The Locket of Dreams (18 page)

The weeks passed quickly as they became familiar with Rosedale and all the new people in their life.

October was a difficult month, when both Charlotte and Nell were cast into a deep well of depression. October was the month when Alexander had drowned with the wreck of the
Eliza Mackenzie
and then Eliza herself had died just a couple of weeks later, with the premature birth of her son.

The weather veered between winter and summer, from overcast, cold days when everyone huddled around the fire and the wind howled around the chimney pots, to warm, sunny days when it was hotter than Scotland in midsummer.

A few days after the anniversary of Eliza’s death, Annie called the girls into the sitting room. On the floor was a large parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string.

‘Open it,’ cried Annie, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. ‘It is for you.’

Charlotte felt a thrill of anticipation. Together, Nell and Charlotte cut the string and tore open the parcel. Sophie came close and could not resist helping to tear the paper open.

Inside were several coils of coloured ribbon, and bolts of blue and green material.

‘Look, girls,’ announced Annie. ‘Are they not pretty? We will make you some gorgeous new dresses to wear. I thought the blue for Nell and the green for Charlotte. What do you think?’

Annie held the blue bolt up against Nell.

‘Perfect. It is time we added some coloured ribbon to all your white dresses now. You cannot keep mourning your mama and papa and baby brother forever.’

Charlotte felt the familiar stab of grief as she was reminded of what she had lost, mixed with a sense of warmth, in that Annie had been so kind to them.

‘Thank you, Annie,’ replied Charlotte with a wan smile, stroking the green fabric. ‘The material is so pretty, and you are right, it will be a nice change to wear some colour.’

‘I love this blue, thank you, Annie,’ added Nell, draping the material over her shoulders like a cape.

‘Good,’ said Annie. ‘We will start cutting out the dresses today. It is a long time since I made any dresses for little girls.’

So, Annie fetched her scissors and began to cut out pretty new dresses from the material, while Nell and Charlotte worked beside her, trimming their bonnets with green ribbon.

An hour later, Will came to collect Nell and Charlotte to take them riding.

‘Charlotte and Nell,’ called Will from the door. ‘Pot and I are riding out to deliver the week’s supplies to the shepherds. Would you like to come?’

Charlotte was sure Annie had suggested it, to help stop them from moping.

‘Thank you, we would love to come,’ replied Charlotte.
‘That is, if it is all right with you, Annie?’

‘Of course,’ Annie assured them. ‘I can finish cutting out the material myself, then you can both help me sew them this evening.’

One afternoon Will and Pot suggested that they should ride upriver, to the spring that fed Rosedale Creek. They were excused from chores for the afternoon, so had packed some picnic supplies for lunch in the saddlebags, with their tin mugs and pannikins so they could drink from the creek and boil a quart pot for tea.

It was a gorgeous ride. The valley became narrower as they rode along beside the creek, with the hills rising steeply on either side. Tall gum trees grew along the creek banks and in the gullies. A kangaroo was startled by their presence and stared at them, before bounding away into the ti-tree scrub.

‘Look up here,’ instructed Will, pointing up into a tall eucalypt. ‘It’s a family of native bears. I think this must be Mala’s family.’

It took a moment for the girls to see them. In the tallest branches were two grey, furry balls, apparently asleep.
Lower down was another native bear, but this one was awake, staring at them with sleepy, glassy eyes.

‘She has a baby,’ whispered Pot, pointing at the lower koala. Charlotte could see a smaller bundle cuddling into the arms of its mother.

‘They come down near the homestead sometimes,’ explained Will. ‘They come to visit Mala’s gum tree, but they have to cross the stable yard to get to it.

‘The male bear has a peculiar barking cry and he calls out to me when he wants me to tie up the dogs. The dogs go crazy when they see the wild native bears, although they are used to Mala now.

‘That was how I came to find Mala, when she was a baby. Tiger attacked her and had his face scratched to ribbons. I managed to separate them before either of them was too badly hurt.’

They rode on for another couple of miles, until they came to a large clear pool. Further up the hillside, a spring welled up from the ground under some rocks and trickled down into the pool. The spring and pool were surrounded by soft tendrils of ferns and velvety white flannel flowers.

The four children dismounted and hobbled the horses, leaving them to graze.

Charlotte and Nell gathered twigs and fallen branches, built a fire and set a quart pot of water on to boil. They unpacked the saddlebags with their pannikins, tin mugs, tea, flour bag, sugar, butter, salt and a plaid rug to throw over the damp ground.

‘Do you see this young banksia cone?’ asked Pot, picking one from a nearby tree. ‘My people used to use these to light fires in the old days.’

‘I thought you used to make fire by rubbing softer wood into hard wood, until the friction sparked a flame,’ commented Will.

‘We did that too but it takes a long time,’ agreed Pot. ‘It’s easier to light some banksia cones from a burning campfire. The cones burn for hours, so the children would carry them to the new camp spot to start a fresh fire.’

