Sarah Thornhill (8 page)

Way up the Branch
. All I knew about where Dick lived. And there'd be a lagoon.

Beyond Maunder's it was quiet. Just the bush falling down steep into the water, reeds and rocks along the bank, and the glossy mangroves pressing in dark over the stream.

Jack rested on the oars.

You sure, he said. Sure this is what you want?

I wasn't. Not any more. The stillness of that tight valley, and the way the bush was holding its breath, watching us. If you'd been sent away, how would you feel about the ones allowed to stay?

We come this far, I said. Can't be too much further.

Jack gave me a look but bent to the oars again. Then we come round one last bend and there was a jetty, half hidden in the mangroves, with Dick Blackwood's boat. An open patch of ground and beyond that, water glinting. Back on some rising ground, a house.

And dogs racing towards the boat barking, big ugly brutes.

Someone come out of the house, hand up against the sun. A woman, you could see the dress blowing round her legs.

Thought the dogs would stop when they got to the water but not a bit of it, two of them jumped straight in off the bank and the other one raced along the jetty. Close enough you could see the slaver hanging off its mouth, and the sharp teeth bare. Judging the distance, could it jump into the boat. The two in the water swimming strong. One of them bit the oar, nearly pulled it out of Jack's hand.

God save us! he said.

He swung the boat round so hard it nearly went over. Rowed like a mad thing, the dogs coming after, barking with their mouths full of water, the noise ringing back from the hills, echoing in that slit of a valley like a dozen dogs. Then we got past the bend, the barking faded.

By God Sarah Thornhill, Jack said. You do get a man in a pickle!

He laughed, but shakily.

I'd say Dick Blackwood likes his privacy, he said. He'd have his still there, see. Feller in that line of business won't be wanting folk snooping round.

I was all a-tremble. Never been in fear of my life from an animal before.

You're white as a sheet, he said. Dick Blackwood, Dick Thornhill, God almighty, what's it matter?

Well, I said. A brother. You know.

Look, every family got something, he said. Not a family doesn't have its secrets big or small. No business of anyone else. That's my view, Sarah Thornhill.

Put his hand along my cheek, kissed me again.

Now this, he said. This is our business.

G
EORGE WHEELER
was the gloomiest soul in the world but even so the Ferryman's Arms was full every day. The country opening up to the north, men taking their flocks and herds to the good country there.

Which is how it came about that Archibald Campbell and John Daunt stood in our parlour next day. The inn full up, George was explaining, but these two gentlemen on their way to Sydney, needed lodgings for the night.

Gentlemen, you see. You didn't turn gentlemen away.

They were youngish fellers, Archibald Campbell a cheerful chap, broad face, blond beard and hair the colour of honey. A man like a rosy cake.

John Daunt was a different make of man altogether. Stood leaning backwards and sideways a little, as if not sure of his welcome. He was no oil painting. An awkwardly-put-together feller, as if his arms and legs not out of the same set. No older than Jack, but his hair thinning, you could see he was set to go bald.

Pa had come off Star and hurt his wrist and his foot, so he couldn't get up to greet them.

Good-day to you sirs, he said. Very welcome here in my house and owing to my recent mishap I'm sorry I'm not able to stand for you.

Too much, and too hearty. That was because of having
worn
the broad arrow
. Ma come over and stood beside him. Had her chin up ready in case of insult.

Daunt stepped forward and put out his hand. Pa not sure then what to do, his right hand being bandaged, so Daunt had to more or less seize the left and shake it.

Very pleased, Mr Thornhill, he said. Very pleased indeed to make your acquaintance.

You could hear the Irish in his voice.

I assure you, sir, how grateful I am, he said. Mr Campbell and myself both. To be your guests. We thank you heartily for your hospitality.

In brief,
I know you are an emancipist and it makes no odds to me.

Campbell smiled, but blank. I thought, out of this pair Daunt is the brains.

