The Grace Stories Read online

  Grace made a bed of wool for Sally. Her sobs subsided and she soon fell into a drunken sleep.

  ‘Grace, well done. You saved Sally’s life – just as you did mine. What was it you gave to her that calmed her so?’ Liza asked.

  Grace looked across at Sally’s sleeping, tearstained face, her burned dress and singed hair, and felt sad. ‘It was nothing – nothing at all.’

  ‘Well, thank goodness for nothing,’ said Liza. She smiled softly at Grace and hugged her.

  In the morning, when the constable saw the broken spinning wheel and the burnt wool and was told Sally was responsible, he led her out of the room. This time, she did not put up a fight. Instead, she went quietly, with her head bowed. As she passed Grace standing at the door, she looked up at her briefly and gave her a small smile.

  Liza sighed.

  ‘Where will they take her?’ asked Grace.

  ‘I don’t exactly know. There’s a house on the other side of the Factory. Maybe they will keep her there where she might not be so close to men and alcohol . . . Poor Sally. All this has been too much for her – prison, the long journey, this strange new place, and the rum only makes it worse . . .’

  Grace’s heart felt heavy. I hope that wherever Sally goes, she remembers that her father loved her very much and that she is precious, she thought. She looked at Liza and Hannah – it’s important not to forget how precious you are to people.

  IT was Sunday, and the Superintendent in charge had given the women straw bonnets and brown jackets to wear. After prayers, they were ordered to line up outside the gaol and told that settlers would be coming to choose convicts for assignment. ‘Do your best to look cheerful and pleasant,’ he said.

  ‘Why must we look cheerful?’ groaned Hannah, standing in the line beside Grace. ‘I’m going to poke out my tongue and cross my eyes. If one gets too close, Grace, just stick out your foot and make him trip.’

  ‘Hush, Hannah,’ said Liza. ‘Grace, don’t you dare!’

  Grace felt nervous. She had seen Liza checking her face in a small piece of mirror one of the other convicts had lent her. She had pinched at her cheeks to give them colour, smoothed down her dark eyebrows and combed her hair. She is the prettiest of all of us, Grace thought, and she is clever and has strong arms and one of the settlers is going to choose her today, I know it.

  ‘We need to start a new life,’ Liza continued under her breath, picking a stray piece of wool from her daughter’s dress. ‘We can’t stay in this awful place. And we’d be lucky to be chosen so soon. Straighten your bonnet, please, Hannah.’

  Grace’s heart sank. She knew why the Superintendent had told them to look cheerful; there was more chance you might be chosen by a settler that way. Hannah didn’t seem worried that they might be separated. ‘Just stand close to us, Grace,’ she’d said. ‘They’ll think we’re a family.’ But Grace didn’t believe it would be so easy.

  ‘Grace, how soft are your hands?’ Hannah said, holding her palms up to Grace. Grace pressed her own palms against them.

  ‘Very,’ Grace answered.

  ‘It’s the lanolin from the wool,’ Hannah said, pulling her fingers down between Grace’s. ‘Now we have the hands of toffs.’ She grinned. ‘Mama, there is no way we can be assigned as servants. We are fine ladies who must wear gloves wherever we go.’

  ‘I will only take off my gloves when I am working with my horses,’ said Grace. ‘And whenever I give them a pat they will feel better instead of tired and hungry.’

  ‘Because you have magic horse hands, Princess Grace,’ said Hannah. Grace wished she could use her magic hands to hold onto Liza and Hannah forever.

  That first Sunday there were seven men and one young couple who came to choose their servants. Liza said they were settlers and convicts who had served their time. The woman was young and wore a wide-brimmed hat. Some of the men were young, too, with strong arms and straight backs. They walked slowly from one end of the line of prisoners to the other, looking them up and down. When any of the men made a choice they caught the eye of the Superintendent and pointed to the woman they wanted to take away with them. The Superintendent would nod in return and write a note down in his ledger. As each man stopped in front of Liza, Grace’s heart beat harder. Please don’t take them away, please don’t take them away, please don’t take them away, she prayed.