Pot bent over and pushed the banksia cone into the fire to show the girls how it slowly smouldered.

‘That’s clever,’ commented Nell, twisting the smoking cone in her fingers. ‘It is hard to believe it burns for hours.’

Charlotte made a mug of tea for everyone when the quart pot boiled, adding a pinch of tea and sugar to the hot water.

Will and Pot had fishing rods baited with worms and they hoped to catch a fish or two for lunch. Pot also had a long wooden spear, straight and strong, with a sharp barb of fencing wire on the tip.

‘It is so peaceful here,’ said Nell, picking some wildflowers growing on the bank. ‘I think it is amazing the way the water bubbles up from deep underground.’

‘This is a very sad place for my people, this spring,’ commented Pot. ‘It’s the bathing place of the spirits.’

Charlotte and Nell squatted down beside the two boys with curiosity.

‘Why is that, Pot?’ Charlotte asked. ‘Did one of your relatives die here?’

‘Many years ago, there was a young girl of my people who used to come here to swim and play with her friend,’ Pot explained.

‘One day, the girl was betrothed against her will to marry
an elder of the tribe, so she ran away with her young lover to the spring up the hill. The elder was a jealous old man who followed them and killed them both in revenge. They died entwined in each other’s arms.

‘On moonlit nights, if you listen closely you can still hear the sound of the two spirits splashing and laughing together.’

Pot threw his line out into the water with a gentle plop.

‘That is so sad, Pot,’ Charlotte replied. ‘I wish I could hear the sound of the two spirits laughing.’

‘I would not care to at all,’ shuddered Nell. ‘I do not like ghosts.’

‘I think our ghost is more like a guardian angel,’ Charlotte replied quietly.

Will looked at her quizzically. ‘Our ghost?’

Charlotte laughed awkwardly, wishing she hadn’t mentioned anything. ‘Oh, nothing really,’ Charlotte explained, flushing with embarrassment. ‘Several times at Dungorm, Nell and I thought we saw a ghost. It seemed to be a pleasant ghost.’

‘A pleasant ghost?’ Nell laughed. ‘She was nice to
us
, but she seemed very fond of shaking the candelabras and curtains.’

‘Yes, but only when we were in some kind of trouble,’ Charlotte retorted, groping inside her collar for her locket. ‘She scared off that horrid governess, Miss Crowe, and helped get Mama’s jewellery back for us. I think she was watching over us somehow.’

‘She?’ asked Will curiously.

‘Yes,’ Charlotte answered. ‘She spoke to me once – a young girl with a white gown, golden hair and bare feet.
She told me that Nell and I would come safely to Australia and that we would have good fortune here. She said it was very beautiful here, and she was right about that at least.’

Will laughed. ‘Now, Charlotte. You can’t expect me to believe your ghost stories.’

‘Don’t laugh, Will,’ warned Pot. ‘Sometimes the spirit people help us and sometimes the spirits are angry. There is much magic in this world, sometimes good, sometimes frightening.’

Pot suddenly leapt to his feet, snatched up his spear and threw it. The spear twanged through the air, and faster than Charlotte could gasp in shock, the spear had found its mark.

Pot threw himself after the spear, and then stood up grinning, his clothes saturated. On the end of his spear was a large silver fish wriggling wildly, its mouth gasping open and closed in surprise.

‘This is good eating fish,’ Pot declared proudly. ‘It’s big enough to make a meal for all of us.’

‘That was incredible, Pot,’ Charlotte exclaimed. ‘I have never seen anyone catch a fish like that.’

Will threw his fishing line down in disgust. ‘I didn’t even have one nibble again, and I certainly didn’t see that perch of Pot’s.’

‘You just need to practise more,’ Pot said with a grin, flashing his straight white teeth.

Pot set to work with his knife, gutting the fish. He stuffed the inside with some green native herb that was growing near the spring and tossed the whole fish directly onto the glowing coals.

Into a pannikin he poured some flour from the bag, added a splash of water and worked it into a dough, which
he shaped into an oval loaf. He raked out some hot coals beside the fire, placed the damper on top, then piled some more hot coals over that.

The clearing filled with the delicious aroma of baking damper and cooking fish. Pot sat back on his heels and poked the fire. At last it was ready. Pot scraped the black coals off the damper and fish, and wiped away the worst of the ash with his hands.

The four children sat on the rug on the ground eating hunks of buttered hot damper with salty fish and tea.

‘Mmm,’ sighed Charlotte. ‘This is the best fish I’ve ever tasted in my life.’

‘Better than Scottish salmon?’ asked Will.

‘Definitely,’ insisted Charlotte. ‘It must be the fresh air, sunshine and exercise, or maybe it is the way it is cooked on the coals straight from the pool. Anyway, thank you, Pot.’

