“It is quite different,” he said. “When I was last here the narrow streets were quite dangerous because of the pigs, dogs and goats which would be getting under your feet. The buildings were shacks. Now the streets have been made wider and the buildings …”
“Well, it was rather a long time ago,” said my mother.
“Yes. I heard that Macquarie had worked wonders.”
I said: “It must be an extraordinary experience … coming back after all these years.”
He nodded. “It brings it all back. I can see myself standing on deck with the rest of us, half blinded by the brilliant light after weeks shut up in the hold, waiting to be selected by those who would be our masters for the next seven years. But that is all in the past. Here I am with my family, and soon I shall be seeing the property I managed to acquire in spite of my degrading arrival.”
“You should be proud,” said my mother. “How many could do what you did?”
“Quite a number, I assure you. Just look at this city. It might be an English provincial town. It shows what can be done with energy, determination and convict labour. Look at those warehouses. Some of them are quite imposing. I would never have believed it.”
We had arrived at the Grand Hotel which though it did not quite live up to its name was comfortable. There were red felt curtains everywhere held back by brass chains. They added a cheerful colour to the surroundings.
We were regarded with some curiosity by the people in the foyer of the hotel, but I expect they were accustomed to arrivals from England for I learned later how many people, like the Prevosts, were coming out attracted by the cheapness of the land and the labour of convicts which meant that they could start to build a fortune without a big initial outlay.
My father had arranged for the bulk of our baggage to remain at the docks until it could be sent straight to the property.
And so we had arrived in Australia.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1985 by Philippa Carr
cover design by Jason Gabbert
978-1-4804-0378-9
This edition published in 2013 by Open Road Integrated Media
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