The Grace Stories

by Sofie Laguna

  ‘I’m looking for Mulgo,’ Grace stammered. ‘Please – please don’t hurt me!’

  Mulgo’s son looked down at her and spoke to her more softly than the others.

  The boys seemed to be having some kind of argument among themselves about what to do with her. Their voices rose and fell, the sharp words leaving Grace confused and frightened. Muggadung tugged again on the biggest boy’s arm.

  The older boys looked at Muggadung for a long time. Then the tallest of them spoke sharply to the other three. All four boys moved away from Grace, turning and running through the bush as if they had suddenly lost interest. Only Muggadung remained.

  Grace could breathe again. Her body stopped shaking. Mulgo’s son stood watching her.

  ‘Muggadung, I’m looking for Mulgo, for your mother . . . I don’t mean no harm . . .’

  Grace pulled herself up from the ground, brushing the dirt from her dress and face. Her knees stung from where she had fallen. She watched as Muggadung walked away. After he had gone a short distance he stopped and looked back at her.

  He wants me to follow him! thought Grace. She scraped the spilled sugar, now mixed with dust and stones, back into the torn calico bag, shoved it into her pocket and took off after him.

  Grace watched Muggadung’s small body move confidently ahead of her through the bush; his bare feet seemed to know where to step so that he never tripped or stumbled the way Grace did. Sometimes he turned around to check she was still there. It was not easy for Grace to keep up with Muggadung; her long skirt caught on the branches and slowed her down. The hard surfaces of her boots slipped on the stones and rocks and fallen branches. Seeing the native boys had left her even more unsure of how the people in the camp might treat her. She wondered what would happen if she had to face men who carried real spears instead of sticks.

  Grace stopped in her tracks. ‘Muggadung!’ she called, hearing the fear in her voice. ‘Will we see Mulgo soon? That’s where you’re taking me, isn’t it? To Mulgo?’

  The boy turned and looked at her. Grace wished she could understand his words as he called back to her. He kept walking. Grace had no choice but to follow.

  Soon she smelled smoke. Muggadung moved in and out of the trees ahead of her. Grace struggled to keep up with him, her breath loud and ragged. ‘Please let us be there soon,’ she said to herself.

  The smell of smoke grew stronger. In the far distance, beyond the trees, she thought she saw figures moving. They must have arrived at the camp. Grace was too scared to call out to Muggadung again in case the natives saw that she was coming. What would they do to her? Muggadung continued towards a cleared space, and Grace walked very slowly, allowing the distance between her and the young boy to grow greater.

  She stopped behind a wide tree, peering out from one side. She could see six or seven bark shelters in an open area, surrounding a rough bark building that was larger than the rest. Narrow spirals of smoke rose from fires set at the entrances to some of the shelters. Grace saw two women roasting something on one of the fires. They wore cloaks made of animal fur. She saw a group of men, all holding spears, talking with each other. The men looked tall and dark and strong, with thin belts around their waists. Their skin looked as though it was covered in mud and oil. Those men could kill her with their spears in an instant – Muggadung couldn’t save her from those spears. She was alone here.

  Grace wondered if she would ever see Liza or Hannah or Beth or Alice again.

  Muggadung stopped and came back to where she hid behind the tree. Grace guessed he was asking her something.

  ‘I’ll wait here, Muggadung,’ she said to the boy. ‘Please can you tell Mulgo that Grace is here? Tell her I am waiting.’

  Muggadung said something, then turned and headed into the camp. Grace leaned back behind the tree, making sure none of her body could be seen, and waited.

  This time it’s not Mulgo standing on the outside – it’s me, she thought. She wondered if Mulgo felt as scared as she did now, and if Wattle Park looked as strange to Mulgo as the native camp did to her. All she had was a small bag half filled with dusty sugar. Surely that wouldn’t be enough to protect her.

  When Grace couldn’t bear the wait another second, she peeked out from behind her tree in time to see Muggadung disappear into one of the shelters. She wondered who he was talking to in there. It seemed like she waited forever.

  Then Mulgo stepped out of the shelter with her son behind her.

