‘Tell me, then.’
I take a deep breath. ‘I have a friend, and she has a dog with pups. She stays with her dad.’
‘They camp in the scrub?’
I let go of Bobbie. ‘Yes, but I couldn’t find them. What if the fire –’
‘No.’ Harry comes closer. ‘They’d know we were burning off. And move.’
‘You’re not shocked?’
‘I’ve heard about swaggies camping.’
‘Do you think Da and Uncle will mind?’
Harry’s quiet a while. ‘We’ll keep it between you and me for now. But if something bad happens we’ll have to tell. Agree?’
‘All right. Elowen knows too.’
Harry nods. ‘So that’s what she meant when we couldn’t find you. She said you were looking for a dog.’ He pauses. ‘Jacob heard her.’
I wash my face in the trough and we walk to the campfire to have dinner with the others. I’m expecting to be told off, but Uncle Malachi keeps his face averted as if it’s an effort not to reprimand me and Da just tells me not to run off again. Mam actually hugs me. She hardly ever does that, and I sink into her middle and lay my head on her chest. It makes me cry again but only Mam knows.
Mam and I bring out the rabbit stew together. The men and boys have already bathed the soot off and are ravenous. They don’t say a word until they’ve finished their first plateful. But I’m watching Mam. There is something different about her.
That evening we take a lantern and walk over to see the smouldering coals in the paddock. It’s like stars have dropped from the sky and are sparkling on the ground. ‘That should fix those mallee stumps,’ Uncle Malachi says.
‘‘Tis like a midsummer bonfire.’ Mam sounds wistful, and it makes me remember it’s summer in Cornwall.
‘Let’s pretend it is,’ Elowen says, and Kitto runs for Da’s accordion.
Harry sets up narrow mallee trunks on stumps so there are benches to sit on.
Da plays a Cornish jig and Elowen dances the steps from the Maypole dance as if she’s holding a Maypole ribbon. When Elowen’s finished Kitto tells us a riddle. ‘What is higher than a house and looks smaller than a mouse?’ He watches us expectantly.
Da glances at Elowen. ‘What do you think, Elowen?’
‘An ant up a tree? That’s higher than a house.’
Kitto laughs. ‘No silly, a star in the sky.’
Elowen looks crestfallen, so we sing a song and Mam asks for ‘The White Rose’. I watch Da playing, smiling with his eyes closed. We finish up with ‘Trelawny’. It’s like a national anthem – everyone knows the words, and even Jacob sings along. ‘With one and all and hand in hand and who shall bid us nay?’ And it’s like Da and I both think the same thing as the song finishes.
‘Why don’t we call this place Trelawny, Da?’
He smiles at me. ‘That be a good name, Keren. Jonathan Trelawny was an important part of our history.’
Mam takes Elowen back to bed and I turn to Da. ‘Could I learn to play your accordion?’
‘Sure. Just take it out of its box when the jobs are done and put it back afterwards.’
‘But how will I learn?’
Da kisses the top of my head. ‘You’ll work it out. Just press the buttons at the same time you play the notes. You’ll hear which ones sound better.’
‘Didn’t you have lessons?’
‘Me? No time for lessons. Just picked it up.’
I suppose that’s the way Da learned everything.
Right then is the moment Uncle Malachi chooses to tell Jacob he has to go to school. Jacob is so shocked his mouth opens and shuts until he finds his voice. ‘I’m not going back to school.’
‘You didn’t get your graduation certificate. You might need it one day.’ Jacob stands up ready to stalk off by the look of it. ‘Give it until the rest of the year, son.’
‘But I’m too old.’
‘The teacher will give you work on your own.’
‘You enrolled me? And you didn’t ask?’
Uncle Malachi’s eyes flash like steel traps. ‘This is one decision you have no say in, son. I know you’re fourteen, but I believe it’s the best thing for your future in case the farm doesn’t do well. Your mother will too.’
Jacob stares at his father so long with his fists clenched that I’m afraid, but then he turns suddenly and strides off into the scrub. Harry watches him go, and it hurts to see the sadness in his face.
That night I polish my shoes and cajole Kitto and Elowen to do theirs. I tie strips of rag in Elowen’s hair to curl it and she’s so excited she takes ages to drop off to sleep. Da and Uncle Malachi are out by the campfire talking about ploughing in subdued voices. I don’t know if Jacob has returned.
