Chapter 26

Gunson crossed the foyer buoyed with renewed hope, although his wife’s words echoed in his skull. He was content – he had built a sound embankment and would prove it today. He smiled and tipped his hat to a young woman reclining against the ledge of the tall window next to the staircase, her red hair a fiery halo from the sunlight fractured through the small square panes. She returned his greeting with a nod and smile that animated her pensive features and Gunson vowed he would not allow himself to become riled by Alderman John Webster today. He would seize the opportunity to put forward a theory that would absolve the waterworks company, with the evidence to support it.

A man in a peacock-blue waistcoat sat with his legs stretched before him on a bench outside the courtroom. Gunson recognised him as Matthew Jackson, a fellow engineer about his own age, who was to give evidence based on his experience of supervising the building of reservoirs in Adelaide and Melbourne and Bendigo. Gunson had been introduced to him during an inspection of the remains of the embankment two days after the disaster and they had travelled on together to look at Agden, the newest dam under construction, both marvelling that their paths had never before crossed. He admired Jackson’s methodical and calm demeanour and ability to listen to the person he was conversing with, rather than simply waiting his turn to speak. The opposite of the coroner, in fact.

John Webster heard only the details that suited his agenda.

‘Matthew, I’m pleased to see you again.’

‘Hello, John. I thought you’d already been put through the grinder.’ He gestured with his thumb to the closed door. Gunson could hear the hum of chatter from within.

‘I must be a glutton for punishment. Have they begun?’

‘Not yet, but it’s already standing room only.’ He yawned. ‘I thought I’d give my legs a rest.’

Gunson resisted the overwhelming temptation to ask what Jackson would have to say about the Dale Dyke embankment once he was on the stand.

‘Good morning, gentlemen. I’m a little late.’ It was Perronet and his wild shock of hair. Webster followed behind, his clerk on his heels, arms stuffed with folders.

‘Hello, John,’ Webster said to Gunson, as warmly as if he was greeting a long-lost friend. ‘I hope you are well.’

Gunson rubbed his hand through his beard. Webster’s geniality was unsettling, coming as it did before the man would no doubt once again tear into him in the public forum.

‘And here is Mr Jackson, our engineering expert,’ said Webster. ‘I’m looking forward to hearing your evidence.’

‘Good day to you, sir.’ Jackson got to his feet. He was as tall as Gunson and towered over Webster and Perronet. ‘I have had the opportunity of visiting the site and Mr Gunson has been most helpful indeed. A terrible tragedy. I can sympathise with the heavy burden the waterworks company is shouldering.’