‘Thank you, Mr . . . ?’
‘Isaac Blundstone, miss, bootmaker by trade.’
Hinetitama smiles. ‘Thank you, Mr Blundstone, I’m obliged to you.’ She turns to the cook. ‘Do we need a bootmaker, Mrs Briggs?’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that, Miss Heenie. I could ask Mistress Mary, it ain’t for me to decide. Food, yes, but not boots, don’t know nothing about boots.’
Hinetitama turns back to Isaac Blundstone and looks down at his boots, which are scuffed and in poor repair. ‘Bring some of your work, let me see it.’
‘Yes, thankee, miss, I do good work.’
Hinetitama smiles knowingly. ‘What, down the pub?’
‘The pub, miss?’ The man looks puzzled.
Hinetitama points to his hands. ‘You’ve got the brandy shakes. You’ve had a few already, haven’t you?’
The man grins slyly, looking down at his scuffed boots and shuffling his feet. ‘Hair o’ the dog, couple o’ heart starters, that’s all, miss.’
‘Who gave you this?’ Hinetitama waves the note. She is excited, for somehow she senses it’s from Teekleman, but restrains herself from finding out, fearful of the contents of the note, wanting to know, but not right off, instinctively needing more to add to what might be contained in the note. ‘He didn’t say, miss. He didn’t give no name,’ Blundstone lies.
It’s been more than a year since Hinetitama’s conversation with Mary. While neither she nor Hawk has said a word to her, the servants, the big ears in every establishment, have inevitably gossiped and Hinetitama, who they call Miss Heenie and is a great favourite with them all, has come to know about the terrible row over Teekleman.
‘He didn’t say, but he shouted you a drink?’ She can smell the cheap brandy on his breath. ‘What? A nobbler o’ brandy, two maybe, where was that?’
‘Aye,’ Blundstone says, surprised. ‘The Hobart Whale Fishery, miss.’
‘Card game, was it? You met playing cards?’
Blundstone is clearly impressed with Hinetitama’s sleuthing. ‘He were, miss. Me? I ain’t got that sorta money.’
‘Bar fly, eh? Topping up to cadge?’ Hinetitama has seen him for what he is, a regular drunk who’ll take on the self-appointed task of keeping the drinks coming at a card game and earning his reward in grog both from the publican and an occasionally generous player. It is unlikely, but not inconceivable, that he might not know Teekleman’s name.
‘He said just to give you the letter, not to say nothing more.’
‘Tall, fair hair, blue eyes?’
‘Aye, that’s him.’
‘Foreigner, when he speaks like?’ Hinetitama adds, seeking further confirmation.
The man nods again and Hinetitama, satisfied, gives him a shilling. ‘There you go then, that’ll buy you the whole dog.’ She laughs. ‘Or you could use it to sole your boots, Mr Isaac Blundstone, the bootmaker!’
Blundstone grins. ‘It’s me brother what’s the bootmaker, I’m what yiz’d call the prod’gil son.’
The note when Hinetitama finally opens it is written in a competent hand which suggests a fair education.
Dear Hinetitama,
Ja, I have come here to Hobart and also I will much like to see you. It goes well with me. I am staying at the Whale Fishery. You will come I hope so.
Slabbert Teekleman.
Hinetitama goes into a real tizz and spends the remainder of the day alone in her bed chamber arguing with herself, alternately tearful and smiling. When she thinks of going back to Teekleman her heart commences to beat rapidly, though she, on some occasions, thinks this must be a certain sign that she is doing the wrong thing and on others that she loves him. By evening, when a maid is sent up to call her down to dinner, she is emotionally wrung out and exhausted. Claiming she doesn’t feel well she tells the maid to ask her grandmother to excuse her.
Mary, upon receiving Hinetitama’s message, comes hurrying to her bed chamber, ‘What’s the matter, precious?’
Hinetitama feigns distress. ‘I must have eaten something, I feel unwell, Grandmother.’
‘Unwell? Your tummy? I’ll call Dr Moses.’ She seats herself on the side of the bed and takes her granddaughter’s hand.
‘No, it’s just a small upset,’ Hinetitama smiles wanly. ‘Best if I don’t eat, that’s all.’
‘You sure then?’ Mary asks, looking concerned.
‘Grandmother, it’s nothing, I’ll just rest,’ Hinetitama insists.
