*
That evening, Kitty readied herself to go down for dinner. She still marvelled at the fact that on the other side of the world in a land of heathen natives, there was electric light and a bathtub that could be filled any day she chose. Kitty took a long refreshing dip, pinned up her hair, cursed her freckles, then walked down the elegant curved staircase. She came to an abrupt halt, for below her was the most exquisite and unexpected sight: a Christmas tree bedecked with tiny glistening ornaments that glimmered in the soft light of the chandelier overhead. The familiar scent of pine reminded her so much of Christmas Eve with her family, it brought a tear to her eye.
‘God bless you all,’ she whispered, as she continued downwards, comforting herself that this time next year, she’d be back at home. As she reached the bottom of the stairs she saw a man, dressed formally for dinner, hanging the last bauble on the tree.
‘Good evening,’ said the man, emerging from the branches.
‘Good evening.’ As she stared at him, Kitty realised there was something familiar about the timbre of his voice.
‘Do you like the tree?’ he asked, walking towards her, his arms crossed as he looked up at his handiwork.
‘It’s beautiful.’
‘It’s a present for my . . . Mrs Mercer.’
‘Is it? How kind.’
‘Yes.’
Kitty looked at him again, his dark hair gleaming under the light and . . .
‘I believe we have met already, Miss . . . ?’
‘McBride,’ Kitty managed, realising exactly who he was and why she recognised him.
‘I am Drummond Mercer, Mrs Mercer’s son. Or at least, her number two son,’ he added.
‘But . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘You . . .’
Kitty watched his eyes fill with amusement and felt her face flush with embarrassment.
‘I’m so sorry. I thought—’
‘That I was an itinerant, come to rob the house?’
‘Yes. Please do accept my apologies.’
‘And you must accept mine for not introducing myself earlier. I came overland from Alice Springs by camel, which is why I looked so . . . deshabille.’
‘You came by camel?’
‘Yes, camel. We have thousands of them here in Australia, and contrary to what people may tell you, they are the most reliable form of transport across our treacherous terrain.’
‘I see,’ said Kitty, trying to take all this in. ‘Then no wonder you looked filthy. I mean, if you’d been riding across Australia. I came here by boat, and it took me a number of weeks and . . .’ Kitty knew she was ‘wittering on’, as her father always used to say.
‘You are forgiven, Miss McBride. It is quite incredible how the dirtiest vagrant can scrub up well, is it not? I took a pony and cart when I arrived here to go and collect our tree for Mother from the docks. We have one shipped over every year from Germany and I wanted to make sure I got the pick of the crop. Last year, the needles dropped off within a day. Well now, shall we go through to the drawing room for drinks?’
Kitty pulled herself up to her full height and squared her shoulders as she took his proffered hand. ‘I’d be delighted.’
That night at dinner, with Drummond at the table, Kitty felt that the atmosphere had lightened. He teased her mercilessly over her earlier mistake, with Mrs McCrombie having to wipe the tears of laughter from her cheeks. Only Edith sat there with a look of distaste on her face at the hilarity.
Why is she so cold towards me? Kitty wondered. I have done nothing wrong . . .
‘So, Miss McBride, have you ventured into our quality little town yet?’ Drummond asked her over pudding.
‘No, but I would certainly love to as I am yet to buy Christmas tokens for your family,’ she confided to him in a whisper.
‘Well, I must go tomorrow to see to some . . . business. I can offer you a lift on the pony and cart if you wish.’
‘I would be most grateful, Mr Mercer. Thank you.’
After their unfortunate initial meeting, Kitty had to admit that Drummond had proved to be delightful company. He had an easy-going way about him and a lack of formality that Kitty found hugely appealing. He was also quite the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on, what with his height and broad shoulders, bright blue eyes and thick, wavy dark hair. Not that that was relevant, of course, Kitty thought as she slipped into bed later. He’d hardly be looking at her – the daughter of a poor clergyman and strewn with hundreds of freckles. Besides, the thought of any man coming anywhere near her made her shudder. When it came to physical intimacy, all she could think of presently was the hypocrisy of her father.
*
Drummond handed her up onto the cart the next morning and Kitty settled herself next to him.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Thank you.’
The horse clopped out of the gates and along the wide avenue. Kitty breathed in the glorious smell that she couldn’t quite place.
‘What is that scent?’ she asked him.
‘Eucalyptus trees. Koalas love them. My grandmother tells me that when they built Alicia Hall in 1860 there were a number of koala families living in the trees.’
‘Goodness! I have only ever read about them in books.’
‘They look very much like living, breathing teddy bears. If I see one, I’ll show you. And if you hear a strange bellow at night that sounds akin to something between a snore and a growl, you’ll know there’s a male koala in the grounds foraging for leaves or on the prowl for a mate.’
‘I see.’ Kitty was slowly getting used to Drummond’s odd accent – it was a mixture of German intonation and the odd soft Scottish burr on a word, all mixed in with an occasional Australian expression for good measure. The sun was burning down on her, and she pulled her bonnet lower to shield her face.
‘Struggling with the temperature, are you?’
‘A little, yes,’ she admitted, ‘and the sun burns my skin in an instant.’
‘It will toughen up soon enough, and I must say you have the most adorable freckles.’
She shot Drummond a glance to see if he was making fun of her again, but his expression was steady as he concentrated on steering the horse down the increasingly busy road. Kitty sat quietly as they entered the town, noticing that the streets were far wider than in Edinburgh, and the buildings sturdy and elegant. Well-dressed residents were strolling along the paths, the women holding parasols to ward off the sun’s strong rays.
‘So, what do you make of Adelaide so far?’ Drummond asked her.
‘I haven’t seen enough of it to judge.’
‘Something tells me you keep your thoughts to yourself, Miss McBride. Is that true?’
‘Mostly. Simply because I doubt other people would be interested in them.’
‘Some of us would,’ he offered. ‘Quite the enigma, aren’t you?’