The Woolgrower's Companion

by Joy Rhoades

  CHAPTER 44

  The prudent woolgrower is heedful of an animal’s prime wool-producing ages, for upon reaching four years, a sheep’s fleece grows dryer and coarser. For a black sheep, the fleece grows paler with the years as well, not unlike the mane of an aging shepherd.

  THE WOOLGROWER’S COMPANION, 1906

  Early the following morning, Kate sat eating her toast in the kitchen, with Peng on the chair next to her. A kookaburra launched into a laugh and Peng looked up. But Kate was thinking about Harry, wondering where he was, hoping he was all right. Her thoughts were interrupted by a baby’s cry carrying in from outside. Pearl.

  When Daisy came into the kitchen, with Pearl in her arms, she looked exhausted.

  ‘Dais, you’re not thinking of working? You mustn’t,’ Kate said, getting up. She was thrilled to see them, yet worried about the unhappy baby, and more worried about Daisy.

  ‘Orright, Missus,’ Daisy said, forlorn, rocking Pearl as she stood.

  ‘You should rest,’ Kate tried again but Daisy didn’t leave and Pearl’s wails grew louder, stopping only when her mouth tried to suck.

  ‘She not drinking?’ Kate asked.

  ‘No, Missus,’ Daisy said, close to tears.

  ‘Maybe you can stay for a bit, eh? Dais?’

  Relief flooded the girl’s face.

  ‘I’ll get you some tea. Sit down and rest.’

  Daisy looked alarmed. Still Kate pressed her to sit, with Pearl, crying, in her arms. Peng disappeared into the hall, her ears flat with unhappiness at the noise.

  Kate poured tea for the girl. ‘Here you go. Now, I’ll leave you in peace so you can feed her, Daisy.’

  She went into the laundry, embarrassed to even be mentioning the feeding. Kate folded washing, and worried as the baby’s broken crying went on. From what she could guess, Pearl wanted to suckle, but couldn’t and then she’d cry, frustrated, hungry and tired. Kate stood in the laundry with a clean tea towel unfolded in her hand, feeling her ignorance afresh. She knew nothing about babies, but she didn’t want to intrude, either. Daisy’s bosoms would be bare, for heaven’s sake. Then she heard Daisy crying and Kate found her gumption.

  ‘Can I come in, Daisy?’

  ‘Yeah, Missus,’ came the weary reply.

  Daisy’s hooded eyes and drawn face made Kate forget her embarrassment. Pearl was unable to feed, her tiny mouth stretched wide, arms flailing. She couldn’t stay latched on, her mouth grappling with the nipple, missing it again and again. As Pearl shrieked in frustration, Daisy switched her about, trying one side after the other. Wincing with the pain, she massaged each engorged breast and milk leaked down her front. Kate wanted to offer to hold Pearl. Try as she might, she just couldn’t. A horrible mix of guilt and shame stopped her from touching the baby.

  Still Pearl would not suckle. Kate knew she couldn’t go to anyone for help, for fear it would get back to Wingnut that Daisy was on Amiens. Kate got clean tea towels and some water and made fresh tea. She did what she could, feeling her uselessness more keenly as the hours passed. By late morning, when Pearl still couldn’t suckle, Kate grew fearful, as worried as Daisy beside her. How could they solve this? The Pastoralist wouldn’t help, but the Women’s Weekly might.

  Kate listened for the Amiens truck until she heard its slow rumble. ‘I’m going to try to get a magazine, Daisy. To see what we can do.’

  Daisy hardly heard her.

  Outside on the lawn, Kate waved madly at the truck, so wildly Ed jumped from the cabin, followed closely by Luca. ‘You got a snake, Mrs D?’

  She smiled ruefully. ‘No, no. Pearl won’t feed. Aunty Nance has gone, hasn’t she?’

  ‘Yeah. I give her a lift in last night. The little bugger was doin what it should yesterday. What happened, eh?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I’ve got an idea. Can you get me the box of Mum’s Women’s Weekly magazines from the shed? There might be some tips in that.’

  ‘Ya reckon? She’ll get the hang of it soon, eh?’ But Ed went off in the direction of the shed anyway.

  ‘Not the worry, Signora,’ Luca said, following Ed. ‘Many babies in the world.’

  Why was it always men, Kate wondered, who knew everything, even about newborns they’d not borne? She watched Luca walk towards the shed. When she found her eyes on his bottom, she had some stern words for herself. In no time, the two men were back, Luca carrying a box of her mother’s old magazines. Ed had two beer bottles in one hand and a small box in the other.

