‘Then I could leave you both for a few weeks in Edinburgh while I conduct my business. But this year, with Father in tow, that is just not possible.’
Kitty knew that Andrew meant his father did not want a young child tagging along with them. Equally, she knew from experience that Andrew would not stand up to him and insist. ‘Well, I cannot leave Charlie, and that is that.’
‘Then would you consider travelling to Adelaide with Charlie while I am gone? At least you would have the company – and security – of my mother and Alicia Hall?’ Andrew suggested.
‘No. I shall stay here. I have Camira and Fred to guard me, and three months is not that long.’
‘I don’t like to think of you alone here, Kitty, especially during the wet season.’
‘Really, Andrew, we will be fine. I have all our friends to watch over me too. And now Dr Suzuki has come to town and set up his new hospital, my health and Charlie’s is assured,’ she added.
‘Perhaps I should postpone the trip until next year, when we can travel together, but I am so eager to become autonomous, without feeling that Father is constantly looking over my shoulder.’
‘Darling, even though we will miss you, we are safe here, aren’t we?’ Kitty turned to Charlie, who was sitting between them, eating his egg and toast.
‘Yes, Mama!’ Charlie – a little blond angel with egg yolk and crumbs smeared on his face – banged his spoon on his plate.
‘Hush, Charlie.’ Andrew took the spoon away from him. ‘Now, I must leave for the office. I will see you both at luncheon.’
As he left, Camira arrived in the dining room to clean Charlie up and take him off to play in the garden with Cat. Fred had proved himself a useful carpenter and had erected a baby swing out of wood, which he had hung by two strong ropes to a boab tree. In fact, thought Kitty contentedly, Fred had changed almost beyond recognition. No longer did he smell, and due to Camira’s tireless tutelage, he had slowly begun to grasp English.
The breakthrough in Fred and Camira’s relationship had happened almost four years ago, just after Charlie’s birth. Mrs Jefford, the wife of one of the most powerful pearling masters in town, had decided to come calling to the house unannounced – an unusual event in itself, as these things were normally arranged at least a week before.
‘I was just passing, Kitty dear, and realised that I had not yet paid my respects to you since your son was born. I was away in England, you see, visiting my family.’
‘It is most kind of you to think of us.’ Kitty had ushered her into the drawing room. ‘May I get you a glass of something cool to drink?’ she’d asked as she watched Mrs Jefford’s beady eyes travel round the room.
‘Yes, thank you. What a dear little place this is,’ she’d commented as Kitty signalled for Medha to bring in a jug of lemonade. ‘So . . . homey.’
As Kitty had sat down, she’d glanced out of the window and seen Camira, her eyes full of fear, her hand signalling a cut-throat. Mrs Jefford had proceeded to tell Kitty about the treasures she’d recently acquired in her own home. ‘We believe that the vase may well be Ming,’ she’d tittered.
Kitty was used to the one-upmanship of the pearling masters’ wives who vied, it seemed, even harder than their husbands to claim the crown for the most successful pearler in Broome.
‘Mr Jefford was so lucky last year finding eight exquisite pearls, one of which he sold recently in Paris for a king’s ransom. I’m sure that one day your husband will be equally successful, but of course he is still young and inexperienced. Mr Jefford has learnt the hard way that many of the valuable pearls never make it into his hands. And has devised ways and means to make sure that they do.’
Kitty had wondered how long this eulogy to self and husband would last. When Mrs Jefford had finally exhausted her list of recent extravagances, Kitty had asked her if she’d like to see baby Charlie.
‘He’s napping now, but I am sure I can wake him early. Just for once,’ she’d added.
‘My dear, having had three of my own, I know how precious a sleeping baby is, so please do not do so on my account. Besides, Mrs Donaldson told me recently that you have employed a black nursemaid to care for him?’
‘I have, yes.’
‘Then I must warn you never to leave her alone with the child. The blacks have a price on white babies’ heads, no less!’
‘Really? Do they wish to put them in a pot and cook them?’ Kitty had asked, straight-faced.
‘Who knows, my dear!’ Mrs Jefford had shuddered. ‘But I repeat, they cannot be trusted. Only a few months ago, I had to sack my last maid, once it came to my attention that she was supplementing her income by whoring in the brothels in Japtown. And when I say it came to my attention, I mean that the girl was a good few months gone. She did her best to hide it from myself and Mr Jefford, of course, but in the end, one could hardly fail to notice. When I said that her services were no longer required, she literally attacked me, begging me to forgive her and have her stay. I had to fight her off. Then she disappeared into the shanty town, never to be seen again.’
‘Really? How dreadful.’
‘It was.’ Mrs Jefford studied Kitty’s expression. ‘The child she was carrying is almost certainly a half-caste, and as it will surely have been born now, it must be found and taken by the Protectorate to a mission.’
‘Goodness! What a tragic story.’ By now, Kitty had realised exactly why Mrs Jefford had come to pay a visit.
‘I will say that she was a good worker and I have missed her since, but as a Christian woman, I could not countenance an illegitimate child under my roof.’ Mrs Jefford had thrown her a beady look.
‘I am sure you could not. Oh, I believe I have just heard Charlie crying. Will you excuse me?’ Rising from her chair, Kitty had walked as sedately as she could to the door. Closing it behind her, she had dashed into the kitchen, telling Medha to rouse Charlie for her, then grabbed the blacking from beside the range and hurried outside to the backyard. Entering the hut without knocking, Kitty had found Camira hiding under the bedstead, her baby girl clutched to her chest.
‘Make baby black.’ Kitty had pushed the blacking towards her. ‘Fred your husband, understand?’
In the gloom, all Kitty could see was Camira’s terrified eyes. ‘Understand,’ she’d whispered.
Then she had raced back to the kitchen, where Medha was holding a screaming Charlie. ‘Please bring a bottle through to the drawing room,’ Kitty had ordered as she’d grabbed the baby and walked back to Mrs Jefford.
‘Forgive me for taking so long. He had a full napkin,’ she’d said, as Medha arrived with the bottle.
‘Surely your nursemaid sees to that kind of thing?’ Mrs Jefford had probed.
‘Of course, but Camira went to fetch some more muslin from the haberdashery, while her husband collected the ice from town on the cart. They have only just returned.’