The Grace Stories Page 18

  When Grace woke the next morning, she could see that the sun was high in the sky. Beth had opened the shutters over the windows and light filled the room.

  ‘Good morning, Grace,’ she said.

  Grace sat up in her bed. ‘I’ve slept too late again.’

  ‘It’s all those adventures you’ve been having in the middle of the night.’ Beth raised her eyebrows at Grace.

  Grace felt herself turn red.

  ‘You’ve been busy haven’t you, Grace?’

  ‘Did you know I was going out all along?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Not all along. I suspected you were up to something when I went out to use the privy and noticed you were gone a couple of nights in a row. So the next night I decided to follow you and I saw you using the sap from the branch.’

  Grace sat up higher in her bed. ‘I remember that night!’ she said. ‘I felt as if somebody was watching me. That was you!’

  ‘Yes.’ Beth smiled. ‘I’m about as good at being quiet as a church bell on Sunday! I’m sorry if I scared you.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Grace, knowing she was the one who should be saying sorry.

  ‘I’d seen Mulgo cut those same branches I saw you using for her boy once,’ Beth went on, ‘when he hurt his knee. So I didn’t think it could harm the horse. And that time I saw you talking with Mulgo, I thought something was up.’ Beth sat down on the mattress beside Grace. ‘I knew I couldn’t tell Tom. He wouldn’t allow it. So I decided to let you keep doing it. I didn’t want to tell you that I knew because then it would put me between you and Tom. I just wanted that flamin’ horse to get better so my Tom would be back to himself again. And it seems like you’ve done it, Grace.’

  Grace rubbed the sleep from her eyes. ‘Where’s Master Tom today?’

  ‘Working with Jerry on the south fence again. I daresay he won’t be in until very late.’ Beth passed her a steaming cup of tea. ‘But Grace, things will be different with Tom now – I promise you. You don’t have to worry anymore.’ Beth sat down on the side of Grace’s bed. ‘There’s one thing I want to know, though. How did you find Mulgo? Did you go looking for her at the camp?’

  Grace felt terrible about the lies she had told her mistress. ‘Oh, Beth, yes I did. I’m sorry for not telling you.’

  ‘What you did was very dangerous, Grace, but I understand how much you wanted the horse to get better. From now on I want you to tell me any more ideas you have for helping around the farm. Does that sound fair to you? Anything could’ve happened to you wandering around the bush on your own. I need to know where you are. Can you promise me that?’

  ‘Yes, Beth, I promise. I’m sorry.’

  ‘No more sorries, now. A promise is all I need. And as punishment you can give Alice a cuddle. How does that sound?’

  ‘Very good.’ Grace couldn’t help but smile as she took Alice in her arms.

  Grace and Beth were sitting with Alice on a blanket in the garden under the morning sun when Mulgo came up to the house. Muggadung stood at his mother’s side, just beyond the cleared land, holding his stick.

  ‘Mulgo!’ Beth called. ‘I’ve been waiting to see you!’

  Mulgo smiled shyly.

  ‘I have something for you!’ Beth turned to Grace. ‘Wait here with the baby, Grace, I’ll be back in a moment.’

  Grace stood and waved at Mulgo, gesturing for her to come closer, but Mulgo stayed where she was. Soon Beth came back out of the house dragging a large sack of flour. Grace knew it was all the flour they had in supply. There wouldn’t be more until the next visit to town.

  Grace picked up the baby and followed Beth across the garden. Beth hoisted the bag of flour to her hip and took it to Mulgo. Muggadung grinned. Around his stick, a blue ribbon fluttered in the breeze.

  ‘That is a fine ribbon you have there, Muggadung,’ Beth said, looking at Grace with a twinkle in her eye.

  Grace turned to Mulgo. ‘Glory’s better now, Mulgo, because of you. You were brave to help the horse, and you are very clever.’

  Mulgo gave Grace one of her wide, shy smiles and Grace had the feeling Mulgo knew the horse had been healed.

  Just as Beth predicted, Tom did not get back to the house until after dark. Beth and Grace were preparing dinner when he walked through the door.

