would have to discuss George and how the war had broken him and then Tiney would start to feel guilty on Minna’s behalf, because Minna could never love George. Tiney saw the evening stretch out before her, a long night of thinking about her sisters and worrying about the state of the world. Then she realised she was being rude, not responding to Frank’s conversation.
‘I’m sorry, Frank. Did you just ask me a question?’
Frank smiled. ‘Martina Flynn,’ said Frank. ‘Would you mind dancing with a digger – or a musketeer – with two left feet?’
‘You want to dance?’ asked Tiney. ‘With me?’
Frank took hold of Tiney’s hands and led her onto the dance floor. They spun out onto the smooth marble as the band struck up a foxtrot. Tiney looked up into Frank’s face. The lights glanced off his glasses, making his eyes appear an even deeper blue.
Sebastian and Thea passed by as Frank guided Tiney through the crowd of dancers. Minna, dancing with a new partner, smiled and waved. It was a long time since Tiney had seen such an expression of easy happiness on Minna’s face. But then Tiney turned her gaze back to Frank. Frank and Tiney. Tiney and Frank. She liked the way their names sounded, sitting side by side. For the first time in months, Tiney felt a flutter of hope, like a small bird testing its wings, move inside her.
Lost and found
Tiney racked her brain, trying to think what was the last thing that Minna said before she disappeared. Had they argued? Had Tiney spoken sharply? Was there something she said that tipped Minna over the edge? Or was one of the men Minna had danced with connected to her disappearance?
The morning after the Alstons’ ball, Tiney had been slow to wake up. By the time she did, Minna was gone. Her bed was neatly made, the coverlet smooth, the pillow plumped.
Tiney was sitting at the breakfast table, rubbing sleep from her eyes, when Mama came silently into the room and handed her a note. It was on the soft mauve writing paper that Minna used for all her correspondence.
Dearest Mama,
I do not mean to cause you any grief but I have to go away for some time. I can’t say when I will be home but events have arisen that have made it clear to me I cannot stay in Adelaide for the moment. I will write again when I am safely settled. Please don’t worry about me. I am with friends and in no moral jeopardy.
Your loving daughter, Wilhemina (Minna)
Tiney read it three times, as if the words were incomprehensible. ‘Where did you find this?’
‘Minna left it propped beside my teacup. It was waiting for me this morning. She must have slipped out before dawn.’
Tiney leapt up from the table and ran back to the bedroom she shared with Minna, searching for some sign of her sister’s plans. There was no evidence of a hurried departure, only of a frighteningly clear-headed intent.
The small grey cardboard suitcase that Minna kept under her bed for visits to the country was missing. Some of her wardrobe remained but the blue crepe-de-Chine frock, a black opera cloak and her black silk concert skirt were no longer hanging in the wardrobe. Wherever Minna had gone, she would look her best.
Thea was as bewildered as Tiney by Minna’s sudden departure. Papa showed a flash of rage and then retreated to his study, back to the interminable task of building his scrapbook of Louis’ life.
‘We must make a plan,’ said Tiney. ‘A plan to find her.’
‘What if she doesn’t want to be found?’ asked Thea.
Tiney ignored Thea’s question. ‘Let’s make a list of all the people who might know something. That ghastly Tilda Constance-Higgens probably has something to do with it. If she doesn’t have any answers, then we’ll question all Minna’s students. And the police, we should call the police too. And Ida – she might have noticed something at last night’s ball. Minna danced with a dark-haired man I didn’t recognise. He might know something. Or that Sebastian
‘I’m sorry, Frank. Did you just ask me a question?’
Frank smiled. ‘Martina Flynn,’ said Frank. ‘Would you mind dancing with a digger – or a musketeer – with two left feet?’
‘You want to dance?’ asked Tiney. ‘With me?’
Frank took hold of Tiney’s hands and led her onto the dance floor. They spun out onto the smooth marble as the band struck up a foxtrot. Tiney looked up into Frank’s face. The lights glanced off his glasses, making his eyes appear an even deeper blue.
Sebastian and Thea passed by as Frank guided Tiney through the crowd of dancers. Minna, dancing with a new partner, smiled and waved. It was a long time since Tiney had seen such an expression of easy happiness on Minna’s face. But then Tiney turned her gaze back to Frank. Frank and Tiney. Tiney and Frank. She liked the way their names sounded, sitting side by side. For the first time in months, Tiney felt a flutter of hope, like a small bird testing its wings, move inside her.
Lost and found
Tiney racked her brain, trying to think what was the last thing that Minna said before she disappeared. Had they argued? Had Tiney spoken sharply? Was there something she said that tipped Minna over the edge? Or was one of the men Minna had danced with connected to her disappearance?
The morning after the Alstons’ ball, Tiney had been slow to wake up. By the time she did, Minna was gone. Her bed was neatly made, the coverlet smooth, the pillow plumped.
Tiney was sitting at the breakfast table, rubbing sleep from her eyes, when Mama came silently into the room and handed her a note. It was on the soft mauve writing paper that Minna used for all her correspondence.
Dearest Mama,
I do not mean to cause you any grief but I have to go away for some time. I can’t say when I will be home but events have arisen that have made it clear to me I cannot stay in Adelaide for the moment. I will write again when I am safely settled. Please don’t worry about me. I am with friends and in no moral jeopardy.
Your loving daughter, Wilhemina (Minna)
Tiney read it three times, as if the words were incomprehensible. ‘Where did you find this?’
‘Minna left it propped beside my teacup. It was waiting for me this morning. She must have slipped out before dawn.’
Tiney leapt up from the table and ran back to the bedroom she shared with Minna, searching for some sign of her sister’s plans. There was no evidence of a hurried departure, only of a frighteningly clear-headed intent.
The small grey cardboard suitcase that Minna kept under her bed for visits to the country was missing. Some of her wardrobe remained but the blue crepe-de-Chine frock, a black opera cloak and her black silk concert skirt were no longer hanging in the wardrobe. Wherever Minna had gone, she would look her best.
Thea was as bewildered as Tiney by Minna’s sudden departure. Papa showed a flash of rage and then retreated to his study, back to the interminable task of building his scrapbook of Louis’ life.
‘We must make a plan,’ said Tiney. ‘A plan to find her.’
‘What if she doesn’t want to be found?’ asked Thea.
Tiney ignored Thea’s question. ‘Let’s make a list of all the people who might know something. That ghastly Tilda Constance-Higgens probably has something to do with it. If she doesn’t have any answers, then we’ll question all Minna’s students. And the police, we should call the police too. And Ida – she might have noticed something at last night’s ball. Minna danced with a dark-haired man I didn’t recognise. He might know something. Or that Sebastian
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