty bed, sunk in a stupor of grief. Dazzled and shaking Sandy led her downstairs. The daylight seemed to have an unnatural glare, and the old familiar things, that with Casey Ann she had played, to Shaun now looked strange and impossible.
There was a brilliant hectic flush in her cheeks. As her mother undressed her and put her to bed, Shaun began coughing, a deep seated cough, and her skin was hot to the touch. She lay staring out of the window as if she were in a trance. Her blonde hair pushed back from her forehead, her hot little hands thrown outside the bed. It was around midnight when she started to toss and turn in the grip of burning fever.
"Go back Cas! Please go back!" she cried.
"She's out of her head," Pauline told her mother, "the poor little thing doesn't know what she is saying."
Shaun was quiet for a moment. Then as she slid back in a world clouded with fever she kept telling Casey Ann to go back to the pavement again.
"I wonder how long it will be?" Shaun asked, laying suddenly still.
Rachel knelt by the side of the bed. Buried her face in the bedspread, then covered her mouth with her hands in an effort to stifle the agony.
"How long before what?" Rachel mumbled.
"How long before I'm with Jesus and my Casey Ann?"
It was then Rachel lost her self control. After the funeral she believed she had reconciled herself with the death of Casey Ann. But to be parted from Shaun seemed more than she could bear. Crying, calling, sobbing she clasped Shaun to her breast. She walked up and down with her begging her, imploring her not to go.
Pauline terrified of the consequences, pleaded with her mother to lay Shaun down. In desperation she dragged her sister from Rachel's arms.
"Please let her live!" Rachel cried as tears streamed down her cheeks, "please give me back my baby." Pauline laid Shaun on the bed. Held her mother close for a moment then led her out of the room.
The Westhill doctor diagnosed pneumonia and prescribed only fluids until the fever broke, telling Rachel that sleep was imperative. He visited Shaun every morning. Slowly she began to improve, but when the flush left her cheeks she looked ghostly white. She seemed unable to speak and Rachel put it down to the soreness of her throat although she did manage to smile at Sandy. By the end of the third week the doctor's visits became less frequent. Rachel spent all her days looking after her, and in her nightly prayers she thanked the Lord for sparing her youngest daughter.
Rachel noticed that Shaun had become withdrawn as she had when she was a baby in her aunt Jane's care. She spoke to Sandy and Pauline about it. They both thought Shaun should be taken to see a specialist. Rachel protested strongly. She didn't want some strange doctor filling her baby's head with weird ideas. She didn't want people thinking her child was retarded or insane.
"There's nothing wrong with her brain," she told them angrily, "all I'm asking is a little help from both of you. I know we can bring her back. It can be done, if we all try."
For hours Rachel sat by her daughter's bed, trying to persuade her to play even the simplest of games, hoping, praying she would speak - just one word - any word.
"You've got to stop blaming yourself," Rachel told her constantly, "you know it wasn't your fault. No one could have known Casey Ann was going to run across the road. You tried to save her, told her to go back. You know you did, she just did not listen. You've got to stop this silly nonsense. Please Shaun, please come back to me."
Circumstances prevented Sandy Highfield from going down to Westhill every weekend. When he did manage to get down, he spent most of his time by Shaun's bed. Sometimes he held her tiny cold hand, talking to her very softly, trying hard to make her laugh, and when she did smile at him he felt a sense of achievement that delighted him.
Rachel with the help of Pauline changed Shaun's bedroom around in the hope that she would find the view of the village interesting. They placed her bed by the window, but she still stared at the ceiling as if waiting for something to happen.
Convinced at last that Shaun needed professional help Rachel allowed Sandy to take Shaun to see a Psychotherapist. Sandy told Dr McKinnon about the accident, explained that Shaun was not a gregarious child and nothing like her twin.
"She was left on her own, when she was a tiny baby," Sandy explained.
"Did her mother neglect her?"
"She was in hospital for a very long time - in the Kenny clinic. Her sister-in-law took care of Shaun."
"The twins were separated?"
"From a week old."
"Why didn't the mother bring Shaun to see me?"
"She wouldn't. She tried so hard to get Shaun to speak, she felt that by bringing her to you she had failed. For months Rachel has been trying to help her daughter"
Although Sandy Highfield was in love with Rachel and fond of all her children, he had no wish to become involved in arguments with other members of her family. Feeling that Dr McKinnon should be given all the facts that affected Shaun's behaviour, he persuaded Rachel to take Shaun to the doctors rooms for the second session.
As usual Shaun sat on the settee, expressionless and showing no interest in the toys piled high in the big boxes in the corner. She stared at the ceiling, her eyes rarely blinking. Rachel feeling the child was in some kind of a trance, and doing her best to hold back the tears began telling him all that had happened.
The tears flowed freely when she spoke of Ian being killed by Japanese bombs in Darwin and of her father's untimely death.
"If only we had stayed at the Downs," she said drying her eyes," this would never have happened."
"You had no way of knowing that," the doctor reassured her, "it could have happened at the Downs. It could have happened anywhere. We both have a job to do, and I suggest Mrs Maclaren that we try and put the past behind us and help your daughter."
It was during the sixth consultation that Dr McKinnon brought his Golden Retriever to his office.
"Come here boy," Shaun whispered.
The dog obeyed and sat down beside her. She wrapped her arms around him and fussed him and Dr McKinnon gave her the dogs brush. For more than an hour Shaun brushed and played with the big retriever while Rachel, with tears in her eyes and the doctor watched. When Shaun finished brushing the dog she went to the doctor's desk.
"Thank you for letting me brush an play with your dog," she said handing the brush to the doctor.
Tears of relief and joy streamed down her cheeks as Rachel stared at her daughter in amazement.
"Come on Ma," Shaun said, pulling her up from the chair, " we mustn't keep uncle Sandy waiting."
The last consultation with Dr McKinnon was two weeks later.
"Dogs and cats can be very helpful in cases like Shaun," the doctor told Rachel and Sandy as they sat watching her play, " they offer a special kind of therapy but she has to be moved from her present environment. She has to be with other children,"
"She is," Rachel told him, "she plays with Pauline's children. I know they don't get along very well, but she is never on her own."
"You have a good friend in Sandy Highfield, Mrs Maclaren, and I know he will do everything he can to help, especially with Shaun. But she must be taken away from Westhill. She must go to school. Be among other children. I suggest you send her to a boarding school. That you move from Westhill as soon as possible. The memories are too strong and could cause a relapse. There is a school I can recommend it is a very good school and if you wish I can arrange for her to be accepted. The fees are high but Mr Highfield has assured me he will help."