Kitto helps Harry drag Jacob over the edge of the well.
‘Whoa, Bobbie,’ I say. He stands still and nibbles a few blades of grass under the tree. I run back to the well and we turn Jacob over while Kitto watches, his face pale with horror.
Harry’s right. ‘He’s not awake, is he?’ Kitto’s whisper is so uncharacteristic, it’s scary.
I look at Harry. ‘They gave us lifesaving lessons on the steamship in case we sank. We have to make Jacob breathe.’
‘How?’
‘We can bang him on his back and move his arms up and down. If that doesn’t work we can blow in his nose or mouth. Force him to breathe.’
‘Do the mouth thing then.’ Harry moves over so I can get closer.
I breathe into Jacob’s mouth and try to forget this is my horrible cousin who’s mean to me. I stop and check if he’s breathing yet.
‘Keep doing it,’ Harry cries.
‘Don’t ever tell him I did this,’ I say when I stop for air.
‘Why?’ Kitto asks.
‘He might hate me more.’
Harry doesn’t say a word; he’s watching Jacob’s face as I breathe into his mouth. Then he claps a hand on my shoulder. ‘His eyes flickered,’ he says quickly. ‘He’s coming to!’
I watch Jacob. Sure enough, he takes a sudden breath on his own. Then he coughs.
‘Did the well cave in?’ he asks when he can talk.
‘Yes,’ Harry says, ‘but not all of it.’
Jacob sits up and spits. ‘I feel like I’m full of sawdust.’
‘I thought you were a goner.’ Harry’s voice wobbles and I blink back tears.
‘Me? You’ve gotta be kidding.’ Jacob peers over the well’s edge. ‘We’ll put planks down, use stone and cement. We’ll go down again and shore up the walls along the way.’
He has no idea how close he was to being buried alive.
‘What’s wrong with you lot?’ he snaps. ‘This is just a little setback.’
Harry grins at me through his tears and I’ve never been so glad to hear Jacob’s bossy voice.
‘We’ll build a windlass so the bucket goes down the centre.’ Jacob tries to stand, but flops on the ground with a curse.
‘Good idea,’ Harry says to cover Jacob’s embarrassment.
And I say, ‘It’s lunchtime.’ I take Kitto into the kitchen to help, but I can’t stop my legs from shaking.
12
Da is the first to try the water the boys find. We all watch. The boys’ faces are caked with mud, even Kitto’s, though I’m sure he’s not been down the well. Da rinses his mouth with the water, holds it a second then spits it out with a shout. ‘It’s salt.’
Harry and Jacob both groan.
‘It’s not so salty the animals won’t drink it. And the garden will put up with it.’ He says this with a wink at me.
‘We can bathe in it,’ Elowen cries. ‘It will be like the seaside.’
‘It’s a dud,’ Jacob mumbles.
‘At least you don’t have to cart water so often,’ I say, but he doesn’t answer.
Da says when they’ve finished clearing more land they’ll put down a bore and erect a windmill.
The digging of the well caused some excitement, but Mam hasn’t let up on lessons for Kitto and Elowen: an hour in the morning and an hour after dinner. I have to do all mine after dinner when Mam works on the sewing machine by the light of the kerosene lamp. Right now she’s making long pants for Kitto. Mam’s written sums for Kitto about wells and how deep and how much dirt has to be dug out to fill it up with water. Harry helps Kitto with those. Mam usually sets me topics to write about, recipes to copy out. Often I make things with Elowen like matchbox furniture or help her write a letter to Mary Jane or Nanny.
Today Mam watches me make a clock from a matchbox and a brass fastener for Elowen so she can learn to tell the time. Elowen colours the clock face pink, with blue eyes, and she sticks bits of wool on for hair.
Mam says, ‘So ‘ee would like to be visiting Valmai?’
I stare at her in shock.
‘Do ‘ee think I’ve been making ‘ee work too hard? When I were eleven I were cooking all the meals.’
I find my voice at last. ‘I’m sorry I shouted, but I did feel I had too much to do. I just wanted time for some different things.’ I’m thinking of Winnie as well as Valmai. I’ve got tears in my eyes, for I don’t remember Mam ever talking to me as if I was as old as Wenna.
