‘But Kitty, my dear, the girl is pregnant! Chances are, it’s a white man’s child. And you know the rules on half-castes.’
‘Andrew!’ Kitty slammed her knife and fork onto her plate. ‘Camira can be no older than me! What would you have me do with her? Toss her back out into the rubbish where I found her? And as for the rules . . . they are cruel and barbaric. Tearing a mother away from her baby . . .’
‘It’s for their own protection, darling. The government are doing their best to make sure these children do not die in the gutter. They wish to round them up and teach them Christian ways.’
‘I cannot begin to imagine how I would feel if our child was physically snatched from my grasp.’ Kitty was shaking now. ‘And why, when we can at least help one of them, would we refuse to do so? It is nothing less than our Christian duty. Excuse me, I find myself . . . unwell.’ Kitty rose then walked to the bedroom and lay down, her heart pounding.
She knew all about the rules for half-caste children; had seen the henchmen of the local Protectorate doing the rounds of Broome in a cart, seeking out any baby or child whose lighter skin would give the game away immediately. Then she’d hear the sound of keening mothers as the babies and children were dumped on the cart to be taken away to a mission orphanage, where their Aboriginal heritage would be drummed out of them, and replaced by a God who apparently believed it was better to have Him than to grow up with a mother’s love.
Some minutes later, there was a knock at the door and Andrew walked in. He came to sit beside her on the bed and took her hand.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘I am a little faint, that is all. It is very close today.’
Andrew took a muslin cloth from the pile on the night-stand and dipped it in the pitcher of water. He folded it across her brow. ‘You are nearing your time too, darling. If it pleases you to help a mother in similar circumstances, then who am I to deny you? She can stay, at least until she has had the child. Then we shall . . . take a view.’
Kitty knew he meant ‘see what colour the baby is’, but this was no time to be churlish.
‘Thank you, my darling. You are so kind to me.’
‘No, you are the one who is kind. I’ve been in Broome for too long. And perhaps I have become inured to the suffering around us. It takes a fresh pair of eyes to see it anew. However, I have a position and a reputation to uphold. I – and you – cannot be seen to flout the law. Do you understand, Kitty?’
‘I do.’
‘So, when do I meet your little black?’
Kitty gritted her teeth at his words. ‘Her name is Camira. I shall have a couple of dresses made up for her. She has only the clothes she stands up in, and they are filthy.’
‘I’d burn them if I were you. God knows where they’ve been, but we shall no doubt find out soon enough anyway. If she was working as a maid, we will know her former employers. Now.’ Andrew kissed her gently on the forehead and stood up. ‘I must go into town. I have an appointment with T. B. The Edith has brought in a particularly good haul and there are a couple of pearls I want him to skin. One of them may be very special.’ Andrew’s eyes glinted with pleasure and avarice.
Do we not have enough already? Kitty thought with a sigh as Andrew left the room.
She knew the real God in this town – and his name was Money.
15
In January, as the barometer on the drawing room wall plummeted, indicating the start of the wet season, Kitty woke up with sweat dripping from her brow. She was due any day and she prayed to the Lord it would happen soon. The humidity hung like a soupy, airless blanket and she dug deep to breathe. Too exhausted to rise, she lay there wishing for both a storm and her waters to break. She rang the bell to indicate to the kitchen that she wanted breakfast. These past few days she had been in bed, unable to countenance the thought of putting on her corset – albeit specially made for her condition – plus the numerous petticoats, plus a dress on top of that. It was easier to lie here in her nightgown, her belly unrestricted and her skin comparatively cool.
Her thoughts turned again to Camira, and Kitty bit her lip hard in frustration. It had all been going so well; even Andrew had said what a bright little thing she was after he’d asked her a few questions in German. Since the ‘deal’ had been wrought between the two women, and as Camira had realised she would neither be locked up nor taken away in the night to the local prison for misdemeanours unknown, she had proved herself willing and eager to help in any way she could. Whoever had formerly employed her had taught her well. Soon she was busy about the house, tutting at what she obviously thought was the tardiness of the maid, a sloe-eyed Singalese girl called Medha, who spent more time looking at her face in the mirror than actually cleaning it.
Kitty concealed her amusement as Camira took control, issuing orders for the floors to be swept at least three times a day to remove the interminable dust, and scrubbed every other. The mahogany furniture gleamed from layers of beeswax and the cobwebs that had ingratiated themselves into high corners were swept away along with their inhabitants. As Camira bobbed about the drawing room as lightly as a butterfly, Kitty watched from her writing bureau, where she could hardly raise the energy to pick up her fountain pen. Even though Camira was almost certainly further on in her pregnancy than she, it did not seem to affect her.
Ten days ago, Kitty had even discussed with Andrew the idea of getting rid of Medha and having Camira take over.
‘Let’s just wait and see what happens after her baby is born. No point in doing anything hasty. If she ups and leaves, we’re high and dry at a moment when you will need all the help you can get.’
And then the following day, as if Camira had heard Andrew’s words, Kitty had gone to the hut and found it deserted.
‘Fred, where is Camira?’ she’d asked him as she stepped outside.
‘She gone.’
‘Did she say where?’
‘No, Missus Boss. Gone,’ Fred had informed her.
‘I did warn you, darling. These blacks just don’t play by the same set of rules as we do,’ Andrew had said later. ‘Good job we didn’t sack Medha.’
Kitty had felt intense irritation at Andrew’s obvious satisfaction that he’d been right all along. Every day since Camira’s disappearance, Kitty had gone to the hut and found it as deserted as the day before. And given the fact she had promised Andrew not to advertise Camira’s presence in their home, Kitty could not ask around the town to find out if anyone had seen her.