by Téa Cooper
‘So have I. I’ll get a job. I can read and write and my arithmetic’s good. I’m a good worker, but not in a laundry. I can’t do that again. I’d like to work in a real shop.’
‘You’ll do nothing of the kind. My plan is school for you, day in, day out, until you learn all there is to learn, and then you’ll come and work in the business. You won’t set foot on the streets without me, understand?’
‘You expect me to stay locked up? I might as well have stopped with the Camerons.’
Michael drew in a belaboured breath. No, he couldn’t lock her up, and no, he couldn’t leave her to wander Hill End on her own. ‘You’ll go to school in the mornings, like everyone else. In the afternoons, you stay at home.’
‘By myself?’
‘No, with Kitty.’ She’d be more than happy with the extra work. She’d pick Elizabeth up from school, bring her home, give her some lunch and they could do the things women did. ‘She does a bit of cleaning and washing and cooking for me.’
‘Then you’ll come home when you have finished work. Just like a real family.’ Elizabeth clapped her hands together and threw him a smile wide enough to make his heart sing. ‘Are we going home now?’
‘To the warehouse first. I’ve got to make sure they managed.’
‘Can’t they do without you?’
‘We’ll find out. I’ve got to go and have a natter with Li Jing, then we’ll call in and see Father MacCormick about school before I take you home.’
‘Who’s Li Jing?’
‘Me right-hand man.’
She frowned, looked down at his hands on the reins. ‘What’s wrong with your hands?’
‘Nothing. It’s his mind I need, just like a rabbit trap.’ He brought his hands together in a sharp clap and, as he’d expected, Elizabeth jumped, eyes wide with surprise.
‘Don’t do that to me!’
‘Too scared to be out and about on your own. Come on, darlin’, grab your scarf, the wind’s sharp enough to slice a four be two.’ He pulled the dray to a halt and jumped down.
The Diggers Rest no longer resembled the broken-down building he’d inherited. He’d put in the hard yards, repaired the building, bought goods from those strapped for cash. He’d left the upstairs room, where he’d found Da on that first day, well alone, and let the Chinamen pay him rent.
He hadn’t tried to compete with the existing businesses, instead he’d turned the back of the old warehouse into a cheap boarding house for the constant stream of hopefuls who turned up in the town. The auction business had fallen in his lap and now he’d got three bullockies working for him. He’d never once been tempted to fossick. Jing’s folks had it right, and he’d taken a leaf from their book early in the piece. Father MacCormick was of like mind. Better business providing for the diggers, just as Da had fathomed; they couldn’t work without tools, food in their bellies and clothes on their back. That’s what the auction house provided, and their custom provided for him, and would take care of Elizabeth too.
And every day he gave thanks to Da because now he had a fine business and owned the whole lot outright. Never mind the cottage he’d picked up for next to nothing.
‘Look at that!’ Elizabeth shrieked above the constant thundering of the stampers.
‘Look at what, me darlin’?’ He reached up and swung her down to the ground.
‘The man over there. Is that a camera? Shall we have our picture taken? There’s a man in Sydney who makes daguerreo-types. Have you ever seen one?’ She clasped her hands close to her chest. ‘So clever. A little piece of glass with the person trapped inside forever.’
‘That’s a bit fanciful even for a girl like you with all your fairy stories.’
‘Wouldn’t it be lovely to have a keepsake of someone you’d loved and lost?’
‘Better not have lost them in the first place. Come with me now. There’s plenty of time for that later.’
‘I’m never losing you.’ She slipped her arm through his and gave a little skip. He’d have to learn to shorten his stride if he was going to have Elizabeth walking on his arm. By all that was holy, it was good to have her here with him.
Elizabeth’s eyes were wide with curiosity when they arrived outside the Diggers Rest. Didn’t turn her nose up at the overcrowded warehouse as he’d expected. But she’d never done what he’d expected, had she?