‘I’ll see what I can do. When ‘ee’ve finished the clock why don’t ‘ee draw and write in the scrap album?’
I’ve just drawn the well. It’s almost like a Cornish well, and Elowen wants to colour it in. Under Da’s supervision Harry’s had a go at stonework. He’s built the side of the well over two feet high so Elowen doesn’t fall in. This well is special, and only Harry, Kitto and I know why. Having a secret makes Kitto and me closer.
I write under the drawing:
We have a well but the water is a little salty and only the animals will drink it, though we can have baths and wash clothes in it. Mam, Elowen and I have a bath outside on Saturday afternoon while the men and boys are still working. We boil water in the copper and use the tin bath under the pine trees. We wash our hair ready for Sunday, even though we have nowhere to go. The men have their baths when they return. While they bathe we sit in our canvas house and sew or I draw. Elowen is hemming tea towels. Mam’s teaching me to use the sewing machine. I’m making pillow covers, but it’s more fun drawing and pasting pictures.
Next day after lunch Elowen and I have brushed Bobbie and Queenie and are coming back to the canvas house. Elowen’s happy because she’s learnt to do the polka, skipping twice on each leg. All of a sudden she stops, just as if she’s seen a penny.
‘Look, Krenza!’
There’s a canvas-covered wagon and two horses parked by our home.
‘That’s the wagon we saw at Swan Reach. C’mon.’
The horses snort as we approach and twist their heads to look at us. They seem friendly.
‘This one’s nice like Bobbie.’ Elowen scratches his cheek. ‘I wish we could have a ride in the wagon. It looks like a house from a fairy tale.’
Close up it looks like the gypsy wagons back home. Nanny always told us not to go near the gypsies in case they stole children. It’s as if Elowen remembers this too, and she steps away from the horses just as a man jumps down from the back of the wagon. He has bolts of cloth in his arms.
‘Ah,’ he exclaims. ‘The daughters of the house.’
Mam emerges from the kitchen. ‘Let me be seeing.’ She peers at the cloth as he lays it on a sheet at the back of the wagon. Elowen crowds in close. ‘I like the pink one, Mam.’
I can’t take my eyes from the man. He keeps his gaze averted from Mam but he grins at Elowen and me. Only in books have I seen a man in a turban with a long shirt over his trousers.
He bows his head to me. ‘Ribbon Singh at your service, missahiba.’
I look at the ground, ashamed. I’ve been staring.
‘Can I have a new ribbon, please, Mam? I put my old one on my hanky doll.’ Elowen’s seen into the wagon. There are rows of shelves with wooden boxes. A ribbon dangles out of one. I move closer.
‘Mr Singh,’ I say, ‘do you have scrap albums?’ Mine will be filled soon.
‘No, miss, but I bringing you one.’ He tips his head from side to side in such a fascinating way that I’m staring at him again. He has a sing-song quality to his voice that reminds me of my granda. He gives Mam a newspaper with the cloth she chooses.
‘Kerenza,’ Mam says, ‘take Mr Singh to the paddock now. Da needs a new belt and ‘tis best he be trying it for size. Then he can be paying for the cloth, and yes, a new ribbon for ‘ee, Elowen. Hurry and choose one.’
‘Can I go too?’ Elowen cries. ‘I want a ride on the wagon.’
‘Yes, off ‘ee go.’
The men enjoy stopping work while Da tries on a belt. Da has the money in his pocket and gives M
r Singh two shillings.
‘I’m driving to the Nietschke house,’ Ribbon Singh says. ‘Is there anything I can taking, a letter?’
Da scratches his chin and glances at me. ‘Actually, can you take Kerenza? Her mam would like her to visit.’
The first thing I think of is that I’ll meet Valmai at last. Then I think that Mam must have told Da. It makes me feel warm to my toes. Da says, ‘I’ll fetch you when we knock off.’ He’s starting to use words like Uncle Malachi.
Ribbon Singh looks uncertain until Uncle Malachi says, ‘Harry, you go too.’
Jacob scowls as Harry and I sit with Ribbon Singh, who takes up the reins, happy again.
‘I want to go.’ Elowen pouts and it is the loudest I’ve heard her ask for anything. Da looks amused as he throws her up to us. Harry puts her on his knee and holds her around her middle. ‘No falling off, now. That would spoil our outing.’
