Charlotte and Nell dressed quickly and hurried to the creek to wash. Here they startled a mother kangaroo and her joey drinking at the waterhole. The animals stared at the girls with round doe-like eyes, then the mother clicked her alarm, the joey scrambled headfirst into her pouch and the mother bounded away through the scrub, her tail thumping.
Charlotte and Nell stared at each other.
‘What beautiful creatures,’ breathed Charlotte in wonder. ‘They are the most unusual animals I’ve ever seen.’
‘What about the emus we saw yesterday?’ Nell reminded her.
They wandered back to the campfire, drawn by the delicious smell of baking bread.
‘Good morning, girls,’ replied Mr McLaughlin cheerily. ‘Are you hungry? Did you sleep well? Did our noisy friend the laughing jackass wake you up?’
He pointed up to a sharp-beaked bird sitting in a bough over their heads that was once more making a loud kookookaka kookookaka laughing shriek.
‘Good morning, Mr McLaughlin,’ answered Charlotte and Nell together.
‘What is it? A laughing bird?’ Charlotte asked.
‘We saw a mother kangaroo and baby down by the burn,’ added Nell shyly.
‘They are pretty animals, are they not?’ replied Mr McLaughlin. ‘But I will need to teach you some Australian words so you do not sound like new chums.
‘A baby kangaroo is a joey. Here we have creeks, not burns or streams. We have bush instead of woods, and a field is called a paddock. A new chum, by the way, is someone straight off the boat from England, who does not know a kangaroo from a wallaby.’
‘I guess we are new chums, then,’ admitted Charlotte, smiling.
‘You won’t be for long,’ Mr McLaughlin assured them. ‘We will make Australian lassies of you soon enough. Now let’s eat.’
Breakfast was hot johnnycakes with jam, and bush tea. Extra bread was baked for lunch. Then the camp was packed up in a matter of minutes, the campfire covered in soil and the horses harnessed, and the girls climbed up on the wagon seat ready to go.
Mr McLaughlin clicked his tongue and the horses pulled forward into the traces, plodding steadily to the north-west. A few miles down the track they came to the top of a steep riverbank.
The girls looked down in consternation. The track descended down the bank, through the deep, swiftly running waters of the wide river, then up the sharp bank on the other side.
‘Hold on as tight as you can, girls,’ advised Mr McLaughlin. He cracked his whip and slapped the horses on the rump with the reins. The horses leapt forward in a canter, hurtling down the bank at great speed.
Charlotte and Nell clung to the seat with all their strength, certain the wagon would be overturned on top of them. Mr McLaughlin cracked his whip again, urging the horses into a gallop.
The horses hit the water with a huge splash which drenched the passengers, then hurtled through the river, sending water splattering up over the wheels and onto the luggage on the back.
Nell screamed in fright. The horses tethered behind whinnied and complained as they found themselves dragged forward into the deep water, across the river and out the other side.
Sophie fell off the back of the wagon and had to fly to save herself, swooping back up onto the wagon on the other side.
The horses galloped up the other bank and slowed to a canter then a trot, but only paused when the horses, wagon and passengers were all safely on the top of the slope.
‘Sorry about that,’ apologised Mr McLaughlin. ‘Are you all right, Nell? We have to keep the speed up to get the horses through the deep water and up the other bank. The sun will dry you off soon enough. Wrap a blanket around you if you get cold.’
Nell nodded her head shakily, her face pale. Charlotte, on the other hand, felt completely exhilarated. The wild ride through the river crossing had made her heart pound and her pulse race. She grinned up at Mr McLaughlin.
‘That was exciting,’ she laughed.
Charlotte and Nell learnt to love the final stage of their journey through the bush and farms and villages of the countryside. They felt a liberating sense of freedom living in the outdoors, sleeping in a tent, washing in a creek and eating all their meals by a campfire.
By the end of the week they were building fires and making damper, johnnycakes, fried salt beef and bush tea with ease. On the seventh day, they started very early so they would make it to Rosedale by nightfall.
‘Mrs McLaughlin will be expecting us for dinner,’ Mr McLaughlin explained. ‘Knowing my wife, she will have prepared a welcome-home feast for us.’