  ‘Grace, I – I want you to come with me . . .’ he said, picking up one of the lamps from the table. Grace felt herself stiffen. Was Tom going to tell her to leave now? She turned anxiously to Beth.

  ‘You go with Tom, Grace. I can prepare supper on my own.’

  ‘But are you sure, Beth, that you don’t need my help?’

  ‘I’ll be fine. You go on with Tom.’ Beth smiled encouragingly. Grace followed Tom out the door. She tried to swallow her nerves as she wondered where they were going. She had never spent time alone with Tom, and Tom never seemed to want to be alone with her either. Though it was not cold, Grace shivered as Tom led her across the garden towards the storage shed. She didn’t know of any sort of work that needed to be done in the shed so late in the evening.

  ‘There’s something I – I would – I need your help with – Grace,’ said Tom. He sounded awkward, as if he was nervous too.

  ‘My help, sir?’ Grace asked in surprise.

  ‘Yes.’ Tom pulled open the shed door and lifted down a bale of fresh straw from the stack. ‘Can you take some of this?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Grace held out her arms and Tom piled them high with the straw. Then he loaded up his own arms. Grace followed him, trotting to keep up as he strode through the darkness to Glory’s field. Grace couldn’t imagine why they were bringing straw to Glory so late at night.

  When they were close enough to see the horse, Grace was shocked. The mare was covered in sweat and groaning, pulling her head around to look at her sides, as if they ached. But she had seemed to be getting well!

  ‘What’s wrong with her? Is she dying?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Keep your voice low, Grace,’ said Tom. ‘She’s not dying, she’s having her foal. Quietly now, spread the straw around her. No fast movements, just gentle and quiet.’

  Oh! Grace realised that this moment was not about death at all. It was about new life. Tom and Grace spread the straw around the horse. ‘There you go, Glory girl, everything is all right.’ Grace listened as Tom calmed his horse. ‘We’re just going to make you more comfortable.’

  As Grace worked with her master, her heart raced. Just like Beth, the mare was having her baby. And Tom had asked her to come and help . . .

  When all the straw was spread, Tom spoke softly to Grace. ‘I just thought, I thought – you might – like to . . . help – and I know Glory trusts you.’

  ‘Yes, sir, thank you, sir.’

  Glory lay down on the straw, moaned and then pulled herself back up again, as if lying down hadn’t eased her pain. ‘Oh, Glory, I hope it doesn’t hurt you too much,’ Grace said quietly.

  Tom blew out the wick on the lamp. The moon and stars overhead cast the only light. The warm night wrapped around them like a blanket. Grace was aware of the sounds around her – leaves rustling, frogs and crickets calling to each other and the noise of the mare as she laboured.

  ‘Grace,’ said Tom, his voice barely more than a whisper. ‘I’m sorry for mistrusting you.’

  Grace felt a lump in her throat, making it difficult to speak. ‘And I’m sorry, Tom, for doing what I did without telling you.’

  The mare continued to strain, her low moans mixed with the soft crackle of the straw beneath her body.

  ‘It’s all right – I understand why you did,’ Tom said.

  Grace looked up at him. ‘Does this mean you – that you . . .’ Grace struggled to find the words.

  ‘What is it, Grace?’ Tom asked, his voice gentle.

  Grace took a deep breath. ‘Does this mean you won’t be sending me back to the Factory?’

  Tom looked surprised. ‘Back to the Factory?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I was never going to send you
back to that godforsaken place!’ Tom shook his head.

  ‘Never?’ asked Grace.

  ‘I never thought about sending you away, Grace,’ said Tom. ‘It didn’t matter what troubles we had, I wouldn’t have sent you anywhere. That might be how things are done on the streets of London, but not here at Wattle Park.’

  Relief flooded Grace’s body. She could not hold her tears back any longer.

  Tom put an arm roughly over her shoulder and pulled her close. The straw caught in his coat pressed against her cheek. ‘You’re a good girl, Grace. If I was your father I would be proud.’

  Grace was glad for the cover of darkness as the tears tumbled down her cheeks.

  Tom and Grace stood together quietly for a long time, watching over the mare. At last Tom spoke. ‘The foal is ready to come now, Grace.’

