The Grace Stories Page 10

  Grace missed Liza, too – Hannah’s mother. Liza had taken care of Grace. No one had done that since her own mother had died, which was so long ago that Grace could barely remember her. Liza had taught her what it was like to feel safe.

  Grace scratched at her legs where the grass poked through her mattress. I mustn’t think about Hannah and Liza, she told herself. It only makes me miss them more. I must try and be a good servant, and show Beth and Tom that they made the right choice.

  Seven years – that was how long she’d have to work as a convict-servant before she’d finish her sentence. Seven years seemed like a whole lifetime away to Grace. She’d be grown up by then. She tried to picture what she’d be like, but she couldn’t imagine it.

  Grace listened to the quiet, gentle sounds of the forest beyond the walls of the hut – chirpings and whistling and soft rustlings. In London it was never quiet. There was always the sound of other people, everybody crowded in together – arguing and singing, laughing and shouting. The streets were noisy with the calls of the costermongers selling their wares, music men playing trumpets and drums, drunken folk pouring from the alehouses, the iron wheels of the dustman’s carriage running over the cobblestones at dawn, roosters crowing, babies crying, dogs barking . . .

  But here the sounds were less human, and Grace lay listening to a forest lullaby made of wind and leaves and insects singing.

  At last she fell asleep.

  ‘YOU’D best be up to light the fire and boil the water,’ Tom said gruffly, stepping past Grace’s bed in his trousers and undershirt.

  Grace sat up with a start. She had not meant to sleep so long. She wanted to wake before first light and stoke the fire before Tom had to tell her to do it.

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Grace got out of bed and rolled up her bedding, pushing it back into the corner.

  ‘There’s water for washing at the back of the house. You’ll find soap beside the pail.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ Grace rubbed the sleep from her eyes. A faint light showed through the shutters covering the windows. As she crossed the room, Grace knocked over the bucket that she had carried in the day before. Tom glared at her – then pulled on his boots and left the hut. For a moment Grace was reminded of her Uncle Ord and how angry he always seemed to be with her.

  She picked up the bucket shakily, stepped into her shoes and went outside, still in her smock and petticoat. She stood for a moment in the crisp, clean-smelling dawn.

  Beyond the cleared land grew more of the same forest that she had seen along the river, with the trees that smelt like a mix of mint and pine. Overhead the great open sky showed the first traces of morning light. ‘It’s beautiful!’ Grace declared. She had the same feeling she’d had when she stood on the deck of the convict ship and looked out to sea – a feeling of peace and space.

  As Grace took another deep breath of fresh, clean air, she heard Beth moving around inside the house. I mustn’t dawdle, she reminded herself as she walked around the back of the hut. I mustn’t make a mess of my first day.

  Grace washed her face and hands at the barrel and went back inside. Beth was on her knees in front of the stove trying to get the fire going by blowing into its embers.

  ‘Let me do that, ma’am. I’ll gather us some more kindling.’

  ‘Thank you, Grace. It’s like blowing on cold stones!’

  Grace ran to fetch her dress, pulling it over her head as quickly as she could. She took the empty wood basket and stepped outside to search for long dry twigs that would light easily. As she filled up her basket, she heard something that held her spellbound – the long broken call of a horse. Grace’s heart beat harder. A horse!

  Grace loved horses. In London she had spent all her time, when she was not foraging in the mud, watching the horses at work on the busy roads or being ridden by the gentlemen round the parks. Whenever she could, she got close enough to touch them. When she was breathing in their sweet scent, everything difficult in her life disappeared. There was no struggle, and nothing to be afraid of – there was only Grace and the horse.

  Grace listened for the horse to call again but she heard nothing more. As she gazed out at the land, wondering if she’d imagined the sound, she saw a tall grey animal at the forest’s edge. It stood on its big hind legs, its paws in front of its chest, watching her with unblinking eyes.

  Grace’s skin prickled and her heart raced. It was taller than her! And it looked strong. Would it hurt her?

