Page 116 of The Orphans

‘I believe Miss Appleby would like to address the court.’

Everyone shifted in their seats. It seemed obvious to all that Fleur was going to make an equally impassioned plea for the judge to use the full weight of his power against Irma for the murder of her father. She had planned to read her statement but instead she folded up the page upon which she’d scrawled her thoughts, slipping it into the pocket of her summer jacket.

Fleur drew in a deep, inaudible breath, reminding herself that nothing in her life would be as important as what she did in this moment. She swallowed, lifted her chin and regarded Irma’s children before she finally let her gaze land on Irma, who, to her credit, met Fleur’s eyes with scorching defiance.

‘Thank you for this opportunity,’ Fleur began. ‘I wish to express my keen desire for this court to show mercy, and I wish to argue strongly for leniency to be shown to Irma Appleby.’

She paused for the inevitable gasp, which came as a collective noise. Pandemonium erupted as court reporters rushed to scribble down her exact words and everyone began talking at once. The judge quickly regained order of his court with a couple of deafening bangs of his gavel.

Fleur hadn’t taken her eyes off Irma, who blinked in clear surprise. She continued. ‘Having listened to all that has shaped my stepmother’s life, I feel it would be a travesty to punish a woman whose childhood began in poverty, in fear, in hunger and in abuse. I was an orphan, but I became one of the luckiest to ever live. I have known only love, laughter and plenty in my life from Mae and Henry Appleby, who adopted me. They knew how to provide all that a child needs to thrive and if my mother had not died so young, the three of us would still be living in harmony and happiness.

‘I’ve learned over the course of the trial that Irma was attacked as a thirteen-year-old. Still a child! Thirteen and pregnant – it’s horrific for any of us to imagine. And the nuns who were supposed to care for her blamed her instead. They took away the children she carried in that all-too-young body, but she found them again years later and I have only respect and indeed admiration for her courage.’ Fleur had looked away as she spoke to be sure the whole court was hanging on her statement, but now she looked back at Irma, who appeared shaken, tears watering in her eyes. It was a rare moment of genuine respect between Fleur and Irma. Fleur swallowed again, emboldened by Irma’s reaction, then continued.

‘I mean, can you all imagine yourselves as an abandoned child who feels ignored and unloved, and is then abused by a stranger – an adult with all the power? And then you are blamed for the horrific incident? But the pain didn’t stop there. At thirteen, when most of us were playing in gardens or building sandcastles at the beach, she was carrying twins from the rapist, along with all the guilt and blame. These are defining years for a girl, and they shaped her view of the world in a way few of us can probably understand.’

Fleur took a breath. ‘I would like to say to the court that if any of us had been treated in this manner, then most of us were either going to die or, if we were somehow to survive, develop a selfish attitude just to survive – as Irma chose to do. For all my loss and heartache at how my father passed away, I am convinced now that Irma had never known any love from anyone. I think my father was the first man to show any tenderness or respect towards her and of course she clung to that, but I suspect she never trusted it. She certainly didn’t trust me – the indulged, precocious child growing up in her midst with all the opportunity in the world, when her own children had so little as they battled into adulthood, separated into various foster homes. I feel ashamed that I didn’t know about my stepbrother and stepsister – I wish I had, because I would have welcomed them into our home.’

Irma broke into audible sobs at Fleur’s admission, and beneath those sobs all in the court could hear her repeating ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’

Fleur took another deep breath, moved by Irma’s apology. ‘My father was dying, I cannot deny that. Irma made it happen sooner than was necessary and, while she had no business playing executioner in her own interest, I think we can all see that she wanted to give her children some hope – a chance at a better life. I might make it my business to help in that regard with my brother and sister.’

Irma’s sobs intensified.

‘Judge, I make this plea for leniency because Irma never stood much of a chance. Her life was moulded in such a way that she would never trust, never accept affection, and she became entirely self-centred, losing sight of right and wrong. I cannot ask the court to forgive her sin, but I am asking it to help her to atone for it. If I can find mercy – the person who has lost the most to Irma, including . . .’

