*
Over the following few days, she avoided her father as much as she could, the situation made easier by the fact her eighteenth birthday was fast approaching. The house positively buzzed with secrets and excitement at the prospect of a celebration, her sisters shushing her out of the room to whisper conspiratorially together, and her parents spending time together in the drawing room with the door firmly closed.
On the eve of her birthday, Ralph caught her as she headed upstairs to bed.
‘My dearest Katherine, tomorrow you will no longer be a child.’
‘Yes, Father.’ Kitty could not bring herself to meet his gaze.
‘You are a credit to both myself and your mother.’ Ralph bent down and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Goodnight, and God bless you.’
Kitty nodded her thanks and continued up the stairs.
In bed, she pulled the covers over her head, shivering in the late autumn chill.
‘Lord, forgive me,’ she sighed, ‘for I’m no longer sure who my father is.’
*
Aylsa was already up to lay the fires when Kitty descended the stairs the next morning. Needing some fresh air to clear the fog of confusion and the exhaustion of another restless night, she slipped out of the house and walked in the direction of the docks.
She stopped to sit on a low wall, watching the sky’s slow awakening, which sent hues of purple and pink across its miraculous breadth. Then she saw a figure emerge from the street that she had just walked down. It was Annie, whom Kitty realised must have seen her passing along the alley and followed her.
Their gazes locked as the woman approached her.
‘He came tae see me,’ said Annie gruffly, dark smudges of exhaustion evident beneath her eyes. ‘He cannae hide no more behind God. Aye, he knows the truth!’
‘I . . .’ Kitty moved away from her.
‘What’m I meant to do?’ Annie demanded. ‘He gave me a few coins and told me to go get rid o’ it. I cannae, I’m too far gone.’
‘I don’t know, I’m sorry, I . . .’
‘Och, you’re sorry! Fat lot of good that does me! It’s your daddy that needs to be sorry.’
‘I have to go. I really do apologise,’ Kitty repeated as she rose to her feet, picked up her skirts, then walked swiftly away in the direction of home.
‘He’s the Devil!’ Annie shouted after her. ‘That’s the truth!’
*
Somehow, Kitty got through the rest of the day – she opened the thoughtful homemade presents from her sisters and blew out the candles on the cake that Aylsa had made especially for her. She suppressed a shudder as Ralph kissed and embraced her – a natural act that, up until a few days ago, she had delighted in. Now it somehow felt unclean.
‘My dear, you have grown into a fine young woman,’ Adele said proudly. ‘I pray that one day soon you will have a family of your own and be the lady of your own household.’
‘Thank you, Mother,’ Kitty replied quietly.
‘Dearest Katherine, my special girl. Happy birthday, and may the Lord bless you in your future. I believe He has something special in mind for you, my dear.’
Later that evening, Kitty was called in to her father’s bare cell of a study that lay at the back of the house facing a brick wall. He always said that the lack of a view helped him focus on his sermons.
‘Katherine, do come and sit down.’ Ralph indicated the hard-backed wooden chair in the corner of the room. ‘Now then, you are aware that I had supper with Mrs McCrombie recently?’
‘Yes, Father.’ Whenever Kitty had glanced at her father’s patron across the aisle in church, she had seen an extravagantly dressed, plump middle-aged woman who looked out of place in the far poorer crowd. Mrs McCrombie never visited them at home. Instead, her father went to see her in her grand house just off Princes Street. Therefore, their sum total of shared conversation had amounted to a polite ‘good morning’ if their paths had crossed outside church after the service.
‘As you know, Katherine, Mrs McCrombie has always been a generous benefactress of our church and our community,’ said Ralph. ‘Her eldest son went into the clergy but was killed in the first Boer War. I fancy she rather sees me as his replacement, and, of course, gives to the church in his memory. She’s a good woman, a Christian woman who wants to help those less fortunate than herself, and I’m eternally grateful that she has chosen my church as her charity.’
‘Yes, Father.’ Kitty wondered where this was leading and hoped the conversation would be over soon. It was her eighteenth birthday, after all, and just now, she could hardly bear to breathe the same air as him.
‘The point is, as you know, that Mrs McCrombie has family in Australia, whom she hasn’t seen for many years, namely her youngest sister, her brother-in-law and two nephews who live in a town called Adelaide on the south coast. She has decided that while she is still in good health, she should go to visit them.’
‘Yes, Father.’
‘And . . . she is looking for a companion to accompany her on the long journey. Obviously, the girl must come from a good Christian home and also be able to assist her in the care of her wardrobe, dressing her and the like. So . . . I have suggested you, Katherine. You will be away for nine months or so, and having discussed it with your mother, I feel it’s a wonderful opportunity for you to go and see some of the world, and at the same time, settle that restless spirit of yours.’
Kitty was so shocked at his suggestion, she had no idea how to answer him. ‘Father, really, I am quite content here. I—’
‘It is in you, Kitty, just as it was once in me before I found the Lord . . .’
Kitty watched his eyes leave her face and travel to somewhere far distant in his past. Eventually, they came to focus back on her. ‘I know you are searching for a purpose, and let us pray you will find it through being a good wife and mother one day. But for now, what do you say?’
‘In truth, I hardly know what to say,’ she replied honestly.
‘I will show you Australia in the atlas. You may have heard that it is a dangerous and uncharted country and it is certainly full of heathen natives, although Mrs McCrombie assures me that the town of Adelaide is as civilised a society as Edinburgh. Many of our faith sailed there in the 1830s to escape from persecution. She tells me there are several beautiful Lutheran and Presbyterian churches already built. It is a God-fearing place and under Mrs McCrombie’s wing, I have no hesitation in sending you there.’
‘Will I . . . will I be paid for my services?’
‘Of course not, Katherine! Mrs McCrombie is funding a berth for you and covering all other expenses. Do you have any idea how much such a trip costs? Besides, I think it’s the least our family can do, given what she has so generously donated to our church over the years.’
So I am to be offered as a living, breathing sacrifice in return . . .