Emily (42 page)

As they approached the house, another rider was seen coming up the hill. He too was dressed in uniform and he swayed unsteadily on his mount. It was Clavell and Emily greeted him with relief. At least she would now be safe from Boyle.

‘How de do, Miss Hawkins, Mrs Johnson.’ Clavell slipped down from his mount and held onto the saddle to steady himself. ‘Just thought I would pop round to see if there were any problems. How de do Boyle, what you doing up here?’

‘Same as you, Clavell, visiting. But seeing as you’re here perhaps you’d take a look at my head.
A damned black has just aimed a stone at my head. Damned near killed me!’

‘If he’d wanted to have killed you he would have done. What was it? A warning shot?’ He gave Emily a sly wink and she smiled tremulously at him. ‘He probably thought you were trespassing on his land.’

‘His land!’ Boyle blustered, and winced as Clavell poked at his scalp. ‘It’s not his land, it’s Linton’s land!’

‘Ah, yes, but he tolerates Linton because he doesn’t move him off it. Not that he would think of it as his own land, mind. The natives don’t claim the land, they consider the earth is free for them to roam just as their ancestors did.’

‘Well, they’ll soon be wiped out,’ Boyle griped. ‘And not before time.’

‘It’s just a graze.’ Clavell turned away impatiently. ‘You won’t die from it.’

‘You will excuse us, Mr Boyle?’ Emily said, her voice calm though she was shaking. ‘I have something to discuss with Mr Clavell.’

Boyle looked astonished at his dismissal, but as Clavell was already walking up the steps to the house, where Meg was standing with the baby in her arms and Emily was half turned away, there was nothing he could do but mount his horse and ride away.

‘I’m drunk!’ Clavell said as he sat down at the kitchen table, then he got up again and removed a flask from his coat pocket. He waved it in the air. ‘I’d offer you a tipple except it’s empty.’

‘I don’t drink spirits normally, Mr Clavell,’ Emily said. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

He shuddered but said yes, he would. ‘Did you enjoy a drink, Mrs Johnson?’ he asked Meg. ‘Before you came to this pleasant land, I mean.’

‘Yes, sir, I did. It was onny way I could forget about ’life I was leading.’

‘That’s it,’ he nodded. ‘That’s what it does. Makes you forget.’ He sighed. ‘Except that it doesn’t.’

‘No, sir,’ Meg agreed, ‘it doesn’t. Nothing makes you forget until you find something else to replace ’memory.’

‘And for you it was the child?’

‘And Emily, sir.’ She smiled across at Emily, who was scalding the tea leaves in the pot. ‘When I met Emily I realized there were some good people in ’world after all.’

He leant over and took the child from her. ‘And this young fellow confirmed it. What will you tell him when he grows up, Mrs Johnson? What will you tell young Ralph about his beginnings?’

She looked startled and a little afraid. Then she put her head up. ‘He’ll be a free man in a young country, sir. There’ll be no stigma attached to him. He’ll be able to do whatever he wants.’

‘And of his mother? What will you tell him of her?’

She hesitated. ‘I’ll tell him that there is no blame or shame attached to him regarding his mother’s character. That she only did what she thought was right.’

He gave a gentle smile. ‘Quite right, Mrs Johnson. The sins of the parents should die with them.’

She stared at him and her mouth trembled. ‘It’s all right,’ he said softly. ‘It’s all right.’

He stayed and had something to eat with them and as he was leaving he asked Emily if she would like to accompany him on a journey the following day. ‘I’m visiting a clergyman friend in Port Macquarie who has done much to improve the convicts’ lives. He would welcome you,’ he added, as uncertainty clouded her face. ‘He likes to hear other points of view. You will be away one night and well cared for.’

She had no qualms about accompanying him and welcomed the chance of seeing another part of the country, but with a proviso. ‘Providing that Joe is back tonight,’ she said. ‘I won’t leave Meg alone.’

‘Not even with your faithful native?’ he asked.

She smiled and shook her head. ‘Not even then.’

After he had left, she and Meg sat on the veranda as the afternoon cooled. Ralph was asleep in his cot and they could see far off a figure approaching from the pasture land. ‘Clavell knows, doesn’t he?’ Meg said. ‘He knows that Ralph isn’t mine.’

‘I think so,’ Emily agreed, ‘but it doesn’t matter. He won’t tell anyone. Here’s Joe,’ she said. ‘Do you mind if I go with Mr Clavell tomorrow?’ She rose as Joe approached and didn’t see the doubt on Meg’s face as she said that, no, she didn’t mind.