I’m still awake when Mam tiptoes in with a candle alight. I can see her profile as she unbuttons her dark grey skirt and steps out of her petticoat. As she takes off her blouse, her cotton chemise presses against her stomach and that’s when I see how plump she’s grown. I draw in a breath. No wonder she felt different when I hugged her. No wonder she couldn’t bear to milk Gertrude in the early mornings and she has a po for the nights and is often cross and tired. She’s starting a baby again. I think about what that will mean in the Mallee. There’s no midwife like in our village in Cornwall.
I bang my head four times on my pillow to make sure I wake up in time to milk Gertrude and help Jacob and Harry with the new horses. As I drop off I’m thinking about so many things: Mam – I feel bad for not wanting to help when she must have been so tired. Winnie and Rouge – I wonder if they are all right. And the baby – Elowen would love the baby to bits – but what if something goes wrong?
17
The darkness is heavy in our canvas room when I wake. I hear the boys outside feeding the horses. This is our first morning of doing the jobs early so we can go to school. Mam’s still asleep, so I put on my old warm clothes and boots, after shaking them out. I give Elowen a prod so she’ll wake.
It’s dark and cold this early, and I take the Aladdin lamp and bucket to Gertrude. I hang the lamp from the pine plank under the canvas roof. My breath curls in the cold air. Jacob’s stomping around but Harry is whistling. I put grain and chaff in bags and hang one over Gertrude’s head so she can eat while I milk her. She and I still don’t get along. She knows I’m not grown up and she doesn’t have to mind me.
Elowen emerges and finds the buckets of water I’ve filled from the well last night so she can water the vegetables and the tiny orange tree. Then she and Kitto get the wood chips to start the fire in the stove for Mam to make porridge. Kitto, Elowen and I are like cats on coals. As soon as I’ve done the milking I lug the bucket inside, and then we change our clothes. Elowen and I wear our pinnies, as they are easier to wash than dresses. We put on our best stockings, the ones with less darning. I take Kitto’s shirt with the sailor collar and his good short pants to his tent. He groans when he sees them but I ignore him.
I follow Elowen to the kitchen, fill the kettle and set it on the top of the stove. I put more wood chips in the firebox and stir the coals to life. Elowen has the dishes and spoons out, and I start the porridge for Mam, but she arrives to dish it up. When I see her I feel so ashamed that I didn’t want to help with the jobs that I give her a hug, but I don’t know how to talk about the baby. Mam never tells us until the baby is born.
The men and the boys come in to eat breakfast. Harry is excited – I can tell by his eyes, but Jacob’s face looks like a dust storm just blew in. I try not to let it bother me. The sun is about to show; there’s a pink glow over the scrub. Mam hands us our lunches in calico sugar bags with our names stitched on, which we put in leather satchels. I also have Valmai’s book in mine. We take a canvas water bag in case we need a drink.
‘Be having a good day,’ she says. ‘When you come home there’ll be bread, dripping and wild peach jam.’ Mam made it from red fruit Harry found in the scrub. He calls them quandongs.
‘Righto, jolly good,’ Kitto s
ays.
Suddenly I remember the washing. ‘It’s Monday, Mam.’ I’m torn. I want to go to school, but I know now that Mam has to be careful.
She smiles. ‘I be feeling better, Kerenza. If I have trouble next week ‘ee can help.’
Jacob and Harry mount Banjo as he tosses his head. I try not to mind, as Tilly is just as fine as Banjo. Kitto mounts first, then me, and Da lifts Elowen up to sit between us on the blanket. The horses’ halters jingle as we trot away. All the way I’m hoping Valmai will be there.
Most of the time Banjo and Tilly have to pick a path on the track, but in the smoother areas we can trot. We left at half-past seven by Da’s fob watch, and after a while we see a little tin hall built at a crossroads. Jacob and Harry speed up and arrive before us.
Just as Tilly’s trotting past a wire fence I hear a shout behind us. There’s a team of horses ploughing, but one has broken loose from the others and gallops for the track. A horse and spring cart driven by a girl is behind us. Has she seen the rogue horse? I drop Elowen to the ground and tell her to run to Jacob and Harry.
‘Hang on, Kitto!’
‘You bet.’