  ‘I don’t think beer is going to help, Ed,’ Kate said as she took the carton from Luca.

  Ed grinned. ‘No, Mrs D. They’re empties. To feed the littlie. Look.’ He held out the box and it was full of rubber teats. ‘They’re poddy lamb teats. That might work, eh?’

  ‘Yes.’ Kate almost hugged him, and took the bottles and the small box.

  ‘We’ll keep an eye on yez today. Drive by the house as we’re comin an goin. If ya need anything. Orright?’

  Kate nodded, so grateful for their help.

  Luca smiled at her. ‘Many babies, Signora.’

  Back inside, Kate showed the bottles and the teats to Daisy. ‘Not a bad idea of Ed’s?’ she said to Daisy. The girl was too tired to reply.

  Kate boiled the teats to sterilise them. ‘I can put water in the bottle, Daisy. But that’s not food …’

  ‘Bidda sugar, Missus. Mebbe,’ Daisy said, over Pearl’s crying.

  Kate boiled some water, dissolved some sugar in it, and fanned it to cool. She poured the solution into the beer bottle, fixed the poddy lamb teat on the top and handed it to Daisy.

  Daisy put the bottle teat gently into Pearl’s wailing mouth. Pearl’s eyes widened as she latched on and sucked at the boiled sugar water from the beer bottle. The bottle gave them blessed silence for a bit, but they both knew it wouldn’t satisfy her for long.

  When the bottle was finished, Pearl slept, exhausted from hungry crying. Daisy closed her hooded eyes. Kate was pleased, hoping Daisy might get a little rest.

  At the kitchen table opposite, Kate quietly turned the pages of the Women’s Weekly, copy after copy. Then she found an article headed Guidance for New Mothers, about feeding.

  To avoid spoiling, ensure firmness when dealing with the newborn. Kate rolled her eyes.

  Adhere rigorously to a strict feeding timetable. She laughed. But it was the last sentence that caught her eye. Cabbage leaves may sometimes assist the mother of an uncooperative newborn.

  Cabbage. Kate got up as quietly as she could and went out into the garden. As she walked along the veggie rows, the family of lorikeets tree-hopped and screeched. Kate scowled at them. They’d better not wake Daisy or the baby …

  But soon Pearl was awake. She needed changing and Daisy did that in the laundry. She was coaxing a crying Pearl to take more sugar water. The baby was tired of it; she was still hungry, and she grew more and more unsettled. Daisy had a towel over her breasts for modesty but it soon fell off, and Kate gave it back to her.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she heard herself saying. ‘As long as you don’t mind.’

  Fretful and hungry, Pearl would not suckle or even take any sugar water. And the Women’s Weekly article was so coy, it was impossible for Kate to know what to do with the damn cabbage. Desperate, she par-boiled a little of it with butter and salt, willing it to cook faster as Pearl hiccupped angry wails.

  When it was done, Daisy swallowed some mouthfuls, feeding herself with one hand, rocking the shrieking Pearl with the other. Daisy put the cabbage aside and gave all her attention again to Pearl, trying to keep her tiny mouth on the nipple.

  A few drops of milk found their way onto Pearl’s tongue and, with the next attempt, she opened her mouth very wide and latched on, so fast and hard that Daisy gasped, ‘Missus!’

  Pearl pulled away again, wailing, but her mother coaxed her back on and this time she stayed, her mouth sucking and pushing like a poddy lamb on a bottle. Pearl batted her mother’s bosom with tiny hands as she sucked. Daisy
’s eyes widened and she looked across the table in a glorious silence.

  ‘You’ve got it,’ Kate marvelled.

  ‘S’orright, Missus.’ Daisy smiled but she didn’t take her eyes from the small thing chomping away at her breast. She inhaled deeply. Kate was grateful this had happened on Amiens, that Daisy had been able to settle Pearl down and get her feeding there. What had Luca said? We have this time. She was grateful for it. It struck her that in all the time she’d been worried about Pearl, she’d not thought of her father, and what he’d done.

  And she’d not thought either about Wingnut. She shivered. He must find out eventually, and come for Daisy and Pearl. What could she do?

  CHAPTER 45

  A new lamb may show vigour, if attended to in a timely fashion by the ewe. But the vigilant grazier watches carefully. A lamb grows apace weak as well as strong.