‘You call me if it gets any worse, you promise now?’
‘Grandmother, you work so hard, you look tired, it’s me should be caring for you!’
‘Day weren’t no different to any other,’ Mary sniffs. ‘Can’t turn back the clock, I’m gettin’ old, that’s all, old and cranky,’ she adds gratuitously. She bends and kisses Hinetitama on the forehead then rises slowly, though she stands straight as a pencil and, for a woman her age, still has amazing stamina. ‘You call me if you feel any worse during the night.’
By morning, with less than a good night’s sleep,
Hinetitama knows that she must go to Slabbert Teekleman, that she cannot resist the temptation. ‘Oh Gawd, help us,’ she says to herself as she brushes her hair prior to going down to breakfast with Mary. ‘Please let it be all right this time.’
At breakfast, which is served early, just after six o’clock so that Mary and Hawk can be at the Potato Factory by seven when the brewery workers start, she again has no appetite. Fortuitously Hawk is away on a trip to Burnie so that she and Mary are sitting alone at the dining-room table. Hinetitama goes through the motions of dipping her spoon into her porridge bowl, but eats very little.
‘Still no good, eh?’ Mary enquires, observing her lack of appetite.
‘No, Grandmother, it’s not that,’ Hinetitama says.
‘The note?’ Mary says suddenly, her own spoon halfway to her mouth. ‘Is it something I should know, girl?’
‘Mrs Briggs told you?’
‘Not much to tell, was there? She said you got a note. Man come to the back door.’
Hinetitama, unable to contain herself any longer, announces, ‘Grandmother, it was from the Dutchman!’
Mary remains silent for a while. Finally she returns the spoon, its contents uneaten, to her plate. ‘The Dutchman? Slabbert Teekleman?’
Hinetitama nods, amazed that her grandmother has remembered both his names.
‘Well?’ Mary demands. ‘What will you do?’
‘Grandmother, I don’t know, I’m that scared.’
‘Frightened? Lovesick, more like!’ Then, realising Hinetitama is asking for her support, her voice takes on a more sympathetic tone. ‘Of course you’re scared, my precious. After all, it’s been almost two years.’
‘I’m different now. He may not like me.’
Mary is hard put to conceal her relief, her grand-daughter is not rejecting the Dutchman as she’s come to think of Teekleman in her mind. ‘Course he will, child, don’t you worry your little head about that.’
‘Whatever shall I do, Grandmother?’
‘Do? Why invite him to supper tonight, of course. What does he like to eat? Mrs Briggs will make it for him special.’
‘Like? I don’t rightly remember. Meat ’n’ potatoes, I suppose,’ Hinetitama says absently.
Mary laughs. ‘Like all men, eh? We’ll get cook to do us a nice roast, roast beef and taties.’ Mary is suddenly all business. ‘We’ll send the carriage to fetch him. Where’s he staying?’
‘The Hobart Whale Fishery.’
‘The Whale Fishery? That’s a Cascade pub, one of Delgrave’s, Ikey used to go there a lot. Do you think he’ll agree to move to one of ours?’ Mary doesn’t wait for an answer. ‘Course he will, won’t cost him a bean. I’ll send him a note, make all the arrangements. Half-six, most men like to eat early, I don’t suppose he’s any different, eh?’
Hinetitama agrees, thinking that Teekleman is unlikely to be drunk so early in the evening. She has never seen Mary all of a tw
itter like this before. Her grandmother is seldom her best in the morning and is usually silent, almost morose, her abacus at her side. Every once in a while she grunts and sends the beads rattling along their wires, then writes a number down on a notebook beside her. But this morning she’s plainly in excellent humour.
‘But what if he’s changed also?’
‘Well, we’ll just have to find out, won’t we, my girl?’
‘What will Uncle Hawk think?’
Mary shrugs, not denying the probability of Hawk’s opposition. ‘He ain’t here, is he now?’
For a moment Hinetitama wonders whether Hawk’s absence hasn’t been planned by Mary all along, but she is not accustomed to deceit and silently castigates herself for this uncharitable thought.
‘Oh, Grandmother, I’m so excited. Whatever shall I wear?’
‘It don’t really matter, men don’t notice anyway.’ Mary grins. ‘Unless o’ course you wear your birthday suit?’