  As Grace was staring down at her worn prison shoes, hoping her pleas would be heard, she noticed that two dusty boots stepped opposite her – and stayed there. She saw the muddy hemline of a blue dress. Grace looked slowly up until she met the gaze of the young woman standing in front of her. Her long brown hair was tied with a blue ribbon and she had very blue eyes. Grace noticed that there was a bump beneath the woman’s dress – she was pregnant.

  When their eyes met, the woman smiled shyly at Grace, who looked back down at her shoes.

  When Grace looked up again she saw a man who was obviously the woman’s husband leading her further down the line. Soon the couple moved away from the group and Grace saw that they were talking. The woman kept glancing back at her. Why is she still looking at me? Grace wondered. She saw the man shake his head – he did not look happy about something. The woman walked back to the line and came straight to Grace.

  ‘What is your name?’ she asked.

  Grace felt nervous. ‘I am – my name is Grace.’

  ‘How old are you, Grace?’

  ‘I’m ten – but I think I might be eleven now. I – I’m not sure.’ Grace had never been told her birthday and Uncle Ord could never remember it. He just said it wasn’t near Christmas and it wasn’t near Easter. The woman smiled again. Grace thought the smile made the woman’s face very pretty.

  ‘My husband, Tom, would like me to choose someone older, but I was not much older than you when I first came.’

  The young man walked over to them. ‘Beth, did you see the older lass at the front of the line?’

  Beth shook her head. ‘Tom, please . . . this is Grace.’

  ‘Have you ever worked as a servant?’ Tom asked Grace, staring hard at her.

  Grace looked at her feet, and felt herself flush. It had never occurred to her that she might be chosen. Why would anyone want a servant as small and dispensable as her? She wasn’t old enough to get married and she didn’t know anything about cooking or gardening or any of the other things servants might do. She shook her head and didn’t meet his eye.

  Tom turned to his wife. ‘She’s too young,’ he said quietly. ‘We’ll come back another time.’

  Grace watched as the couple moved to the other end of the line. She was relieved but, to her surprise, disappointed at the same time.

  She stole a look at Liza and Hannah. A man in a blue coat and a wide hat had stopped in front of them. Grace saw the man look into Liza’s face and smile, then down at Hannah. He then left the group and spoke with the Superintendent. Grace could hardly breathe.

  Once the settlers had made their choices, the constable pulled Liza and Hannah forward with some of the others. ‘You lot will be leaving the Factory shortly with your new masters,’ he told them.

  Why did you have to come? Grace thought as she watched the man who had chosen Hannah and Liza. Why couldn’t you have chosen somebody else? She knew she should feel happy for them, but instead she felt terrible.

  Hannah tugged on her mother’s dress. ‘Mama, don’t forget to tell them that Grace is to come with us. Say that she is your daughter too.’ Her voice sounded uncertain.

  Liza put her arm around Grace’s shoulders before answering. ‘Hannah, they know that I have only one daughter – even though I feel as though I have two.’ Liza softly brushed the hair back from Grace’s forehead.

  Hannah looked stunned. She turned and took Grace’s hand, tears welling in her eyes. Grace remembered the first time they had met all those months ago. Hannah had taken her hand then, too. Grace didn’t know the words to tell Hannah how much she would miss her or how much she loved her. She knew that if she tried to s
ay any of those things she would cry. She just stood, blinking and trying to swallow past the hard lump in her throat.

  Though the Superintendent was waiting for her, Liza kneeled in front of Grace.

  ‘Oh, Grace, sweet Grace,’ she said, cupping Grace’s cheek in her hand. ‘You have been a true sister to my Hannah, and we have come such a long way together. Soon you will be chosen too and you’ll start a new life. Perhaps this land is not so big and we shall find each other again.’ Liza put her arms around Grace and held her tight. ‘You’re a good girl, Grace.’

  ‘Hurry up you two, your master is waiting,’ the constable called to Liza.

  ‘Promise you won’t forget me, Grace. Promise,’ said Hannah. ‘I won’t forget you.’ She still hung on tightly to Grace’s hand.

  ‘I promise.’ Grace pushed out the words – they were all she could manage. She hoped that Hannah knew it wasn’t because she didn’t care, but because she cared too much.

