by Amanda Deed
‘A ball!’ Both of her sisters spoke in unison, then clapped their hands in delight.
A ball. Jane’s heart sank. That meant stunning gowns, dances, everything lovely to the eye. There was no way she could see herself being a part of it. And she was sure Mother was not including her in this sharing of information.
‘I hope Mr Moreland asks me to go on his arm.’ Harriet purred, almost preening herself.
‘Perhaps he can take both of us.’ Nancy sounded desperate not to miss out on her chance.
‘That’s ridiculous. Why should he do that?’ Harriet scowled at her.
Mother did nothing but smile at them both.
Jane clenched her teeth again. She could never understand why Mother didn’t scold the girls for their selfish attitudes. Her own mama would never have let her get away with that behaviour. Selfishness and vanity were sins. Which is why, even if deep down she wanted to attend the ball in an elegant dress with Mr Moreland on her arm, she would never breathe a word. Not to a single soul.
9
A constant stream of customers over the next couple of weeks kept Price busy. Townsfolk in his store meant opportunities to meet new people, folk who might want to hear the Good News. So, he tried to show interest in their lives and learn who they were. And in the evenings, he brought each of those conversations to the Lord in prayer, asking for men’s souls to be saved. He prayed at length for each customer who’d entered his store that day.
The prospects before him excited him and he wrote frequent letters to Mr Carruthers in Wagga Wagga, telling him how he was proceeding. In turn he received encouraging letters, interspersed with verses of Scripture to inspire him. It was good to know Mr Carruthers had the same vision to see men and women converted as he did.
While he appreciated that his business succeeded more than his expectations, and that success brought more opportunities to minister, it gave him little time to pursue other interests. More than anything, he wanted a chance to put Mrs Ferguson’s strategy into action and see if it were possible to get Miss Jane O’Reilly to converse with him. He had baked a batch of scones on Monday evening, but had not been able to get away to deliver them.
As Price snipped at a local shopkeeper’s hair, he sighed out in frustration. He needed to bake a fresh batch of scones as the first lot had gone stale already. But then again, he might look too eager to return to the O’Reilly farm so soon. With a sigh, Price resigned himself to the wait. He needed to be patient.
‘What’s that you say, Mr Stevenson?’ He hadn’t paid attention to the shopkeeper’s small talk.
‘I said, nice weather, eh, Mr Moreland?’ Mr Stevenson asked in a dry tone.
Price glanced to the windows, where rain pounded on the iron overhang and ran in constant rivulets into the muddy street. He remembered what Mr O’Reilly had said about his wheat. ‘I suppose it is good for the farms.’
‘Yes, but not so good for business. The roads turn to bogs and the people stay home.’
Price shrugged. He hadn’t noticed much downturn in his store. ‘Well now, I’m sure it won’t rain forever.’ He stepped back and held up a large mirror for Mr Stevenson to appraise his new cut. ‘How does that suit you?’
The shopkeeper tilted his head this way and that, smoothing out his dark hair. ‘Hm. A little more off the sides, if you don’t mind, Mr Moreland.’
A few minutes later, as he was finishing up on Mr Stevenson, a Chinese man entered, looking uneasy to say the least.
‘Patrick, why don’t you help Mr Stevenson here, and sweep up the hair, while I serve our new customer.’ Price wiped his hands on a towel and headed to the front door. ‘How can I help you, Mr …?’
‘Feng Li.’ The man nodded as he spoke. ‘I got tooth problem.’
‘Very well, Mr Li, come through to the back.’
Mr Li shuffled through the open doorway into the surgery.
‘You aren’t going to serve that slant-eye, are you?’ Mr Stevenson screwed up his face in disgust.
Price looked at him twice, taken aback. ‘Why not? His money is as good as yours. And his pain is as real as anyone else’s, too.’
Mr Stevenson shook his head. ‘I don’t allow no Chingas in my store, I can tell you that. They’re dirty and they’re heathens. If you think I’m gonna come back next time I need a haircut, you’re wrong. I won’t be part of no Chinese loving club.’ With those words, he tossed a few coins to Patrick and huffed out of the barbershop.