After lunch, Pot and Will continued fishing, hoping to catch some more fish for the rest of the household.

‘Boys, Nell and I are going to wash the dishes downstream a little way,’ announced Charlotte.

‘Good idea,’ agreed Will. ‘Have fun. Don’t let the bunyips get you!’

‘Bunyips? What are bunyips?’ asked Nell.

‘Bunyips live in billabongs and eat little girls,’ replied Will, laughing.

‘No,’ said Pot. ‘I’ve never seen one, but sometimes you hear their strange cries in the night. They’re supposed to look something like a horse with flippers and horns.’

‘They sound a little like the water horses in Scotland,’ said Nell.

‘All right, we will be careful of bunyips,’ replied Charlotte with a laugh, as she gathered up a pile of dishes and cloths.

‘And snakes!’ added Nell.

The girls wandered downstream to another pool out of sight of the boys. Here they looked around cautiously, then started stripping off their hats, gloves, boots, stockings, petticoats and riding habits and draping them neatly on a mossy log.

Once they were down to their white chemises and drawers, they leapt into the water, shrieking with the sudden cold. Charlotte and Nell splashed and played and swam. A flock of pink-and-grey galahs were frightened by the noise and swooped away, shrieking loudly.

‘What a beautiful day for a bathe,’ Nell cried.

‘I like taking my bath in the creek, out in the open air,’ agreed Charlotte, splashing her face with a handful of water. ‘It is so much more enjoyable than sitting in the tiny hip bath in the house.’

‘We would never have
dreamt
of swimming in the burns or lochs at Dungorm,’ said Nell, rolling over.

‘For one thing, it was far too
cold
in Scotland,’ Charlotte added. ‘And for another, it simply would not
do
.’

Nell laughed and sank her face under the water.

At Rosedale, baths were often taken in the creek, as it was so much work to heat and lug so much water into the house. Annie alone preferred her baths hot and indoors.

There was a deep billabong a few minutes walk from the house which was lovely for swimming, especially on warm days. The household had a special signal, which was a cloth draped over a branch to warn others that someone was bathing there and required privacy.

The men and boys often finished a hard day’s work by swimming together down at the creek, and Annie had suggested that the girls might like to try it too. Since then Charlotte and Nell had enjoyed bathing together regularly.

After their bathe, Charlotte and Nell rubbed themselves dry with the cloths, changed into fresh underclothes and dressed themselves once more, helping each other to tidy their unruly hair.

Nell sang as they strolled back to meet the boys.

‘Sophie, please come and play with me,’ called Jess, splashing Sophie with water. ‘It’s lovely in the water.’

Sophie was lying in the sun on her towel down by the pool in the apartment complex.

‘Don’t splash,’ retorted Sophie, closing her eyes and turning away.

Jess retaliated by doing a bomb-dive into the pool, drenching Sophie and her towel.

‘Jess! Don’t be such a pest!’ growled Sophie.

Nonnie lay on a banana lounge, reading a book, wearing a dark blue one-piece swimming costume, her face protected by large sunglasses and a huge straw hat. Her arms and legs were tanned a deep brown by the sun.

‘Come on, Jess,’ Nonnie called. ‘If you don’t get out now, you will be as wrinkly as a prune, and I think you might have had enough sun for one day. I don’t want you going home sunburnt. You need to be careful with your fair Scottish skin.’

‘I think my skin has already turned to prunes,’ complained Jess, inspecting her fingers and toes.

Reluctantly Jess climbed out of the pool and sat in the shade next to Nonnie.

‘I’d like to have Scottish red hair and green eyes,’ said Sophie wistfully. ‘It would be much more interesting than boring blonde hair and brown eyes.’

Nonnie laughed, pulling one of Sophie’s tresses.

‘I think you’re gorgeous the way you are, both of you – one dark, one fair.’

Sophie flicked the despised hair over her shoulders and smiled.

‘I wished I lived in the olden days,’ mused Sophie. It would be so much fun, riding around on horseback or buggy, having amazing adventures instead of just going to school.’

Jess nodded in agreement. ‘And wearing all those gorgeous clothes.’

‘It does sound romantic,’ agreed Nonnie. ‘But hard work too. The clothes looked pretty but they must have been quite uncomfortable to wear – all those petticoats and corsets. Imagine how hot they must have been in this heat.’

Sophie and Jess glanced down at their swimming costumes and tried to imagine having to wear layers of clothes on even the hottest day.

‘There was no electricity, no dishwashers or washing machines,’ Nonnie continued. ‘Everything had to be done by hand, even milking the cow to have milk in your tea. People really knew what it was to work in those days – unless you were wealthy and could afford servants.

‘Imagine life if you were a girl from a poor family and had to earn your living as a serving maid. There weren’t many options for girls to earn a living even when
I
was growing up. All the opportunities were aimed at giving the boys the best education, as they would be the breadwinners.’