  THE WOOLGROWER’S COMPANION, 1906

  Kate learned that a few hours are a long time in a baby’s life. A change was wrought in Pearl; the baby ate and slept and ate and slept, and grew stronger and stronger. Daisy managed to sleep a little when the baby did, and looked all the better for it.

  Then, late in the day, Vittorio appeared at the homestead carrying what looked like a modified fruit crate. On the verandah, he set the thing down in front of Kate and Daisy, who had Pearl in her arms. The wood had been sanded and the open-top box attached firmly to two long arcs of carved wood made from barrel hoops. He beamed, leaned down, and with a flourish set the thing rocking.

  ‘It’s a cradle,’ Kate said. Daisy was thrilled, and it went into the corner of the kitchen.

  ‘Beautiful, no?’ Vittorio said. He ran a finger along the rocker, pointing out the row of tiny birds on the wing carved into the wood. ‘Luca,’ he said, admiringly.

  Kate thought of the little carved dog that Harry had appeared with, after Rusty died. It must have been Luca. She looked out across Amiens, wondering where Harry was, hoping he was all right.

  The next morning, Kate was up early, had eaten, prepared some more cabbage and cleaned the kitchen, all before Daisy was due with Pearl, in case they’d had a bad night. This time, though, it was Daisy’s singing that carried across the flat, not Pearl’s wail. It occurred to Kate that she had never heard Daisy sing before.

  ‘You slept a bit?’ Kate asked, when Daisy appeared at the kitchen door with the baby swaddled to her back.

  ‘Yeah, Missus.’ Daisy smiled – she looked almost rested.

  ‘Are you sure she’s safe in that thing?’ Kate asked. Daisy had Pearl wrapped inside a wooden coolamon fastened to her back with a shawl.

  ‘Yeah, Missus. Me nana carried Mum that way too. Mum too. S’orright, eh.’

  ‘Now, nothing strenuous, will you? Just look after Pearl and yourself,’ Kate said. But she knew that was like telling Daisy not to breathe. She sat at the end of the kitchen table and spread the Amiens bills in front of her. She might have Addison off her back for now, but she still had to make Amiens pay.

  Daisy got to work sweeping and mopping around Kate. The baby seemed quite happy on her back and was soon asleep. Kate kept on with her bills. A few minutes later, out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw Peng sniffing at Pearl’s empty cradle. The cat’s haunches wiggled as she lined up to jump in.

  ‘Peng, no,’ Kate called but it was too late. The cat was in and out immediately when the rocker tipped with her weight. Peng scuttled from the kitchen.

  A wail came from Pearl and Daisy chatted to the baby. ‘Now, tiddlie, ya not gunna whinge, are ya? Eh?’ But the baby continued to cry, and Daisy untied the shawl that held the coolamon to her back and jiggled Pearl on her hip instead. ‘See? Y’orright, eh, tiddlie?’

  Pearl didn’t let up. ‘Sorry, Missus,’ Daisy said over the wails.

  ‘Does she want a feed?’ Kate still hadn’t been able to hold the baby, not once, not since she’d found out about her father. This sin was hers, and she felt a crushing shame.

  ‘Nuh, she jus cranky. I bin busy this arvo. Probly wants a cuddle, eh.’

  Kate was glad for Daisy that things were better, and that Daisy was almost chatty. She had seen the day before just how hard it was. Pearl fussed when she went to sleep, and Daisy would fret, struggling as she learned to mother her baby.

  Daisy put the chops on a plate and slipped it into the warming oven. Then she laid Pearl, still grumbling, in the cradle and rocked her gently. Pearl quieted and put her fist in her mouth. ‘Right as rain, eh? Aren’t ya?’ Daisy smiled at the baby. ‘I’m gunna get the washin, Missus. Might be we get little bit rain tonight, eh.’

  Kate rested her eyes on the bills. The Nettiford’s account was up-to-date so she put that in one pile. Babbin’s was not. She still owed him for the bales and baling twine from the previous year’s shearing. She drew in a breath. Next to her, Pearl grumbled, and Kate rocked the cradle.

  Shearing would be upon them soon, and Kate would need the shearers’ wages, the bales, twine, and fencing wire. Pearl was whimpering, and Kate began rocking again. Then the baby started to cry. Kate exhaled. ‘Pearl, you’re grumbling, aren’t you, wombat?’ When she squatted down next to the cradle, Pearl quietened, diverted for a moment, looking up with her mother’s deep-brown eyes. Kate smiled at her and was rewarded with a yawn. But the yawn set off a wail, first a little one, then bigger with each baby breath.