Meg saw Emily off at dawn with Clavell and two escorts and busied herself during the morning while Joe went up to the pasture land. He came back for breakfast and she cooked bacon and eggs, then whilst he worked outside she tried her hand at making bread. Emily had told her how the cook
she used to know had made it and she tried to remember what Emily had said. She made one batch which was heavy and leaden and then she made another which was only a little better. Then Joe came in and told of how his mother used to do it, so she made another batch, and by the time she had put it to prove for a second time and made some soup and cooked a chicken, the day had gone and it was time to put Ralph to bed.

‘You’re getting ’hang of it.’ Joe poked the rising dough with his finger. ‘It needs a hot oven if I remember right.’

‘It’s hot all right.’ Meg wiped the sweat from her forehead. ‘Just like me.’

‘Why don’t you tek a dip in ’creek while it’s cooking? I’ll keep an eye on ’bairn.’

‘What and have that Abo staring at me!’ She glared at him. ‘Not likely!’

‘He’s not there,’ he said mildly. ‘He went off last night. Probably out of ’way after tekking a pot shot at Boyle. He hasn’t been around all day.’

‘Oh!’ She was tempted. ‘Perhaps I might then.’

‘I’ll bake ’bread if you like,’ he grinned. ‘Then we can have it for supper.’

She gloried in the coolness of the creek and walked back as the sun was dipping, casting long shadows over the land. She’d draped a fustian sheet around herself and washed her skirt and shirt, which she hung over the washing line.

‘Here we are.’ Joe placed the hot bread on the table and served up the soup. ‘Come and sit down. Food fit for a king – or a queen,’ he added as he glanced at her.

‘I – er, I’d better get dressed first,’ she said lamely.

‘Who’s to see thee? Tha’s all right.’ He didn’t like to stare, but he thought her a fine-looking woman with her broad bare shoulders and the damp sheet clinging to her. She had lost the convict aura.

She smiled and sat down. ‘It’s very – comforting I think is ’word,’ she said, ‘to hear your accent. It sounds like home.’

‘But thank God it isn’t,’ he said harshly. ‘We might still be prisoners of ’Crown, but would we be sitting out on an evening in England eating fresh baked bread and soup? No, not us. In England I’d be trying for work and not getting it, going to ’soup kitchens and begging for some sustenance. And you, what would you be doing, Meg?’

She looked away. ‘I’m shamed to think of what I’d be doing. Selling my body to some stranger for a crust or a drink.’

‘Don’t be shamed, Meg.’ He leaned over and put his hand on her arm. She flinched, so he removed it. ‘It wasn’t your fault that you had to live like that.’

‘No, I know,’ she muttered, ‘but it doesn’t make me feel any better knowing that that’s what I did, and my mother before me. I thought of summat Mr Clavell said yesterday, that ’sins of ’parents should die with them and I hoped that it was true.’

She looked across the table at him. ‘I’ve never in my life had a conversation with a man until now, except for negotiating a price.’ She gave an angry grimace. ‘What do you think of that, eh?’

‘I said, it wasn’t your fault!’ He tore at a piece of
bread. ‘No more than it was Emily’s for being raped by that bastard Purnell.’

‘She’s lucky is Emily, having you to care for her. And Mr Linton, he cares for her as well, you know, in spite of what happened to her!’

Joe nodded. ‘He wants to marry her. He told me, but don’t tell Em. He’s gone to England to try for her pardon.’

‘And she doesn’t know?’ Meg said in astonishment. ‘So, if he gets her a pardon –.’ She stopped, as if thinking. ‘Then – might she go home? And if she does –’. Her face creased as if she was going to cry and she pushed away her dish of soup. ‘I’ll be left alone except for Ralph and it’ll be just like England again.’

‘If she wants to go back with Linton, then that’s what she’ll have to do,’ Joe said softly. ‘We can’t hold her here if she doesn’t want to stop.’

‘We?’ she questioned, looking at him with wide brimming eyes. ‘You’re a man! You can do whatever you want once you’re free. I can’t go back to England, how would I pay my passage? Not that I want to anyway,’ she said defiantly.

‘Don’t you, Meg? Do you want to stop here?’

‘I want to stop in this country, but –’. She swallowed hard. ‘If I’m on my own I know what’ll happen. I’ll finish up on ’streets again like them whores down on ’Rocks in Sydney!’

‘No,’ he protested. ‘’Course you won’t, there are more opportunities here than at home.’

‘Huh! You’re talking just like a man!’ There was a frightened anger in her voice. ‘I’m a whore! What else could I do but go back to my trade?’

‘And I was a thief,’ he said quietly, ‘but I don’t intend to become one again.’

