by Lena Dowling
The first time she had seen one of the parrot birds she had said, ‘Well now, Mr Birdie, what fancy lady’s drawing room did you escape from?’
Then she had seen another and another and realised they were all wild and free. From then on she liked to imagine she was a cockatoo soaring up over everything. She had fed them out them out the window at O’Shane’s until they started bringing all their feathery friends and there were too many for the few breadcrumbs she had. They tore the window frames, chewing them up instead. That was when Danny found out and the game was up. But after that she kept watching out the windows, hoping one would fly by.
The height of the porch gave Colleen a good view. Everyone on the farm was going about their business apart from her and the cockatoos, who had decided like her that their business was to perch up and watch everyone else. The boy called Tom who had seen to the horses when she arrived was busy tidying the yard, while a servant girl beat at carpets slung over a fence.
She stopped belting the carpet and James stepped out from behind a cloud of dust.
Colleen’s limbs seized up, her heart beating loud in her ears. After what had happened at the wedding, or rather, what hadn’t happened, and with all the newness of where she was living and sleeping and who she was living with, she had managed to push James Hunter out of her mind, but seeing him again forced her to think about the dirty great fly of a secret that had gone and made its grave in her ointment.
She only prayed James wouldn’t swing out wide past the hut on his way over to the big house to exchange pleasantries. She couldn’t risk being seen with him. Who knew what he might say for a servant’s flapping ears to catch, or what someone might take from the way they reacted to each other? She slid along the seat and hurried back into the hut, barely able to draw breath, slipping behind the partly open door to wait in the shadows.
She dipped her head.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph give James the good sense to keep away.
Even if he did come to the hut, she wouldn’t answer. She would stay where she was.
She stood squinting out through the crack in the door, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t cross the slim gap.
When after a few minutes she had begun to relax, thinking the danger had passed, footsteps made their way up the rough stair to the porch and the door reverberated through the door to the tip of her nose sending her leaping out of her skin.
‘Coo-eee, anyone home?’
Colleen jumped back hard against the wattle and daub, and then, recognising the feminine pitch to the voice, let out a breath.
Thank God, it was Lady Hunter.
Colleen stayed quiet hoping her ladyship would go away, but a moment later the door flung hard backwards, pinning her to the wall.
Inside Lady Hunter walked up to the kitchen table where she hoisted a wooden box on top then flopped down in a chair.
Colleen scooted out of her hiding place.
‘Yes, your ladyship?’
‘What on earth were you doing in there?’
‘Ah…’ Colleen said, stalling for time as she crossed the room searching for an excuse, ‘Looking for a hook, m’lady — for me apron,’ she said finally, sitting down opposite her ladyship.
‘Oh very good. And please call me, Thea, that way I won’t have to call you Mrs Biggs.’
Colleen felt her mouth fly open in a gape as she jerked backwards in her seat until the rungs in the back of the chair dug into her spine.
A highborn lady wanting Colleen to call her by her Christian name? That was a turn-up.
‘I beg your pardon m’lady but I — ’
Colleen raised her hands to shush her, ‘No really, I insist. I had hoped that once Samuel was married, I would have his wife for a friend.’
Friends? It was bad enough that Lady Hunter was a toff, let alone that Colleen had lain with the woman’s husband. Not that she cared for James Hunter in the slightest or that any of that was her fault, but what was done was done, and now it didn’t seem right for her to be anything more than passing acquaintances with his wife. Colleen’s mind madly skirted about, wildly gathering up reasons she could safely say out loud as to why being friends with her ladyship was not a good idea.
‘Oh no m’lady, we can’t be mixin’ like friends, not regular or anything. It’s not done. The other day was different, that was a special occasion. The other ladies won’t like it. You won’t be getting any callers or invited anywhere if it gets out you’re in thick with someone like me.’
Colleen was pleased to see Lady Hunter scrunch up her forehead into a frown.