I laugh. Harry makes it sound like we’re royalty having a picnic in the park, and Elowen looks as smug as if she’s eaten a bowl of custard without Mam knowing. Mam. I remember that she won’t know where we are. ‘I’ll have to milk Gertrude,’ I call to Da.
He gives a wave. ‘Your mam won’t mind doing it in the afternoon.’
‘What’re your horses’ names?’ Elowen asks as Ribbon Singh guides the wagon on to the track to Hampton Well.
‘Raja and Rani. They are king and queen among horses.’
Elowen giggles. ‘We have a horse called Queenie too.’
‘Where does your family live?’ I ask.
‘They living in Lahore, in India. I was not allowed to bring them. But I save my money and when I returning I buying a house and marrying my daughters to nice young men.’
I glance at Harry; he raises his eyebrows at me.
‘Ribbon isn’t your real name, is it?’ I say into the awkward silence.
‘Nay. A nickname only.’
‘What’s your real name?’
‘It is too difficult for your English tongue – that is why they giving me a nickname.’
‘Try me,’ I say.
‘Ravinda.’
‘That’s not hard to say.’
Harry repeats it. ‘Ravinda, see?’
Ribbon Singh shrugs. ‘It was difficult for people not wanting to say strange names. Some people thinking a foreign name on their lips will change them.’
‘Are people frightened of a name?’ Elowen asks.
He inclines his head as if agreeing. ‘I don’t mind if they not saying my name but I like them to understand my ways, how important is my family.’
I nod. My family is important too, and I know what it’s like to leave someone behind.
‘I’m glad you came,’ Elowen pipes up. ‘Your wagon is like a shop on wheels. I haven’t seen a shop since we came to the Mallee.’
‘You wait,’ he says. ‘In some years there’ll be the railway, school and roads. I seeing it before – new districts have shops, cricket pitches also.’
‘So those people don’t need you to come?’ I ask.
He tips his head to the side. ‘People too busy for going to shops. But I selling to shops now also.’
‘I do hope you can bring a scrap album when you come again.’
He inclines his head and I know it means yes.
‘Thank you.’
He flashes me a smile. ‘My wish is to please, missahiba.’
I think about how good it will be to meet Valmai. She can visit me too and we’ll play with Winnie.
13
The Nietschkes have a stone house, not much bigger than our canvas house, but it won’t blow away and it must be warm at nights.
After Ribbon Singh leaves, Mrs Nietschke gives us a cup of tea in the kitchen and some German cake. Elowen is in heaven; she has crumbs around her mouth and down her pinny. ‘Where is Valmai today?’ I ask.
Mrs Nietschke stares at me, her brows furrowed. ‘Valmai?’ she asks as if she’s never heard of her before and I catch my breath, nervous of what she will say.
‘Mein Gott. She is in boarding school in Adelaide, Liebling. Didn’t I tell you?’
I shake my head, appalled, tears tingling behind my eyes. All this time, wishing and hoping, and she was never even here.
Mrs Nietschke shows us her parlour. She doesn’t mind that Harry is still in his work clothes. The first thing I notice is the piano. If we were in Cornwall I’d still be having lessons with Nanny.
‘Valmai plays – do you?’ Mrs Nietschke asks me.
‘She’s good.’ Elowen answers for me.
Mrs Nietschke invites me to sit at the piano. She places an opened music book on the stand and fortunately the song is easy enough to play. It’s called ‘Autumn Leaves’, and I sing it as well.
They clap when I finish. I turn and see a curious look on Harry’s face.
Mrs Nietschke says, ‘You have a lovely voice, Liebling. Which singer do you like?’
Elowen and I answer at once, ‘Fanny Moody.’
‘I’ve not heard of her.’
‘She’s Cornish,’ I say, ‘but she sings in London too.’
‘I have someone here you will like, ya?’
Mrs Nietschke searches in a cupboard and pulls out a black disc record. She takes it from its paper envelope and blows on it. ‘Dust, always dust,’ she murmurs. ‘This was recorded in 1904. She is one of the first great singers to make recordings.’
I’m in awe, for I’ve seen the phonograph on top of a sideboard. She winds the mechanism and carefully sets the stylus on the disc record. From the first notes I am transported to a hilly green field with white horses and huge white swans reaching for me and flying me across the mountains.