Price was still too shocked to respond. It was the first time he’d encountered blatant prejudice since he’d been in Hay. With his brows pressed into a frown he headed into the surgery.
‘I’m sorry you had to hear that, Mr Li.’
‘Ah, no matter.’ The Chinese man waved a hand. ‘I used to it now. My family, we keep to ourselves, stay out of trouble. Take no notice of angry men. Take our business elsewhere, you know?’
Price tilted his head in admiration. This man had a great outlook. ‘Well, what is the problem with your tooth then?’
‘Nothing working. Chinese herbs not working. Meditation not working. Even acupuncture not working.’ Mr Li looked as disgusted by that as Mr Stevenson had looked about an oriental man being in the store.
‘Okay. Let’s have a look.’
Patrick had now joined him and stood waiting for instruction.
‘I suspect I’ll need the tooth key, Patrick.’ He gave his assistant a nod. As he probed in Mr Li’s mouth he tried to keep conversation light. ‘You said your meditation is not working. What do you mean by that?’
When Price left his mouth alone for a moment, he answered. ‘Sit quiet. Concentrate on breathing. Energy brings peace and wholeness. Most times, anyway. So, what wrong in mouth?’
‘Well now, you have a tooth which has a nasty infection. I’m surprised you don’t have a fever.’ It was even worse than Miss Jane O’Reilly’s had been. ‘I’m going to have to pull it out. Your Chinese herbs might work after that.’
‘All right. Good. Good.’ Mr Li stretched his mouth wide.
It took a great effort and a strong dose of nitrous oxide before the tooth, which had a long root, finally pulled loose. Mr Li groaned a few times, but he gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles went white. His olive complexion had turned a distinctive yellow and afterward, he sat with a hand cradling his jaw and his eyes closed for several minutes.
‘I am a man of prayer myself.’ Price tried conversation as a method of distraction from the pain.
‘Humph?’
‘I suppose it’s a bit like meditation, but instead of focusing on breathing and energy, I focus on the Most High.’
‘Most High?’
‘Yes. God. I shall be praying for you tonight, that you will have a good night’s sleep.’
Mr Li pushed himself out of the dentist chair and stood, a trifle unsteady. ‘Many thanks, Mr Moreland. I also hope for good night sleep.’ He thrust a hand in his pocket and withdrew some money. Handing the coins to Price, he shuffled back out to the front, collecting his cone-shaped hat from the stand and pressing it onto his head. Mr Li turned and offered Price a short bow. ‘Maybe you come by my house one day. Meet my family. I make you Chinese tea. You tell me more of your God.’
For the second time today Price was surprised. ‘I’d be honoured, Mr Li.’ He inclined his head in respect as the gentleman walked out the door into the drizzling rain.
He barely had time to reflect on the invitation he’d just received, though. Two women brushed past the Chinese man on their way in, their faces conveying their dislike. What was this mindset against the Chinese? Price had seen racial prejudice before, but that was back home against the Africans. His people had treated the Africans as slaves for centuries and only now were things starting to change, in part at any rate. While slavery had been outlawed, the community still ostracised blacks.
Price’
s reflection on society’s attitudes vanished when he turned to the startling beauty who’d entered his store. Another mother and daughter duo, no doubt. Beautiful, and clearly aware of her allure, the young lady batted her long eyelashes at him, and curved her pink lips into a scintillating smile. Price guessed her intentions before either woman said a word. His stomach clenched, apprehensive about what might take place in the next few minutes. The girl couldn’t be more than sixteen years old.
A glance at Patrick told him the lad was smitten. In fact, by his expression, Price suspected his apprentice knew this young lady. Patrick’s neck flushed red at her appearance in the store.
‘My daughter has the tooth ache, Mr Moreland.’ The forthright mother spoke first.
Sure, and I have three legs. The girl had not a flicker of pain in her wide blue eyes. ‘Come through to the surgery then, and I’ll examine her.