  Grace watched as Glory lay on her side and pushed out her baby. First Grace saw the feet, one coming just ahead of the other, and then her nose and head. The rest of her was not long to follow. When the foal lay on the straw beside its mother, Grace had to stop herself from cheering. Glory lay panting and quivering on her side.

  ‘Well done, Glory,’ said Tom. ‘It’s a girl.’

  ‘Do we need to help her to stand?’ Grace whispered, as Glory licked away the shiny coating that covered the foal.

  ‘It’s best if they learn for themselves. They grow up stronger that way,’ Tom whispered back. Grace and Tom watched as the foal struggled to get to its feet, at first shaky, then gradually gaining confidence and strength. Soon she stood by Glory’s side and took her first drink from her mother’s udder.

  ‘Grace, would you like to name your new foal?’ Tom asked her.

  ‘My new foal?’ she said to Tom. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, Grace,’ Tom answered.

  Grace felt as though her chest might burst. She had never really owned anything but an old iron kettle back in England and now she was to have a foal of her own. A beautiful black foal. She could hardly believe it. ‘Thank you, Tom, thank you.’

  ‘You deserve it, Grace.’

  Tom’s words made Grace feel important and necessary. Her heart swelled with pride. And it was her job to think of a name. Grace thought about the old white horse in London, Pegasus. She remembered his kind, dark eyes and his thin body and how he had tried to carry her away. It was Pegasus who had led her to this new land; to a new life. ‘I would like to call him . . . Pegasus,’ she said, looking up at Tom.

  ‘Pegasus is a fine name.’ Tom smiled down at her. ‘But isn’t it the name for a boy horse?’

  ‘You are right, Tom.’ Grace thought for a moment longer. ‘What about Peggy?’

  Tom nodded his head slowly. ‘Peggy. I like that, Grace. I like that very much.’ Tom looked at the foal. ‘Peggy, Grace is going to train you to be as wonderful as your mother!’

  Peggy flicked her tail as she suckled at Glory’s side.

  Grace smiled, before adding hesitantly, ‘But I don’t know anything about training horses.’

  ‘I can show you, Grace. We can do it together.’

  They watched as Peggy danced unsteadily around her mother.

  That afternoon, there was another surprise for Grace. As she was gathering kindling for the evening fire, Jerry arrived in his wagon. Sitting behind him, Grace saw Liza, her new husband . . . and Hannah.

  ‘Grace!’ Hannah shouted, standing up in the wagon when she caught sight of Grace.

  ‘Hannah!’ Grace shouted back, running towards her friend.

  ‘Whoa up there, boy!’ Jerry pulled up the wagon and Hannah leapt out before it had even come to a halt, racing towards her friend, arms outstretched.

  Before dinner Grace took Hannah to meet Peggy. The girls stood at the fence and watched the foal skipping playfully on her long pretty legs.

  ‘She’s very beautiful, Grace,’ said Hannah. ‘She’ll be the best-trained horse in the land. And you will visit me every day riding on her back with flowers in your hair. ’

  Grace looked at her best friend, her eyes shining. ‘A horse of my own and you here to share it. Dreams really do come true, Hannah.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Hannah, smiling back at her. ‘They do. And I’m going to make our dreams into stories. William is teaching Mama to read and write, and she’s showing me how. I can teach you, too, Grace.’

  ‘I would like that,’ said Grace. ‘A story all of our own.’

  That evening, Grace sat at the table lit with candles before the remains of their spread of fish and kangaroo, fresh damper and wild spinach, roast pumpkin and onion. Her belly was warm and full. There was Tom on one side, listening to Hannah with a smile in his eyes, and Beth on the other, talking with William and Liza, who held Grace’s little sister in her arms. Around their heads, Liza and Hannah wore the wreaths that Grace had woven for them. Hannah had decorated hers with pink daisies.

  Jerry stood up and made everybody laugh as he pretended to be Hannah throwing herself from the moving wagon. Grace laughed, too.

  When Jerry sat down, he took a small tin whistle from his coat pocket and began to play. Music filled the hut. It was sweet and merry and reminded Grace of water and wind and the forest outside the hut.

