by Carol Jones
Craigie was situated about twenty miles from Robetown. Violet had only resided there for a fortnight thus far. She found it difficult to imagine the children’s mother driving a mob of recalcitrant sheep and cattle a thousand miles over hill and dale. Nor could she envisage her sleeping beneath bullock drays, or swimming horses across flooded rivers, but the Wallaces had indeed settled there after driving three thousand head of sheep and cattle overland from Botany Bay. She could not reconcile that doughty pioneer with the woman she had come to know. But perhaps these ordeals had broken, rather than toughened her. Perhaps these deprivations had hollowed her out, rather than built her up. They had certainly ruined her complexion, for although she was not yet forty, she wore her life upon her face for all to see, poor woman.
No doubt the death of two infants to the scarlet fever had also contributed to Mrs Wallace’s fragility and Violet tried to remain sympathetic. But faced with her constant nagging about the smallest of oversights, she was ashamed to admit that she did not always succeed. And if she sometimes neglected the boy’s Latin for a half-hour of ghost stories or a game of blind-man’s buff, who could blame her? Certainly not James, who detested his volume of The Eton Latin Grammar as vehemently as she did.
By the time she had thanked their rescuer and was limping up the drive flanked by the two children, Violet was beginning to regret their excursion. They had been gone rather a long time, and she conceded that Mrs Wallace might be concerned.
‘It may be best not to mention the bullocks to your mother, children. It would only cause her worry,’ she said as they approached the porticoed entrance. When James looked as if he might argue the point, she added, ‘And she may ban further such excursions. You would not want that, would you?’
‘No, miss. Mr Thomas said that he would teach me how to work his dog if I stayed put upon the bales until we reached home,’ said James with a slow nod of agreement.
‘And I’m sure Mr Thomas is a man of his word.’
The children’s mother greeted them at the door, her cap somewhat awry. Unfortunately, she had got herself into quite a state while they were gone. She was breathing hard, her gaunt chest puffing in and out beneath the dull brown cambric of her bodice. The woman could do so much more with herself, given a little advice and some small expense. Having recent knowledge of the London fashions, Violet had offered to assist with her wardrobe, but her advice had been declined.
‘Miss Hartley! Where have you been? I sent Billy out looking for you!’ Billy did all the outdoor work, now that the younger men had run off to the goldfields.
‘We went for a walk along the beach, Mama,’ Alice reported helpfully. Violet winced, for their mother frowned upon anything beyond the margins of her rigorously drawn-up schedule. She was inclined to refer to Violet’s excursions privately as irresponsible rather than educational.
‘A Nature walk, Alice. We have been on a Nature walk. The biological sciences are an important component of the rounded child’s education, don’t you find, Mrs Wallace?’
‘I don’t think—’
‘We saw some Celestials,’ said James.
‘What are you talking about, James?’ his mama asked, distracted from her inquisition.
‘With pigtails. Coming along the jetty.’
‘Miss Hartley says they have come all the way from China,’ said Alice. ‘I should like to sail to China one day. May I, Mama?’
Mrs Wallace looked from one child to the other, her mouth slightly agape, recalibrating her attack. ‘Why were you at the jetty?’
‘They have landed in Guichen Bay, it seems. On their way to the goldfields,’ Violet explained, ignoring her implied criticism.
‘Who has landed in Guichen Bay?’ interposed a deeper voice as Mr Wallace appeared in the foyer from the rear of the house, still wearing his riding boots. She had thought he was to be at Craigie for the next month, supervising the construction of a dam. Meanwhile, his wife devoted less and less time to the station, preferring to live in town. A fact of which Violet was most grateful or she and the children would be ensconced at Craigie too with the flies, the heat and the snakes. Not to mention the interminable diet of tea and mutton.
‘Papa!’ the children chorused, flinging themselves into his arms.
‘You smell of horse, Papa,’ said Alice. ‘And sweat.’
Despite having attained the age of five and forty, Mr Wallace remained a fine figure. He had the upright posture of a man of action and a charming suggestion of grey at his temples, but she suspected that these qualities went unappreciated by his wife. Mrs Wallace wrinkled her nose at the sweat staining his blue serge shirt and the perspiration glowing upon his tanned forehead.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Wallace,’ Violet said with a welcoming smile.