Ma started in on a lot of flummery about how the horse that threw Pa was thoroughbred and inclined to be skittish. I saw Campbell sliding his eyes at Daunt. They'd laugh later. The colonials skiting about their bloodstock. Then it was bowing to us ladies. Mary was
Miss Thornhill
but I was
Miss Sarah
. I was ready to take offence. Not far off fifteen, no child! Then remembered Ma said it was the right way of doing things if you was
well bred.
Only the oldest girl got the surname.

Will and Jack and Bub come in, the parlour full of men stepping forward, a tangle of hands going out to be shook. Beside the gentlemen in their fine suits our men looked rough. Beards bushy, faces sunburnt, and all feet in among the chairs and little tables.

While we waited for dinner, or
luncheon
as Ma called it today, we made ourselves pleasant. Archibald Campbell was Scotch and my word at the start I could barely make him out, the way he seemed to put a few turns extra in every word. Ma asked him about his family and he said his father had an estate near Aberdeen. A big family, as many brothers and sisters as would
thick a kirk.
That took some sorting out.

Never seen Mary put on the fancy before. Sitting up straight the way Ma nagged us to do, spine not touching the back of the chair. Dropped her handkerchief and when she picked it up, sure enough, her cheeks had the prettiest flush.

Whereabouts would your place be, Mr Campbell? she said. Is it what you might call remote?

No distance at all, Miss Thornhill, he said. A day's ride, no more.

She did look well with a bit of colour in her cheeks.

Up to the north is it then? Mary said.

A wee step the far side of the range, he said. As pretty a spot as you could wish. Finer land you never beheld. Garlogie I've called the place.

Mary was nodding away. If she wasn't following, you'd never of guessed.

Best watch out, Billy Cobb!

I was on the sofa next to John Daunt, Will and Jack on the hard chairs across the room. Gave Jack a wink but with Daunt beside me he couldn't very well wink back. I started to feel a bit of a fool, me and Daunt with our heads turning from Mary to Campbell and back again.

And Mr Daunt, I said, whereabouts would your holding be, is it near Mr Campbell?

He caught on, shifted his backside so we were more facing each other. Close up, I thought I'd never seen an uglier man. Heavy brow, thick eyebrows, jaw like a bulldog. One eyebrow grew crooked and quirked up, gave him something of a mocking look.

Now to be honest with you, he said, in County Cork it would be the outside of it if you were two days on the road. But here in this grand country of yours it could be the most part of a week, owing to the land being not so developed.

You couldn't mistake the Irish in his voice but I had no trouble making him out. Half gentry, half Irish. I had the best of it, not like poor Mary puzzling away.

Mind you, he said, I'm not near as advanced as Mr Campbell. A man coming to this country is nothing but a fool for the first year. You'd agree with that, would you, Mr Thornhill? Mr Langland?

Oh yes, Will said, but not in a voice that said he was sure what Daunt was talking about.

I'm here only this six months past, Daunt said. Have nothing up as yet grander than a hut.

Oh, Ma said, a hut.

I make no doubt of having a good house up before the year is out, he said. But as you'd understand, Mrs Thornhill, these things take a weary time to bring about.

That's so, Pa said. Nothing happens quick, on land or sea.

Now Mr Daunt, Ma said, whereabouts in Ireland would your people be from?

What she meant was,
Are you a Papist
.

A place by the name of Glenmire, he said. Close by the city of Cork. Did you go to Cork ever, Mrs Thornhill?

Ma shook her head, but still waiting for the answer.

We Daunts, he said, we're what you call the Anglo-Irish. We have the real Irish on the place, tenants. But to be honest with you, I'd not know a hundred words of the Irish tongue.

You're nobody's fool, John Daunt, I thought. Telling her, not Papist. And not poor.

Then Anne was ringing the bell for us to go into the dining room. Pa hobbled along between Will and Jack.

Now Mrs Thornhill, Daunt said, I'm wondering will there be
placement
at all?

