‘I will bring you some soup later,’ she said as she opened the door.
‘Why-a you so kind, missus?’
‘Because you are a human being. Sleep now.’ Kitty closed the door gently behind her.
*
That evening, having given Camira – for that was what the girl had said her name was – some broth, Kitty had opened a good bottle of red wine to accompany Andrew’s supper. Once he had drunk two large glasses, she broached the subject of the young girl currently residing in their hut.
‘She told me she was a maid at a house on Herbert Street. When her condition became obvious, they threw her out. She was also very badly beaten.’
‘Do you know who her master is?’ asked Andrew.
‘No, she wouldn’t tell me.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ he said, taking another slug of his wine. ‘She damn well knows we could go to him and find out the real story.’
‘Andrew, I believe she is telling us the real story. No one wants a pregnant maid. The chances are, she was raped.’ Kitty said the word without a second thought. Such incidents here in Broome were commonplace, with drunken sailors hungry for ‘black velvet’, as Aboriginal women were termed.
‘You can’t know that.’
‘No, I can’t, but I can tell you that the girl told me she’d been educated at the Christian mission in Beagle Bay and she can speak relatively good English. She is certainly no whore.’
Andrew sat back in his chair and looked at her in disbelief. ‘Are we to house and feed a pregnant Aboriginal girl on our property? Good God! When we are out she could creep into the house and steal everything we own!’
‘And if she does, we have the money to replace it. Besides, I don’t believe she will. Andrew, for God’s sake, the girl is pregnant! She is expecting new life. Was I, as a Christian woman, meant to leave her there in the gutter?’
‘No, of course not, but you must understand that—’
‘I have been here now for seven months, and there is nothing about this town that I don’t understand. Please, Andrew, you must trust me. I do not believe the girl will steal from us and, if she does, I take full responsibility for it. She is almost certainly nearer to her time than I. Shall we have the death of two souls on our conscience?’
‘And I can tell you that the minute she has given birth, she’ll be on her way.’
‘Andrew, please.’ Kitty put her fingers to her brow. ‘I understand your reticence, but I also know how easy it is in a place like this to become hardened to the plight of others. Imagine if I were in her shoes . . .’
‘All right,’ he nodded eventually. ‘Your condition has made you vulnerable to seeing others less fortunate than yourself in the same position. She can stay, at least for the night,’ he added.
‘Thank you! Thank you, my darling.’ Kitty rose and went to him, placing her arms about his shoulders.
‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you. She’ll be gone tomorrow with everything she can carry,’ he said, always needing to have the last word.
*
The following morning, Kitty knocked on the door of the hut and found Camira pacing the room like a claustrophobic dingo.
‘Good morning, I have brought you some breakfast.’
‘You keepa me here?’ Camira pointed at the door.
‘No, I told you that the key is in the lock. You are free to leave whenever you wish.’
The girl stared at her, studying her expression.
‘I free-a go now?’
‘Yes, if you wish.’ Kitty opened the door wide and used her hand to indicate the path.
Silently, Camira walked through it. Kitty watched as she hesitated on the threshold, looking left and right, and at Fred, who was chewing tobacco as he made an attempt at grooming the pony. She stepped outside and walked tentatively across the red earth, her senses alert for sudden attack. When none came, she continued, walking towards the drive that led onto the road. Kitty left the hut and made her way back into the house.
Watching from the drawing room window, she saw Camira’s small figure recede into the distance. A sigh escaped her as she realised that Andrew had probably been right. Her baby kicked suddenly inside her, and she walked into the drawing room to sit down. The heat today was oppressive.
An hour passed but just as she was about to give up hope, she saw Camira walking towards the house, then hesitating for a second before making her way back up the drive. After waiting for another ten minutes, Kitty walked over to the hut, taking with her a glass of cool lemonade that Tarik had just made, with ice shaved from the newly delivered block.
The door to the hut was ajar, but still, she knocked on it.
Camira opened it and Kitty noticed that everything on the breakfast tray she’d taken in earlier had been eaten.
‘I brought you this. It’s full of goodness for the baby.’
‘Thank you, missus.’ Camira took the lemonade from Kitty and sipped it tentatively as if it might be poisoned. Then she drank the lot down in one. ‘No keepa me prisoner?’
‘Of course not,’ Kitty said briskly. ‘I want to help you.’
‘Why you wanta help me, missus? No whitefellas wanta.’
‘Because . . .’ Kitty searched for the simplest answer. ‘We are both the same.’ She indicated her stomach. ‘How long were you at the mission?’
‘Ten years. Teacha fella say I good student.’ A small expression of pride passed through Camira’s dark eyes. ‘I knowa German too.’
‘Do you now? My husband speaks it, but I do not.’
‘Whattum you want, missus?’
Kitty was about to say ‘nothing’, but then realised that Camira currently could not grasp the concept of kindness from a ‘whitefella’.
‘Well, for a start, if you stay here, perhaps you could teach Fred some English.’
Camira wrinkled her nose. ‘He-a smell. No wash.’
‘Maybe you can teach him to do that too.’
‘Me be-a teacha, boss?’
‘Yes. And also’ – Kitty thought on her feet – ‘I am looking for a nursemaid to help when the baby comes.’
‘I knowa ’bout babies. I takem care in mission.’
‘That’s settled then. You stay here’ – she indicated the hut – ‘and we give you food in return for help.’
Camira’s serious face studied Kitty’s. ‘No locka the door.’
‘No locka the door. Here.’ Kitty handed her the key. ‘Deal?’
Finally, a glimmer of a smile came to Camira’s face. ‘Deal.’
*
‘So, did your little black bolt off with everything she could steal when your back was turned?’ asked Andrew when he returned for lunch.
‘No, she went for a walk and then came back. Can you believe that she speaks some German, as well as English? And she has been brought up a Christian.’
‘I doubt it goes any further than skin-deep. So what will you do with her?’
‘She tells me she took care of the babies brought to the mission. I have suggested that in return for helping me with the new baby and teaching Fred some basic English, she can stay in the hut.’