  Grace gripped the trunk of her tree and watched as Mulgo looked in the direction where she was hiding. She knows I’m here, Grace thought, with a mixture of fear and relief. She watched as Mulgo stopped to speak with the two women roasting meat over the fire. They nodded at her and returned to their task. Mulgo left the fire and walked towards her. Can she see me? Grace wondered.

  Mulgo was close now, looking at Grace through the trees. She wore her possum-skin cloak over her shoulders and she was carrying her string bag. This time Grace noticed that she had necklaces made of reeds around her neck. She looks so strong and proud, Grace thought. Sweat dripped down Grace’s arms and legs and her heart continued to race. Mulgo called out to her, and although Grace didn’t understand the words, there was no anger in her voice. Grace held up her hand in greeting. ‘Mulgo!’ she called shakily.

  The woman said something to her but the only word Grace recognised was her own name.

  She remembers who I am, thought Grace. She knows me.

  Grace pulled the calico bag from her pocket. More of the sugar dropped to the ground through a tear in its corner. Grace held out the bag, ashamed that her offering was so small.

  Mulgo looked at Grace with questioning eyes.

  ‘Would you help me? I need help at Wattle Park,’ said Grace, hoping that the name of the property would be enough to let Mulgo know she was needed there. Mulgo looked at her blankly.

  ‘Will you come with me back to Wattle Park? To Beddi?’ Beddi was Mulgo’s name for Beth. As soon as Grace said it, Mulgo’s eyes narrowed in recognition. She took the bag of sugar from Grace and passed it to her son. She then spoke sharply to him. The little boy pulled a face, and looked as if he might cry. Mulgo spoke to him again, this time more gently. Muggadung turned and walked slowly back to the camp, dragging his stick behind him. Grace hoped he wasn’t in any trouble for bringing her here.

  Mulgo began to walk through the bush in the direction Grace had just come and Grace followed, hoping that Mulgo would lead her back to Wattle Park.

  THEY walked in silence – the crackle of twigs and branches underfoot loud in Grace’s ears. She was aware of the bush around her and the life it held. London was always so busy she had never had the sense of how rich and full the world was, even without people and the things people made. In this new land, Grace could always sense life that was not human teeming around her. It was in the skies, in the soil, in the trees and in the water.

  Grace wasn’t sure how long they walked, but without even passing the creek they arrived, unexpectedly, at the edge of the empty cornfield. It seemed to Grace as if Mulgo knew the land and no part of her was separate from it. Then Mulgo stopped, hesitating.

  Grace turned to her, ‘Mulgo, please help me. I will find more sugar for you, and flour, too.’

  Mulgo looked long and hard at Grace. Grace knew the woman didn’t have to trust her. There were many settlers who had hurt the natives around Rose Hill, sometimes shooting them when they thought they had been thieving, or when they wouldn’t leave the land. But Grace knew, too, that if Mulgo didn’t help her, nobody would.

  ‘Please, Mulgo,’ Grace said again. ‘I don’t mean you no harm. I only need your help.’ As if she understood Grace’s plea, Mulgo stepped onto the cornfield and they began the last part of the walk up to Wattle Park.

  It became clear that Mulgo was heading for the house. Of course – she thinks it’s Beth who needs her help, thought Grace.

  ‘Mulgo,’ she called, and pointed towards Glory’s field. ‘It’s Glory. Glory is sick. Pl
ease, Mulgo, please come with me.’ Grace changed direction and walked towards Glory’s field. To her relief, Mulgo followed.

  The horse stood listlessly, her head low to the ground as Grace and Mulgo approached. When they were only a short distance from the horse, Mulgo stopped. She said something Grace didn’t understand. Grace heard fear in her voice. Maybe she isn’t used to being close to horses, thought Grace. Maybe they scare her the way the snakes and lizards in the forest scare me.

  ‘Glory won’t hurt you, Mulgo. She is gentle.’ Grace went to Glory and ran her hand down the mare’s face. ‘See . . . Glory is sick, Mulgo,’ Grace said, pointing to Glory’s side. Mulgo stayed where she was.

  ‘Come closer, Mulgo,’ said Grace. ‘I promise she won’t do anything to hurt you. Look!’ Grace ducked under Glory’s stomach and crawled out the other side. Glory didn’t move.

  ‘See how gentle she is?’ Grace smiled encouragingly at Mulgo. ‘Glory knows you are here to help her.’ Slowly, Mulgo approached the horse. Glory didn’t even seem to notice.