  ‘We’ll find each other again, Grace,’ said Hannah. ‘We’re sisters, remember?’

  As Grace watched Hannah and Liza walking away, she felt her heart breaking. When Hannah turned back one last time, and waved, it was all Grace could do not to run after her. As she waited with the other prisoners for the constable to release them back to the Factory, she fought as hard as she could not to cry. How could she live without Hannah? She didn’t even know if she wanted to. Who would tell her stories and make her laugh? Who would always know how to make her feel better? And now that Liza was gone, who would protect Grace from the other women when they drank too much and wanted a fight?

  Looking across the grounds, she saw the young couple, Beth and Tom, still speaking with the Superintendent. Beth glanced across at her. Why can’t they hurry up and leave so we can go back upstairs? Grace thought. More than anything she wanted to be alone.

  She closed her eyes and imagined she was with her best friend again. They were living in the wild forest by the Parramatta River and it was just the way Hannah had described it. They lived in a house surrounded by watermelon vines and pineapple trees and they each had a horse of their own and could ride wherever they wanted.

  THE sun was low in the sky and the spring air growing cool when Tom, Grace’s new master, rowed the small wooden boat to the river’s edge. We must be close now, thought Grace, as she looked around at the cleared land sloping up from the bank.

  ‘It’s quite a walk to the property from here,’ said Beth, Grace’s new mistress, as she stood and rubbed her back. ‘But I’ll be glad to stretch my legs.’

  The boat rocked and swayed in the shallows.

  ‘Careful, my love, or we’ll end up in the water!’ Tom smiled at his wife before turning to Grace. ‘You get out first, and I’ll pass the supplies across.’

  Beth and Tom had selected Grace to be their servant from the Factory Above the Gaol in Parramatta only hours earlier. Grace had been sure they wouldn’t choose her – it was clear to Grace that it wasn’t Tom’s idea. He wanted somebody older and stronger, but for some reason Beth had thought Grace was right for her and her husband. At the last minute, Tom had gestured to her to come out of the line of hopeful convicts and join them.

  Grace was glad. She had watched Hannah and Liza, her only friends, be chosen as servants that day. The three of them had come so far together, spending five months aboard a convict ship from England before arriving at the colony and being taken to the Factory. The thought of being left behind without them was unbearable.

  Now, even though Grace’s heart ached with missing them, it was a relief to be away from the Factory, with its violence and danger.

  Grace clambered out of the boat, her boots sinking into the cold, muddy bottom of the river. Though the river’s edge was thick with mud, Grace noticed that it didn’t stink the way the shores of the Thames did back in London. It smells clean, she thought. She held out her arms for the goods Tom passed to her – a hessian sack that wriggled, a bucket filled with rope, an iron kettle, some pots and pans, and a sack of flour that she almost dropped in the water. Lastly, Grace watched as Tom carefully carried his pregnant wife from the boat to dry ground. He seems kind, thought Grace.

  Grace looked at the land around her. To the far west, above the forest, she could see a range of high blue shimmering hills.

  ‘That’s the Blue Mountains you can see, Grace,’ said Beth. ‘Nobody can cross them ’cause they’re so steep and dangerous, so nobody knows what’s on the other side. Could be bloomin’ fairies for all we know! And they really are blue.’

  Grace thought the land looked magical. Mountains that glow blue! How she wished Hannah was here to see them, too.

  Beth helped Tom strap the bundle of pots and pans to his back. Grace picked up the wriggling hessian sack along with the bucket, kettle and flour, and followed Beth and Tom up the trail leading north away from the river. Grace heard a muffled squawking coming from the sack as she walked.

  ‘Careful with the chickens!’ Tom snapped.

  Grace wanted to do the right thing, and tried hard to carry the chickens without jiggling them.

  On one side of the trail she saw a field neatly lined with rows of pale yellow stalks that she guessed must be some sort of crop to eat. It was Grace’s first time in the country. Before coming to this new land she had spent all her life in London – a busy city. She knew about night markets and crowded rookeries and the noise of street life, but nothing about living on the land. Grace was curious about the open, quiet country around her, but also uncertain.