‘Good afternoon, Miss Hartley.’ He returned her greeting with a nod, before turning to his wife and adding, ‘Good afternoon, Eliza.’
‘What are you doing here, William? I thought you were to be at Craigie for the month.’
‘Can’t a man miss his family, my dear?’
‘Of course you may,’ said Mrs Wallace with a thin-lipped smile, ‘only I thought you were needed on the station. You always say that the men can’t be trusted to wipe their… to wield a shovel if you’re not there to supervise.’
‘Papa, can you take us to see the Celestials?’ asked James, leaning against his father’s legs and looking up. ‘They are here in Robetown. A thousand of them at least.’
‘Perhaps not quite a thousand.’ James tended to run out of numbers beyond fifty and took to guesswork.
‘If Miss Hartley can spare you from your lessons. What say you, Miss Hartley? Can you release two naughty children from their algebra for the afternoon to spend some time with their papa?’ He threw an arm about each of his children’s shoulders but reserved his gaze for their governess.
‘Can Miss Hartley come with us, Papa?’ asked Alice.
‘If she has nothing better to do. She can give us a geography lesson about China on the way. But perhaps she would rather have an hour to herself?’
‘Not at all. I’m sure it will prove educational.’
‘We shall take the gig then, if Miss Hartley does not mind James sitting upon her knee, and Alice can squeeze between we two.’
‘Cannot Alice sit upon Miss Hartley’s knee?’ said James.
‘Alice is twelve and a young lady now, James. She is too big to sit upon a knee.’
Throughout this conversation, Violet noticed Mrs Wallace’s smile becoming tighter and tighter until her mouth seemed to disappear altogether as her eyes narrowed to two flinty shards.
‘Papa has had a long ride, children, and needs to rest,’ she said, taking each child by the hand and depositing those hands in Violet’s. ‘Miss Hartley will help you wash before luncheon.’
Her hands now free, she reached out towards Violet’s sprigged bodice and for a moment Violet thought she would shove her towards the stairs. But then, appearing to think better of it, she made a little shooing motion instead and retrieved her thin smile. ‘Cook has made seed cake,’ she muttered with a shake of her head, as if casting off unwelcome thoughts. ‘Run along now.’
*
It did not take long for the Wallace party to discover the whereabouts of the new arrivals. They had set up camp on the flat over the rise from the Banks family’s tiny bark-slab cottage. Mr Wallace drew the gig to a halt and lifted the children down, before holding Violet’s hand slightly longer than necessary while helping her alight. Perhaps a hundred of the Celestials had gathered on the scrubby flat and were engaged in erecting shelters. Violet watched as a group of men stretched a length of canvas over a pole, supported at each end by a pair of crossed bamboo sticks. Others were establishing cooking fires in hollowed-out nests of earth. One group had set themselves apart from the others and she recognised the Government Resident wandering amongst them, from his customary pea jacket. Most of the newcomers had removed their strange hats, for the wind was still blustery, an
d she saw that apart from a single braid, the front and sides of their scalps were shaved so that their heads gleamed like boiled eggs. The whole encampment appeared most strange, and she wondered how Robe and its citizens must seem to the Celestials.
‘Look, Miss Hartley, there’s Mr Thomas!’ said Alice, pointing to a spot fifty yards distant where the bullocky was involved in an animated conversation with one of the Chinamen. Their discussion contained few words, being made up mostly of gestures. Thomas kept pointing to himself and spreading his arms as if to encompass the entire contingent of Chinamen. Then he would point to the east, presumably towards the diggings.
‘You’ve met Thomas?’ asked her employer, giving Violet a sideways look.
‘This morning. I twisted my ankle upon our walk and he was kind enough to drive us back to the house.’
‘Do you know, Papa, he has names for each of his bullocks?’ asked James.
‘Yes, I do know that, James. All the bullockies name their beasts.’
‘Can we not name our cattle, Papa? James and I can make a list,’ said Alice.