  Poor Glory, Grace thought. There was no spirit left in her at all – as if it had leaked out through the cut in her side.

  Mulgo came to Grace where she stood at the horses’s head. ‘Glory is a kind horse, Mulgo. Go on, you can pat her.’ Mulgo looked at Grace and Grace nodded back. Slowly, Mulgo raised her hand to Glory’s nose.

  ‘That’s it, Mulgo.’ Mulgo touched Glory’s face and the mare didn’t move. Mulgo let out a deep breath and gave Grace a quick smile.

  ‘Look, Mulgo,’ said Grace, pointing at Glory’s wound.

  Mulgo moved down to the horse’s side and inspected the cut, softly touching the skin around it. Glory didn’t even have the strength to flinch. Grace stroked Glory’s neck.

  ‘Can you help, Mulgo? Glory will die if I don’t do something. And she can’t die – she is Tom’s precious mare. He loves her very much and she can’t die!’

  Mulgo looked more closely at the cut, muttering something under her breath. Then she said something to Grace before setting off in the direction of the bush beyond the vegetable garden. Grace wondered if Mulgo was leaving her. Maybe there was nothing she could do to help. Maybe it was too late. Grace ran after Mulgo as she walked down the hill to the creek. Grace whispered to herself, as she ran. ‘Please don’t leave us. You are Glory’s only chance.’

  Mulgo led her down to Beth’s washing place. Grace stood by the stream and watched as the woman went to a small tree with thin branches and wide, rough-looking leaves. Mulgo gestured for Grace to come closer and pointed at the dark-purple, hair-covered fruit that grew on the trunk and the wider branches.

  ‘Cooroowal,’ she said, pulling the fruit from the tree. She peeled back the hairy skin and offered the pink insides to Grace with a smile.

  Grace smiled back at Mulgo, took the fruit and put it slowly into her mouth. It tasted sweet, and reminded Grace of creamed honey. The pink seeds melted on her tongue.

  For a moment, sheltered by the rough green leaves of the cooroowal tree and Mulgo’s wide, open smile, Grace was able to forget all her worries.

  ‘Is this what I’m to give Glory to make her better?’ she asked. But Mulgo was busy pulling one of the branches from the tree. Grace noticed that the branch she chose was younger and greener than the rest. Mulgo gave it to Grace to hold. Then she set off up the hill to Glory.

  When they were with the mare again, Mulgo reached into her string bag and took out a small paperbark package. Grace watched as Mulgo unwrapped the bark and drew out a stone with a sharp edge. Using the stone, Mulgo made five cuts down the length of the branch. Then she re-wrapped the stone in the bark and returned it to her bag. The green wood oozed a milky sap. Grace watched as Mulgo dripped it up and down the gash in Glory’s side. When the whole wound was covered, Mulgo said something to Grace.

  Grace wished she could understand. She wished she could ask Mulgo how often to use the tree medicine. She wanted Mulgo to tell her that Glory would soon be better. But the woman was already walking away.

  Mulgo has done so much for me, thought Grace, and all I gave in return was a torn bag half full of dusty sugar. But what else do I have? She had nothing. Grace looked down at her hands and saw Beth’s blue ribbon tied around her wrist.

  Oh – except . . .

  Grace untied the ribbon and ran after Mulgo.

  ‘Mulgo! Wait!’ she called. Mulgo stopped and faced her.

  Again, Grace wished she knew the native words – the English ones didn’t feel enough. Grace held out the ribbon.

  Mulgo looked at the ribbon, then back at her, and gave her another wide smile. But she didn’t take it. Maybe Mulgo doesn’t know I want to give it to her as a gift, Grace thought.

  Grace stepped closer, holding out the ribbon. Mulgo still didn’t take it. Grace slowly took Mulgo’s hand and pressed the ribbon into her palm. ‘Thank you, Mulgo. You have been very kind to me.’

  Mulgo closed her hand over the ribbon. She looked at Grace. ‘Digerigore,’ she said.

  ‘Digerigore, Mulgo.’