Jane sat on the veranda and gazed at the grey, cloud-laden horizon, with her knees pulled up to her chest and her chin resting on them. The sky mimicked her mood. Although she had never described her life as a happy one, she had nonetheless learned to be content with what it was—most of the time at any rate. But this week she was unable to rise above a flat and lethargic feeling. And she suspected it had very little to do with Danny’s recent marriage.
Her stepsisters talked of nothing but this fundraising ball, which was still months away. Jane didn’t understand why they made a fuss when they had so long to prepare. Oh, they said, it was to be a masquerade ball, and they had masks to make and alterations to their dresses to complete. And, of course, they must go shopping and order in the perfect accessories to their ensembles. They simply couldn’t leave that too late.
On top of the chatter of gowns and costumes, was the gossip of boys, or more precisely, eligible young men. On and on they went about this fellow or that dashing bachelor. But then they came back to Mr Moreland again. He seemed to be the most eligible of the bachelors, although they always argued over who would win his heart out of the two of them. Jane rolled her eyes thinking about it.
It was not fair. If Jane even had one pretty dress she might be able to compete with them. A wisp of her hair floated in front of her face, lifted by the breeze, and her momentary defiance collapsed. She would need far more than a dazzling gown to get any man’s attention. Colourful fabric could never hide her freckled skin, or her blazing, unmanageable hair, or her inordinate height. Neither would it overshadow her boring life. Because that’s how everyone else viewed her. Plain Jane. It echoed around her head today more than ever.
Moses squawked nearby as he swung upside down on a thin branch, trying to get her attention. Had he sensed her mood and now tried to cheer her up with his antics? She managed a half-smile watching him for a few minutes. If anyone was a lunatic around here, it was him. What other bird hung upside down and swung back and forth while making a crazed laughing sound? And yet Mr Moreland said he was becoming fond of her cockatoo. Jane frowned. She wanted him to become fond of her, not her bird. And that was the frightening truth.
With an irritated groan, Jane scrambled to her feet and tramped over to the cookhouse. Inside, she flopped into one of the chairs at the work table and propped her chin up in her hands. ‘Aunt Ruby, I need a cup of coffee.’
Her aunt turned and looked at her for a long moment before walking to the pantry. ‘I have something better, lovey.’ She rummaged around amongst the shelves for a minute before she returned with a tin. She waved it in the air. ‘Nothing like a good cuppa cocoa when you’re down in the dumps.’
‘Cocoa?’
Aunt Ruby pressed a finger to her lips, although her eyes sparkled. ‘Shh. I keep it for special occasions.’
A scratching sound came at the door.
Aunt Ruby’s eyebrows creased. ‘Did you leave Moses out there by himself?’ She shook her head and opened the door. ‘Well, come in, sir.’
With a low screak, the cockatoo waddled into the room and hopped up onto one of the chairs, then onto the table. He clearly didn’t want to miss out on a cup of tea.
‘All right, I’ll make you one, too.’
Aunt Ruby went to work preparing the drinks. ‘So, what’s troubling you today, Jane dear?’
Jane shook her head. ‘Nothing. Just this nonstop talk of the ball. It’s vexing me to the point of madness.’
‘Yes. Well, you can’t blame them for that. A ball is very exciting. Especially for young girls. You should be excited, too.’
Jane could not stop a scowl from darkening her eyebrows. ‘Aunt Ruby, you and I both know I won’t be attending that ball.’
Her aunt looked uncomfortable and she fussed over the sugar bowl for a moment. ‘Well, that is as may be, dear, but it doesn’t mean we can’t join in on the fun.’
‘How?’ Jane didn’t even own a gown she could pretend in, let alone anything else.
‘We can make you a mask. It would be very diverting, I assure you.’
‘And give them another reason to make fun of me? No thank you.’ Jane could already hear her sisters’ taunts and shuddered. ‘Aunt Ruby, I know you mean well, but—’
‘No one has to know.’ Her aunt interrupted. ‘We can work on it while they go out visiting. And I can keep it hidden in my cottage out back.’
Jane considered this offer while Aunt Ruby set a cup of steaming cocoa before her, accompanied by two fresh cookies. She watched as the woman poured cold tea into the Moses-sized tin cup and gave it to him. Perhaps it would be nice to pretend she was invited to the ball and make a mask.
