“In town?”
“No, our parents have farms. They’re small, though, nothin’ like Bungaree. With us gone, they appreciate the extra space, ‘cos between our families there are seventeen children. That’s why we work instead of going to school. Our families need the extra money. Where did you come from?”
“Burra,” Abbey said, not wanting to mention the dugouts. “My father was a miner, but he was recently killed in a mining accident.” She wanted to add that it could have been avoided, but she dared not. It was all she could do to hold back a flood of tears.
“Oh, that’s sad. Why haven’t you got any luggage?” Elsa asked inquisitively.
Abbey quickly thought about what she could tell the servant girl. The truth wasn’t an option. “I didn’t know I’d be coming here, so I didn’t pack any clothes. I’ll go back and get them when I have an opportunity.” She knew they’d be stolen from the dugout over the next day or so, so that wouldn’t be necessary. It made her sad to think that nothing of her father’s would be left, either, but she couldn’t risk going back to get his things. It suddenly occurred to her that Vera Nichols might collect them for her, if she was lucky.
“I’d better get back to work,” Elsa said.
“What shall I do?” Abbey asked.
“I suppose you had better find Mrs. Hawker and keep her company,” Elsa said. “That is your job.”
“What’s Mrs. Hawker like, Elsa?”
Elsa hesitated, obviously not sure what to say.
“I won’t repeat what you tell me. I just want to know what to expect,” Abbey said.
“Don’t be expectin’ an easy time of it,” Elsa said and turned for the door.
Abbey felt nervous again, but she followed Elsa downstairs.
CHAPTER 6
Abbey searched the downstairs rooms of the house, looking for Sybil. She found her in the sitting room, looking intimidating with her arms crossed and her posture erect.
“There you are, Mrs. Hawker,” Abbey said from the doorway, injecting feigned cheerfulness into her tone.
Sybil Hawker was sitting in a wing-backed, floral-patterned chair on the far side of the room near the window. “What do you want?” she snapped with barely a glance in her direction.
Abbey’s heart was racing as she tried to think of something to say. “I’ve been shown my room, and it’s very nice.” She faltered, angry with herself for not coming up with anything more interesting. She wanted to blurt out that she’d never had her own room, but held back.
Sybil turned her head towards the window, tight-lipped.
A full minute passed in awkward silence.
“I heard you shouting at the cook,” Abbey said.
There was no reply.
Abbey thought about what Jack had said about doing her best to keep his mother engaged. “Your son said the cook is fasting today, but I don’t understand why he won’t cook for you.”
“Hindus fast certain days of the week, based on their beliefs,” Sybil said with obvious impatience.
“But it’s his job to cook, isn’t it? Whether he eats or not.”
Sybil turned to glare at Abbey. “Sabu is a very complex person and a valued member of the household. I advise you not to start dictating his duties to him.”
“I wasn’t going to do that. It’s not my place,” Abbey said quickly. “I was just trying to understand why he’s refusing to cook.”
“It’s Navaratiri a Hindustani holy day. You wouldn’t understand, and I don’t want to discuss it,” Sybil snapped, irritated further. She turned away dismissively and gazed through the window at the front garden.
“All right,” Abbey said. Discussing Sabu’s religious beliefs wasn’t a high priority for her, anyway. “But I imagine your son will want dinner after working hard, so why don’t you cook?” It was a helpful suggestion, or so Abbey thought.
Sybil took it as a criticism. Her head snapped around, and she blinked in surprise. “Me? Cook? I haven’t cooked since” She seemed to think about it. “Since Jack and his brothers were little. Even then I wasn’t good at it. My late husband was a better cook than I was. Artistic people don’t have an aptitude for menial tasks.” That was something she had pointed out to Gerald many times when he had come home expecting her to have prepared a meal and cleaned the house. Eventually he had given up and hired help.
Abbey was astonished by this statement. She believed it was nonsense, but thought better of saying so. “Is there anything you’d like me to do for you?” she asked.