Charlotte’s heart contracted with nerves at the thought of a new home, and her stomach churned. Nell went pale and silent.
‘I am sure you will love Rosedale,’ Mr McLaughlin assured them. ‘It is a homely, welcoming place.’
Sophie and Jess were watching television after dinner, when the phone rang.
‘I’ll get it, Nonnie,’ yelled Jess, leaping to pick up the phone.
‘Hello? Oh hi, Mum … No, we’re just watching TV. Good, yes we had a lovely day. No, she’s right here. Nonnie, Mum wants to speak to you.’
Nonnie took the phone and chatted briefly, then she lowered her voice. Sophie’s ears pricked up over the background noise of the television.
‘No, she seems a bit better the last couple of days and she’s been eating more, although she still seems pale and withdrawn. I don’t think I should take her to a doctor for another few days as it doesn’t seem to have developed into an illness of any kind … Well, see what you think on the weekend … All right, lovely, see you then. Bye.’
Nonnie held the phone away from her ear and called out.
‘Sophie, your mother would like to speak to you.’
Sophie walked over to take the phone from Nonnie, wondering if she should just tell her mother and Nonnie of her strange nightly visits to the past. No, they would probably think she was crazy and call the doctor straightaway.
‘Hi, Mum,’ Sophie said.
‘Hi, darling,’ answered her mother. ‘How are you feeling? How are the headaches? Dad and I have been worried about you. I thought perhaps I might take you to the doctor when you get home.’
‘No, Mum,’ Sophie replied. ‘Really, I don’t need to go to the doctor. I’m just tired and need a few good nights’ sleep. We’re having a lovely time with Nonnie. How’re Will and Sammy?’
‘Missing you both. Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘Absolutely. Okay, Mum, I have to go. I’m missing the movie.’
‘All right, darling. Enjoy. Love you heaps. Bye.’
It was early evening when Mr McLaughlin turned up a dirt track consisting of two wagon ruts and wending its way into a valley, alongside a small river. Sophie perched up behind the girls on top of Nell’s trunk, where she could see and hear everything.
‘This is the start of our land,’ Mr McLaughlin informed the girls. Tall, graceful gum trees grew along the banks, their trunks silvery and leaves greeny-grey, shivering in the breeze. The valley narrowed as they trotted along, the hills on either side rolling and rounded.
They passed a shepherd on horseback slowly herding his fleecy flock towards the sheep pens for the night. The shepherd waved and tipped his hat. The girls waved back. Sophie waved too, even though she knew the shepherd could not see.
Towards the end of the valley, they saw a cluster of buildings, smoke curling from the chimneys and cheery light spilling from the windows. They crossed the river, which was really not much more than a creek at this end of the valley. Two large dogs bounded from the house, barking a noisy welcome.
‘Rosedale,’ announced Mr McLaughlin, a strong note of pride in his voice. ‘It was nothing but wild bushland when we came here ten years ago, and now it is one of the prettiest farms in the district.’
Sophie was as curious as Charlotte and Nell to see their new home. All three of them felt butterflies fluttering in their bellies as the horses clopped into the yard.
The dogs gr
eeted the horses, licking one on the nose, then jumped up on the side of the wagon. They seemed to sense Sophie and barked loudly at Nell’s trunk, their tails between their legs. Sophie floated up away from the wagon and hovered safely near a tree branch.
‘Nicky and Tiger,’ scolded Mr McLaughlin. ‘Mind your manners.’
Two brown emus startled by the noise stopped pecking for grain and scampered for the scrub, stretching their long skinny legs. The dogs were immediately distracted and gave chase, barking with delight.
The noisy dogs brought a number of people out from the homestead. There was a small woman, with dark hair pinned under a lace cap, dressed in a cotton print dress with a blue shawl around her shoulders.
A boy of about fourteen stood beside her, holding a grey furry bundle in his arms, and there was a taller young man of about sixteen behind him. Charlotte guessed these were Annie, Will and Henry McLaughlin.
From the smaller kitchen building to the left came a number of servants and stockmen, including an older couple and an Aboriginal boy who looked about twelve.
