The Pearl Sister (The Seven Sisters Book 4), page 25
Kitty concentrated hard on the contents of her water glass, not daring to raise her eyes to his.
‘When I asked you to wait for me, I was in deadly earnest, but it was too little, too late. I knew it when I walked away and, I admit, if I had been you, I would have made the same decision. Two brothers, identical looking, one a drunkard and a joker and the other . . . well . . .’ He shrugged. ‘You know who Andrew is. When the inevitable happened and I heard you were to marry my brother, I knew I had lost. Time passed and I lived my life, as we all do. Then I got the telegram from Andrew, asking me to call in to see you in Broome. I will shock you by confessing that I deliberated for many hours. Eventually, I decided it was best I came here to lay the ghost to rest and move on. I walked in here out of the rain, depleted and exhausted, took one look at you and immediately knew that nothing had changed. If anything, as I’ve witnessed your strength and determination to make a life for you and your child in a hostile environment which most men – let alone women – would find daunting, my admiration and respect for you has increased. Put simply, my darling Kat, you are by far the most courageous, stubborn, intelligent, irritating and gorgeous female I have ever had the misfortune to come across. And for some extraordinary reason that I cannot fathom, I love every bone in your beautiful goddamned body. So’ – he raised his glass to her – ‘there you have it.’
Kitty could hardly believe what she’d just heard, or dare to trust it. Every word he’d spoken mirrored her feelings exactly. Yet she knew she must reply pragmatically.
‘I am your brother’s wife and you have admitted you covet what he has. Are you sure that this feeling you say you have for me is not to do with that?’
‘Good Lord! I have just put my heart on the plate in front of you, so I’d ask you to refrain from cutting it up into small pieces with your sharp tongue. However, it matters not whether you believe me, but whether I believe myself. You asked me why I was still here and I have told you the truth: I am yours for the taking. If you wish me to leave, then I will.’
‘Of course you may stay. Why, my husband himself invited you. Please, ignore my strange mood tonight. It’s probably something I ate.’
He searched her face to find the truth, but she pushed it down deep inside.
I will not be like my father . . .
‘I am tired, Drummond. If you’ll excuse me, I’m retiring to bed. Goodnight.’
She felt his eyes on her as she walked to the door.
‘Goodnight, Mrs Mercer,’ he said.
* * *
As the Big Wet took hold of Broome, the streets became flooded and impassable. The shops along Dampier Terrace were shored up with sandbags and Fred valiantly waded through the sludge to fetch provisions. Kitty looked out of a window and saw that her precious garden was now buried under a river of red mud. Tears came to her eyes as she thought of the love she had put into trying to recreate a small slice of home.
The fact they were housebound made the situation with Drummond even more tense. Even if he wished to leave, with the weather as it was, he had little choice but to stay put. After several long days, during which Kitty thought she might go mad with frustration and desire, the rains finally stopped, and all of them emerged like blinking moles into the bright sunlight. Within minutes, Charlie and Cat were knee-deep in the red soupy earth, shouting and screaming as they splattered it on each other’s faces and bodies.
The air felt fresher and cooler, but an unpleasant odour of sewage hung in it like an afterthought.
‘We’d better be careful, this is cholera season. Scrub the children thoroughly, won’t you, Camira?’ she said, hauling Charlie out of the mud.
‘Yessum, Missus Kitty. Bad time for big sick after rains stop.’
Sure enough, word soon came that five cases of cholera had been brought to Dr Suzuki’s hospital and, subsequently, many more were reported.
‘At least it’s confined to the shanty town for now,’ Drummond comforted her after he’d taken a stroll into town to stretch his legs. ‘No white cases reported so far.’
But soon there were, and having escaped from their homes, the residents’ doors were once again shut tight, this time against a deadly plague.
Fred was the first one down in the Mercer household, and lay delirious on his straw pallet in the stables. Kitty was surprised when Camira insisted on caring for him herself rather than allowing him to be taken to hospital.
