‘I’m not bored. But, may I offer you some refreshment? Perhaps a glass of wine before you return?’
‘No, thank you. I don’t need any stimulant. Quite to the contrary. I feel I could walk back on air. The relief is enormous, I assure you, to know that I’m not to be dismissed, that I have another chance to fulfil my dreams.’ She rose and held out her hand.
He rose also. ‘Permit me to escort you to the gate.’
‘No. Thank you again, but I shall do very well alone. Goodbye, Mr Cornwallis.’
He surprised her by taking her hand and carrying it to his lips, which just brushed her gloved knuckles.
‘Rather, au revoir, Miss Eleanor Ballard.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
‘I wish she had let me go with her to face the Board.’ Jo-Beth scrubbed energetically at the stained sheets then stretched to ease her aching back. ‘It must have been a severe ordeal.’
Pearl, arms bared to the elbow, her dark hair lank from steam, let her wash load fall back into the tub. This balanced on trestles in the courtyard, a makeshift affair set up near the kitchen water butt. There was no laundry outhouse, as such, since Elly, in a fit of rage at its dark, dank filthiness, had ordered it torn down and its resident vermin incinerated in the rubble. A new one had been promised, but meanwhile the scrubbing and rinsing went on outdoors, with water discharged across the pitted sandstone slabs and down the nearest drain amid prayers that it would not back up to overflow the yard.
‘Our Matron is quite able to manage the Board. She’s as competent as any ten men.’ Pearl checked the load in the basket beside her then went back to her rubbing – an additional task laid on the nursing staff as the washer-woman had failed to arrive this week.
Jo-Beth surveyed her cracked and swollen hands, grimaced, then plunged them back into the scummy water. There was a nip in the early spring air, enough to redden her cheeks and remind her of her home in Boston. There the leaves would be turning the same shade, along with others of gold and silver, falling to create a carpet only God could loom. She could almost smell the wood smoke from farmers burning off, hear the skeins of geese clack across the pale sky on their way south for the winter. But she didn’t miss the house, with its atmosphere so cold and repressive. She didn’t miss her bullying mother and the father who never once supported his child against tyranny. Sighing, she dragged her attention back to the prosaic present.
‘I agree as to Elly’s competence. However, the Board is still writhing over the Empire article. They’ll make her pay for it somehow. They still hold the purse strings. What’s become of the extra money supposedly voted for improvements? I haven’t seen any of it.’
‘No one has. I expect Elly will bring it up at the next Board Meeting, and the next, continuing until she’s worn them down. It’s simply typical male procrastination.’
Jo-Beth glanced at her. ‘You don’t like men much, do you?’
‘You could say so. Would you take one end of this sheet to help me wring it?’
Jo-Beth obliged, saying, ‘Then it’s just as well we don’t nurse in the men’s wards, although the poor creatures could do with some professional care. They don’t get it from those wards men.’
She thought about yesterday’s incident when Elly had asked for a tent to be set up in the yard for an infectious case. The wards man had insolently informed her that he took his orders from Doctor Houston, not the Acting Matron, although, of course, when Doctor Houston returned the tent was set up immediately. It looked to Jo-Beth as if the medical staff had mounted a campaign against Elly, part of which was to encourage disobedience amongst the lesser orders. She said as much to Pearl.
Pearl snorted. ‘Did you hear Jenkins’ complaints about the uniforms? She thinks she’s discriminated against, having to wear blue, along with the two new trainees, while Elly and I wear grey. Mind you, she fancies herself in the new white cap.’
‘Ah, she’s just jealous of the title that goes with the colour. While she’s competent enough, Elly won’t leave her in charge when she can’t trust her. We had a maid back home with the same guileful expression. One day she ran off with the married under-gardener and two silver candlesticks.’
Feeling the tug of memory, she hastily changed the subject. ‘I’m not surprised that you don’t like men after your experiences. I sometimes wonder whether I do, myself. Life would be much simpler without them.’