Mr McLaughlin pulled up the team of horses near the gate to the garden. Annie, Will and Henry started forward to meet them. Henry, the elder son, helped the two girls clamber down, their legs stiff after the long drive.
‘Welcome home, Edward dearest,’ cried Annie. ‘It is wonderful to have you safely back with us again.’
‘Hello, Annie, my dear,’ replied Mr McLaughlin. ‘Good evening, Henry and Will. Here are our bonnie Scottish lassies, Charlotte and Nell.’
Annie smiled warmly, embracing the two girls in turn.
‘Charlotte, Nell,’ Annie cried. ‘It is so wonderful to finally meet you. Welcome to our home. These are my sons, Henry and Will, and this is our pet bear, Mala.’
‘How do you do?’ asked Charlotte and Nell shyly, confused by all the strange faces crowding around them.
There were introductions and greetings all around. Mr and Mrs Gregory, the older couple, worked at the homestead and the young Aboriginal boy was introduced as Nathanial, usually known as Pot.
‘When Pot was a tiny boy, he took to wearing a copper pot on his head, like a helmet,’ explained Annie, smiling at Pot. ‘It was one of the first English words he learnt to say, so we called him Pot, and somehow the nickname has stuck. Pot’s parents, Mary and Billy, also work at Rosedale.’
Charlotte and Nell were intrigued by Will’s native bear, which was curled up sleepily in his arms. The bear was plump, with soft grey fur, a big oval black nose and round fluffy ears.
‘Would you like to hold Mala?’ offered Will. ‘She’s quite tame, but careful of her claws, she can give you a nasty scratch if she gets a fright.’
Charlotte and Nell took turns to cuddle the furry grey koala, stroking her gently on the head. Mala snuggled down happily into their arms, closing her eyes. Sophie stroked the koala too, which Mala did not seem to mind at all.
Henry and Will went to unharness, groom and tend the horses, while Annie led Charlotte and Nell to the house, followed by the two golden dogs and Sophie.
‘Leave Mala in the crook of the gum tree here,’ suggested Annie, pointing to the huge eucalypt tree growing beside the house. ‘She sleeps nearly all day, and will not be bothered by the dogs up there.’
The homestead was built from split timber slabs and had a deep verandah on three sides. It had a large, comfortable drawing room with a fireplace, carved cedar furniture, a piano in the corner, sketches on the wall and china knick-knacks on the mantelpiece. Other rooms in the house included the dining room, study and four bedrooms.
Annie showed the girls into one of the bedrooms at the rear of the house. It was a pretty whitewashed room with two single beds covered in pale-green quilts. The window looked out onto the yard behind the house and there was a flowerbed of roses just under the window.
A chest of drawers stood between the beds, with a jug of fresh jonquils atop it scenting the air. There was a washstand and a mirror against the opposite wall.
Sophie went to look in the mirror. It was strange because in the reflection she could see Annie, Charlotte and Nell talking, but as usual she could not see her own reflection at all. It was completely eerie.
‘This will be your room, my dears,’ Annie explained. ‘I hope you will enjoy it. I am so very sorry about your dear mama and papa. I loved your mama like a sister.’
Charlotte blinked rapidly, tears welling up as the familiar grief hit her like a punch. She felt with her fingers for the gold locket that always hung around her neck. Nell swallowed and hung her head.
‘I am so glad your uncle wrote to ask me if you could come and live with me,’ Annie continued. ‘We too have lost dear ones: my little daughters Annie and Rose died with scarlet fever four years ago. They would have been nearly your ages by now.
‘I miss them so much. The grief gets a little easier with time. At first you simply cannot believe it could be true, then you feel so incredibly angry that they have been taken from you. But as time passes you can think of them with love and remember there can still be happiness in life.
‘I hope that, in time, you can discover joy and happiness here with us,’ said Annie, taking one of each of their hands and pressing it gently. ‘Now, Mrs Gregory is bringing you some hot water so you can wash and change for dinner. Come to the dining room when you hear the bell.’
Mrs Gregory arrived then, carrying in a large jug of hot water and a pile of washcloths, followed by Pot carrying the two carpetbags. In a moment, the girls were left alone.