  The animal’s face was long and narrow, with pointed ears and a fine snout. A much smaller creature the same as the larger one stuck its head out of a pouch on the larger one’s belly. The big one must be a mother, thought Grace, and the little one its baby! How surprising and odd they were, and how clever to carry your baby in a pouch in front! ‘Perfect,’ Grace said, forgetting to be afraid. I wish Hannah were here to see this, she thought. She would wish that she could be carried in a pouch!

  The animal twitched its nose and then bounded into the bush, bouncing on its powerful hind legs. Grace picked up her basket and rushed back into the hut. She pushed open the front door, spilling twigs onto the floor. ‘I saw an animal with a baby in its front – in a pouch!’

  Beth turned round from the kitchen table where she had been kneading dough. Remembering her place, Grace bowed her head. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am,’ she said. She saw the twigs at her feet and dropped to her knees to pick them up.

  Beth smiled. ‘It sounds as if you’ve seen your first kangaroo, Grace. I like the way they carry their babies, too. We should have pouches like that! It looks . . . most convenient.’

  Grace looked up at her mistress. ‘My first what, ma’am?’

  ‘Your first kang-ga-roo. The name comes from the natives.’

  ‘Is a kangaroo dangerous?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Not dangerous, though people say to stay back from the big ones because they like to box. I couldn’t imagine it myself – they always run off when they see me.’

  As Grace gathered up the remaining sticks and set the fire, she wondered what other strange animals she was yet to meet. She remembered the horse’s call and wished she knew if there really was a horse close by.

  GRACE brought the flint down into the tinder in the stove, feeling pleased as flames crackled and the smoke rose up the chimney. ‘I’ll fetch the water to boil now, ma’am.’

  ‘Make sure you watch out for the snake that lives by the water barrels,’ said Beth.

  ‘Snake, ma’am?’

  ‘Yes. He’s a big black one with a red belly. He goes away if he sees you, but he’ll give you a nasty fright. I don’t know what his bite would do but I know the brown ones kill you as soon as they get you. Our neighbour Mr Hill was killed by a brown only weeks ago. What a way to go!’ Beth shook her head.

  Grace had never seen a snake before – she had only ever thought about them as magical creatures from stories, the kind Hannah liked to tell her to make her squeal. ‘But, ma’am, what do I do if I see him?’

  ‘I just bang a stick against the barrels and shout for him to go away. And mind you never go out there without your shoes on. There’s spiders what live in holes in the grass and if they bite the bottom of your foot, you’re gone faster than if the brown snake bit you!’

  Snakes and spiders that kill you? Kangaroos that like to box and carry babies in their pouches? Houses made of branches and mud? What a place! How will I survive even one day? Grace thought. And yet, at the same time as being scared, she felt excited.

  Grace picked up the water bucket and carried it around to the barrels. ‘Go away, snake!’ she called. ‘I would like to see your magic red belly so that I could tell Hannah about it, but not today. Not today!’ When the snake made no appearance, Grace was both relieved and disappointed. As she filled the bucket she noticed how thick the forest grew where it had not been cleared. Grace had never known that the world could hold such a forest of smoke-coloured trees with such twisted branches. She could stand and look at it for days.

  S
he lugged the heavy bucket of water back inside the house. It spilled over the sides and wet her dress and the sacks covering the floor. ‘Here, ma’am, sorry, ma’am,’ she said to Beth, who stood grinding leaves with a pestle and mortar.

  ‘Thank you, Grace.’

  Grace was glad when Beth didn’t seem to mind about the spilled water. ‘What next, ma’am?’

  Beth looked uncomfortable. ‘Tom has something he wanted you to do – but . . . ’

  ‘Yes, ma’am?’

  ‘It’s not an easy chore for your first day . . . He wants you to keep the crows and parrots from eating our corn. We planted Indian corn for the animals and it’s coming up nice and yellow. The parrots will already be at it.’ Beth chewed at her lip. ‘It’s a long day out there, what with nobody to talk to and a job better suited to a scarecrow.’

  ‘I don’t mind, ma’am.’