  Grace watched as Mulgo walked towards the trees beyond the cleared land of the property. She only took the ribbon to please me, Grace thought. Someone who doesn’t wear many clothes probably doesn’t have much use for a ribbon . . . Even so, Grace hoped that Mulgo would know how grateful she was.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Grace saw Beth coming down towards her carrying the baby. She felt herself panic. She had no idea how much Beth had seen.

  Beth raised her hand and smiled at Grace. Grace smiled and waved back, though she felt sick with nerves.

  ‘I saw you talking to Mulgo,’ Beth said, when she reached Grace. ‘Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve liked to have seen her.’

  Grace was lost for words.

  ‘And why are you looking such a mess?’ Beth asked, running her eyes over Grace. ‘Look at the mud on your dress – and your face too! And are they leaves in your hair? Have you been playing in the forest with the kangaroos again?’

  Grace felt her mouth drop open.

  ‘It’s all the extra work I am making you do, isn’t it?’ Beth smiled. ‘Washing dirty nappies in the creek all day and tramping about the bush gathering things for supper – no wonder you’ve no time to tidy yourself up!’

  Relieved, Grace forced a smile as she dragged her fingers through her hair, and wiped her face.

  ‘What was Mulgo showing you?’ Beth asked, looking Grace in the eye.

  Grace knew Beth would never have wanted her to go to the camp and find Mulgo. She knew she had to keep what she was doing a secret, or Beth and Tom would stop her. I must keep calm, thought Grace, and pretend as if nothing’s happened.

  ‘She didn’t show me anything. I – I asked her to come up to the house to see you, but she wouldn’t stay. I don’t think she understood me.’ Grace looked at the ground, ashamed of her lie. ‘Maybe she’ll come again soon.’

  Beth looked at Grace a moment, her eyebrows raised. She knows, thought Grace. But when Beth spoke again, she didn’t sound as though she suspected anything at all.

  ‘I’m sure she will.’ Beth turned to go. ‘Grace, could you check Moll has fresh water and then come up to the house? I need help with the fire.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Grace watched as Beth carried Alice back to the hut.

  On the way to check on Moll’s water, Grace stopped one more time to see Glory. She noticed how swollen the mare’s belly looked, though her spine made a sharp ridge down the length of her back and the ribs all along the upper half of her body showed under her skin. Perhaps when a horse gets very sick, their belly swells with all the poison, Grace thought, feeling ill.

  The sticky white sap was already soaking into the horse’s skin – hopefully it would all be gone by the time Tom checked on her again. Grace wondered how often she should use it. Back in London, when Ma Honeywell’s daughter was sick with the cough, Ma Honeywell gave her medicine every morning until she was well. And when Liza was in hospital on the ship, she s
aid that Mr Evans, the ship’s surgeon, gave her lemon water once a day, always in the morning. So Grace decided to put the medicine on Glory’s wound at the same time each day. But I’ll have to find a time when there is no chance of Tom seeing me with Glory, she thought.

  Grace spent the rest of the day catching up on her chores, but the whole time she worked she couldn’t stop thinking about Glory. When is the best time to use the medicine again? she wondered. And how long until it works?

  ‘Because it has to work, Moll! It just has to!’ Grace declared to the cow as she tipped corn into her trough.

  THE next day, Tom worked on the chicken run from morning till night, mending a gap in the fence and securing the perches and nesting boxes. He was too close to Glory’s field for Grace to check on the horse, or to use the medicine.

  Ever since Tom had come home, Grace felt that he was more and more suspicious of her, as though he was waiting for her to slip up so that he had a good enough reason to get rid of her. Grace suspected he knew where she was on the property most of the time, though he barely said anything to her.

  Soon night fell and Grace still hadn’t had the chance to see Glory. The thought of her growing sicker frightened Grace. She had seen horses in London too tired and starved and sick to move. She had known horses to disappear – they would be struggling to pull their cabs along the busy streets one day and gone the next. She had overheard their masters joking about their horses being worth more at the slaughterhouse. As she laid the table for supper, she wondered if the same thing could possibly happen to Glory.

  During the meal, Beth asked Tom if Glory was getting better. His answer made Grace’s heart sink.

  ‘No. I’ve been putting swabs on the wound but it’s not making any difference. She is losing condition every day.’ Tom didn’t look at Grace as he spoke. Grace noticed how pinched and unhappy his face became when he talked about his horse.