Yet so much greyer, she thought, recalling just how colourless her life had become in past weeks. She still had faith that Ethan would be returned to her, but as each day passed this was undermined by the unremitting toil; the inability to sleep through exhaustion and fear of her dreams; the lack of news. She haunted the quayside at the end of the working day, buttonholing passers-by, questioning passengers and crew of incoming ships. Had they heard of someone rescued from the sea? Had they spoken to any survivors of shipwreck? The coastline was littered with wrecks of all kinds, and survival stories were not unusual.
But she never heard of a ship’s master saved, a man who had commanded a clipper then lost her through the savagery of nature. She returned from such expeditions worn out and dispirited, yet unable to rest for more than a few hours before waking to another dawn of hope, soon to be eroded through the long busy day.
She let the sheet fall into the basket and stood gazing out vacantly through a gap between the buildings to the trees in the Domain. Above them rose a sky filled with painted clouds. Nothing moved. It was an unreal scene, a fitting backdrop to her present mood.
Pearl murmured sympathetically and put out a soapy hand to press Jo-Beth’s rolled-back sleeve.
‘I’m being self-indulgent, Pearl. Today I can’t fight off the melancholy. I’m afraid that sometime in the future I’ll have to reconcile myself... But I can’t, I won’t believe he’s gone forever.’ Jo-Beth hung her head to let the slow tears fall into the washtub. ‘Added to which, I despise myself. I ache for some of the comforts I left back home, my music, my books, and a warm bath with scented soap. To me this is mere existence, deprived of the small luxuries and social intercourse that smooth life’s path. I took them too much for granted. And I hate washing other people’s linen.’ She sobbed helplessly.
Softly Pearl said, ‘You are a human being. Don’t berate yourself for human weakness under stress. I think the way you have adapted to new circumstances shows great courage. Now, leave the washing. Go walking in the Domain. You need grass and trees and sky to soothe your spirit.’
~*~
A few days later there were two new admissions, a Mrs Wynham with her youngest child, a girl of two years. They were accompanied by an imperative Paul Gascoigne demanding immediate assistance for his protégées, beginning with a bed, an attending physician and the Matron’s own presence as surety for Mrs Wynham’s comfort.
Elly being absent, Pearl placed the two patients in Ward One and called Doctor Gault away from his dinner to examine them. He hastily did so, prescribing a paregoric draught then returning to his meal, clearly glad to be rid of Paul, with his air of slight menace. Pearl, while washing both patients, discovered them to be frail, under-nourished and suffering from fleas and lice. She was particularly concerned over the baby girl, Anne, whose hold on life seemed so tenuous. When they were settled she sought out Paul, waiting impatiently below in the hall.
‘Who are they, Mr Gascoigne?’
‘They’re my friends.’ His manner challenged her. ‘Why? Are they not deemed suitable to occupy one of your beds? I’ve paid my two guineas, you know. I may recommend someone to the Infirmary.’
‘There’s no need to be hostile. I place no boundaries on help. I simply want to know anything about Mrs Wynham’s background which might help us care for her.’
Her spirited response brought out his familiar half-smile. ‘You sound just like Matron. My apologies, Nurse Pearl. I’ve heard tales of the difficulties experienced by some who seek help at the Infirmary, particularly those living in poor circumstances. Not to put too fine a word on it –
slum-dwellers with no-one to speak for their character.’ He hesitated, then continued smoothly, Mrs Wynham is unwed, with three children by different men. She occupies a ruinous hut down at The Rocks.’
Pearl nodded. ‘Then you must have lied to gain admittance for her. I don’t blame you. The rules are nonsensical. What has morality to do with health care, and by what right do we turn away someone who is sick? Come up to Matron’s office where you can give me the details you’ve invented, for the sake of Doctor Gault and any of the other moralists around here.’
Paul followed her upstairs, saying, ‘When will Miss Ballard be back? I’d hoped to speak with her.’
‘It’s her afternoon off, the first in weeks. So I don’t expect her until supper time. Will you leave a message?’
‘No. No, thank you. I’ll call again to see how Mrs Wynham does, and the baby.’
He completed his business, leaving Pearl undecided over his interest in the Wynham family. How much was altruism, how much political motivation, or even simply an excuse to call on Elly? Paul Gascoigne’s many-layered personality interested her. Which aspect was the reality? The restless man, his actions propelled by some underlying need which he might be hiding even from himself? Did Elly know the answer?