  ‘It will only be for a little while longer, and then the crop will be ready for harvesting and we won’t have to worry about it another day.’

  ‘I’ll look after the corn, ma’am.’

  ‘Oh, that’s brave of you, Grace. The cornfield is behind the house and down toward the creek. Just follow the little trail that starts at the water barrels – you can’t miss it. You have to run at the birds and scream at them, they get so bold.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘When you see the sun going down behind the hill, it’s time to come home. Find yourself a nice big stick on the way and make sure you swish it through the grass ahead of you to scare off them snakes.’

  Grace swallowed. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘And Grace.’ Beth pressed her lips together. ‘Sometimes the natives come to the property. I give flour and sugar to one in particular. Her name is Mulgo. She has shown me some good herbs to gather from the bush. Her children are very curious – they might stand and gawk at you but they won’t give you any trouble.’

  ‘What do they look like?’ Grace asked, intrigued.

  ‘They look . . . different. They don’t wear clothes for one thing – maybe furs over their shoulders, but that’s it – and the men carry spears. But don’t be scared, Grace. Just watch over the corn and leave them be.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ The way Beth talked about the natives didn’t make them sound so dangerous – not like the brown snakes and the spiders in holes. And one of them had a name – Mulgo.

  ‘Before you go, I’ll make some porridge for our breakfast. If you see it moving in your bowl, don’t worry – it’s just the weevils. Sometimes they’re the only meat Tom and I eat!’

  ‘I’m used to weevils, ma’am,’ Grace said. ‘I ate enough of them on the ship coming over.’ Beth’s smile reminded her of the way a flower opens, and Grace couldn’t help but smile back.

  But as she ate her breakfast, Grace wasn’t sure how she should speak with her mistress. She felt shy and worried that she might say the wrong thing, and that Beth would soon learn how little she knew about being a servant.

  Beth’s next words broke the silence. It was as if she knew what Grace was thinking. ‘You know, Grace, when I first came to this country all I knew were the streets of London. But you learn as you go.’ She smiled at Grace again and it made her feel less unsure of herself, and less alone.

  Beth put down her spoon and looked at Grace. ‘Was it very hard for you to leave England? Did you have to leave your mother behind?’

  Grace hesitated. The only person she had told about her life in London was Hannah. Not even Liza knew about Uncle Ord and why she had run away.

  ‘Oh Grace, excuse my nosey questions – I haven’t had someone to talk to in so long. Tom’s out working much of the time, and I’m mostly alone. Sometimes I think it’ll send me raving mad.’ Beth stood, gathering up the dirty bowls.

  Grace took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t have to leave my mother. I don’t know my mother, ma’am. I only left my uncle, and that was before I was sent to prison.’

  Beth sat back down. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Grace.’

  The way Beth looked at her, so soft and sad, made Grace want to tell Beth about Hannah and Liza and how much she missed them, how much it hurt to leave them. But she feared that if she did, Beth might think she was weak and wouldn’t make a good servant. She swallowed hard. ‘It doesn’t matter ma’am.’ Grace paused. ‘I am glad I’m here.’

  Beth placed her hand over Grace’s. ‘I’m glad, too.’ Beth’s hand felt warm and steady, and Grace meant what she had said. She was glad.

  Before Grace left the house, Beth gave her some hard bread, a small piece of salted beef wrapped in cloth and a bottle half-filled with water. ‘For your lunch, Grace.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

  ‘Tom will be happy you kept the birds from the corn.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Grace. She would keep the birds away all night, too, if it would make her new master happy.

  GRACE followed the trail that led to the cornfield, past trees thick with fluffy golden flowers. They must be those wattle trees Beth spoke about last night, Grace thought as she walked. How pretty! She heard clucking and squawking. And they must be the chickens I carried from the boat. They sound much happier today!

  The trail passed through a field where Grace saw a small herd of sheep grazing on the cleared land surrounded by forest. Not so long ago it would all have been forest, Grace thought. Beth and Tom have been working hard.