‘Grandmother!’ Hinetitama has never heard Mary talk like this before. Then she laughs, she’s never felt closer to her grandmother and her anxiety is greatly ameliorated by Mary’s cheerful assurance. ‘Please, God,’ she says to herself, ‘don’t let him be drunk when he comes.’ Then she adds another plea to the Almighty, ‘And don’t let all this be of Grandmother’s doing.’
Teekleman arrives promptly in Mary’s carriage at half-past six and is greeted at the door by Hinetitama and her grandmother, who has finally persuaded her granddaughter to wear a gown of a modest mousy-brown colour, one of the earlier rejects from old Mrs Mawson’s attempts to bring her into line with current Hobart fashion.
‘Don’t want him to think you’re too good for him now, do we? He’ll be jittery as a race’orse, no point in shying him right off with silks ’n’ satins in the brightest colours now, is there? Modesty, my girl, you need never feel it in front of a man for most have less intelligence than you, but you must appear always to show it,’ she declares, then explains further, ‘Men believe what they see, women what they hear.’ Though she herself has chosen to wear one of her best gowns. When Hinetitama remarks on this the old woman grins. ‘Modesty and beauty from you, age and riches from me, mark my words, the combination is irresistible to any man who comes a’courting with a death and an inheritance in mind.’
Slabbert Teekleman is well scrubbed and wears clean though not expensive linen. He is dressed in the manner one might expect from a small businessman of the respectable middle classes and wears a plain woollen weskit without a fob and chain strung across his belly. His boots are freshly dubbined, his hair neatly parted and his beard trimmed. He is a big man, only slightly given to noticeable paunch and is still most handsome in his overall appearance.
Hinetitama watches, smiling, as Mary greets him. ‘You are most welcome in our home, Mr Teekleman,’ she says, offering him her gloved hand. ‘Of course, you already know my granddaughter.’
Teekleman, for his part, seems surprisingly at ease, and Hinetitama observes that he appears to be completely sober. ‘Thank you, Madam,’ he says formally to Mary. Smiling, he bows and only lightly takes her hand. In doing this he is displaying a social awareness Hinetitama is unaware he possessed. Furthermore, his returning smile reveals he has not lost any of his teeth. Turning to her he offers his hand. ‘I am so glad we meet vunce more, Hinetitama, that you and your granmutza invite me here to your nice house.’
Hinetitama smiles broadly, her heart pounding furiously, but she is determined not to show her nervousness and to put the Dutchman at ease. ‘I’ve been that worried all day that you’d change your mind and not come,’ she laughs, her words immediately relieving the tension.
‘Shall we go in?’ Mary invites and turns to lead the way into the mansion. ‘Cook has a baron of beef fresh from the roasting oven, I feel sure a big man like you has a healthy appetite.’
A week after the Dutchman’s arrival Hawk arrives home shortly after sunset and, stopping only to tell Mrs Briggs he will take a light supper in his study, goes straight to the wing of the house he occupies. He is weary and has a light cold and thinks to take a bath and then read awhile before going to bed. But Mary sends a maid to ask him if he’ll have dinner with her, the servant girl adding that Hinetitama is out for the evening.
Hawk thinks the invitation curious. It is the custom for both Mary and himself to dine alone after a journey. Mary is well aware of the rigours of a long coach ride and the accumulated weariness of constant travel over a period of several days. Hawk knows himself to be irritable and not inclined to favour company of any sort. He will catch up with Mary in the morning when she will drill him solidly for an hour, wanting to learn every detail of his business trip.
Hawk finds himself especially tired on this occasion. Normally he would have rested somewhat on the ferry from New Norfolk, but upon his arrival at the little river port he discovered the ferry had struck a docking pylon the previous night and sunk in six feet of river water. The captain, being reputed to have been in an advanced state of inebriation, was blamed for the accident.
Now his back ached from the Cobb and Co. coach ride, where, despite paying for two seats as was his usual custom, he’d been jammed in with too many other passengers, among them two stout ladies who seemed to spend the entire trip complaining about the mishap to the ferry and the added inconvenience of the coach, and on several occasions making pointed remarks that ‘someone’ among them was taking twice the seating space he was entitled to.
‘Tell Miss Mary I am wearied from my journey and wish to bathe and be early to bed and will take supper alone in my study. You will give her my apologies and say that I will see her in the morning,’ he tells the maid. Then adds, ‘Can you remember all of that?’