The smoky, perfumed air made Elizabeth’s nose prickle, then the noise—not the stampers now they’d moved inside, but a strange clacking sound. She squinted down the length of the warehouse and picked out a long high bench running along one wall where a boy sat flipping beads from side to side across a frame that looked like a child’s toy. Beads threaded on a series of rods which he moved so fast they blurred before her eyes.
Michael stretched out his arm and clasped the boy’s shoulder. ‘Elizabeth, this is Li Jing.’
The boy shot off the stool and greeted her with a bow, keeping his eyes down. He wasn’t as tall as her and the wrists poking from his black sleeves seemed as frail as a chicken’s legs.
‘Miss Elizabeth, welcome. Mr Michael told me all about you.’ His lean face broke into a smile then he spun around and pulled a stool from under the bench.
She slapped her hand over her mouth, trapping the gasp. His black hair, drawn back from his wide forehead, was fastened in a braid that snaked almost to his waist.
‘Sit down. Sit down.’
‘Jing does the accounts for me,’ said Michael, ‘and keeps an eye on the place when I’m out and about.’
Jing clanked the beads one final time, made a few jottings on the paper in front of him and gave the frame a quick flick, sending all the beads down to the base, away from the centre bar.
The sound sent a shaft of curiosity spiralling into Elizabeth’s stomach.
She leant closer. ‘What is it?’
‘That’s Jing’s toy. Says it makes his calculations faster. I reckon he likes the noise.’ Michael crossed his arms and rested his hip against the desk, his lips twitching.
Jing didn’t move a muscle, didn’t react to Michael’s teasing, instead he pushed the frame towards her. ‘Suanpan, Miss Elizabeth.’
‘What do you use it for?’ She stretched onto tiptoe to better see the shiny black beads on the polished rods.
‘You tell me three numbers, the biggest you can think of. Maybe as much gold as they’ll pull out today.’
‘The very biggest?’
He nodded and grinned at her. ‘And the very hardest.’
That was a little difficult. Not many numbers were hard, as long as she wrote them neatly and kept them in line. ‘Two hundred and ninety-nine thousand, three hundred and fifty-six.’
Jing’s fingers flew across the beads, rearranging them. ‘And?’
‘Nine thousand, six hundred and seven.’
More clanking. He looked up, and gave her a shy smile.
‘Two hundred and seventy-seven thousand, three hundred and twenty.’
Before she had time to blink, Jing sat back and folded his arms, the beads all rearranged on the frame. ‘You tell me the answer.’ He waved his hand at the beads. ‘We move the beads up or down towards the beam. These rearranged ones are counted. These not.’
‘I have to write it down.’ Elizabeth ran her finger across the beads.
‘Don’t move them. What do you think?’
She gestured to the highest row of beads. ‘Is this the thousands?’
A strange intensity lit his eyes, as though she had in some way surprised him. ‘Clever girl. Five hundred and eighty-six thousand.’ He gestured to the other beads. ‘Two hundred and eighty-three.’ He flicked the frame again and the beads slid to the bottom.
She snapped her mouth shut, her mind reeling. ‘Can you show me how to use it?’
‘Not now, me darlin’. We’ve got to go and see Father MacCormick about school then I’ll take you home.’ Michael grabbed at her hand. ‘Say goodbye to Jing.’
Elizabeth reluctantly lifted her hand in farewel
l and allowed Michael to tug her towards the door.
‘Jing, see that our bags are delivered to the cottage and the dray unloaded. We’ll take a walk down to the church, find the good father, then I’ll be taking Elizabeth home.’
Once they stepped out onto the street the noise of the stampers made any further conversation impossible, but Elizabeth was more than happy to take in the sights.
Men with picks and shovels slung over their shoulders laughed and shouted as they walked down the streets, their eyes bright, and all around her an air of excitement drifted on the breeze. A young boy rode past on a bicycle and shouted a greeting, which Michael returned with a lift of his hat. Elizabeth had somehow imagined Hill End would be small and quiet compared to Sydney, instead the place thrummed with activity and everyone seemed to know Michael.
‘Here we are.’ He held open the gate and inclined his head to the path running up to the front door of a cottage. She skipped ahead and waited.
