Golden Hope Read Online Free PDF

She bit off the final length of cotton and gave Clytie a knowing wink. ‘But I can tell you this for nothing. Be on guard against a man with no name. I see you with two men and a dog – only one of them is faithful.’
    â€˜I’ll bet that’s the dog,’ Clytie said wryly.
    â€˜You’re too young to be cynical,’ Zaza said and rapped her over the knuckles. Her eye was caught by the crystal ball. She peered into it.
    â€˜Be quiet, girl. What’s this? Ah yes, I see you living in a priest’s house.’
    Zaza’s words were the last thing Clytie expected to hear. She dismissed the nameless man as of little consequence. From earlychildhood she had wondered what it would be like to live in a house without wheels – but a priest’s house ?
    â€˜Don’t tell me Vlad intends to pack me off to a convent! I’m not cut out to be a nun.’
    â€˜Don’t ask me how or when – but these things will happen. Now, what do you think of this costume? Glamorous or what?’
    Clytie duly admired Zaza’s completed handiwork then made for the stores wagon, keeping her ears open for clues. In passing she caught odd phrases: ‘I say we put it to the vote . . . Melbourne’s miles away – then what? . . . Boss Gourlay attracts bad luck – like killing an albatross brings disaster to a ship . . .’
    At the heart of the circle performers were busy rehearsing, juggling, tumbling, limbering up on practice mats.
    She spotted Dolores at the farthest end. Vlad was standing over her, his head bent to her ear, clearly talking hard and fast. Clytie was discomforted to find herself the subject of their scrutiny.
    I’ll bet that liar is feeding her poisonous lies about me – this morning.
    Clytie coloured at the thought that her ‘stepfather’ was the only man to have seen her naked. The thought made her feel unclean, but how much more would it upset her mother?
    Hurriedly collecting her cleaning rags, polish and axle grease, she returned to their wagon and busied herself working so that Vlad could not fault her for not pulling her weight.
    The Hart wagon was stationed closest to the main highway to Melbourne. Clytie was the first to see the stranger riding towards the camp.
    It was the horse she noticed first, a glorious golden-brown mare.
    The young rider was casually dressed in a striped shirt with a jaunty red neckerchief knotted at his neck, his moleskin trousers belted with a flash buckle. The broad-brimmed black hat anchored long dark hair that the wind blew back from features that were arresting rather than handsome. His complexion, long exposed to the sun, was shining as if he had been galloping for miles. His wide mouth parted in a cocksure grin that seemed to anticipate good news.
    At the sight of Clytie he veered in her direction. He halted his horse and casually leaned forward in the saddle to smile down at her.Clytie felt a jolt of surprise. His clear blue eyes held a message that was hard to fathom.
    She was used to summing up punters at first glance, sorting out the gullible from those who needed work to win them over. She pegged this rider as a young man with the gift of the gab – yet who played his true hand of cards close to his chest.
    The stranger’s smile was confident. ‘G’day, lad. Could you point me in the direction of the circus manager? I take it his name is Gourlay, right?’
    Conscious that her face was streaked with sweat and axle grease, her hair covered by her cap, Clytie nonetheless felt jarred by his mistake.
    Lad? That hick can’t even recognise a girl when he sees one.
    She decided to play along with it. Stretching up to her full height, she thrust her thumbs in her belt and swaggered forward a few paces, aping a boy’s stance. Pitching her voice to a lower, gruff note, she gestured casually in the direction of the red wagon that was markedly more impressive