I hold the reins tight and dig my heels into Tilly’s flank. We gallop back towards the cart. Jacob’s shouting but I don’t stop until I reach the girl. ‘Pull over!’ I call.
Instantly she sees the horse veering towards us. It clears the fence and keeps coming. Tilly whinnies and shies as the horse looms closer, but at least its direction changes. He plunges past the cart and clips the back of it with his hooves as he races into the scrub.
The girl can’t hold her cart upright. It crashes over along with her horse.
‘Hold Tilly.’ I give Kitto the reins and jump off. The girl has fallen out and her horse is struggling to rise. I race to the girl first. ‘Are you all right?’
All she can think of is her horse. ‘Is Kaiser hurt?’ She’s near to tears. I try to lift her so she’s sitting. Suddenly Jacob is there and he unhooks Kaiser’s harness. The horse’s legs look fine, and I run to hold his rein as Jacob helps him stand. By then Harry is pulling the little cart on to its wheels. It doesn’t look damaged. The girl seems my age but Jacob lifts her as if she is the size of Elowen and sits her on the cart bench. Harry harnesses Kaiser again. The girl’s face is pale as she stares at us. She doesn’t look ready to drive, so I climb up with her and take the reins from her shaking hands.
‘Thank you,’ she says.
Jacob and Harry gaze at her. It’s Harry who speaks. ‘C’mon. We’ll get you some water at the school tank.’
I flick the reins and Kaiser starts forward. His rump is quivering. He’s had a bad shock too. Kitto rides Tilly beside us and Jacob and Harry walk behind.
‘My name is Kerenza Trevail.’
‘Oh.’ There’s some animation in her face at last. ‘I’ve wanted to meet you.’
‘How do you know me?’
‘I’m Valmai Nietschke.’
I grin. ‘I hoped you’d come to school.’
‘You were brave. That horse was headed right for me. It could have been me his hooves hit, not the cart. You might have been hurt too.’
I didn’t think what might happen when I first saw the horse, but now the thought of him is making me shaky too.
‘Let’s sit together,’ Valmai says when we reach the slip rail.
Elowen runs over and gives me a hug. ‘I was scared for you.’
‘It’s over now, chicken.’
Valmai unhitches Kaiser from the cart and ties him with the other horses under a thatched roof with a trough of water nearby. She puts chaff in a box for him. Jacob is looking at me strangely as we walk across the yard. ‘You could have been killed.’ He doesn’t shout like he did after the fire. He even looks as if he’s proud of me, but then he rushes off to race Harry to the tank by the hall. He picks up the tin mug hanging from the tap first and gives Valmai a drink. She smiles up at him. ‘Thank you.’ And a strange thing happens: his face turns pink. Just then a cowbell rings and we line up outside.
Valmai tells Jacob to stand at the head of the line. ‘You’re the eldest.’ She makes it sound special, and he obeys her. If I’d told him what to do he would have snarled. Harry stands behind him, then Valmai, another girl called Ida, and me. There are twelve of us. Elowen is near the end, and I can tell she’d rather stand with me. I don’t let her in case she gets teased.
We recite together as a boy holds up two flags: ‘I love my country the British Empire, I salute her flag the Union Jack, I honour her King, George the fifth, and promise cheerfully to obey her laws.’ It’s the same in Cornwall – I didn’t expect that. One flag is the same too, but the other one has the Union Jack in the corner with stars that look like the Southern Cross Harry showed us. Our Cornish one is black with a white cross. A boy Kitto’s age plays a tin whistle as we sing ‘God save the King’. Then we march inside the hall and the teacher directs us to our desks. We stand behind benches while she says a prayer and we sing ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’. Even Elowen knows that one. I hope it cheers her up.
We all sit, but Jacob and Harry look too big in the desks. There is just one room with a heating stove up one end and a little storeroom. I hope there are books in there. The day’s sums for most of the grades are on the blackboard already. I sit with Valmai; Kitto is in the next row and Elowen is further away with the younger children. Her eyes are wide and woeful like a kitten’s as she stares at me.
‘Right.’ The teacher faces us. ‘My name is Miss Polkinghorn for those who are new today. Welcome to Pyap West Primary School.’
Jacob scowls.
