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TWENTY-FIVE
Alethia's attention was on her laptop, as she called the strange device with the words and pictures, so she didn't notice when he rose and began pacing her tenement. Most likely her parents' tenement, and not hers at all, he decided as he surveyed his surroundings, for the majority of it was dusty, as if it had not been used for some months. The exceptions were the bedchamber, the room she'd called the bathroom, and the large chamber with a kitchen at one end where she currently sat.
There was a second slate, much larger than the one she was presently staring at, hanging on the wall before a large sofa. "Does this slate show pictures, too?" he asked.
Alethia glanced up. "Well, yes, because that's a television. I could put something on for you to watch if you like, but most programs would leave you with more questions than answers. I think there's a slideshow of pictures from around the world that pops up if you pause it for too long." She rose, picked up a slim black box, about an inch wide and as long as her hand, and pointed it at the slate. A succession of unfamiliar words and pictures flashed across the screen, until a snow-capped mountain appeared. "There you go." Her gaze returned to the laptop.
Stan wasn't sure whether to ignore the slate and keep walking, or whether he was supposed to look at the pictures. The mountain looked so real, so clear, it was almost impossible to believe he wasn't looking out a window at the scene. Then the view changed, into a landscape just as mesmerising as the first.
Countless pictures later, Stan blinked, suddenly aware of Alethea calling his name. "Forgive me, I was distracted by the pictures. What is it you need?"
"Don't feel bad. Everyone gets distracted by the TV. Come over here and see what I've managed to find so far."
Stan moved to stand behind her, peering at her small slate over her shoulder, where a whitewashed windmill appeared.
"Do you recognise this?" she asked.
Stan shook his head. "Carline's brother's mill was made of wood, not stone, and it was not painted. There were no buildings beneath it, either – just a tent, where the two of them lived."
"Yeah, it says this mill – which we call the Old Mill, funnily enough, was the second one built on the site in 1835, after the first one burned down. But that's the only reference I can find to the burning. Do you think maybe you died in the fire? That Carline didn't kill you at all, and it was an accident?"
There was no fire. Even the cookfire had been extinguished. "There was no fire that night."
"The other funny thing is that there's no record of Carline Steel's arrival. Her brother William Steel came on the HMS Sulphur, and it says he had a wife, but not her name."
"There were only two beds in that tent. His, and hers. There was no wife. Either she died in the early days of the colony, or Carline was pretending to be his wife for some reason." Stan wet his lips. "I'd heard stories about her being a witch, but I never believed them. If someone else did, though, and came after her for it...perhaps she fled to the colony to hide from the false accusations, and said she was her brother's wife to hide her identity." Which made little sense, for there was very little difference between Miss or Mrs Steel. "I do not know."
"Then there's this Sean Bell. There are several mentions of a Sean Bell throughout the years, though they can't possibly be the same man. He apparently arrived on the Hooghly in 1830, but his name doesn't appear on the passenger list. Yours does, though. Do you remember a man by that name?"
Stan shook his head. "I remember nothing of ships, or anyone aboard them."
"There is a Mr Bell who arrived on the Calista in 1829, six months earlier, and that could have been him. He was granted land in 1834, the same year he married Miss Steel, where they built Bell Cottage. Almost eighty years later, after a bushfire had burned Bell Cottage, another Sean Bell built Bell House, which still stands. It can't be the same man, because he'd have been more than a hundred when Bell House was built. I can't find any death or burial record for either of them, though. I mean, no record for the first guy I understand because cemetery records were pretty patchy in the beginning. But the Sean who built Bell House would be more than a hundred years old now, if he were still alive, so there should be some modern day record of something, but there's nothing. Not even a death date or year for either of them." She swallowed. "There isn't a death date or burial for you, either. I know you said you died in 1834, but...there's no record of any burial. Because we've been working at the East Perth Cemeteries site, I have the complete database of everyone buried there, since the colony began, and your name isn't there."
Stan spread his hands wide. "I don't know what to say. I'm sorry, but I don't remember where my body was buried. I was dead at that point."
She began to laugh. "Oh God, of course you were. I just figured because you appeared at East Perth Cemeteries, you must have been buried there. Or maybe you were one of the undocumented burials. With no record and no headstone, your body could have been buried anywhere, and we'd never find it."
"Why would I want to? That body is dead. This one is as strong as mine ever was, maybe even stronger. Good enough to be your protector, which is all I need it for," Stan said.
She stared at him for a long moment. "You really don't want to dig up the past, do you? I've found an anomaly, a gap in history, a bunch of missing bodies and a mystery I'm dying to solve, but you, even though you're central to the mystery, and your body is one of the ones I'm searching for, you don't care. The only part of any of it that matters to you is why Carline killed you. You're like my exact opposite, in every possible way."
Definitely not Carline. He couldn't believe he'd once mistaken Alethia for her. "It doesn't matter. What matters is the present. Why don't you tell me about this man stalking you. The more I know, the better I can protect you."