She would make polite conversation with her ladyship, and then the first chance she got she would make some excuse about having things to do.
But Lady Hunter shook her head, setting the violet trimmings on her fancy bonnet that matched her dress bobbing back and forth. ‘I don’t get any invites as it is. Not from the farmers’ wives around here, anyway. The Governor’s wife and some the more enlightened of her circle will receive me in town, but I don’t get to Sydney all that often. The truth is that out here, beside James and the children, I’ve got no one.’
‘But there must be someone,’ Colleen said, desperate now.
If she got to know her ladyship, she would only feel more guilty about what had happened with James, and it wasn’t like that was something that could be made up for. It would be better by far for all concerned if her ladyship kept her distance.
But Lady Hunter’s lip trembled like she was fixing to cry.
‘I try to set the first-classers up with nice gentlemen in the hope that one day I might make something approaching a circle of friends out of it, but the women are all like you — too afraid of what others might think.’
‘Oh dear, m’lady. Please don’t be upsetting yourself,’ Colleen said, hoping to make her feel better, but it was as if her ladyship had a whole backlog of words ready to come out all in a rush to the first person taking the time to listen to her, ‘You must think I’m pathetic. A wonderful husband, two lovely children; but it can be so desolate out here. I thought it would be a great adventure coming out to the colony but I had no idea. Nothing prepares you. The heat may as well come direct from hell, not to mention the filth, the flies.’
‘That’s the way of it out here, m’lady.’
Colleen was barely able to look the woman in the eye, but Lady Hunter was far too het up to notice how twitchy she was.
‘I oversaw the farm to begin with, but once Stephen came along it all got too much. But now I wish I had kept on with it because I stare at the four walls of our one reception room that has to do for everything, and day after day they stare back at me, and they don’t talk. Not ever. Not a word. Listen to me. Walls talking, I’m going mad.’
‘Hush now, m’lady. ‘
But the words which were meant to calm her ladyship down only made things worse. Lady Hunter sniffed, balling her hands into fists, rubbing at her eyes.
‘Please don’t be starting with the waterworks now, Thea,’ Colleen tried again, this time reaching over to pat her arm, and then remembering how Lady Hunter hugged her at the wedding, snatching her hand straight back.
She only wanted to make her ladyship stop with the crying, not to encourage her any more with this friendship business.
‘You called me Thea,’ Lady Hunter said, shyly pulling her hands away from her eyes, pushing her lips up into a crooked half smile. She scrubbed her sleeve across her runny nose in a most unladylike gesture.
Thea’s anguish was already chipping away at her determination not to be getting friendly, but that got Colleen good and proper — a highborn lady using her sleeve for a hanky — Thea was a real break-up. Colleen pursed her lips, trying not to show herself up as well by laughing at her.
‘Oh alright, but only when we’re on our own, mind, not in front of the servants.’
Thea’s delicate pale face broke into a smile, bringing the colour flooding back to her cheeks. She leaned over to reach for the box she had placed on
the table, dragging it towards her. In the top was a removable shelf that held cotton reels in every colour, a pincushion, scissors and a collection of silver thimbles. Underneath were several swatches of fabric. Thea picked out a couple, a plain one and another with a pattern, and thrust them along with a needle stuck in some thread towards Colleen. ‘Here, I thought you might like some fabric for some drapes for your cabin and perhaps a new apron for yourself.’
Colleen ran her hand over the thick weave of the curtain material. It was quality stuff. Not some shabby thing that a lady might usually palm off onto a maid.
She should have been honoured that Thea was presenting her with another quality gift on top of the gorgeous shawl she had already given her, but Thea giving her such an expensive piece of material just made her feel terrible. It’s not like she wanted what had happened with James, and it was only a couple of times at the most when he couldn’t have Nellie, but it would have been a whole lot easier if Thea wasn’t being so friendly.
‘Thank you. I’ve never known a real lady who was kind before.’ Colleen’s face reddened as she realised what she had come out with. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean…’ Colleen shrank back clasping the fabric to her chest with one hand, placing her hand to her lips.