  On the other side of the trail, the land was covered in tall brown-barked trees with long pale grass growing underneath. There aren’t even any houses here! Grace thought. So far from everything, it felt as if this was a whole different world.

  Just as Grace was wondering if she could take another step, Beth turned and spoke to her over her shoulder. ‘We’re almost there. We’ll just beat the dark.’

  The trail crossed a shallow creek that was narrow enough for Grace to jump without wetting her feet. Then it opened out to cleared land.

  In the distance Grace saw a small cottage, uneven with a bumpy bark roof and a wooden chimney. It wasn’t like the houses she knew in London, which lined up straight and were made of bricks neatly piled one on top of the other.

  ‘Is that really going to be my new home?’ Grace whispered to herself. She had never seen anything like it.

  ‘There it is,’ said Beth, stopping where she stood. ‘Wattle Park. Bloomin’ lovely, isn’t it? Tom and I built the house a year ago – using the same bark the natives use. Who would’ve thought it?’

  Beth put her hands on her hips. ‘The walls are tree branches plaited like a basket and then filled in with mud. I was always covered in the stuff! The trees we used are called wattles.’ She pointed at the lines of shadowy trees. ‘They’re all around the house and they have the prettiest golden flowers you ever saw. I could’ve sold them on the streets of London and made a pretty penny. You are lucky you’ve come in spring, Grace, they will look as lovely as ever.’

  Grace could tell by the way Beth was speaking that she was proud of her house.

  In the fading light, Grace could make out a shed at one side of the hut, and a fence surrounding an open field. The dark moving shapes she saw in the field looked like they might be sheep, grazing.

  ‘You go inside, Beth, before it gets much colder, and I’ll take care of things out here,’ said Tom. ‘Grace, you help Beth.’ Tom unloaded the supplies and took the sack of chickens.

  ‘Welcome to your new home, Grace,’ said Beth, pushing open the front door.

  When Beth had lit three slush lamps, Grace saw that the house was made up of one room divided into two by a wall of hessian sacks hung over a wooden frame. The kitchen hearth was at one end and there were two windows, but they held no glass – only shutters made of twigs bundled together. In front of the hearth was a table that looked like it had been a wide tree growing in a forest not very long ago. On either side of the table were b
enches, also roughly hewn tree trunks.

  ‘It’s not fancy, but it’s ours,’ said Beth. ‘Help me get this fire going, Grace. The spring air holds a real chill, though nothin’ like the cold back home. Bet you’re not sorry to leave that behind!’ Beth piled sticks into the hearth and blew into them before speaking again. ‘It’s too late for a proper meal. Just some salted beef and bread. Tomorrow we can do better.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  When Tom came inside, the three of them ate in silence at the table, tired from their long day. Grace was so exhausted she barely tasted her food.

  Beth stood and stretched. ‘Grace, there’s your bedding.’ She pointed to a mattress rolled up in the corner of the room. ‘You can wash in the morning. If I don’t go to bed this minute I’ll fall asleep on my feet. There are blankets and a pillow wrapped in the mattress. Should make a bed fit for a princess. Goodnight, Grace.’

  ‘Goodnight, ma’am,’ said Grace.

  Beth took one of the slush lamps and disappeared behind the wall of sacks. Tom checked the fire, then followed her.

  Grace lay on her back on her bed and looked up at the rough bark roof of her new home, dimly lit by the glowing embers in the fireplace. Beth coughed from the other room, and Grace listened to Tom’s low whispers as he comforted her.

  Grace had never had a mistress and master before. She hadn’t even been a servant, and she wasn’t sure that she would make a very good one with so little practice. ‘How am I going to do this?’ she whispered. She didn’t know how to cook or work in a garden, or how to look after chickens or sheep. At least I can stoke the fire, Grace thought, and make tea for my mistress. Grace liked Beth, but Tom made her nervous.

  Grace rolled onto her side and wished that her best friend, Hannah, was there. What’s she doing right now? Grace wondered. Is she thinking about me? Hannah could turn every difficult thing into an adventure. Without her, Grace didn’t know how she was going to make an adventure out of her new life with Beth and Tom.