‘You wash first, Nell,’ suggested Charlotte. ‘I will unpack a few things. I hope we have something presentable to wear for dinner. Everything seems so crushed and dusty. I will give everything a good shake.’
Charlotte unpacked her bag, taking out her precious carved wooden box, the book of Robert Burns’ poetry and the portraits of her parents, which she carefully set out on top of the chest of drawers.
‘They all seem so charming,’ Nell said wistfully. ‘Perhaps …’ She paused and took off her gloves and bonnet, leaving the sentence trailing.
‘Annie was Mama’s best friend, so of course Annie and her family will be lovely,’ Charlotte assured her sister. ‘It will just be a little strange at first.’
Nell sighed and started stripping off her dirty travelling dress and petticoats.
Sophie decided to escape into the garden to give the girls some privacy while they washed and changed. She knew the girls did not know she was there, but it did seem like an invasion of privacy to stay in the room while they bathed.
The dinner bell rang. The two girls were now clean and fresh, wearing slightly crushed white dresses and petticoats, their hair combed and tied back. They found their way to the dining room, Sophie hovering behind.
The McLaughlins were already seated, leaving two places for Charlotte and Nell. The table was set with a white damask tablecloth, silver cutlery and pretty china, with a large blue-and-white tureen in the centre.
‘Come and sit down next to me, girls,’ welcomed Mr McLaughlin. ‘I thought I would say a Scottish grace this evening in your honour, from your father’s favourite poet.’
The girls took their seats on either side of Mr McLaughlin, who sat at the head of the table. Annie was at the opposite end, with Will and Henry seated on either side of her. Everyone bowed their heads as Mr McLaughlin said grace over the meal.
‘Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some would eat that want it,
But we hae meat and, we can eat,
Sae the Lord be thankit.’
‘Amen.’
Charlotte smiled to hear the familiar Scottish words.
Annie served the soup out. The boys chattered eagerly, asking questions about the journey and sharing the latest Rosedale news.
‘I hope you like this soup, girls,’ Annie said. ‘I am sure you probably have not tried it before. It is kangaroo tail soup – my husband’s favourite.’
The soup was rich and flavoursome, and the
y ate it hungrily. Mrs Gregory came back and forth from the kitchen to clear away the soup plates and bring in the second course: roast pork with apple sauce, crunchy crackling, mashed potatoes, brown gravy, peas and green salad. Mr McLaughlin carved the meat and shared out the crackling, the boys begging for extra servings.
The meal was absolutely delicious, especially after living on simple camp meals of damper and salt beef for a week. Charlotte and Nell sat quietly, enjoying the food and letting the conversation wash over them, learning much about the family as they listened.
Sophie longed to enjoy the feast – it looked so good – but when she ventured to steal a tiny morsel of crackling, it tasted of nothing, even though she could smell it quite clearly. There seemed no point eating food that was tasteless.
Mrs Gregory cleared away the dirty plates and brought in the dessert, a huge peach pie with a jug of thick yellow cream, followed by cups of milky tea. Charlotte had thought she could not eat another morsel, but found herself enjoying every crumb of the pie. At last she could not eat another thing and sipped appreciatively on her tea.
‘Now enough of your chatter, boys,’ reproved Annie. ‘I want to hear about the girls’ journey. How was the voyage out on the ship? Were you very ill?’
Charlotte told the story of the great storm in the Irish Sea and how Nell had nearly died with the fever afterwards.
She told stories about crossing the equator and watching the fun as a sailor dressed as King Neptune took over the ship, held a mock court and sentenced many of the passengers and crew to a dunking in water to celebrate their first crossing of the equator. Nell gradually added in reminiscences of her own.
Henry and Will listened with great interest, as Henry had been too young to remember the journey and Will was born in Australia.
‘What an adventure,’ exclaimed Will. ‘I wish I could make the journey back to Scotland.’
After dinner, the family retired to the drawing room to sit in front of the fire. Mr McLaughlin read a book, Henry and Will played chess, Annie sat with her needlework and the girls fetched some of their stockings to mend.
The Locket of Dreams Page 16