‘He bin good to me an’ I dun trust those docta fellas,’ she said firmly.
‘Of course,’ Kitty said, knowing that Aboriginals were the last priority for hospital care. She clasped Camira’s hands. ‘You must let me know what I can do to help.’
Retreating to the house, Kitty’s heart pounded as she thought of the amount of contact Fred had with Charlie on a daily basis.
‘Try not to worry. The Aboriginals have a far lower resistance to cholera than we do. Our Western illnesses came to Australia with us and slayed the natives in their thousands,’ Drummond said.
‘As horrific as that is, it’s a comfort to me for Charlie’s sake.’ She gave him a weak smile. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
‘Well now, that’s the first positive thing you’ve said to me in days. My pleasure, ma’am.’ Drummond gave a mock bow.
While Fred sweated his way through the following two nights, Camira reported that she ‘dun know if he make it’ and scurried back to the hut with noxious-smelling concoctions from the kitchen.
‘How say you we take the kids on the cart to the beach?’ Drummond suggested.
‘Surely not?’
‘Riddell Beach is well away from the town. And I think a breath of fresh air will do us all good,’ he added.
Kitty was as desperate as he to leave the house, so she packed up a small picnic and they set off, Drummond taking the longer way round to avoid going through the town.
Kitty sat on the soft sand as Drummond removed his clothes and went into the water in a pair of long johns.
‘Sorry, but it has to be done,’ he teased her. ‘Come on, kids, race you to the water!’
She watched Charlie and Cat shouting and screaming as Drummond played with them in the shallows. She was glad to be out of the oppressive atmosphere of the house, but was disturbed by the facsimile of a family outing with a man who was not cowed by the rules of society, who looked like Andrew, but was not Andrew. A man who knew how to laugh, and live in the moment.
And yes, Kitty confessed to herself finally, she wished with all her heart that things were different.
When they arrived back home, Camira was already in the kitchen, her face full of relief. ‘Fred be fine now.’
‘Thank God,’ Kitty said as she gave Camira a hug. ‘Right, let’s get these children into the tub and think about supper.’
In the small hours of the night, Kitty felt sick and feverish. Then her stomach began to cramp and she only just made it to the privy, which was where Camira found her the following morning, collapsed on the floor.
‘Mister Drum! Come-a quick!’
Perhaps she dreamt Camira screaming at Drummond, ‘Nottum hospital, Mister Drum! Many people sick! Go gettum medicines, we takem care of Missus Kitty here.’
She opened her eyes to see Andrew’s face – or maybe it was Drummond’s – urging her to sip some salty liquid that made her gag, then vomit, and noticed that a foul, acidic smell hung permanently in the air.
Gentle hands washed her down with cool water as her stomach contracted again and again. She dreamt then of floating off to join Camira’s ancestors who lived in the sky, or maybe God himself . . . Once, she opened her eyes and there was an angel, shimmering white in front of her, offering her a hand. A beautiful high-pitched voice was singing in her ear.
It would be nice, she thought with a smile, to be free of the pain.
Then another figure appeared in front of the angel, telling her to ‘Fight, my darling Kitty. Don’t leave me now, I love you, I love you . . .’
She must have slept again, for when she opened her eyes, she could see small horizontal chinks of light appearing from behind the shutters.
‘Why did no one close the curtains?’ she murmured. ‘I always close them. Helps keep out the heat . . .’
‘Well, your majesty, please do forgive my tardiness. I’ve had other things on my mind just recently.’
Drummond stood over her, his hands clasped to his waist. He looked dreadful: pale and haggard, with dark purple rings visible under his eyes.
‘Welcome back to the land of the living,’ he said to her.
‘I dreamt an angel came to take me up to the heavens . . .’
‘I’m sure you did. We nearly lost you, Kitty. I thought you were giving up. However, it looks to me like God didn’t want you yet, and sent you back.’
‘Perhaps there is a God after all,’ she whispered as she tried to sit up, but then she felt horribly dizzy and lay back down on the pillows.