‘Here we work at our best. Diligence always pays.’ She glances at Jacob and Harry, and picks up her cane. ‘We don’t have to use this, or the punishment book, as everyone is keen to learn, but I will if there is call for it.’ She raises her eyebrows at the boys. Harry gives a slight nod but Jacob’s face looks like a cyclone’s brewing. I watch Miss Polkinghorn slapping the cane against her hand. She is shorter than Jacob and looks only a few years older, Wenna’s age. I fight the sudden prickling behind my eyes.
‘Kerenza, please read the lesson for the day.’ Miss Polkinghorn hands me the open book.
‘Psalm twenty-three,’ I read. ‘The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want, he makes me lie in green pastures.’ I wish we had green fields. All of a sudden there’s a snort behind me from Ida, and the tin-whistle boy erupts into giggles. Jacob is unmoved but Harry and Valmai look cross. What’s so funny?
‘Alf!’ Miss Polkinghorn snaps her cane on to his desk and he tries to stop. ‘Please carry on, Kerenza.’
Is it the way I read? I speak faster just to get it over with. Then we do arithmetic all at the same time. The little ones practise their tables. Miss Polkinghorn directs a boy called Will Penrose to stand with a cane, tapping the chart so the children can chant. ‘Once one is one, two times one is two.’ Pity they’re not learning nine times tables to help me. Valmai, Ida and I do sums from an arithmetic book. I dip my pen in the inkpot and start writing in my exercise book.
I don’t see what it is Jacob does, but we all hear the bang as Miss Polkinghorn slams her cane on his desk. ‘I will not have insolence! If you work hard you can pass the exam in November. Then you’ll have a ticket to do what you want. Go to high school or get a job.’
‘I already know what I want.’ It’s a snarl. ‘I want to farm.’
Miss Polkinghorn hesitates only a second. ‘Then you’ll be a better farmer for the study. Besides, you may need other options.’
The look on Jacob’s face shows how stupid he thinks that comment is.
Miss Polkinghorn seems to ignore it. ‘Especially if it continues not to rain.’
Jacob’s mouth drops open.
‘I come from the West Coast, where there’s a drought. Many men have walked off their farms to find other jobs. Looks like it will be the same here.’
It’s possibly the cruellest thing to say to Jacob, and he says nothing.
Miss Polkinghorn bends over his textbook. ‘Do these exercises,’ she says, and explains how to set out the percentages. ‘You too, Harry.’ Harry is also studying for this exam so I don’t know how Jacob missed a year.
Valmai and I don’t dare talk during lessons, but at lunchtime I give her back her book and ask about my reading voice.
She purses her lips. ‘You have an accent, but everybody has an accent at first.’ She grabs my hand and pulls me to a log under a pepper tree. ‘So you liked Seven Little Australians?’
‘Yes.’ I’m sure my eyes shine. We discuss the characters and then we plan how we’ll see more of each other. ‘Come on Sunday afternoon,’ she says. Elowen sits with us and Valmai calls over a little girl. ‘Lottie, show Elowen where the long drop is and where you play games.’ In no time Elowen and Lottie are playing with a skipping rope. Two girls older than them hold the ends and chant a rhyme.
The tune reminds me we missed May Day. It’s a holiday for everyone in Camborne, and last year Wenna was the May Queen. She had a white dress and flowers in her long hair and Josiah danced with her on the green while everyone sang.
Ida sits by me, but she doesn’t say nice things. ‘I suppose you think you’re too good for us. Like Valmai.’
I stare at her in shock and she smirks. ‘Valmai’s not a country girl – she’s a townie.’ She turns to Valmai. ‘You won’t ever like it here – you’re German.’
‘I’m sure she will,’ I say, thinking I’d better stick up for Valmai. But Ida turns on me. ‘And you’re Cornish. My mum says that’s nothing much.’
‘Pardon?’ If my nanny were here she’d give Ida what for. ‘What’s wrong with being Cornish?’
‘You’re a second-class English person, no better than Aboriginals and swaggies.’
‘I’m not English at all,’ I say hotly. Ida makes me feel like pulling her hair. ‘And what’s wrong with Aboriginal people?’
Ida looks at me with her mouth screwed up. ‘Gee, you are green, aren’t you?’
All of a sudden Valmai stands with her hands on her hips. ‘You leave her alone, you hateful girl.’
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