‘Kerenza?’ Mrs Nietschke is staring at me and I realise the song has finished.
‘Who – who is that?’
‘Nellie Melba, Liebling. She is Australia’s most famous singer.’
Oh, to sing like her.
‘Do you collect postcards, Liebling?’
Elowen answers again. ‘Does she ever.’
Mrs Nietschke hands me one. ‘You may have this.’ Harry looks at me as if he’s never seen me before. I’m glad Jacob didn’t come. He would tease me for sure.
‘I told Valmai about you in a letter and she wrote that I must let you borrow her favourite book, Seven Little Australians.’ She hands it to me and I carefully place the postcard between the pages.
‘Thank you.’ It’s such a small thing to say when I’m swelling inside with so many feelings.
‘Now why don’t you play the piano while I take Harry and Elowen to the barn to see the piglets?’
When they’ve gone I rest my head on the keys and let the sobs come. I haven’t realised how much I’ve missed Nanny’s piano. Sunday nights we always sang together. I wanted to be able to play like her, but how can I now? There’s no school, just work, and now no Valmai. There’s Winnie though, and I sit up. I play the next song. But that makes me cry too.
When Da comes to fetch us with Bobbie and the dray, he brings a bottle of milk for Mrs Nietschke and one of Mam’s cakes. We climb up on the seat with him.
‘Thank you for letting the children visit,’ she says to Da. ‘It is nice when I miss Valmai so much.’
She hands him some mail. ‘There will be a school opened soon at Pyap West.’ She glances at me. ‘Now Kerenza is here, perhaps we will bring Valmai home.’
Da thanks her and whistles to Bobbie. I feel a little flutter in my middle. Perhaps I will be able to go to school and meet Valmai after all.
‘A school!’ Elowen shrieks once we’re out of earshot. ‘I want to go to school.’
‘So you don’t like lessons with me?’ I ask.
‘Yes, but I’ve always wanted to go to a real school.’
Harry and I laugh. ‘Will you go? I ask him.
His eyes shine. ‘I’d like to, especially since there’s no way I can be sent to Adelaide at the moment.’
‘You won’t be a farmer then, like Jacob?’
His eyes cloud over. ‘Perhaps not. Anyway, it mightn’t be best to get our hopes up – Pyap West isn’t close.’
Da doesn’t join in on our conversation and I wonder what Mam will say.
Later at the campfire Jacob says something truly horrifying. ‘When I was trapping this morning I saw a wild dog.’
He sees me staring at him. ‘No need to be scared, sissie. I’ll shoot it so it won’t bother the chooks.’
‘There weren’t so many eggs this morning,’ Kitto says. ‘Maybe the dog’s eating them.’
Rouge wouldn’t do that, surely.
‘There’s been talk of a swaggie around these parts,’ Uncle Malachi says.
Mam glances at me. ‘‘Ee be careful walking to the paddock.’
I just nod, and stare at Jacob. He shoots? I’ll have to warn Winnie.
Mam picks up the newspaper after we’ve eaten our rabbit stew. Harry and Jacob even skin the rabbits they catch to sell the pelts. Harry’s going to buy books – he wants the paper after Mam’s finished to find an address to write for a book to be sent. I see the hunger in his eyes as he watches Mam read aloud. ‘John Verran, the premier, says there’s going to be compulsory military training.’
‘I hope we don’t have another war like the Boer war,’ Da says.
Mam turns a page. ‘They’re building a ship in England that will never sink.’
Uncle Malachi scoffs. ‘Any ship with a hole in its bottom will sink.’
Kitto giggles and I squint at him.
‘Not the way they’ve made this one, apparently.’ Mam’s lips are tight and Uncle Malachi doesn’t say more about ships or bottoms. She scrutinises the print by the light of the fire. ‘They’re calling it Titanic because it will be invincible.’
‘Only God is invincible,’ Uncle Malachi mutters.
We’re silent while I wonder if this is a good time to broach the subject of school. I catch Harry’s eye and mouth the word ‘school’ at him. He nods.
‘Mrs Nietschke says a school will open in Pyap West,’ I say.
‘That’s nine miles away.’ Uncle Malachi says it as if that’s the end of the conversation.
Kerenza: A New Australian Page 6