“I don’t care what you do, as long as it’s not around me,” Sybil snapped. “And don’t think about stealing any valuables from the house because I’ll be keeping an eye on you and my jewellery.”
Abbey flinched as if she’d been struck. Did Sybil Hawker really believe she was a thief? She desperately fought the urge to cry again, but hot tears pricked her eyes, so she turned away from the doorway, determined that the woman wouldn’t see that she had hurt her. After taking a few steps down the hallway, she stopped and leaned on the wall, suddenly overwhelmed with grief. She missed her father and Neal so much that she felt physical pain in her chest. She could easily have sunk to the floor and cried her heart out, but struggled to hold her emotions in check. “I won’t let her get to me, Father,” she whispered. “I won’t.”
When she had herself under control, she walked through the silent house. She was about to pass the kitchen doorway, but stopped. There was no one in the kitchen, so she took a moment to glance around. The kitchen had a large window that overlooked the back garden. She could see Elsa near the washing line, talking animatedly to another girl, presumably Marie. She suspected they were discussing her, the new employee. A grassy area surrounded the washing line, and she could see several kennels along the side fence. Along the back of the garden stood the walls of three other small buildings. Two had doorways that opened into the garden, while the third building faced the other way so its back wall faced the garden, offering a shady area on a sunny afternoon.
Turning her attention back to the kitchen, Abbey thought it was large, but rather cluttered. There was quite a variety of different skillets and pots hanging from hooks over a counter. There were also jars of strange-looking condiments on shelves, items Abbey had never seen before. She thought about the last three years and how she’d battled to cook a meal for her father over an open fire in the dugout with only one pot and one pan. To cook in such a roomy kitchen, with so many pots and utensils, would be a luxury, indeed.
Suddenly it occurred to Abbey that she could cook dinner. Jack deserved a good meal when he came home, and surely it would please him. Besides, Sybil didn’t want her company, and she’d rather be useful than bored.
Abbey had a look in the larder. There were a lot of foreign ingredients in there, too, most she didn’t recognisepowders and pastes and strange-looking roots and dry leaves. But there was a large ham and plenty of fresh vegetables and eggs. She also found butter, cream, bread, and cheese. She could easily put a tasty dinner together with these ingredients.
Abbey washed her hands and then set about peeling and chopping some vegetables and slicing the ham. She was still busy when Elsa and Marie came in.
“What are you doin’, Abbey?” Elsa asked, alarmed and bewildered to find her in the kitchen preparing food.
“I’m preparing dinner, but I’m not sure how many to cook for.”
“You can’t use Sabu’s things,” Marie said, aghast. She was a thin, freckle-faced girl with tight, curly ginger hair. She appeared to be at least a couple of years older than Elsa. “I’m Marie, by the way,” she added.
“Yes, I thought so,” Abbey said. “My name is Abbey Scottsdale. Call me Abbey. As for Sabu’s things, I hadn’t planned to use his spices, but the utensils and produce belong to Bungaree, don’t they?”
“Yes, everythin’ is from the store on Bungaree,” Elsa said
very cautiously. “But you don’t understand, Abbey. Sabu has a temper that would frighten the Devil himself, and he gets very angry if we so much as put a cup out of place in the kitchen. He’ll have a blue fit if he sees you in here cookin’.”
It was obvious Elsa feared the cook, but Abbey suspected the cook may have given her cause. “I don’t see why. Where is Sabu, anyway?”
“He’s meditating in the hay barn,” Marie offered. “But don’t think about disturbing him. He wouldn’t tolerate that.”
“Why are you both so afraid of him? He’s only a servant. Anyone would think he was the master around here.”
The girls looked at Abbey as if that notion had never occurred to them.
“He may not be master of the house, but he’s certainly made it clear he’s master of the kitchen,” Marie said.
“Will he be returning soon?” Abbey asked, doubts invading her mind about whether cooking dinner had been such a good idea. If he came in, she’d do him the courtesy of explaining what she was doing, but she didn’t believe she needed to seek his permission to cook, surely.
The servant girls glanced at each other and then shrugged.