  ‘How can that noise come from something so tiny? Hey?’ Kate said, hoping Daisy would come in soon from the washing line.

  Pearl took a breath and gave an almighty bellow. Kate hesitated, then reached out and picked up the baby. She nursed her in her arms, but Pearl squirmed, and Kate remembered the baby didn’t like to be on her back. So she lifted her, held her against her neck, the smell of milk and baby filling her nostrils. Pearl quietened for a second, the change mollifying her.

  Then she started to wail again. ‘There, there, there,’ Kate said, her voice soft but an octave up. Pearl still wailed, so she walked about the kitchen. ‘Look? Here’s the stove. And the kero fridge. And here’s the gauze door. And outside, there’s old Gunner at the fence. See?’

  The dog moved, though, heading off towards the shed. Kate wondered if there was a drop of rain about, as Daisy had guessed. Pearl relaxed against her, warm and soft, and Kate remembered the baby when she was born, in the glow of the fire in the creek bed. Then Kate heard the rain, one drop, then another and another ping against the tin roof.

  ‘Rain, Pearl. You heard that?’ Kate carried the baby outside towards the clothes line, where Daisy was rapidly pulling the washing off.

  ‘Rain, Dais!’ Kate yelled, pleased, as the drops gathered force.

  ‘Yeah, Missus.’ The girl’s face broke into a broad smile, and Kate retreated back to the safety of the house as it started to come down, her hand above Pearl’s head to protect her from the drops.

  ‘Mebbe letta feel it, eh, Missus?’ Daisy dropped the basket of dry washing just inside the laundry door, came back to Kate, and took the baby in her arms. ‘Rain, littlie. Rain.’

  The women laughed as the baby’s face clouded, her eyes blinking wildly, taking in the strange drops that fell on her. It was gone as soon as it started. Still, there was enough for Kate to wipe a raindrop from Pearl’s forehead. We have this time, Kate thought.

  Late that same afternoon, Kate would much rather have been out in the garden, but she had to write to Jack; she’d put it off long enough. Daisy came in from the laundry with a basket of fresh washing, two-day-old Pearl snug on her back.

  ‘Orright, Missus?’

  ‘Yep. Pearl asleep?’

  Daisy grinned, shook her head, and turned her back to show the baby. Kate smiled at Pearl as the baby sucked on her fingers, her dark eyes serious.

  ‘Is she hungry?’

  ‘Soon, Missus. But she sing out then, eh.’

  Kate made herself go back to her letter-writing. It had taken her long enough to even put pen to paper. It was six days since Wingnut had stopped Addison from seizing Amiens. Ever
y day since, she’d intended to write to Jack, to tell him Amiens was safe. But every night, as she got into bed, she realised she had not. She’d heard nothing from Jack since her father’s funeral. They were like bad neighbours, both looking the other way but joined all along their boundary.

  She read over what she’d written.

  Dear Jack

  I hope you’re well. I have news here. The best of it is that I found the sapphire. Meg sold it in Sydney and I gave the money in to Addison, paying off the overdraft, with a little to spare. And we’ve had some rain, bits here and there, enough to make me hopeful.

  I work out on the run with the men every day. Grimes has left. I hear he plans to join the next drove coming through.

  That made Kate think of Harry. She worried for him, and pushed herself to read on.

  The Italians will be shipped out soon, in less than a week. There are more and more returned servicemen home now, discharged, so I’ll be able to find people to work the place with Ed and me and Johnno and Spinks, perhaps even Robbo Yorke, if he doesn’t want to work for his father. And of course you’ll be discharged eventually too, once they have enough men trained for the occupation of Japan.

  She didn’t write that she’d found the sapphire when he was home, that day at the end of the wake. And she didn’t write that she was hiding Daisy and Pearl on Amiens. Both would make him mad. With Daisy and Pearl, Kate told herself it was in case the letter went astray and someone found out they were on Amiens. But, in truth, Kate had decided not to tell him. He would tell her, instruct her, to give them up, and she knew now she could not. If he made her choose, he would regret it.

  So far they’d managed to keep it quiet about Daisy and Pearl. But for how long? Her fool’s paradise must come to an end. The Italians would leave in just five days. Shearing was a matter of weeks away. And Jack would come home. Her guess was he’d still want her to sell up so they could be gone. He just didn’t want to stay in the district, not after her father’s disgrace. And he didn’t even know about Pearl.