The door swung open.
‘Ah! And you’ll be Elizabeth, I’m guessing.’ A razor-thin man with wispy white hair and wire-framed spectacles bent down and peered into her face.
‘Yes. Elizabeth Ó’Cuinn.’ She drew herself up to her full height.
‘Michael, me boy, how are you?’ They clasped hands and shook as though their life depended on it. ‘You’ll have news of the ruckus in Sydney then?’
Michael gave a bit of a shake of his head. She guessed he wasn’t going to talk about the Fenian rubbish in front of her. He’d refused on the trip down despite her incessant questions, said it wasn’t anything for her to worry about. Mr Cameron’s ranting had given her most of the answers so she’d let the matter rest.
‘Come inside then, come inside. I’ve got some ginger beer for the young lady.’
‘We’ll not be staying long. I want to make sure Elizabeth can come to school tomorrow.’
‘So she’s here to stay, at long last?’
‘Aye. Sydney’s no place for a young girl.’
‘School won’t be a problem. I’ll speak to Mr Whittaker in the morning. What’ll you be doing in the afternoons? Classes finish at dinner time, noon.’
Elizabeth took the glass of ginger beer Father MacCormick offered. She might as well be a lost dog in need of housing the way Michael and Father MacCormick kept going on about where she’d be and what she’d be doing with her time.
‘I’m going to ask Kitty to come every day, pick Elizabeth up, take her home for lunch and stay until I return. Joe Lawson’s doing the Sydney runs for me so I’ll not be going far.’
Father MacCormick clapped Michael on the shoulder. ‘Good man, we don’t want her coming to any harm. If you have any difficulty she can always spend the afternoon with me.’
‘I’ll be fine by myself at home.’
‘You won’t need to be by yourself. It’ll be me or Kitty.’ Michael threw her a wink and her heart gave a skip. Putting the glass down, she slipped her hand into his.
‘We’ll be getting along now. I’ll be walking her to school myself in the morning.’
‘Right you are.’ Father MacCormick pressed a bunch of flowers into her hands. ‘These are for your mam and your da.’ He tipped his head towards the churchyard next door. ‘I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, young lady.’
Father MacCormick’s bunch of flowers scuppered Michael’s plans to avoid the cemetery, coward that he was.
Elizabeth skipped ahead, her thick hair bouncing against the back of her coat, her striped stockings flashing in the frail winter sun. Showing her Mam and Da’s graves was never going to be easy and he dreaded the questions she might ask, but better to get it done.
‘This way, darlin’.’ He led the way through the headstones to the small plot encircled by a low fence, one of the first things he’d done after Da’s funeral; the least he could do when he found out what Da’d left for him.
‘Here lies AILEEN Ó’CUINN, the light of my life and the love of my heart.’ Elizabeth read the words, her voice catching at the end. ‘He must have loved Mam very much. Did they love me?’
His throat dried as he framed his answer. ‘How could anyone not love you, me little darlin’?’
‘MICHAEL Ó’CUINN, a giant of a man and a father to cherish. Was he truly a giant? Taller than you?’ She turned her wide blue eyes up to him and something tugged at his heartstrings.
‘Aye, that he was, but not by much. He was a giant in his heart more than anything.’
She bent down and placed the flowers in the middle of the headstone and ran her finger along the last inscription. ‘Never to be parted.’ She gave a little sniff and tucked her hand into his. ‘I hope we’re never parted, Michael. I should wilt just like unloved flowers if I ever lost you.’
‘It’s not going to happen. That’s my promise.’
‘Shall we go home now?’
‘Aye, that we will. Kitty will have something for us and we’ll settle you in.’
Leastways the cottage was warm and cosy and Elizabeth would come to no harm.
Thirteen
Maitland Town, 1913
‘Michael, there was no need to call Dr Lethbridge, nor was there any need to come rushing back from Sydney. I thought you had meetings.’
‘You’re much more important, Elizabeth. Come and sit down and tell me what happened.’ He raised his teacup and arranged his encouraging smile.