‘Now that is a conversation we’ll have another time, after I’ve taken a nap. You seem lucid – up to a point – and you haven’t messed the bed for a whole twelve hours,’ Drummond declared.
‘Messed the bed?!’ Kitty closed her eyes and used what little energy she had to turn away from him, full of horror and embarrassment.
‘Cholera is a messy disease. Don’t worry, I left the room when you and the sheets were changed. Camira did all that. Although I admit that if you had died, I was about to go to the police station and insist they arrest her for the murder of her mistress. When I tried to take you to the hospital, she fought like a tiger to restrain me. She’s convinced that “whitefella” hospitals are full of disease, which, in truth, they probably are. If you don’t die of your own bacteria in an epidemic, you’re likely to die of your neighbour’s. In the end, she wore me down and I agreed, God help me.’
‘An angel was in here, I swear . . .’
‘Are you delirious again, Kitty? I do hope not.’ Drummond raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, I will leave you to your talk of angels and go and tell Nurse Camira that you are alive and could be very well soon.’
Kitty watched him as he walked towards the door. ‘Thank you,’ she managed to utter.
‘My pleasure, ma’am. Always here to serve.’
‘I did see an angel,’ she insisted as, exhausted from the conversation, she closed her eyes and slept again.
* * *
‘Mister Drum withum you night an’ day. Neva left your side. Only when I change you an’ dem stinkin’ sheets.’ Camira wrinkled her nose. ‘He good whitefella, he listen to me when I tellum no hospital.’
Kitty, who was sitting up in bed and doing her best to sip the watery, salty soup on the tray in front of her, studied Camira’s dreamy expression. She realised her nursemaid and helpmeet had completely fallen under the spell of ‘Mister Drum’ too.
‘He lovem you, Missus Kitty.’ She nodded firmly.
‘Of course he doesn’t! Or at least’ – Kitty tried to soften her gut reaction to Camira’s words – ‘he loves me like any brother-in-law should.’
Camira rolled her eyes in disagreement. ‘You lucky woman, Missus Kitty. Most fellas not good like-a him. Now, you eat an’ gettum strong for your boy.’
Two days later, Kitty felt confident enough to see Charlie without the sight of her terrifying him.
‘Mama! Are you better?’ he said as he ran into her arms and she felt the sheer life force in him.
‘Much better, Charlie darling. And oh, so very glad to see you.’
‘Papa said he would come home when Uncle Drum telegraphed him to say you were sick.’
Instinctively, Kitty’s stomach turned over, just as it had during the worst of her recent illness. ‘Did he? That is very kind of him.’
‘Yes, but then you got well, so Uncle Drum went back to the telegraph office to tell Papa, so he isn’t coming back.’
‘You must be disappointed, Charlie.’
‘Yes, but we have Uncle Drum to take care of us, and he looks exactly the same, but he’s funnier and plays cricket and swims with us. Why won’t Papa swim with us?’
‘Maybe he will if we ask him nicely.’
‘He won’t, ’cos he’s always busy with work.’ Charlie kissed her wetly on her cheek as his chubby hands went round her neck. ‘I’m glad you didn’t die. Me and Cat are going to help Fred build a hut in the garden.’
‘What hut?’
‘Our own house. We can live in it together and maybe eat our supper there sometimes.’ Charlie’s eyes pleaded with his mother. ‘Can we?’
‘Sometimes, maybe,’ Kitty agreed, too exhausted to argue.
‘And one day, we’ll get married like you and Papa. Goodbye, Mama. Eat your soup and get strong.’
Kitty watched him as he walked stoutly across the room. Even in the past few days, he seemed to have grown, both in terms of maturity and stature.
Although there was nothing wrong with childhood games, Kitty wondered once more whether she had made a mistake by entrusting Camira with so much of Charlie’s care, but all that was for another time. Kitty concentrated on finishing her soup.