‘It would need to be a very big list, Alice, for we have three thousand head of cattle and ten thousand sheep, most of them looking remarkably similar.’
‘I don’t mind, Papa. I have a big imagination.’
Throughout this exchange, Mr Wallace had been leading his children towards the bullocky, who towered over his partner in conversation: a thin man, with a lined brown face and greying pigtail. As they approached, Thomas extended his hand to the other, and they shook upon whatever agreement had been reached, before the Chinaman bowed quickly three times and returned to his fellow travellers.
‘G’day, Thomas,’ said Wallace, extending his hand.
‘G’day, Mr Wallace,’ he nodded, ‘Miss Hartley, children.’ The two men shook hands and stood silently staring out at the encampment for a few moments before sharing a slow shake of the head.
‘Have you ever seen the like?’ asked Wallace.
‘Never thought to see such a thing in Robetown,’ said Thomas, ‘though I’ve passed a few parties on the road.’
‘You and the headman have come to a satisfactory arrangement, I take it?’ Wallace eyed the bullocky shrewdly, one man of business in silent understanding with another.
‘They need a guide to the diggings and I’m returning to the Grampians in a few days. I can take them further on.’ Thomas nodded, a satisfied smile subtracting years from his face so that Violet caught a glimpse of the boy he had been not so very long ago.
‘Where there is one party of Chinamen, there are bound to be more, I’ll wager,’ said Wallace.
‘I suspect you’re right.’
Violet could not restrain the words that suddenly burst forth. ‘So you’ll be returning to Guichen Bay?’
‘As soon as I can.’
‘What’s Brewer doing with that lot over there?’ said Wallace, indicating the Government Resident amidst the small group of men set apart from the others.
‘Apparently there’s some sickness amongst the arrivals. Brewer is sorting them out now. His wife is getting up a party of ladies to help with their nursing.’
‘Miss Hartley could help, Papa. She is very good at looking after people,’ said Alice, and Violet had to stifle a sudden intake of breath. ‘She nursed me through the chicken pox and I haven’t a single scar to show for it.’
Both men turned to consider Violet, who was wrestling her face into a bland smile.
‘What do you think, Miss Hartley,’ asked Wallace, ruffling his daughter’s hair, ‘since your services have been so generously volunteered?’
‘Well, I… I’m not sure Mrs Wallace could spare me. And there may be danger of contagion to the children.’
‘Mama won’t mind.’ Alice slid her hand into Violet’s and looked up expectantly. ‘Everyone helps out around here.’
‘Perhaps Miss Hartley is accustomed to nursing children, not adults,’ said Thomas, casting her a sympathetic glance. ‘These men are unknown to her.’
‘But Mrs Brewer is helping so it must be safe.’
Violet resisted an urge to throttle the girl but did not remove her hand. She doubted she possessed will or strength enough to tend these men. She had put all that behind her after her mother died.
‘Do not pester Miss Hartley, Alice,’ chided Wallace so that his daughter’s face crumpled.
‘No, it’s an excellent suggestion. I should have thought of it myself. Of course I would be pleased to help Mrs Brewer and the other ladies. If Mrs Wallace agrees,’ said Violet. She could only hope that her employer would veto anything that might endanger her children in even a small way, although she had already discovered that the town’s residents were a self-sufficient lot who all lent a hand when needed.
‘That’s that, then,’ said Wallace.
With the matter agreed, the two men proceeded to talk sheep, Wallace going so far as to seek Thomas’s opinion on the efficacy of various solutions of tobacco wash in the treatment of scab, while Violet entertained the children with a game of Taboo, the letter ‘s’ being taboo.
‘Where might you find a bird, James?’ asked Alice, grinning with pleasure at her question.
‘In the sky!’
‘Sky has an “s”,’ said Alice.
‘No, look up at the sky!’ James said raising his arm.
They all turned to look where the boy was pointing. Dancing a jig high above the tents was a giant golden fish, its red tail like a fiery comet against the grey sky.
‘Now there’s a fish out of water,’ Wallace said with a grin, and ruffled his son’s hair.