‘That’s alright. James and I believe things can be different out here. The rank you were born with or the sentence you served doesn’t have to be the final arbiter of where you end up in life.’
‘You’re an Emancipist?’
‘Yes. I should say that I am. And more than that, I believe men and women are equal too and out here in the colony, women are getting chance to prove that.’
Colleen bit back a laugh. That was a new one. Men and women being on the same footing? She tilted her head to one side, trying to work her ladyship out.
‘You don’t believe me?’
‘No, it’s not that.’ Colleen lied not wanting to contradict her. ‘It’s just that I never heard a woman speak like that before, and I never heard of someone being an Emancipist who hadn’t been a convict to begin with, neither.’
‘Well, there’s a first time for everything and speaking of firsts,’ Thea hesitated and in a way that Colleen could have sworn was mean to be sly, asked, ‘How was your first night with us?’
‘Fine.’ Colleen said suspecting what her ladyship was really getting and not wanting to give anything away.
‘And have you and Mr Biggs, been…getting along, as it were?’ Thea said, drawing out the ‘as it were’ real slow so this time there was no mistaking what she was really getting at.
‘We’re getting along well enough,’ Colleen said primly.
‘You have everything you need?’
‘Oh yes, everything is just fine, thank you.’
‘And are you comfortable?’
‘Quite comfortable, but I’m not sure that Mr Biggs cares for me all that much,’ Colleen said, giving in to Thea’s quizzing. She didn’t especially want to be talking about her own private business with someone like Thea, but then Mr Biggs was a lot more like one of Thea’s kind than the likes of her or the other servants. Maybe Thea could shed some light on why Mr Biggs was choosing to be so standoffish with her.
Thea’s widened, showing off the whites of her eyes. ‘Surely he didn’t hurt you?’
‘Oh no.’ Colleen hadn’t meant to give Thea the idea that Mr Biggs was a rotter when he’d been nothing but a gentleman. If things had been different she might even have been pleased for Mr Biggs to be taking his time. It made a nice change after being leapt on and pawed at umpteen times a day. ‘No he hasn’t hurt me. He’s never so much as touched a hair on me head. Just the opposite — he’s having me sleep in the storeroom.’
‘And you would much prefer it had been otherwise?’
She eyed Thea warily, wondering if there was anything Thea could do with the information that would be bad for her, but when she couldn’t come up with anything she gave a hesitant nod.
‘Well, you might be married, but you have only just met. Give it some time and I’m sure things will come to rights.’
She knew Thea meant to cheer her up, but it didn’t stop Colleen’s heart dropping like a stone.
‘Oh.’
Time wasn’t on her side. If her baby was to have a da, things had to be happening quick.
Every evening on the farm in Kings County while she and her older sisters helped her ma, the little ‘uns would wait, peeping over the gate, until their da came in from the fields. No matter how tired he was after cutting peat or traipsing along behind their giant hooved field horse ploughing all day, he always perked up at the sight of the ankle-biters and was ready with a song or a story for them.
‘Oh dear, I can see how disappointed you are, and of course you would be, he is rather rugged as if…’ Thea stifled a little giggle, turning it into a breathy sounding hiccup, ‘As if he could throw a woman over his shoulder and rescue her from a burning building without a second thought.’
If only Mr Biggs would throw her over his shoulder, and the sooner the better.
Once Thea had gone, Colleen ventured back outside again, keeping a sharp eye out for James in case he came near, meaning to take a look around the farm.
But when she stepped down off the porch she thought she heard something.
There it was again, a great cracking noise followed by a whump. Then another crack and a whump.
Even muffled by distance she knew the sound. She’d listened to it for two long days from inside The Factory walls while she waited for Mr Biggs to come for her.
Stone breaking.
Excitement bubbled up. The stone breaking gang from The Factory might have been assigned to the Hunter’s farm, which would mean seeing Maggie, even if she wasn’t allowed to talk to her.