Abbey took it that they didn’t know. “Mr. Hawker should be given a good meal after working so hard all day,” she said, continuing to chop the vegetables. “If Sabu won’t make dinner, then I can. I’ve nothing else to do since Mrs. Hawker is in an ill temper.” She looked at the girls again. “You didn’t say how many there are for dinner.”
Marie spoke up. “When Sabu is fasting, he only eats fruit. So that means there’ll be five,” she said. “That’s counting you. We usually eat in the kitchen, depending on what kind of state Sabu is in. If he’s irritable, we usually take our meal to our rooms. Mr. Hawker and his mother eat in the dining room. I’m not sure where Mr. Hawker expects you to eat.”
“I’ll eat in the kitchen, of course,” Abbey said. There was a large table surrounded by six chairs. After eating on the dugout floor, the kitchen table was going to be a luxury. “Could one of you light the oven for me?” She was nervous about using the large oven, but intended to watch how it was done, so she could do it next time.
There was a basket by the stove containing wood and kindling, but when Elsa opened the tinderbox under the oven, it had already been laid with wood, ready to be lit. The servant girl put a match to it and closed the door.
“What are you making?” Marie asked inquisitively.
“Sliced ham with a white sauce and some roasted vegetables.”
“That sounds nice,” Elsa said. “Sabu’s cookin’ is very spicy, and it doesn’t always agree with my stomach.” She glanced around as if she were nervous that he might overhear her comment.
“We’ve got to prepare the sheep-dogs’ food,” Marie said to Elsa.
“Oh,” Abbey said. “I won’t be in the way, will I?”
Elsa looked astonished. “Sabu makes us do it in the laundry across the garden,” she said.
“What?” Abbey was surprised.
“We chop up lots of raw meat, so it’s a bit messy,” Marie said. “When Sabu is fasting, he doesn’t even like to see meat.”
“He isn’t here, so you can do it in the sink,” Abbey suggested.
“No, we better do it outside,” Elsa said. She took a sharp knife and apron from the kitchen, and Marie did the same, and then the girls left Abbey alone.
After Abbey put the vegetables in the oven to bake, she went out into the back garden to have a look around. She could hear the girls talking through the open doorway of the laundry, so she went to see how they were doing. They were cutting fresh meat off the bones of a lamb haunch and distributing it between three dog bowls. Flies were buzzing around, and both girls had blood smeared on the aprons they were wearing.
Now Abbey understood why it was a job best done in the laundry. “When will the dogs be back?” she asked. She’d always loved dogs, but had never had one of her own.
“Any minute now,” Marie said. “Elias brings them back here once they’ve finished work for the day. They start at daybreak, so they’re always very hungry by 4:00.”
She’d no sooner said the words than the back gate opened, and Elias called the dogs into the yard. They came into the garden quietly enough, but when Elias shut the gate behind them and went back to his horse, they dashed for the laundry and began circling Elsa and Marie excitedly.
“All right, stay down,” Elsa said, carrying two bowls outside. Marie followed with one more.
“Sit,” Marie said, and two of the dogs, Rex and Jasper, obeyed immediately. They were black and white Border Collies. The third dog, Max, was a mixed breed. His coat was jet black, apart from a streak of white on the tip of his tail. One of his ears drooped down and was scarred as if he’d been in a fight, and he had a long, lolling tongue that hung from the side of his mouth. He was the largest of the dogs and continued to circle Marie, almost pushing her over to get his dinner.
“Sit, Max,” Elsa said in a sterner voice, “or you won’t get your food.” Reluctantly, the dog obeyed. After Elsa and Marie put their bowls down, the dogs leapt forward and began eating. In less than a minute, their dishes were being licked clean. They then headed for the water buckets and had a good drink.
“They are beautiful dogs,” Abbey said. Rex and Jasper came up to her, sniffing her with their tails wagging, but Max stayed back, regarding her suspiciously.
