Bridie's Fire

by Kirsty Murray

  ‘But this is what you wanted,’ shouted Eddie Bones. ‘We’re back in the theatre, just as you insisted.’

  ‘Eddie, you told me that we would stage this show for no more than three months, and then you’d sell your interest in the Star and we’d both go back to Melbourne. Now I discover you’ve signed a one-year lease and commissioned some fool to build us a bark hut to live in! One year! What folly! I will not waste my life and ruin my chances in this dusty hellhole while you play the great man among the barbarians!’

  Bridie wanted to cover her ears. After all the work they’d put into the theatre, she couldn’t bear to hear Amaranta speaking ill of it. To Bridie, it was the most exciting place she’d ever seen. She didn’t care about the rough bark walls or the dirt floor. She knew that the Star Theatre was a place of magic for all its shabbiness.

  Bridie sent a worried frown in Tom’s direction, wishing he would intervene, but he shrugged and shook his head. One by one the actors left the theatre, leaving Eddie and Amaranta to fight it out alone. Bridie took the costume back to the tent and laid it out lovingly on the red satin quilt, admiring her work. It was the finest thing she’d ever made in her life and she couldn’t wait to see Amaranta wear it on opening night. It had taken Bridie countless hours to sew the dozens of layers of feather-white silk into place. On each fold of fabric was a cluster of tiny seed pearls and silver and white brocade gleamed on the bodice. Carefully she gathered up the dress and placed it in Amaranta’s trunk, where it glowed like a fairy’s gown. Bridie was sure that Amaranta would change her mind about Ballarat, once she’d worn the costume on opening night and seen how much everyone in the audience admired her. Maybe the show would be so successful that Eddie would be able to build a real house for them all to live in. Then Tom could write letters to help her find Brandon and she would save up the fare and send for him. The world seemed full of endless possibilities. She stepped out of the tent and sang to herself as she set about preparing the evening meal beneath a clear, bright afternoon sky.

  The evenings were becoming icy. In the middle of the night, Bridie woke up feeling the chill against her face. There was a glow of light from the nearby tent. Bridie crawled outside and looked to see who could be awake at so late an hour. There were angry voices coming from Amaranta and Eddie’s tent. Bridie was used to the sound of their muffled arguments but this time there was a third voice interwoven in the heated conversation. She lay in the dark, puzzled by the interplay of the voices. Suddenly there was the crack of a gunshot. Shivering, Bridie reached for a blanket, wrapped it around her shoulders and ran over to the big tent. Tom was standing by the entrance looking uncertain. ‘What’s happened?’ said Bridie. ‘Why are you just standing there?’ She tore open the tent flap and rushed inside.

  There was chaos everywhere. Everything had been swept from Amaranta’s dresser and the big looking-glass was smashed in pieces on the dirt floor. Backed into one corner was Jacobus, with his hands in the air, and on the other side of the tent, Eddie Bones and Amaranta were struggling for possession of Eddie’s silver pistol. Suddenly, the gun went off again. Bridie smelt the sharp tang of burning gunpowder. For a split second, everything in the tent, in the whole world, became absolutely still except for the gentle swish of Bridie’s blanket falling onto the dirt floor. And then Bridie felt it. It was like being seared with a burning coal. She looked down and saw a flower of red spread across her nightgown. Everyone was staring at her and she couldn’t think why. Bridie touched the red flower. Her hands came away wet with blood and then there was a strange high wailing sound that filled her ears, a cry from far away, like the cry of a banshee, and her legs gave way. The tent swirled around her and Tom reached out to catch her as she fell.

  Bridie opened her eyes and shut them again quickly but the agony was just as fierce with her eyes shut tight. She gasped as someone touched her skin and pain flared. She was lying in the middle of the big feather bed and all around her were the murmur of voices and a sea of floating faces. It was hard to focus on anyone, the pain in her side was all the time pulling at her, demanding she give it all her attention. She was wrapped in Amaranta’s deep blue velvet cloak and the black fur trim brushed against her cheek. She tried to raise a hand to push it away but it made the searing pain in her side even worse.

  ‘She’s conscious,’ said Amaranta, her voice tight with anxiety. ‘Bridie, girl, are you in much pain?’

  Bridie could only whimper in reply.

