1
Adelaide, 1882
Skipp regards his pocket watch, already nine thirty. Sitting across from him, Theodore Darrington’s bald head is bowed over the contract, whiffs of beeswax wafting from his glowing skin.
Theodore looks up, lowers his spectacles to the tip of his nose, and looks over them, a twinkle in his eyes. ‘Presently, once the papers are signed, you’ll be the legal owner of Farina Bakery, a three bedroom furnished cottage, a vegetable plot, and an orchard,’ he says, handing over the document.
Owning his own home and business has for so long been out of reach, Skipp’s pulse is racing. He will never again be at the mercy of a stingy landlord. Scanning the document he notes the property is owned by Mr Joseph Elliot and Miss Eliza Elliot. Present at his previous meeting with the solicitor, Miss Elliot made no mention of a co-owner. Skipp mulls over these new revelations. ‘Does Mr Elliot live in Farina?’ he asks.
‘His whereabouts are unknown. Miss Elliot is convinced he’ll never return to Farina, due to accumulated debts and matters of a personal nature.’ Theodore gives a coffee- stained smile. Using a pencil, he taps on the clause in the contract giving Miss Elliot the right to sell the property. ‘Miss Elliot financed the enterprise in a bid to assist her wayward brother. As the business is lying idle she has decided to sell.’
‘So Mr Elliot woke up one morning and left town, just like that?’ asks Skipp, his gaze turning to the east facing window, its mosaic of opaque green shards blocking out the morning sun.
‘He hasn’t been seen since.’
Skipp draws in a deep breath. The sudden musty smell of old newspapers, tobac