‘I’m happy to see they go well with your lovely dress. May I offer you a small sherry to toast the Yuletide?’
‘Miss McBride is teetotal. Never touches a drop, do you?’ Drummond murmured next to her.
As he ambled off across the room, Kitty wondered how long it would be before she was moved to slap him just to remove the smug smile from his face. The guests soon assembled in the dining room, where a sumptuous feast awaited them: roast goose, traditional roast potatoes and even a haggis that Mrs McCrombie had stored in the ship’s cold room on the voyage over. From their fine clothes and the women’s jewels, Kitty knew she was sharing a Christmas feast with the creme de la creme of Adelaide society. A pleasant German gentleman who spoke perfect English sat to her right, and told her of his brewing business and his vineyards, which apparently flourished in the Adelaide Hills.
‘The climate is similar to that of southern France, and the grapes grow well. Mark my words, in a few years’ time, the world will be buying Australian wine. This’ – he reached for a bottle and showed it to her – ‘is one of ours. Can I entice you to try a drop?’
‘No thank you, sir,’ she said in a hushed voice, not able to stand another knowing look from Drummond, sitting across the table from her.
Once the dinner was over, a crowd gathered round the piano and sang ‘Stille Nachf in German, followed by traditional British Christmas carols. When the repertoire was exhausted, Edith, who had already displayed a surprising talent on the piano, turned to her eldest son.
‘Andrew, will you sing for us?’
The assembled company clapped him politely to the piano.
‘Forgive me, ladies and gentlemen, for I am rusty. As you can imagine, I do not get much of an opportunity to perform in Broome,’ said Andrew. ‘I shall sing “Ev’ry Valley” from Handel’s Messiah.’
‘And I shall do my best to accompany him,’ said Edith.
‘My goodness, what a voice,’ whispered her wine-making neighbour after Andrew had finished and the drawing room rang with applause. ‘Perhaps he could have been a professional opera singer, but life – and his father – had other plans. That’s Australia for you,’ he added under his breath. ‘High on sheep, cattle and ill-begotten riches, but low on culture. Our country will change one day, you mark my words.’
By then, it was almost eleven in the evening, and the guests were escorted into carriages by their grooms to trot off into the centre of Adelaide for Midnight Mass.
St Peter’s Cathedral was an imposing sight, with its intricate Gothic spirals reaching up into the sky, and warm candlelight spilling out through its stained-glass windows. Drummond escorted his mother and aunt into the cathedral, while Andrew helped Kitty down from her carriage.
‘You have a beautiful voice,’ she said to him.
‘Thank you. Everyone tells me that, but perhaps you never value what comes easily to you. And also, apart from entertaining Mama and Papa’s guests on high days and holidays, it serves no purpose,’ Andrew commented as they followed the crowd up the steps to the cathedral.
The inside of the church was just as impressive, with tall, vaulted arches framing the pews. The service, which was what Father would call ‘high church’, was full of wafted incense and clergy with the kind of gold-threaded robes which Ralph would have derided. Kitty went up for Holy Communion, kneeling at the altar between Drummond and Andrew. At least, she thought, her toes weren’t curling from the biting cold, as they usually did in Father’s church in Leith on Christmas Eve.
‘Did you enjoy that? I know it’s not what you’re used to,’ asked Andrew as they filed out.
‘I am of the belief that the Lord almost certainly doesn’t mind where you worship, or how, as long as you are glorifying His name,’ Kitty answered tactfully.
‘If there is a God at all. Which, personally, I doubt,’ came Drummond’s voice out of the darkness behind her.
As she retired to her room later, having checked the terrace doors were tightly shut and then scrutinising the ceiling and the corners for any sign of eight-legged hairy monsters that might decide to join her in bed, Kitty decided that it had been a very interesting day.
10
Between Christmas and Hogmanay – or, as people called it here, New Year’s Eve – there were outings to keep the residents of Alicia Hall entertained. They took a picnic to Elder Park and listened to an orchestra playing on the bandstand, then the following day found them at Adelaide Zoo. While Kitty delighted at the various furry inmates, such as the wideeyed possums and the adorable koalas, Drummond found more pleasure in pulling her towards the reptile house and showing her an array of snakes. He was at pains to point out which ones were benign and those that could kill.
‘The pythons are mainly harmless, although they do give you a hell of a nip if you tread on them by accident. It’s those Australian browns which are difficult to see on the earth that are the most venomous. And’ – he pointed at the glass – ‘that stripy one coiled around the twig in the corner. That’s a tiger snake and equally nasty if you get bitten. Snakes will only bother you if you bother them, mind you,’ he added.
Drummond suggested Kitty take a ride on an elephant, the crowning glory of Adelaide Zoo. Kitty was hoisted up inelegantly onto the ageing grey back of her steed. She sat atop, feeling just like the Indian maharani she had seen pictures of in a book.
‘You should wait until you try a camel – now that is a bumpy ride,’ Drummond shouted up at her.
That night, she arrived home and immediately wrote to her family to tell them that she’d ridden on an elephant – in the most unlikely of places.
Hogmanay arrived and Kitty was told that a big evening party was always hosted by Edith.
‘She puts us through this every year,’ Drummond groaned at breakfast that morning. ‘She insists we wear our tartan.’
‘That’s normal in Edinburgh all year round,’ Kitty retorted.
‘And that is the point, Miss McBride. I am a born and bred Australian who has never set foot in Scotland, and actually, more to the point, never intends to. If the boys back at Kilgarra station ever knew that I hopped around in a skirt for the night looking like a girl, I’d never hear the last of it.’
‘Surely it’s not much to ask to please Mother?’ Andrew put in to the conversation. ‘Remember, she was born there and misses the old country. And I’m sure Miss McBride will enjoy it too.’
‘I didn’t think to bring my clan tartan . . .’ Kitty bit her lip.
‘I’m sure Mother can lend you one of hers. She has a wardrobe positively bursting with plaid. Excuse me.’ Drummond stood up. ‘I have some things to do in town before I leave for Europe.’