They both sat silently and Meg gave a shiver. ‘Here, you’re cold, put this on.’ He picked up a shawl which was draped over his chair and, standing up, put it around her bare shoulders. He looked down at her. ‘You’re a right bonny lass, Meg, and your tongue isn’t as sharp as it used to be.’

She gave a half-smile. ‘It’s onny blunted ’cos I’ve not had ’chance to sharpen it lately. But I could.’

‘On me?’

‘Aye. Like when you come in ’house with your muddy boots on.’

He grinned. ‘Why didn’t you say summat then?’

She shrugged. ‘Not my house – or my place.’

‘You know that once I’m free I’m going to work for my own farm?’

‘Aye, Emily said so.’ Her voice was low and her expression cast down.

‘Wilt tha come wi’ me?’

She looked up at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean we could get married proper. Have our own place. Give Ralph a good start.’

‘You’re not feeling sorry for me ’cos of what I’ve just said?’ Her tone was sharper, more like it used to be.

He laughed. ‘That’s more like it. More like ’woman I met on ’ship. And no, I don’t feel sorry for you at all. I think I know what sort of woman thou art, Meg Johnson. One who’ll work to get what she wants, given ’chance. Besides,’ he looked away, ‘you’re an ’andsome woman like I said. A right bonny lass and you’d probably do better than me
in different circumstances. I’m not much of a catch,’ he said sheepishly, ‘and I’d better tell thee now, I’ve not had much experience wi’ women. I’ve not had ’chance,’ he added, ‘seeing as I spent most of my growing up in gaol.’

She gazed at him, a blank expression on her face. ‘You mean it? You’re asking me to marry you even though you know what sort of woman I was?’

‘We’ve nowt to hide from each other,’ he said quietly. ‘We’ve no secrets, we couldn’t start better than that.’

‘Aye, that’s true,’ she agreed, then added, ‘I’ve not been with a man in a long time, not since I met your Emily. She put me on ’straight and narrow.’ She looked down as if she couldn’t meet his eyes and he saw a soft flush on her cheeks, which made her look young and vulnerable. ‘I’ve got no disease, no clap or owt, and it’s not true what Boyle said about me going with every man on ’ship.’

‘Don’t think on that, Meg,’ he pleaded. ‘I’ve had chance to get to know you while we’ve been here, and I hope that maybe tha’ll take me wi’ all my faults, ’cos I’ve just as many as you.’

She raised her head and he saw there were tears in her eyes. ‘Aye. All right then. Do you want –? Shall we –?’

‘Aye,’ he said softly and taking her hands in his he drew her to her feet. ‘We can do. I could do to sleep in a proper bed again.’

The following morning Meg was awakened early by someone banging on the veranda door. She turned to Joe, who was still sleeping and gently touched his cheek. He smiled and turned towards her, reaching out to hold her.

‘There’s somebody at ’door,’ she whispered.

‘Damn! It’s all right, I’ll go,’ he said as she threw back the blanket. He slipped into his breeches and after checking that Ralph was still sleeping, she put a shawl around her nightshift and followed him to the door.

The old Aborigine was standing there. He looked at them and then muttered, ‘Young missus?’

‘She’s not here,’ Joe answered gruffly. ‘What do you want?’

He shook his head and turned away. ‘See young missus.’

‘Come back later,’ Meg called after him. ‘After dinner.’

‘I wonder what he wants,’ Joe said as they went inside. He bent to pick up the water pail.

Meg ran her hand gently over his back where his
skin was scored by lash marks. ‘Is this what Boyle did?’

‘Aye.’ He put down the pail and put his arms around her. ‘Him and a dozen others.’ He nuzzled into her neck. ‘I didn’t know it would feel so good,’ he whispered and kissed her lips.

‘Nor did I,’ she whispered back. ‘I feel as if I’ve been reborn.’

‘Come on.’ He took her hand and led her back upstairs. ‘’Sheep can look after themselves for once.’

Emily returned later in the day, tired but brighter for the excursion and full of the happenings of the journey. ‘Mr Clavell showed me which were eucalyptus and gum trees, and we saw a strange creature by the river called a platypus. Oh, and at night there were koalas climbing in the gum trees, and we saw kangaroos, such funny animals, and great masses of parrots in the trees. And the sea was such a beautiful colour, not grey like the sea at home sometimes is,’ she added, always comparing, never forgetting the landscape of her birth.

‘And Mr Fowler, the clergyman was such a nice gentleman, and so kind that I didn’t feel inferior at all as he asked my opinion on so many things. And, what’s more, I ate supper with him and his wife and Mr Clavell!’ She related all of this with such excitement that both Meg and Joe laughed.