7
Pearl River Delta, China, 1856
Little Cat eyed a plate of sweet lotus root, wondering if she could fit one more morsel in her swollen belly. She had probably eaten more than all Seven Sisters combined that evening, despite the dishes loaded with fruit and sweets to tempt their heavenly guests; pink- and green-tinted peanuts, toasted sesame seeds, red date soup and other tasty offerings. Seven dishes of each delicacy were laid out on a table decorated with seven kinds of flowers, seven shiny combs and hair-binding threads in seven colours. By comparison, the tables set with food for human consumption looked sparse so late in the evening, since the humans had more earthly stomachs to fill.
The Wu clan hall was the largest of the three lineage temples in the village and the site of all major celebrations and the boys’ schooling. Tonight it glowed with lanterns and echoed with the sound of celebrating villagers. Little Cat was just deciding there remained a small, lotus-root- shaped hole in her stomach when Elder Brother appeared at her shoulder.
‘Have you seen Siu Wan?’
Recently he had sprouted the beginnings of a beard and something edible was clinging to his straggling whiskers. She avoided staring in case she laughed, for there was nothing Elder Brother hated more than being laughed at, especially by his little sister. Wing Keong was the tallest of the Mo siblings and ‘always strong’, as his name suggested, yet sometimes his dignity was more fragile than an ageing scholar’s.
‘Not since we prayed for Weaver Girl’s blessing,’ she said, keeping her eyes fixed upon a spot above his left ear. She thought about the ceremony earlier that evening, before the arrival of the other villagers at the hall. The ceremony before the ceremony. The secret one known only to girls. With their hands clasped and heads bowed, all the unmarried girls in the village had stood in a circle while Ming Ju, the eldest, led them in chanting prayers to the Seven Sisters. She called on Weaver Girl to find them kind and loving husbands and prayed that she and Cowherd would be reunited in heaven. Siu Wan had been particularly fervent in her prayers, almost crushing Little Cat’s hand as they chanted. But she said none of this to her brother.
Some years, if the eldest girl was born with ‘fairy bones’ and could speak to the spirit world, the girls might fall into a trance, arms quivering, legs trembling, and occasionally one of them might collapse unconscious to the ground. She had experienced thi
s only once, the year the second Wu daughter led the incantations and the brick-maker’s daughter swooned, lying on the floor in a faint until someone popped a salted plum in her mouth and she woke up coughing. Little Cat’s hands and feet had been cold and numb for ages afterwards.
But she didn’t mention any of this to her brother either.
‘Isn’t she here?’ was all she asked.
She didn’t like to admit that she had been too busy eating and enjoying herself to notice her friend’s absence. She had noticed that Siu Wan was quieter than usual these last few weeks, yet no matter how she tried to cheer her friend up, she pretended there was nothing wrong.
Elder Brother shook his head. ‘No one has seen her since the flower drum songs started.’ He did not say that he was worried, but she saw it in his fierce eyes and the stiff set of his shoulders and suddenly many things became clear. Aiya! She was supposed to be clever, like her namesake. How then had she been so blind to something right beneath her whiskers? Siu Wan had said that she didn’t want any other man because she had already found love, but none of the girls could prise a name from her lips, even after torture by tickling. Now Little Cat suspected whom that love might be and she was shocked. Perhaps she hadn’t picked up on the clues because she didn’t expect her serious elder brother to be in love. He seemed more concerned with silkworms than girls. How wrong could she be?
‘Let’s get Second Brother and search for her.’
*
After splitting up, the three Mo siblings scoured the village, which was strangely empty on this festival night when most of the population was celebrating at the Wu ancestral hall. Only the most ancient of grandmothers and grandfathers, and those too ill too attend, had stayed at home. Even the babies had joined the celebrations in their mothers’ arms, so that Little Cat wandered alone through the deserted alleys, accompanied only by the distant sounds of celebration. At first she suspected she might find Siu Wan at the girls’ house, nursing her sadness in silence. But the only occupant was the cat they fed on titbits swiped from family tables, and he was napping, oblivious, in the middle of Ming Ju’s bed. So after checking her friend’s home and the Yee lineage temple, she re-joined her brothers at their appointed meeting place, under the banyan trees by the village gate.