  Doctor Halibut stood beside the bed, washing his hands in a basin, and the water ran red from his fingertips. ‘It’s a messy wound, but mostly just torn flesh and a chip off one rib. Two of the ribs were cracked by the impact. A little more to the left and things would be different. She’s a lucky child.’

  ‘No, the luck’s ours. If we’d killed her . . .’ said Eddie, putting his head in his hands.

  ‘Not we, Eddie. You,’ said Amaranta angrily. ‘It was your pistol.’

  ‘If you hadn’t intervened, she never would have been hit,’ said Eddie, defensively.

  ‘If I hadn’t, you’d have the old man’s blood on your hands and the troopers would have you for murder.’

  ‘And now you’ve both got Bridie’s blood on your hands! Why the hell are you two still fighting?’ shouted Tom. ‘Can’t you see where your stupid arguments have led!’

  Bridie tried to speak but Dr Halibut lifted her head and spooned something thick, white and sweet between her lips. Darkness came to her quickly.

  Bridie woke the next morning, aching. Her head felt heavy and her side was throbbing. There was a flurry of movement beside her. Painfully, Bridie turned her head to watch Amaranta silently gathering up her strewn clothing and jewellery from across the dirt floor. She folded up her dresses and scarves and hurriedly packed them into the big black trunk.

  ‘You can’t go,’ said Bridie in a small, broken voice.

  ‘I have to do this,’ Amaranta answered, not looking at her.

  ‘You told me you loved Eddie. How can you leave him?’

  ‘You’re just a child. You can’t understand. Things will only get worse.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Bridie, turning her face away. ‘You’re a coward,’ she added, unable to contain her bitterness.

  Amaranta came over and stood next to the bed. ‘You could come with me, Bridie,’ she said softly. ‘Or you could follow me when you feel up to the journey. I’ll leave money for your fare so you can meet me in Melbourne.’

  For a moment, a vision of herself and Amaranta riding in a carriage down Collins Street flashed through Bridie’s imagination, but she pushed it away.

  ‘Can’t you see? We were making something special, something that no one has ever made before.’

  ‘I can’t be a part of that any more,’ said Amaranta, turning away from the bed. She walked over to the trunk and pushed the lid down, snapping the lock into place. ‘I don’t have time to argue. The dray leaves in half an hour. But my offer to you still stands.’

  Bridie felt a great wave of exhaustion wash over her. It hurt too much to talk. She wanted to roll over and turn her back on Amaranta but every movement sent a ripple of pain through her body. She covered her face with her arm and wished Amaranta would hurry up and leave. She didn’t have the strength to fight any longer.

  It felt like hours before the flap of the tent lifted again and Tom entered with a mug of warm billy tea and a bowl of milky gruel. He helped Bridie to sit so she could sip the sweet black tea.

  ‘Tom, last night, when I fell, I heard the banshee wailing,’ she said, too frightened by the memory to meet his gaze. ‘When the banshee wails, it means an O’Connor is about to die. I heard one the day my father died.’

  ‘That was your own voice you heard last night, not a banshee,’ said Tom. ‘There are no banshees in Australia.’

  Bridie lowered the tin cup.

  ‘Maybe I brought it with me and everything will be ruined here, like everything was ruined at home.’

  Tom glanced around at
the wreckage of the broken looking-glass. Smashed bottles of lotions lay in the dirt among the shards of mirror.

  ‘Don’t you worry, Bridie. I’ll clear everything up later. Everything will be fine.’

  ‘Oh, Tom, you know that’s not what I mean. How can the Star open without Amaranta?’

  Tom shrugged. ‘I know all her lines. Eddie says I can play the Princess and that boys always used to play the girl’s part. They still do in lots of places. Eddie says women probably shouldn’t be allowed on stage at the diggings. It’s much better that I do it.’

  Bridie winced. The notion that Tom could play the beautiful princess made her want to groan. She looked into his earnest, unhappy eyes and knew he was putting on a brave face.

  Bridie slept fitfully throughout the afternoon. Each time she woke and looked at the debris around the tent, she had to bite her lip to stop from crying. Just when things had seemed so good, when she’d found her place in the world, when she’d found all these people that she could belong to, everything was falling apart again, crumbling to dust around her. The pain in her side didn’t seem anywhere near as difficult to bear as the pain in her heart.