It wasn’t the same as seeing Nell but it was something. She was so lonely for her cousin, and Lady Hunter getting pally with her only made things worse.
Longing for the glimpse of a familiar face, she followed the sound behind the barn.
But when she rounded the corner it was Mr Biggs who was lugging a stone. She wouldn’t be seeing Maggie after all. Taking rocks from a pile to add to a half built wall around a wooden hen house in bad, tumbledown shape.
Seeing her, he stopped, swiping a gloved hand around the base of his neck.
‘Good morning, Mrs Biggs.’
‘Mornin’,’ she said trying not to show her disappointment again like she had last night. That had only put him on his guard and then seen him giving her a wide berth for the rest of the day.
‘I trust you’ve found sufficient tasks to occupy your time?’
‘What? Oh yes, but I’m all finished now.’ She glanced around at the pile of stones and the new wall marked out all neat with a string line. It definitely looked all straight and careful like it would be Mr Biggs’ work.
The tall pile of rocks looked to be too much for even a man to be getting through in a day. Apart from the blisters she hadn’t minded the stone breaking at The Factory. She reckoned she had done enough work indoors to last her a lifetime. After O’Shane’s it was a luxury to be let outside, to hear leaves rustling and see the hills in the distance rather than hearing the clip clop of everyone going about their business below while she was locked up inside, upstairs. ‘I could help out here if you like?
‘You wouldn’t prefer to clean the cabin or help the maids?’
‘Cabin’s all tidy.’
‘Hmm.’
Mr Biggs rubbed at his chin, as if he wanted the help, but wasn’t sure about her being the one to do it.
‘If you show me what to do, I’m sure I’ll catch on quick.’
Mr Biggs scratched his head thoughtfully, wrinkling up a rag he had tied on to keep the sun off. The scarf suited him, giving him look of a tanned and hardened seafarer.
‘I don’t like being cooped up. I’d much rather be working outside,’ she went on before he could say anything, sensing that if she could just keep coming up with reasons, he would give in
and let her help.
Mr Biggs yanked his shirt out from where it was tucked into his trousers, lifting it up. He swiped his brow with it, revealing a torso without a skerrick of fat, like the ripples of it had been forged out of hard work, and Colleen’s stomach chose that moment to dip like when a wave suddenly ran out from beneath the bow of a and it plunged faster than a body’s stomach could travel the same distance.
She stumbled backwards. It was to be expected, but she wished the baby would settle and leave off with churning up her guts every morning.
‘Are you alright?’ Mr Biggs asked.
‘I’m just fine, just put my foot down on a patch of uneven ground, that’s all.’
He looked down at the pile of rocks beside him.
‘I suppose I could do with the assistance if I’m going to finish this today. But first show me your hand.’
Thinking he was worried about her losing her lovely new wedding ring she held out her left hand.
‘No, the right one.’
He grasped her other hand, turning it over then tracing a finger around the edge of her palm, carefully avoiding the angry weeping blisters. He smelled of sweat, earth and something sweet and minty fresh like gum tree leaves. His touch was warm and gentle, the sensation travelling up her arm where it jumped across and did something funny in her chest. She sniffed and yanked her hand back, wondering how long this business of feeling queer was going to last — not for the whole of her pregnancy, surely?
Mr Biggs pulled a face, bunching his eyebrows together.
‘That hand’s on its way to festering. Here, put this on.’ He pulled off the glove on his right hand and passed it to her. Inside it was hot and damp and it was so big she flopped around in it, but it would stop the dirt getting into the wound.
She pointed to his now naked hand.
‘What about you?’
‘I’ll be alright. I know what I’m doing.’
‘What are you saying? That me stone breakin’ is rubbish?’
Mr Biggs grinned, and seizing the moment Colleen played up to him, grasping her hands to her hips, making out like she was put out, ‘And to add insult to injury, now me husband’s mockin’ me.’