The last thing Elizabeth wanted to do was to revisit the whole debacle, not once but twice, because she had no doubt Dr Lethbridge would ask the same questions.
‘There’s nothing to tell. I’m sure it was the heat, the darkness, the unfortunate smell. The stuffed birds are so lifelike I thought I felt their wings graze my cheeks. I don’t wish to discuss it. The heat made me tired. I was perfectly fine after a rest.’
‘I can’t remember you ever being tired. Save it for Lethbridge. In the meantime, I don’t want you exerting yourself. He’ll be here before too long. Where’s Jane?’
‘She went into town to retrieve my hat. I left it at the technical college.’
‘Is there anything I can get you?’
‘No.’ Attempting to assure him of her composure, she pulled her feet under the chair and sat tall, her hands grasped tight in her lap to still their shaking. ‘Satisfied?’
‘Marginally. I’ll be back when Lethbridge arrives.’
‘No, you will not. I have no intention of having you present while I speak to the doctor.’
‘Oh, what am I to do with you? Very well. However, I shall ask him for a full report.’
She wandered over to the window where, beyond the glass, a tiny blue wren performed a series of antics in the bird bath. It didn’t bring on a paroxysm of terror, so why had the birds at the technical college sent her into such a panic? She had the strangest sensation she was missing something just beyond her reach. This fear of birds, this ornithophobia, she didn’t understand it. ‘Michael, have I always been afraid of birds?’
‘For as long as I’ve known you.’
‘What a strange thing to say. You’ve known me forever. Did something happen to me as a child, before we came to Australia?’
He cleared his throat. ‘Because someone is afraid of something, spiders, heights, birds, doesn’t mean they had a nasty experience in their earlier life.’
‘I felt as though the birds would smother me, as though they were choking me, and the dusty smell was dreadful. It snatched at the back of my throat and made my eyes water.’
Michael listened, his arms folded across his chest, with the same studious consideration he always showed. ‘Maybe you are remembering something I know nothing about. I haven’t always been by your side.’
‘I can’t remember a time when you haven’t, except for all the lonely days you left me with the Camerons in Sydney.’
‘Not that old argument again. I thought it was for the best, and as it turned out circumstances changed.’ He patted her hand and smiled down at her. ‘Get some rest, and let’s see what Lethbridge
has to say. I’ll go and find Jane.’
Which of course was Michael’s way of saying he intended to cross question her. There wasn’t much to add, unfortunately.
Garden birds didn’t send her into a panic, neither did the ducks on the river, nor an occasional chicken pecking its way through the vegetable garden. Not that she’d like to pick them up the way Jane did. There was a nasty pigeon tree in the middle of the street in Hill End; she’d always used the back way home to avoid it. It didn’t send her into a blind panic. It was the flocking she feared. Never before had she reacted so violently, as though she didn’t know herself. And the smell! She could still taste the dreadful stench of guano in the back of her throat. Where had it come from, for goodness sake? The birds were dead. Taxidermied. Stuffed.
There was such a disconnect in her thoughts, yet she couldn’t pinpoint the reason. The weather was warm yet she kept trembling, and she could hear her own breath and feel her pulse pumping beneath her skin. All the everyday sounds hummed around her: the clatter of china from the kitchen as Lucy washed up the lunch dishes, the clang of the tram bell as it meandered down the road, and the sound of laughter drifting across the road from the group of chattering schoolgirls.
‘I expected to find you upstairs.’ Lethbridge’s deep voice broke her reverie. He scrutinised her with an inquisitive gaze.
Elizabeth surreptitiously swiped her hand across her mouth. ‘I am well.’
‘Let me be the judge of that. Relax and tell me what happened.’
She simply couldn’t bear the thought of revisiting the whole circus. ‘There’s nothing to tell. I think perhaps I fainted, however I was well enough to walk home. Jane will testify to that.’ Where was the girl? ‘I woke this morning feeling perfectly fine.’
Lethbridge opened his bag and pulled out the ghastly stethoscope contraption he used on Michael.