BENEATH THE SOUTHERN CROSS

Random House Australia - ISBN 9781741666014

The magnificent Garden Palace, built to rival the Crystal Palace in London, opened in 1879 to house the Sydney International Exhibition. It stood in the Botanic Gardens and dominated Sydney's skyline with its turrets and towers and massive central dome, ninety feet high and a hundred metres in diameter.

Four days previously, whilst attending a concert in the Garden Palace dome, Hannah Kendall O'Shea has died of a massive heart attack.

Paddy and Tiny, bottles of ale in hand, were weaving their way down to Woolloomooloo Bay to watch the sunrise over the water. They had arrived at the mudflats and were standing amongst the fishing dories when Tiny, glancing to his left, suddenly said, 'Sweet Jesus, will you look at that!'

Paddy turned a bleary eye to see the Botanic Gardens flooded with light.

'Tis the Garden Palace!' Tiny cried. 'Tis the Garden Palace, Paddy, she's on fire!'

The blaze, which had roared captive within the dome, made its escape. Sheets of flame burst through the skylight and spread greedily in every direction. North, south, east, west, the fire rippled along the roofing, heading as if by command for the corner towers.

'Let's go and watch!' Paddy yelled. 'Come on!' He sprinted up the hill, yelling, 'Wake up! Wake up! The Garden Palace is on fire!'

Tiny lumbered along behind, others joining him, passing him, racing on to join Paddy up ahead. In minutes, the people of Woolloomooloo were flocking from all directions.

From up on his balcony in Potts Point, Charles had a bird's-eye view. At his side, Amy and Anne watched, mesmerised, as the flames reached the towers. In seconds it seemed the entire building was fringed with a bright red frill of fire.

A series of angry explosions like the discharge of firearms split the air. Then an ominous roar thundered across Sydney. A drum roll heralding the final moment.

A massive flame leapt into the sky. It towered there for a moment, a giant with a life of its own, then it was clouded by dense black smoke billowing in volumes up into the morning air. There was an almighty crash, like a peal of thunder. And finally, the great dome fell.

The current of air created by the fall wreaked havoc. As if carried by a whirlwind, red-hot galvanised iron and clouds of burning embers were hurled across the inner suburbs of Sydney, as far as Elizabeth Bay. In Macquarie Street, windowpanes were cracked by the heat and for hours ashes fell upon Woolloomooloo and Potts Point.

Paddy and the hundreds of others who had flocked to the scene stayed to watch, despite the rain of debris. For a full three hours they watched as the rising sun fought its way through a haze of smoke and multicoloured flames of carmine and green, yellow and blue, creating a dawn of their own. They watched along with the fire brigades which had arrived from all quarters. There were the steam fire engines, and the manual fire engines, with reels and all the equipment to hand. But they were powerless. And, along with Paddy and the citizens of Sydney, the firemen stood and watched as the noble Garden Palace was razed to the ground.

Paddy was witnessing the blaze of his mother's funeral pyre. Hannah Kendall O'Shea had died there, he thought. Four days ago she had died beneath the great dome, and now on this, the very day of her funeral - to Paddy it was still the same day, despite the dawn - the dome had become her funeral pyre. He was overwhelmed by the sight and the notion.