  It was early evening when Bridie woke and found Jacobus sitting next to the bed.

  ‘What are you doing here? Go away,’ she said, wearily.

  ‘Now, child. I’m here to keep vigil. Can I get you some water?’

  ‘I don’t want anything from you. I hate you. It should have been you that was shot. It’s your fault Amaranta’s gone.’

  As she spoke, a shudder coursed through her body and she let out a small cry. She felt as if she was falling. Jacobus stared down at her with a stricken expression, his face shadowy and unfocused in the fading light.

  ‘Bridie, girl, you’re burning up,’ he said, resting a hand on Bridie’s forehead.

  Bridie tried to push his hand away, but another wave of shivering overtook her.

  ‘Here, let me look at you,’ said Jacobus. Gently, he turned down the big red satin quilt and loosened Bridie’s nightgown. ‘You’re all swollen under your arm and these dressings need changing. Has Halibut been to see you today?’ Bridie shook her head and clenched her teeth. Jacobus folded back the dressing and raised a kerosene lamp above her. He caught his breath.

  ‘Bloody Halibut. The wound is poisoned.’ He covered her up again and set the lamp on the end of the bark dresser.

  ‘I’ll be back in a moment, child,’ he said.

  The dark seemed to come down quickly and the night was full of strange moving shapes. Through her fever, Bridie imagined a wind had picked up and was sweeping across the valley. The sides of the tents seemed to billow and swell, and the figures moving in and out of the lamplight looked strangely distorted. Bridie heard voices and felt hands touching her burning body. Faces came close to hers, and stroked her cheeks: Jacobus and Tom. Both their faces seemed to swirl above her head, and then in the middle of the night, came a stranger’s face, with golden skin – the Chinese doctor.

  The tent was full of strange scents and the lamplight flew up in white arcs all around her as she writhed in pain. Then more faces came close to her and she felt hot breath against her skin. The living and the dead all came, Caitlin and Brandon and Gilbert, baby Paddy and her dad, each of them seemed so close to her that she could almost reach out and touch them. When she opened her eyes, they swirled above her head and called out her name. Bridie recognised her mother’s voice and saw her face again, luminous in the dark folds of the canvas tent. When her body was so burning hot that she felt she would be consumed by the flames, her mother’s hands seemed to move across her like cool water and draw the heat from her burning skin. Day and night merged into each other as Bridie fought against the fever.

  Bridie woke and stared up at the roof of the tent. Judging by the light, it was late afternoon. Something had happened to her. She felt light and yet incredibly weak. She raised one hand from under the blankets and realised the pain had subsided. It didn’t hurt to breathe any more and the throbbing under her arm was gone.

  At first, she didn’t notice that Jacobus was sitting beside the bed. He packed and lit his pipe and the warm scent of tobacco filled the air.

  ‘Ah, you’re back with us, St Brigid,’ he said. ‘Is there anything you’d be wanting after your long journey?’

  ‘I haven’t been anywhere,’ said Bridie. Her own voice sounded strange to her from lack of use.

  ‘Three days you’ve been away with the fever. You fell sick on Monday and today it’s Thursday.’

  ‘Thursday! That means tomorrow the Star will open!’

  ‘Aye, they’re all over in the theatre rehearsing the show,’ said Jacobus.

  ‘Amaranta came back?’

  ‘No, young Tom’s galumphing about like a great young heifer, playing the Princess of Patagonia. It will be a fine comedy, that’s for certain. Hope the diggers don’t pelt us with rotten fruit.’ He drew on his pipe and chuckled to himself.

  It was hard for Bridie to speak. There were so many questions that she needed answers to.

  ‘Was Mrs Bones your wife?’ asked Bridie.

  Jacobus laughed. ‘Now where would you be getting an idea like that?’

  ‘I’ve heard and seen things. I saw Eddie Bones punch and kick you and tell you to keep away from his wife. Was she married to you before Eddie?’ asked Bridie.

  ‘My little patron saint Brigid,’ he said, laughing. ‘Now are saints meant to be such busybodies? And martyred eavesdropping busybodies at that!’

  Bridie scowled in reply.