~*~
In the storeroom, a stuffy cubicle lined with shelves and thick with the smell of chemicals, where, as a trusted assistant Pearl was now permitted access to drugs and other valuable items, she paused in her work, ears pricked. A shadow fell over her and she sprang about, her arm raised with a bottle of ammonium ready to throw.
J.G. flinched, saying in a placatory voice, ‘I mean no harm, I promise. Please put the bottle down.’ He grinned as Pearl slowly lowered her weapon. ‘I’m minded of a lass in a pub I know in Dublin. She always kept a bottle by her hand for emergencies.’
Pearl’s heart still pounded. The old habits of vigilance and self-protection stayed long after the need had gone. Besides, it might have been the wards man who had twice tried to corner her and take liberties, a creature with the eyes of the rapist watchman who caught her in the grounds of her first owner. The terror of a six year old victim lived on in the woman who could never quite drop her guard. Yet in later years she had learned to judge men and knew J.G. would not harm her.
‘What do you want?’ she asked.
‘I want to talk to you, when you can spare a moment.’
He was too mild, she thought. He was up to something. ‘I’m very busy.’
‘You’re also off-duty at present. I checked with the Matron.’
Pearl replaced the heavy ammonium bottle on the shelf. ‘You mean Elly will talk to you? After what you did to her, to us all?’
‘Ah, now, there’s a lass doesn’t hold a grudge. We’ve come to an understanding, Miss Elly Ballard and me, and all’s well between us.’
‘I hold grudges extremely well.’ Pearl wasn’t giving in a fraction to this practised charm. She thought him unreliable. She would not let herself like him.
J.G. pulled up a drum of whitewash and settled himself on it. ‘I, on the other hand, can’t help letting grudges slip through me fingers like quicksilver. And I have the patience of Job.’
What did he want? Did he suspect? No, he couldn’t. She was far quicker and more intelligent than he would ever be.
Pearl, now a superior few inches higher than the seated man, said, ‘Very well. Say what you want then let me get on with my work.’
He glanced up obliquely, then down at his hands. ‘Why did you do it, girl dear? Don’t they feed you well enough in this place?’
She stiffened. ‘Why did I do what?’
‘Steal my timepiece.’
There was silence in the tiny room. Pearl froze, unable to think beyond two words. He knew.
J.G. still spoke to his hands. ‘I’ve had me pocket picked enough times to know when it’s happened again.’
‘You... let me do it?’
‘I’m as curious as a billy goat. I want to know why you did it. You’re no ordinary thief.’
Pearl knew the blood had risen to her face. A thief. Yes, she was a thief. What did others know of her struggle to stay alive, to gain her freedom, to wangle her way across the seas in the hope of finding her last remaining relative? What did this self-righteous scribbler know of hardship or abuse, of the need to always stay ahead of the ravening pack?
‘Well? Why did you steal from me?’
She compressed her lips.
‘Tell me.’ The tone was firm but not vengeful.
Pearl briefly pondered an appeal at his feet, the reflex abject display of a slave’s remorse, but dismissed it. He wouldn’t be fooled. Not this one. Besides, she’d grown tired of performing according to expectations, tired of turning herself into a carpet to be kicked at will. This was supposed to be a new young land of opportunity. She’d be opportune, trusting to luck to escape the penalties. ‘I needed the money.’
‘You’ve already sold it – my Dad’s Tompion?’ He shot to his feet, and Pearl backed away, watching him warily.
‘If a Tompion is your timepiece… No, I still have it.’
He sank back, wiping his forehead. ‘Well, the saints be praised. Look, girl dear, whatever your desperate need, you can return the watch to me and I’ll give you money in exchange.’
The blood rushed away from her head, leaving her sick and faint. ‘No. I can’t.’
‘You can’t accept money freely given, yet you will steal. What kind of crazy code do you live by?’
Pearl couldn’t explain. She only knew that her personal prestige was somehow involved. ‘Let me fetch the timepiece for you.’
‘I think not. We’ll be getting to the bottom of this right this minute. Sit down on the cask so I can loom over you and browbeat you into telling me the truth.’