‘I happen to have a few bits and pieces you can use to decorate it,’ Aunt Ruby added, although a mysterious look crept into her features. Jane caught it just before her aunt turned and busied herself at the stove again. It made her wonder what ‘bits and pieces’ Aunt Ruby had, and how she happened to have them. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but then she changed her mind. She shouldn’t pry, and Aunt Ruby wouldn’t want to share her stories with Jane.
‘All right. You can show me how to make a mask.’
Aunt Ruby looked over her shoulder and offered a grin accompanied with a wink. ‘Good girl.’
Jane sipped at the delicious cocoa. Her aunt was right. This was the comforting drink she needed. The creamy warmth spread right through her. When Moses waddled across the table to her, she drew him into her lap and stroked his feathers. Moses, as usual, leaned in to her chest in his affectionate manner.
Mr Moreland liked her pet cockatoo. It was a start. Most people considered Moses as the eccentric extension of an odd personality. Or worse—proof that she was addle brained. But if Mr Moreland thought Moses was intriguing, perhaps he might find her likeable as well, eventually. After all, Moses liked her. It would complete the circle.
The door to the cookhouse opened and Old Darcy, after scraping sods from his boots, stepped into the room. He sidled up to Aunt Ruby and planted a kiss on her cheek before he spotted Jane sitting at the table. Then a guilty smile spread on his face. The kind of smile one might see on a child caught with their hand in the cookie tin. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there, Janey.’
Jane grinned at his gentle affection. ‘Don’t mind me, Old Darcy.’
‘Well, the fields is wet enough. I reckon your pa will be sowing the wheat come tomorrow.’
‘That’s good. After the last couple of years of drought, Pa will be happy. Let’s hope the rain continues.’
‘She’ll be right.’ Old Darcy nodded, sitting at the table.
‘You’ve got to stay positive in this world,’ Aunt Ruby agreed as she placed a steaming coffee in front of her husband.
Old Darcy wrapped both hands around the mug and sipped at its contents. He raised his eyes to Jane. ‘I just learnt that Mitch’s mob’ll be back in town tomorrow. Thought you might be interested.’
Jane pulled her eyes away from his and stared at her empty cup. She shrugge
d, not wanting to give her secret pain away. ‘I’m not sure if I will go and see them.’
‘Aren’t you going to take them a basket of my baking as usual?’ Aunt Ruby sounded surprised.
Jane swallowed and fiddled with the mug. ‘If you want me to.’ How could she explain what happened with Danny? That he wasn’t among the drovers any more. That he’d gone and got married. They didn’t even know she had liked him so much.
‘I’m not going to force you, Jane dear. Darcy is just as capable of taking a basket to them as you. If you don’t want to go, just say so.’
‘Perhaps I won’t go then. Just this once.’ She didn’t want to face Danny’s father, or any of the other drovers who’d known of her friendship with Danny. Maybe, though, she would go as far as her big red gum and see them from a distance.
10
Price had just hung the closed sign and locked up after a busy morning of shaving and cutting—and sharing his faith to those who had a willing ear. He’d sent Patrick off for a dinner break, and he planned to do likewise, when Mr Clark jogged up, his pipe dangling from the corner of his mouth.
‘Bobby.’ The carter stopped to catch his breath. ‘They need ya down at the drovers’ camp.’
Price pressed his brows together. What kind of emergency needed a barber? Unless someone had a severe toothache. ‘What’s happened, Clark?’
‘Well, one of their horses won’t eat properly and it’s fighting the bit. They reckon something’s wrong with its mouth, but there aren’t any good vets where they came from, or even here. Most of the vets I’ve met are quacks anyways. So, I said to Mitch, “Bobby Tuppence, the barber, doubles as a dentist. Maybe he can help.” And Mitch says to me, “Well, what are ya standin’ there for? Go get him.” So, here I am. What do ya reckon?’
Price shook his head, bewildered. ‘You want me to perform dental surgery on a horse?’