She didn’t finish that sentence, preferring to keep Tom out of this dark place. Instead she cleared her throat. ‘I am pleading with the people of South Australia to do the same. Show mercy. Irma will likely spend her remaining years behind bars, but perhaps if we can show her mercy, then she might just be able to change the trajectory of some of the younger offenders in prison alongside her. I suspect Irma will take on that role – it will give her purpose for the first time in her bleak life, and in my view it turns something that was once bad into something that can work for good. I think that’s what punishment for crime is about. I don’t see how my stepmother losing her life achieves anything for anyone who has suffered from her crime – certainly not my family.’ Fleur paused to look around at those in attendance and the judge. ‘I want no vengeance. I simply want peace of mind. If we all take a more gentle approach to the welfare of those around us, the world will be a better place, so I am pleading with the court to spare Irma Appleby’s life.’

She finished, breathing hard.

The judge took a long, slow breath, staring at her over the rim of his glasses. ‘Thank you for your honest and heartfelt thoughts, Miss Appleby. I shall give due consideration to them.’

Back in the courtroom one week later, Irma Appleby was sentenced to life in prison and a look was exchanged between the two Appleby women that anyone in the courtroom might have understood as a peace being made.

While Irma was taken down in handcuffs, whispering whatever she could to her weeping daughter and her son who wore a stoic expression, Fleur left the courtroom, scurrying down the steps into the soft sunshine of an Adelaide winter.

She breathed out in relief. She knew both her parents would be proud of her and that was enough. Something about the dry warmth as she took a deep breath spoke of the place where the man she loved had likely returned to a desert winter. While she had been pouring out her thoughts to the court, her heart had poured something else into her mind.

Find him. Make him understand it was a lie.

July 1935

It had been nine weeks since Fleur had spent a night in the arms of Tom, since he’d been told a terrible lie and he’d left her. They’d been in love and committed to one another just nine hours before he’d disappeared. Nine weeks since her father had died. Less than nine months before Tom believed she would be giving birth to Jimmy Coglin’s baby. Nine days since Irma’s sentencing hearing: life imprisonment.

It was a win. The judge could have demanded that Irma give her life for her wicked and murderous deeds, but the sentence had been commuted and a glance of thanks had been cut Fleur’s way, not just from Irma Appleby, but from her two children, who Fleur had come to think of as family. She had not acted on her resolve to formalise that relationship – but she would. But first there was something far more important to be done.

She’d felt queasy this morning. Nerves perhaps, or the strain of the previous dramatic weeks. Her body was asking her to give it some time, but she didn’t have time. She had to find Tom, had to have her chance to set things straight between them.

She’d taken the precaution of reserving a seat on the train because it meant a class of ticket that had only a few people in each carriage. Her head was pounding a little with all the anxiety and change; she needed to be kind to herself. Fleur could almost imagine her blood fizzing with the excitement of her decision to go in search of Tom. People likely thought of her as wilful and independent, but the truth was that Fleur had never travelled further than Adelaide’s city from its port. The decision to hunt down Tom might appear determined, but it was not without the feeling of butterflies at leaving all she knew.

Fleur understood that her certitude in most aspects of her life originated from its familiarity, routine and even, yes, its humdrum. While each corpse was individual and she treated them thus, humans were packaged in the same flesh that clung to a reliable skeleton that was protecting the same order of organs. Bodies worked in the same way, and only age or ill health – or something more sinister – changed their functionality. She knew her work, and felt sure of her place within that structure.

But this was an adventure in which there was no certainty – not even of finding Tom. She presumed he’d returned to Farina as he’d told her he would, but she might discover that, on a whim and hurting from Irma’s lies, he’d left the state. But Fleur wouldn’t allow herself to consider that until it actually faced her. It might never come to it, so there was no point in getting herself into a lather.

Hers was a long train among eleven others in various stages of departure or arrival that morning. Only one platform was empty in the Adelaide Railway Station and that would soon be filled. The station concourse was a beehive of activity, humming with people moving in a constant flow in various directions as they began their busy day.

But that was all minutes ago. Now she was feeling a little more secure, ready in her seat near the window and anxious to be on her way. The train seemed to mimic her state of mind; the engine that would haul them north to Terowie was like a snorting bull, pawing the ground, straining and ready to charge.