  ‘Well now,’ he said, weighing his words with care, ‘let’s just say that men with beautiful wives sometimes get peculiar ideas in their head. Can’t believe the man’s lived with her for so long and doesn’t know his own wife.’

  Jacobus laughed again until tears sprang to the corners of his eyes.

  ‘I met Amaranta El’Orado when she was a plain and grubby little Irish convict’s bastard, a waif, no older than you are now. Found her singing on a street corner in Old Sydney Town. Amargein O’Donahue she was then. Bit like you, a girl with a boy’s name. Amy, I liked to call her. I took her in, saved her from the gutter. Four years I cared for her, taught her, fed her. That’s when Eddie Bones “discovered” her. I had a magic show in a music hall in Sydney, “The Wizard Jacobus and his beautiful assistant El Ave Chant D’Oro”. Amy sang her heart out for me then. And Eddie Bones saw her one night and stole her from me. Took her off to Europe with him and I never heard from either of them again, more than three years gone, until you brought him to my tent.’

  Bridie pursed her lips. ‘You must have kept her prisoner. She never would have stayed with you. The devil take your lies, old man. Eddie Bones must have rescued her,’ said Bridie.

  Jacobus laughed at her again. ‘I have many vices, some of which you’re familiar with, my dear. But young girls is not one of them. More trouble than they’re worth. Amy was never my wife or my woman in any sense of the word. I loved her like a daughter and for all her wilfulness, I know she’s loyal to me still. That’s what sticks in Eddie’s craw. Eddie likes to think because she’s his by law that I’ve no claim. But it’s a mysterious thing, the ties that bind people together. Once you brought me back to life and then, when you were on the brink of death, I did the same for you. Me and that young Tom Whiteley, we never left your side. Hauled you back into this world by your heartstrings.’

  Bridie pulled the red satin eiderdown up over her head. She didn’t want to have to listen to another word.

  ‘Well, it seems you’re well on the way to recovery, St Brigid. I’d best be getting you some soup so you can get your strength back to hate me properly.’

  She watched him leave the tent, then slumped back deep under the eiderdown. Tentatively, she touched her chest, just above where her heart lay beating and wondered at all the invisible threads that spiralled outwards from it, binding her to Tom and Jacobus and this strange new world.

  36

  Starry, starry nig
ht

  By evening, Bridie was so restless, she wanted to get out of bed. When Tom came to see her, she made him help her up. Amaranta had left her blue velvet cloak behind and Bridie wrapped it around her shoulders and, leaning on Tom’s arm, went outside to join the rest of the troupe by the fire.

  Eddie Bones looked up across the flames and smiled at her, but it was a weary smile. ‘It’s good to have you back with us, Bridie. We’ve missed you. It’s been a hard week without your help.’

  ‘Och, lassie, but it’s too cold for a wee ailing mite to be out,’ said Robbie.

  ‘No, I’d rather be here than anywhere,’ said Bridie.

  Marconi grinned, put his fiddle beneath his chin and struck up her favourite melody. Bridie felt a glow of warmth that was more than the heat of the fire and it flowed into her like a dark, warm channel of strength.

  The next night, there were hundreds of diggers waiting outside the Star an hour before the show was to begin. Bridie had walked to the theatre with Tom’s aid and sat in a chair in the wings, doing last-minute alterations to one of Amaranta’s abandoned costumes so that the dress would fit Tom. When she’d finished adjusting the pink satin gown, she helped do the actors’ make-up, rubbing burnt cork onto Marconi’s cheeks to turn him into a black minstrel, making Eddie Bones’ fair eyebrows dark and exotic for his role as the Patagonian prince, and using chalk and paste to whiten Tom’s face and transform him into the ‘fair princess’. Tom watched her intently as she applied the paste to his skin and she couldn’t help blushing. It was so strange being this close to him, their faces only inches apart. He tipped his head a little to one side and she had to keep straightening his chin so that she could apply the make-up properly. When she had finished, he looked into the mirror and grinned. His teeth looked very white against the bright red lipstick, and a twist of dark curl was poking out from under the long wig he wore. Bridie leaned forward and tucked it gently into place. It was such a small thing, but for a moment she felt that strange fiery current run between them, just as it had the day at the waterhole.