  As Grace listened, she looked at the happy faces encircling her.

  I am home, she thought.

  My father was born in Poland. When he was a small boy, war broke out in his country and he was placed in a camp with his mother and his little sister. After the war, my grandmother took him to Australia to begin a new life.

  My mother was born in Holland. In Europe, Australia was seen as a country where anything was possible – a country of dreams. My grandparents brought my mother to live here when she was six.

  My father met my mother when he was working as a doctor in a hospital in Sydney where my mother was a nurse. I was born in 1968 – their first Australian Girl.

  I feel lucky to live in a peaceful country like Australia where I can make my dream of writing stories come true.

  I was born and grew up in Italy, a beautiful country to visit, but also a difficult country to live in for new generations.

  In 2006, I packed up my suitcase and I left Italy with the man I love. We bet on Australia. I didn’t know much about Australia before coming – I was just looking for new opportunities, I guess.

  And I liked it right from the beginning! Australian people are resourceful, open-minded and always with a smile on their faces. I think all Australians keep in their blood a bit of the pioneer heritage, regardless of their own birthplace.

  Here I began a new life and now I’m doing what I always dreamed of: I illustrate stories. Here is the place where I’d like to live and to grow up my children, in a country that doesn’t fear the future.

  Here’s a sneak peek at Meet Letty

  THE coachman dumped the old chest in the street. Letty’s heart felt as if it was being jolted around too. The chest held all her sister’s things, and so many dreams. It was going to Australia.

  Letty’s sister Lavinia hopped down from the coach in a swirl of skirts. She had read in the newspapers that there weren’t enough young women in Australia. She often told Letty that she didn’t like their small, mouldy house, where she was always tripping over little brothers and sisters. So Lavinia had made up her mind to leave, and Letty and Papa had come to Gravesend to say goodbye.

  ‘After today, I won’t be costing you another penny,’ Lavinia said. ‘I’m going where I’ll be wanted. And appreciated.’

  ‘I want you,’ said Letty. Letty could not imagine life without her sister. Lavinia was like a pink flower in their grey town. She took up lots of room in their family, with her wide, swishing dresses and definite opinions. She was Letty’s older sister, the one who had bossed her around and brought her up in the years after their mother died. Their baby stepbrother, Charlie, and their little sisters, Fanny and Florence, were adorable, but they weren’t the same.

  Now Lavinia ignored her. Letty hurt inside. Lavinia meant so much to Letty, b
ut Letty was not enough to keep her here.

  Papa and the girls lifted the chest by its brass handles. They struggled in a lopsided triangle across the dock and into the Customs House.

  ‘That’s it?’ said the Customs Officer, looking in the chest.

  Papa pretended not to hear. Letty knew he was still angry with Lavinia for spending all her money on what was in it.

  ‘Yes!’ snapped Lavinia.

  The chest held a few pieces of good linen, and a new outfit, bought with the emigration payment from the government. The chest wasn’t exactly full, but Letty and Lavinia were very proud of it. It was a hope chest – where a girl stored things for when she would be married and have a home of her own.

  ‘Here’s your tin, then.’ The Customs man pushed a metal plate, cup and spoons towards Lavinia. ‘Here’s your blanket and your pillow. And here’s a bag to keep them in. Your ship’s leaving with the tide.’ He pointed to the forest of masts out the window.

  Papa, Lavinia and Letty lumped the chest along the docks. A wooden ship loomed over the nearest jetty. Letty thought it was as long as three houses, but much, much taller. The ship’s name was painted on the front in gold letters: The Duchess.

  ‘Right!’ Lavinia put down her end of the chest and dusted her hands. ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ Papa wanted to know.

  ‘Ladies’ business,’ said Lavinia, over her shoulder. She hurried back to shore.

  Letty stood close to Papa on the wooden jetty. Families bustled past, loaded with luggage and children. Letty could hardly believe that Papa and her stepmother were letting Lavinia go by herself.

  ‘The tide’s going to turn soon.’ Papa fiddled impatiently with his watch chain. He didn’t have a watch, but he liked people to think he did. ‘It’s time for boarding the ship. What’s keeping your sister?’