He said it the French way and soon as the word was out he saw his mistake.

Or will we seat ourselves where we please, he said.

He'd given her the opening, so she got everyone to sit where she wanted. Pa at the head, of course, and Ma next to him. Campbell next to Mary, Daunt next to me. Will and Bub. And right along at the bottom end, Jack.

There was an empty chair opposite Jack, as if there was someone missing. If Dick was here, that would be his chair. I watched Pa at the head of the table and wondered if he ever thought about that empty chair.

Anne brought in the roast fowls and went to set them in front of Pa.

Now Mr Thornhill, Campbell said, since your wrist is a burden to you, would you permit me to do the honours?

Had the platter in front of him and the carving knife in his hand before anyone had worked him out.

And perhaps you would allow me to say Grace, Daunt said.

We never had Grace at our table before. I caught Mary's eye, but she was acting like it was the most usual thing in the world.

Grace was such a lot of words, I had to wait for the Amen to know it was done. Campbell got to work on the fowls with a fine old flourish. That knife had never had such a time of it, setting the meat separate so he could say, Dark meat or white, Mrs Thornhill, or will you take a wee taste of each?

My word but don't you do that well, Mr Campbell, Ma kept saying. I do like a man can carve a fowl neat.

She said it so many times, in the end Pa said, Yes, Meg, Mr Campbell not the only man in the world knows how to joint up a fowl.

Ma flushed. The muscle jumped in her cheek from having to keep the smile going.

Having been at sea since a lad, Jack didn't have all the right manners. Didn't ask for things to be passed, reached across for them. Turned his fork over to scoop up the peas. Got a bit of bread, mopped up the juice. By the time he'd finished, quicker than the rest of us, the plate was clean, the bone on the side, sucked white. He smoothed down his beard, wiped his hand on the table napkin.

Nothing he didn't do the rest of the time. But Ma was watching. Caught Daunt's eye, next to me. I saw her mouth do a little turned-down thing and her eyes roll up for a moment.

Oh, Jack, she said, loud enough to make everyone turn, looks like the girl gave you too small a serving, you best have some more.

We all heard it. Not that she thought Jack might still be hungry, but wanting to make him feel small. It was the gentlemen being here, and her having to show she knew good manners. Always been a snob. But up until now it had just been one of Ma's little ways.

You could see Jack think about saying yes, but he glanced at her and saw the smile was false. Looked at everyone else's plates, where they'd left that scrap of food you were supposed to. We all watched him see that he was the only one who'd applied himself so well that his plate gleamed.

Oh no, Mrs Thornhill, he said. I'm all right.

I'd never thought he could sound like that, uncomfortable, uncertain.

Jack, lad, Pa said, loud down the table. You're among friends here, we got plenty of victuals. Anne, bring some more fowl for Jack, and a good spill of gravy with it.

Anne came over and doled Jack out some more fowl and a ladle of gravy, another potato. We all watched, no one said anything. Pa saw he'd made it worse.

Over here now, Anne, he said. Give us a bit of that dark meat, and a potato.

Yes, me too, I said.

Daunt glanced at my plate where there was still half a potato and a piece of meat.

You can go to billy-oh, John Daunt, I thought. I'll not see Jack made a fool of.

The three of us set to labouring through our plates of food.

Now Mrs Thornhill, Daunt said. I couldn't help admiring your grand roses. Splendid blooms. The climate here.

Casting around, you could hear, for something to put into the silence, and then his voice changed, he'd thought of what to say.

Now I have to tell you I never liked a rose bush, he said. Not since I was a boy. My mother had a fine bed of them and I had a hoop, you know the kind of thing, and this particular day I'm spinning it along and it gets into the middle of those roses. Well, I went in after it and you'll not believe but I got pinned by those thorns as fast as a rabbit in a trap. Oh, I set up a cry. Just a lad, you see, thought I'd be there for the rest of my life. Thought they'd have to poke my dinner through to me on a stick.