“Storms can blow up pretty fast,” Gregory told us, “and we’ve got precious cargo aboard.” This with a wink at me.
He still disturbed me. I would find his eyes watching me, calculating almost.
I thought of what he had said about the men and women and I felt he was summing me up, waiting. That made me very uneasy and when I was in my room alone at night I was thankful that my father and brother were close by.
That was a very enjoyable day in spite of the few uncomfortable moments Gregory gave me. I thought that perhaps I was imagining something which was not there. Sometimes I would think of myself alone in the house with him and that filled me with something like terror … a certain sort of horror, like that which I had felt as a child when I had conjured up images of giants and hobgoblins and trembled at the thought of them … and in a way longed to see them in reality.
“We must use the boat more often, Greg,” said my father.
“It is at your disposal, Sir Jake. Please use it when you feel the desire to do so.”
After that my father often went out in the boat, sometimes with Gregory, sometimes without him. My mother and I sometimes accompanied him. Jacco, of course, was very keen on sailing. Helena did not go at all. Her time was getting very near.
Maud told us that she herself had helped to deliver babies on the property. “They arrive now and then as you’d expect and sometimes the midwife doesn’t get here in time, so I’ve had to learn something about it.”
“My mother says that we must have the midwife in residence several weeks before the baby is due.”
She agreed with this and it was arranged that one of the men should go over to a township some fifty miles away and bring back Polly Winters with him.
This was done. She was small and plump with merry dark eyes, high-pitched laughter and a continual flow of chatter. She was in her mid-thirties, a widow. Men died often in this country.
“Don’t be put off by her frivolous manner,” said Maud. “She is a good midwife. She likes what she calls a good time but when she is doing her job she really is very good indeed.”
Polly Winters examined Helena and declared herself satisfied: then she set about entertaining us with tales about the many children she had brought into the world.
She slept in the empty room which was conveniently next to Helena’s; she went through the layette and said what else was needed. When she talked of the coming baby she was intensely serious; and then as soon as she stopped she would be giggling and one would have thought she was incapable of her delicate task.
I saw her often from my window. She was always talking to one of the men; and the nature of her conversation was obvious. She would roll her eyes and assume an archness which seemed very girlish and did not fit one of her age; she would almost caress them as she talked; and they responded readily.
My mother said she did wonder whether we had chosen wisely.
I reminded her that there was no choice. Polly Winters was the only midwife around and she had had to be fetched from fifty miles away.
But we could not help liking Polly. She was so good-natured, ready to help in anything that came along, full of laughter and seeming to find life very enjoyable. It was only when a man appeared that she became giggly and rather stupid.
We did not expect the birth for another three weeks but as my mother said—and Maud agreed with her—in view of the fact that Helena seemed a little delicate and it was so difficult to get help quickly, it was right to keep Polly with us.
I did enjoy riding and often went out with my father or my brother. We never strayed far from the house. My father was always careful to make sure of the landmarks. He said Gregory was right to warn us for it was the easiest thing in the world to get lost in such country.
There came a day when my father and Jacco had gone off to examine some aspect of the property with one of the men; Helena was resting. Polly liked her to and, as she said, put her own feet up in the afternoon. Whether she rested or not I could not be sure, but on one occasion I heard whispering coming from behind her door and now and then a suppressed giggle. I guessed that Polly was giving expression to her appreciation of one of the men about the property. It was not what one would have expected of a midwife with this very important task looming close; but I had to remember that this was not home. Life was different here. No one could reproach Polly for her conduct; her services were too important to us. If Polly entertained men in her bedroom when she was “putting her feet up,” it was not for us to complain.
The house was quiet. I felt restless. I had a longing then for home … not for London where so many dramatic and unpleasant incidents had recently taken place, but for Cador.
I pictured myself riding out of the stables and meeting Rolf. I had to remind myself that things were not always as they seemed and that people hid their true natures behind a veneer of good manners. Here at least people were more frank. Polly and her men … Maud and her desire for her daughter’s welfare … even Gregory. At least he did not pretend to be a courteous knight.
I felt the need for fresh air. I would go for a ride. Not far, of course. It would be the first time I had gone out alone. But I had a desire to go by myself.
There was a faint breeze which was pleasant. I broke into a gallop and was soon in the heart of shrub land.
There was something grand about the landscape. Gregory had talked a great deal about it. He had told us about the natives—“abos” he called them. He had several of them working on the land. “Good workers when they work,” he said. “But you don’t know what to expect. They suddenly take it into their heads to get up and go … ‘go walk-about,’ they call it. Sometimes they come back, but like as not you’ll never see them again.”
I thought about them. Bewildered perhaps, trying to change their lives to fit in with these people who had come and taken possession of their land.
He had told us about the animals; the kangaroos with their young in their pouches. We had seen several; and the little ones they called wallabies.
There was so much to see that was new to us. We used to sit and talk over meals when my mother liked to keep everyone at the table for as long as possible.
Gregory always talked glowingly. It became more and more clear that he loved the land and had made it his own. Through him we heard of the plagues of locusts which destroyed the crops, the raging forest fires which could encircle a hamlet and destroy it and even threaten the towns, of the most frequent threat of all to the farms: the dreaded drought.
He talked of koalas and wombats and the beautifully plumaged birds seen in some parts. We did not see many of these at Sealands Creek, but occasionally he would point out a flying mouse or a lyre bird.
I enjoyed hearing Gregory talk about the country.
I rode on thinking of him. The property extended for miles and I felt that while I was on my father’s land I was safe.
All the same there had been many warnings and I had to be careful.
I looked back. Far in the distance I could see the house. I dismounted, tied my horse to a dwarf shrub and sat down.
I thought about the strangeness of everything since I had come to London and once again I found myself going over it all.
Soon, I thought, we shall go home, and things will be normal again. And Helena … where would she go? Would she live with Matthew … help him with his book perhaps? She had shown no interest in it. But she would have the baby. I had a feeling that when that child came all her attention would be for it.
The heat was intense. I had been rather silly to come out at this time of day. I closed my eyes and dozed.
I awoke with a start and for the moment wondered where I was. Remembering, I rose to my feet. There was a mist in the air. I could not see the house now. I was not disturbed. I knew the direction. I would ride back at once.