The following morning, she insisted she was well enough to take a bath and dress. Food was still a problem – it made her feel nauseated every time she looked at it – but she did her best to eat. Charlie and Cat were busy in the garden with Fred, who was sawing and nailing their play hut together.
‘He’s a good man,’ Drummond commented over breakfast. ‘You’ve treated him and Camira with respect, and they’ve repaid you ten-fold.’
‘You’re a good man too. Thank you for caring for me while I was sick. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been here.’
‘My pleasure, or, at least, my duty. I couldn’t have you die under my watch, could I? My brother would never have forgiven me. The good news is that it seems the epidemic is over in town, though Dr Suzuki has told me they’ve lost a dozen souls at the hospital and you can probably triple that in the shanty town. Sadly, Mrs Jefford was one of them.’
‘How tragic. I must write immediately to her husband.’
‘Death makes saints of us all, doesn’t it?’ Drummond gave her a wry smile. ‘Anyway, now you’re well and the weather has improved, I’ll probably make tracks in the next day or so.’
‘Surely there’s more rain to come?’
‘Perhaps, but I don’t want to be under your feet any longer.’
‘Please stay until the weather is more settled,’ she begged, the thought of him leaving unbearable. She was sure it was his voice that had called her back when she’d stood on the brink of death. ‘Charlie adores you.’
‘That’s kind of you to say so. And you?’
‘Mama! Uncle Drum!’ Charlie burst through the door. ‘Our hut is finished. Will you come and see it now?’
‘Of course.’ Kitty stood up, grateful her son had broken the moment.
They crowded into the tiny hut, drank tea and ate the iced buns that Tarik had made. They had the texture of bullets, but nobody minded.
‘Can we sleep in here tonight, Mama?’ Charlie begged.
‘Sorry, darling, but no. Cat sleeps with her mother, and you sleep in your bedroom.’
Charlie pouted as the adults rose and crouched down to leave the claustrophobic space.
That evening, Kitty took more time than normal to perform her toilette. Whether it was the way Drummond had nursed her, his voice pulling her back towards life, or the way he played so naturally with Charlie and Cat, she could deny it no longer. Dabbing her neck with a little perfume even though she knew it attracted mosquitoes, she stared at her reflection in the looking glass.
‘I love him,’ she told it. ‘God save me, I can’t help it.’
They ate dinner together that evening, Kitty’s hands shaking as she struggled through the three courses. Whether Drummond could feel the sudden electricity in the air, she had no idea. He ate well, enjoying a bottle of wine from a case that Andrew had had sent up from Adelaide. He seemed oblivious to the seismic shift inside her.
‘Might you pass me a small glass of the wine?’ she asked.
‘Do you think that’s wise?’ Drummond frowned at her request. ‘I hardly think it’s a good idea, given the delicate state of your health.’
‘Maybe not, but I wish to toast to the fact that I still have health to worry about, and am not lying in the morgue like poor Mrs Jefford.’
‘All right.’ He poured her a thimbleful.
‘A little more, if you please.’
‘Kitty . . .’
‘For God’s sake, I’m a grown woman! If I wish to take a glass of wine, I shall.’
‘I can see you’re better.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Back to your bossy ways.’
‘Am I bossy?’ she asked him.
‘It was a joke, Kitty. Most things I say are. What’s bitten you tonight? You’re as jumpy as an unbroken mare.’
Kitty took a sip of her wine. ‘I think that almost losing my life has . . . changed me.’
‘I see. How?’
‘I suppose I’ve realised how fleeting it can be.’
‘It can indeed. And here in this great new world of ours, more so than most other places.’
‘I will also confess that in the past I’ve doubted God’s existence, but that night I felt him. I felt his love.’
‘God’s oath!’ Drummond refilled his glass with wine. ‘You’ve had an epiphany. Will you soon be begging the local reverend to be the first female to take the cloth?’
‘For once will you stop teasing me!’ Kitty drained her wine, already feeling her head spinning. ‘The point is that I . . . that is . . .’