  At the bottom of the hill, Grace came to a field planted with rows of corn stalks that were a much brighter green than the leaves all around. The corn was taller than Grace.

  A lone tree stood close to the field. That shall be my guarding place, Grace decided. On the way to the tree, she searched through the grass for a long stick, expecting to see a snake jump out at her at any minute. Once she found the right stick, long and pointed, she stood by her tree and waited. Sure enough, soon black crows began to fly over the corn. Grace ran at them screaming. The crows flew up into the air, then dived back down into the corn. Grace imagined that the birds were Joe Bean and his gang – the mudlarks who used to bully her back in England. She ran at them with her stick raised high. ‘Get away you devil birds! Get away!’ she shouted.

  Then came a cloud of bright red parrots. They were so striking and bold that Grace wanted to stand and just watch them. But they attacked the corn, too, with their hooked beaks, and she ran at them as hard as she could. ‘Leave Beth’s corn alone! Get away!’ she shouted.

  After Grace had been at her guarding place an hour or more, the land seemed to go still and quiet. Clouds hung motionless in the enormous sky, the trees stopped whispering to each other in the wind; even the birds were silent. Grace had never seen the world so quiet and so alive at the time. She felt as if she were being watched by the land itself and the feeling unnerved her.

  If Hannah were here, we could chase each other in and out of the corn – that would keep the birds away, she thought. How Grace missed laughing with her friend.

  Suddenly, she heard the same call she had heard earlier that morning – ‘Neigh-eigh-eigh!’ A horse – and it was close by! ‘I wasn’t dreaming!’ Grace said. She wished desperately that she could go and see the horse for herself. But what if the birds eat the corn while I’m gone? she worried. Tom would be angry.

  At that moment the horse called again, ‘Neigh-eigh-eigh!’ It was as if it knew Grace was there and was tempting her to come. Perhaps if I’m only gone for a minute, she thought, just to see for myself if it really is a horse, and then rush back, it will be as if I never left . . .

  Grace dropped her stick and ran up the hill. When she looked down the other side, she saw a tall shining bay mare, with a sleek black mane, hobbled and feeding on the grass.

  Grace’s heart was pounding. When she got close, she held out her hand. The horse lifted her fine head and looked at Grace with large dark eyes. As Grace stepped closer, the horse blew a snort of breath from her nostrils and shook her head. When Grace was near enough to touch her, she sniffed Grace’s hair, and
Grace put her arms around the horse’s high, strong shoulders.

  The horse’s smell reminded her of Pegasus, the horse she had loved back in London – the horse the gypsy had told her was her very own. Grace breathed in the mare’s scent more deeply, and all of the hard things in her life disappeared. There was no master and mistress to disappoint, no best friend to long for, no Liza to need, no deadly snakes or hungry crows. There was only Grace and the horse.

  ‘What you think you’re doing? Hey!’

  Grace lifted her head to see her master striding towards her, and gasped.

  ‘Why aren’t you looking over the corn? What do you think you’re doing coming so close to Glory?’ Tom was flushed and breathing fast.

  ‘Oh, sir, oh sir, I – I . . .’ Grace felt blood rush to her face.

  Tom stood by his mare. ‘This is not what we brought you here for. You’re a servant – you are working for us, not free to roam as you were on the streets.’

  Grace felt her cheeks burn. She was terrified that his next words would be ‘It’s time we sent you back to the Factory.’

  ‘Yes, sir, I’m very sorry, I didn’t – I didn’t . . . ’

  ‘And you’re to call me Master Tom.’

  ‘Yes, sir, of course, sir, I mean, yes Master . . . Master Tom,’ Grace stammered.

  ‘Back to the field!’

  Grace fled. As she returned to the cornfield, she saw flocks of the red birds with the blue wings diving in and out of the corn. ‘Get away from there, get away, get away!’ she shouted at the birds, as loud and angry as Tom had been with her.

  When she reached her tree, Grace burst into tears. She didn’t take her eyes from the corn for the rest of the day. Even when her eyes burned from the strain and the sun, and her head ached, Grace did not look away.