The servant girl nods and does a poor imitation of a curtsy before taking her leave. Mary’s servants are not expected to be overformal in their behaviour, required only to show respect to their employers. ‘Had quite enough o’ all that bowing and scraping when I were a maid meself,’ Mary would say when she suspected a visitor expected a curtsy or a servant to stand to attention as they passed.
Hawk has removed his boots, socks and cravat and released his starched collar from its gold stud. His braces hang from his waist and his shirt cuffs are unlinked, when there is a sharp knock on the door followed immediately by Mary’s voice. ‘Hawk, I must talk to you! Will you not take tea with me tonight?’
‘Mama, I am greatly wearied from the journey, I beg to be excused.’
‘Are you decent?’ Mary’s voice now asks from behind the door.
Hawk sighs. ‘Mama, I have removed my boots and I daresay my feet stink to high heaven,’ he says, hoicking up his braces as he speaks.
Without further ado the door to his bed chamber is thrown open. ‘Hawk, I simply must talk to you!’ Mary repeats.
Hawk groans. ‘Mama, can’t it wait? I am dog-tired. Can we not talk at breakfast, after I am rested?’
‘No, it can’t!’ Mary snaps. ‘I would be most obliged if you’d take tea with me. Mrs Briggs will make you something light to eat, a little cold lamb and mustard pickles perhaps?’
Hawk realises that Mary will not be put off, that if he continues they will inevitably quarrel, an experience for which he has an even greater disinclination than his appearance at supper. ‘Mama, allow me to take a bath first,’ Hawk sighs wearily.
At the dinner table a thoroughly grumpy Hawk hears of the Dutchman’s arrival. Mary tells him that, together with his manservant, Isaac Blundstone, Teekleman has been given quarters at The Ship Inn.
Hawk shows his astonishment. ‘You welcomed him and gave him a place to stay?’
‘Well, yes, it seemed a proper thing to do, given the circumstances,’ Mary says, her lips pursed.
‘Proper thing? Proper thing to do! Whatever can you mean?’ Hawk cries.
‘Well, he’s Hinetitama’s friend, ain’t he?’
Hawk shakes his head, not believing what he’s heard. ‘Mama, what have you done!’
Hawk looks at his mother, holding her eyes. ‘Don’t you look at me like that, Hawk Solomon,’ she shouts. ‘It don’t have nothing to do with me, ask her, she’ll tell yer what happened!’
Mary lowers her eyes, averting his gaze. She is not accustomed to explaining herself or of justifying her actions and he senses she feels vulnerable. ‘Mama, are you sure? Are you sure you didn’t have a hand in this?’
‘Course I am,’ Mary snorts indignantly. ‘Would I lie to you, me own flesh and blood?’
‘Good then, you won’t mind if I send him packing? I daresay a little more than two sovs will be needed this time, but I shall regard it as money well spent.’
Mary doesn’t react as Hawk expects she will, defending the Dutchman’s right to stay as long as her granddaughter wants him to remain, claiming that her love for Teekleman must be allowed to prevail. Instead she shrugs, her expression now completely noncommittal. ‘You must do what you think best, my dear, I have only waited until you returned.’ Then she adds quietly, ‘But if you must send him off, then don’t tell her, let her think he’s left of his own accord. Either way it will break her poor heart, but if she knows it’s you done it to her again, this time she will not forgive you.’
Hawk is immediately suspicious. It is an altogether too well-rehearsed reply. He senses Mary is at her most devious. She has the same ‘butter won’t melt in her mouth’ appearance as when she confronted the hapless Senior Detective O’Reilly in the mortuary and claimed Mr Sparrow’s headless body to be Tommo’s. It is at this precise moment that Hawk knows that Teekleman has been bribed in some manner he cannot hope to match. That money won’t buy him off. That, whatever the machinations involved in having the Dutchman return to her granddaughter, Mary has rendered Hawk powerless to prevent Teekleman from staying in Hobart.
She has not forbidden him to send the Dutchman packing, so he cannot chastise or even threaten to undermine her by admitting to David Solomon that they stole Ikey and Hannah’s Whitechapel fortune. Unless he should kill him, Teekleman will stay and marry Hinetitama. Mary will have her stallion and Hinetitama will be sacrificed as Mary’s willing mare.
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