‘They know me as Mr D around these parts. Goodbye, Pastor.’
The door slammed shut behind him. Pastor Albrecht went to the window and opened the shutters to watch the drover mount his horse and leave. Even though the man was obviously in full health and strength, there was something oddly vulnerable about him.
‘Another lost soul,’ he murmured as he regarded the baby on the table in front of him. The baby stared back, blinking his large blue eyes slowly. ‘You have survived a long journey, little one,’ he said as he picked up his ink pen, opened a ledger and scrawled the name Francis, and the date of his arrival on a fresh page. As an afterthought, he added, Mr D – drover, Alice Springs.
*
A month later, the drover tethered the horse on a patch of land half a mile or so from the house, and walked the rest of the way. It was a dark night, the stars hidden by swathes of clouds, and he was glad of it. Arriving at the front gate, he took off his boots and tucked them into the hedge. The house was in complete darkness, and only an occasional rustle came from the stables. He sighed, thinking that the best and worst times of his life had been spent under this roof – once tin, but now immaculately tiled. Seeing Fred asleep in his usual spot outside the stables, he walked across to the hut. Praying that she hadn’t locked it, he tried the handle and it opened easily. Closing the door behind him, he waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. She was there, one hand flung back behind her head. He walked closer to her, knowing that to startle her would alert the occupants of the neighbouring house.
He knelt down at the side of the bed and lit the candle on the nightstand so that she would recognise him immediately.
He shook her gently and she stirred.
‘Camira, it is I, Mister Drum. I have come back to see you. I really am here, but you mustn’t make a sound.’ He put a hand over her mouth, as she stared at him, fully awake now. ‘Please don’t scream.’
The terror in her eyes began to abate and she struggled to remove his hand from her mouth.
‘Promise?’
She nodded and he removed it, putting a finger to his lips instead. ‘We don’t want to wake up anyone else, do we?’
She shook her head mutely, then wriggled to sit upright.
‘What you doing here, Mister Drum? You-a dead for years!’ she hissed.
‘We both know that I was not, don’t we?’
‘So, why you-a come back now?’
‘Because I have something to tell you.’
‘That my daughter is dead?’ Camira’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I know already. My soul tellum me.’
‘Sadly your soul tells you right. I’m so very sorry, Camira. Was she . . . with child?’
‘Yessum.’ Camira hung her head. ‘You tellum no one. Baby now dead too.’
He now knew for certain that what he had surmised was true.
‘Well now, there is something you don’t know,’ he whispered.
‘What is dat?’
He placed a gentle hand on her arm. ‘Cat’s baby survived. You have a grandson.’
Then he told her the story of how he’d found the child and Camira’s eyes filled with wonder and astonishment.
‘Them Ancestors, they make-a clever plan. Where is he?’ Camira peered round the room as if the baby was there somewhere, hidden.
‘He was far too weak to make the journey here. I left him in good hands at Hermannsburg mission. And I must also tell you that the bad pearl was in his basket. Alkina must have found it and—’
‘No! Bad pearl is cursed. Don’t wantum near my grandson!’ Camira raised her voice and Drummond put a warning finger to his lips.
‘I swear that it is being kept in a safe place away from him until you decide what to do with it and the baby. I thought perhaps you might want to bring him here once he has recovered.’
‘He nottum come here,’ Camira said vehemently.
‘Why not? I thought at the very least, he would be a comfort to you.’
It was Camira’s turn to tell him what had happened.
‘So that baby is my nephew’s son? And therefore related to me by blood?’ Drummond said in astonishment.
‘Yessum. Our blood mix inside, so he belonga both of us,’ she said solemnly.
‘But most of all, Camira, to my nephew Charlie, now that his mother is with the Ancestors.’
‘No! Best for all Mister Charlie thinkum baby dead too.’
‘Why on earth would you of all people say that?’
‘You not bin round here for long time, Mister Drum. You not understand. Missus Kitty, she workum so hard, do everything for her son after you gone.’
Drummond raised an eyebrow.
‘She get sick, very sick,’ Camira continued. ‘An’ sad.’
‘Is she well now? Is she here?’ He turned his head towards the house.
‘She in Europe for holiday. She leavum Mister Charlie in charge. Even though he sad too ’bout my daughter, he young and gettum better soon. Maybe marry nice secretary woman. Best for him he nottum know, you see?’
‘And what about Kitty? She is a grandmother like you, Camira. Surely both she and Charlie have a right to know of the baby’s existence? And what of the baby himself? I for one could not just abandon my great-nephew to a mission.’
Camira scrambled out of bed. ‘I come-a with you. You take-a me to mission. Then I care for my grandson there.’
‘You would leave everything you have here? What about Kitty? I know how much she depends on you.’
Camira was already pulling out a hessian sack, obviously once used for vegetables by the smell of old cabbage. ‘I sortum my family, she sortum hers. It for best.’
‘I think you underestimate your mistress. After all, she brought you into her household against my brother’s wishes. She has a loving heart and she would wish to be included in this decision. And I’m certain she would welcome her grandson into her home.’
‘Yessum, but now she take rest and needum peace. Don’t wanta bring shame on her or Charlie, see? Best I go to grandson. Keep secret.’
Drummond realised then that Camira would do everything she could to protect the mistress who’d saved her and the boy she’d brought into the world. Even if it meant deserting them to do it. However, it was her decision to make, whether he agreed with it or not.
‘What about Fred? Surely you will tell him?’
‘He no good at keepin’ secrets, Mister Drum. Maybe one day.’ Camira looked at him expectantly, all her worldly goods now thrown into the hessian sack. ‘You takem me to grandson now, yes?’
Drummond nodded in resignation, and opened the door of the hut.
CeCe
Hermannsburg, Northern Territory
January 2008
Aboriginal symbol
for star or sun
27
The sun sank lower in the sky as I looked at my grandfather. At Francis, once a baby boy who had been rescued from the desert by a man who had not even known they were related.