“They’re amazing to watch when they’re rounding up the sheep,” Elsa said. Pretty soon Rex and Jasper were lying down in the shade, enjoying a well-deserved rest, but not Max. He’d gone into the laundry looking for scraps, and Marie went after him to chase him out.
“Is Max still hungry?” Abbey asked.
“He’s always hungry,” Elsa said, “and he’d steal food if given the opportunity. He can even open the back door if he has a mind to, so be careful about what’s left out in the kitchen. He’s scared of Sabu, though, because he’s chased him with a broom more than once.”
“Max sounds mischievous,” Abbey said, now understanding why he was wary. To her amazement, however, he came close and sniffed her, so she stroked his head. She liked him, but he still seemed mistrustful of her. Abbey had the feeling he didn’t give his affection as easily as the other dogs.
“I think Max is Mr. Hawker’s favourite,” Elsa said. “He mightn’t look as pretty as the other two, but he’s an excellent working dog.”
Abbey wasn’t surprised. Jack had taken pity on her when she must have looked like a bedraggled puppy. She flushed just thinking about what a state she’d been in when he picked her up off the ground in Clare.
***
An hour later, Abbey was dishing up the meal. The white sauce had turned out creamy, and the vegetables had baked to perfection. She was very pleased with herself. All she needed now was for Jack to come home. A few moments later she heard the backdoor open and assumed it was him. But when she found herself confronted by an angry stranger, she knew without any introduction that he was Sabu.
Abbey had been expecting a large, intimidating man, so she was very surprised that the Hindustani cook was a small man of slight frame, at least three inches shorter than Abbey, completely bald, with slightly pointy ears. He was wearing a white smock-style shirt and baggy white trousers. Even his shoes were white. Abbey looked him over and decided he didn’t look very frightening, but he took one look at her and the plates of food on the counter, and he started yelling.
“Who are you, and what are you doing in my kitchen?” he demanded loudly, the expression on his olive complexion turning apoplectic. “How dare you touch my things? Get out, now!”
“I haven’t touched your things,” Abbey said. Her heart was racing as the Indian man came towards her, but she stood her ground. She had the feeling that the way in which she reacted to him now was going to set a precedent.
“This is my kitchen,” Sabu
yelled, banging his fist so furiously on the counter where the plates of food were laid that the dishes jumped. Elsa and Marie had been setting the kitchen and dining tables, but they quickly backed into the hallway, leaving Abbey to face the cook’s wrath alone.
Abbey took a deep breath and then continued spooning white sauce over the ham, which she’d warmed in the oven. Ignoring Sabu, she called the servant girls to take their meals before they got cold, but they were hesitant to come out of hiding in the hallway. Abbey intended to keep Jack and his mother’s meals warm in the oven.
“Do you hear me?” Sabu yelled, infuriated that she was disregarding him.
“I’m sure they can hear you in Clare,” Abbey said in an even tone. She was determined to show no fear, even though she was trembling.
Sybil appeared at the kitchen door. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“This person,” Sabu said in a derogatory tone while gesturing insolently in Abbey’s direction, “is invading my kitchen. And it’s Navratri, and she’s serving meat.” His eyes were wide in horror. He picked up a fork and stabbed the ham on one of the plates. “Did you tell her to do this?” he asked, waving the piece of ham in the air, while the white sauce dripped to the floor.
“No, of course not. Abbey is a new staff member,” Sybil said in a tone that conveyed she wasn’t pleased about it. She glared at Abbey. “What do you think you are doing, Abbey?”
“Preparing dinner,” Abbey said, snatching the fork from Sabu and putting the meat back on the plate. “You have to eat, Mrs. Hawker, and so does your son.” She glared at the cook, silently daring him to try and touch the food again.
“You should have asked if you could use the kitchen. You can’t just do as you wish here,” Sybil said.
At that moment, Jack came in the door. “What is all the yelling about?” he asked. He glanced at the meals on the counter, and then at Abbey, who was wearing one of Sabu’s aprons. “Did you prepare this food?” he asked her.
Sabu folded his arms and glared at Abbey, confident that Jack was going to scold her.
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