She sat down, curious as to what he’d say or do next, and strangely heartened by his facetiousness. The man had great empathy, and much as she didn’t desire any strong connection with him, or anyone else, she responded to his warmth.
J.G. adopted a lecturing pose, thin legs in drainpipe trousers astride, one hand on his hip, the other wagging a finger at her.
‘We have here, ladies and gentlemen, a young lady of taste and beauty, employed, housed and fed by another charming lady – oh, and dressed by her, as well.’ He pointed at her sensible grey twill frock. ‘So why, do you think, she’d steal? To help someone else, perhaps?’
She shook her head slightly.
‘For herself, then?’
Her gaze remained steady.
‘Well now, she must have some great need. What could it be? Does she want passage money back home to China; or a house of her own, here in Sydney Town; or a carriage and pair to cut a dash in the Domain? Furs, jewels to trap a rich husband?’
To her horror, Pearl felt tears rising. How stupid. She didn’t care what he, or any other man thought of her.
He pressed his advantage. ‘Is she simply a mercenary jackdaw out to line her nest with the best feathers at the expense of others? But then, she refused my offer of money. So, we have a mystery still.’
Pearl’s lip trembled. She got up. ‘I have to go now. I’ll return... return your...’ The tears spilled out down her cheeks. She stood petrified, unable to wipe them away, unable to control them. What was happening to her?
J.G. gently reseated her on the cask, his touch as impersonal as she could wish. Producing a clean handkerchief he patted her cheeks dry, then pocketed it before moving back to survey her with eyes from which all merriment had fled. ‘Now tell me what your trouble is, girl dear.’
Pearl told him. She didn’t simply explain the carefully hoarded cache growing behind a brick in the wall of her room, but went right back to her years as a cast-off girl-child sold for a few copper cash to be used by her owners as they willed. She described her life in the mission in the Yangtse Valley. She relived her foster-mother’s murder; her own careful plot to kill the Triad who had enslaved her; the flight to a city about to be destro
yed; then told of her terrible disappointment upon discovering that her brother, Li Po, had gone.
‘He is my family, all I have left. I must find him. That is why I need money, to reach the goldfields and search for Li Po. I need more than my wages at the hospital, much more, even if I eat little and walk the whole way.’
J.G. drew a deep breath. ‘Mother of God, what a history. Not to mention a sea-trip ending in shipwreck and the loss of your belongings, including the gold you’d no doubt already saved. But to search the diggings is out of the question. Do you know how many there are in the Colonies, and how far apart? Men have poured in from all parts of the globe, like ants to a honey jar. It would take years.’
Pearl said simply, ‘I have the rest of my life.’
‘Which might not be so long if you set out on such a mad search. Look, why not try other methods first, such as an advertisement in the newspapers? Some of them would reach the goldfields. You could hire a man to make enquiries for you, someone setting off to try his luck. No, he’d be altogether bent on making a fortune. But you must not go yourself. It’s too dangerous, too full of hardship.’
Pearl’s jaw tightened. ‘I am used to danger and hardship, and I will go myself to find Li Po.’
He eyed her with frustration. ‘Not with my Tompion, you won’t.’
‘Oh, to the bottom of the sea with your Tompion! I don’t want it. I wish I’d never taken it.’
‘Then there’s one thing we agree upon. Now, be a good girl –’
Don’t speak to me like that. I am not a good girl. I am a woman with a mission and I am my own mistress. I’m sorry I told you about myself. I will not be so weak again.’ She sprang up and whisked out the door like a small whirlwind, intent on retrieving the wretched timepiece then dismissing its owner. But when she returned, watch in hand, J.G. had gone. She ran to the front lobby, then out into Macquarie Street, but there was no sign of him. Baffled, she returned the watch to its hiding place and went back to work in the storeroom.
That afternoon she was unaccountably clumsy, knocking flasks from shelves, stumbling over sacks. When a canister of precious sugar slipped from her hands and sprang open, dumping its contents all over the floor, she kicked it away from her then went in search of pail and scrubbing broom, freely cursing herself, J.G. and the whole race of men.
A HAZARD OF HEARTS Page 16