Maude stood up, smoothing out her flared skirt. She was dressed in the height of fashion – a white cotton dress with short puffed sleeves, fitted bodice, a simple ruffle at the neckline, short socks and patent-leather Mary Jane shoes.
‘Is that all right, Mother?’ she asked.
Mrs Tibbets wrinkled her brow doubtfully. ‘Perhaps you’d better stay here, Maude. You know you’re allergic to cats. And that snake looked positively evil –’
‘Basil is perfectly harmless, and I’m sure the girls would enjoy some fresh air,’ Cecilia assured her. ‘Poppy will look after her.’
Maude escaped after Poppy, before her mother could say more.
Poppy led the way out onto the deep verandah, which wrapped completely around the large white timber house. The house was set up high to catch the sea breezes, and she paused to look out over the view. It never ceased to make her catch her breath in awe at its beauty.
The Trehearne house sat on Myilly Point, just north of Darwin township, with views north-west over the turquoise Arafura Sea and east to the white sand and breakers of palm-fringed Mindil Beach. The garden was filled with bougainvillea and frangipanis, banana and paw-paw trees, and lush tropical plants, which grew so quickly that it was a losing battle to keep them tamed.
Poppy set off around the corner, leading the way towards the back of the house, chattering to Maude. Maude caught a glimpse of various spacious rooms through the windows – the sitting room, dining room and bedrooms – all stirred by the lazy whir of ceiling fans.
‘That’s my room – I share it with my sister Bryony. She’s sixteen,’ whispered Poppy. Maude peeked through the window. One half of the room was spotlessly tidy; the other half was cluttered with overflowing baskets and tottering towers of books. A girl sat at the dressing table, carefully applying crimson lipstick. Her black hair was meticulously curled, and she wore a fashionable navy dress with padded shoulders and a nipped-in waist.
‘She looks like a film star,’ Maude sighed, flicking her fringe out of her eyes.
‘She tries!’ replied Poppy, rolling her eyes. ‘She’s sweet on a young officer named George, who’s started hanging around the house like a bad smell. She’s turned completely dopey. He’s always asking her to dances and picnics and the cinema, but Mum and Dad are quite strict.’
Poppy slid her fingers under the partially opened window and opened it a crack.
‘You’ll catch it if Dad sees you wearing bright-red lipstick like that!’ Poppy called through the opening.
Bryony did not deign to answer, preferring to throw Poppy’s pillow at the window instead.
Poppy continued along the verandah with Maude.
‘My brother, Edward, ran away to be a soldier – he’s only nineteen, and Mum and Dad didn’t want him to join up. Dad was furious when he received the letter, but by then it was too late.’
A small white-and-caramel dog bounded up and began licking Poppy vigorously, tail wagging. Maude held out her hand to be sniffed.
‘This is Honey.’ Poppy stroked the dog’s head. ‘Isn’t she beautiful? Watch – she can do tricks.’ Poppy clicked her fingers and Honey jumped up on her hind legs. Poppy made a circular motion with her hand and Honey twirled around, pirouetting daintily.
‘Oh, she’s gorgeous,’ cried Maude. ‘How did she learn to do that?’
Poppy lowered her hand and Honey dropped, then sat up and begged. Poppy laughed, fished a dried biscuit from her pocket and fed it to Honey.
‘I trained her. She can dance on her hind legs, roll over, play dead, beg and fetch, although Daisy says she drives her crazy constantly begging for snacks in the kitchen. I’ve had her since she was a tiny puppy. She loves to come everywhere with me.’
‘Would she do it for me?’ asked Maude.
‘Maybe – give it a try.’
Maude copied Poppy’s gestures but Honey ignored her.
Poppy laughed. ‘She’ll take her time to get to know you. Come on.’
Poppy and Maude continued walking along the verandah towards the back of the house.
‘We have to be careful with our animals. Dad’s last dog, Poncho, was eaten by a crocodile.’
‘Nooo,’ exclaimed Maude. ‘You’re teasing me!’
‘True as anything,’ Poppy retorted. She spat on her palm and crossed her heart. ‘The butcher’s horse was badly mauled drinking at the creek just a couple of weeks ago. It had to be shot. Sometimes they get people, too. Dad used to bring his shotgun down to the beach when we went swimming, just in case.
‘They normally stay in the rivers and estuaries, but sometimes they swim out to sea for miles. Once, a huge croc tipped over Dad’s boat while he was fishing. Dad thought he was going to be croc dinner, but the stupid reptile ate Dad’s canvas tackle bag instead – Dad says he’s never swum so fast in his life.’
Maude looked sceptical but didn’t argue.
‘The bag probably stank to high heaven of rotten fish!’ suggested Poppy, pinching her nose comically.
Poppy clattered down the verandah steps towards the garden, Honey at her heels. At the very back of the house, at ground level, was a smaller stone outhouse, including kitchen, storerooms and laundry. The building was attached to the main house by a covered walkway.
‘There’s Basil,’ said Poppy, pointing up into the rafters at a large golden-green coil. ‘And here’s Christabel.’
A bulging hessian sack hung from the kitchen doorknob. Poppy scooped inside and brought out an armful of soft, grey fur, curled in a ball.
Maude tentatively stroked the fur. Christabel’s ears flickered back and forth, but she kept her eyes firmly shut.
‘Would you like to feed her?’
‘Yes, please.’ Maude’s eyes shone.
Poppy pushed her way into the kitchen, where a young Aboriginal woman was peeling potatoes at the kitchen sink. A dark-skinned child played at her feet, springing a peel of potato skin up and down. He stared solemnly at Maude through thick-lashed chocolate eyes.
‘Thanks for the sandwiches, Daisy – they were delicious.’
Daisy smiled back, her teeth startlingly white against her dark skin. ‘A pleasure, Miss Poppy. I know how hungry you get.’
‘Daisy, this is Maude, our new neighbour,’ Poppy said, fetching a baby bottle of milk from the refrigerator. ‘And this is Daisy’s son, Charlie.’
Poppy bent down and tickled the child on his tummy. Charlie squealed with delight and raised his arms. ‘Charlie up,’ he demanded. Poppy obliged, swooping him off his feet.
Daisy grinned. ‘Hello, Miss Maude. That naughty Miss Poppy is always bringing animals into my clean kitchen. Sometimes I think I should feed them all to that hungry snake.’
Maude sat at the table cuddling the wallaby, who greedily guzzled and headbutted the bottle.
‘You wouldn’t be so cruel, would you, Daisy-dear?’ Poppy teased. ‘You love them as much as I do.’
Daisy plopped the peeled potatoes into a saucepan of water on the range. Drops of water hissed and sizzled as they splattered on the hot stovetop.
‘Get along with you, Miss Poppy,’ Daisy mock-scolded. ‘That’s enough of your tomfoolery. I have to make dinner, and I have enough to do without more children and animals under my feet.’
After feeding Christabel, the animal menagerie tour continued from the two tortoises swimming lazily around the fish tank on the kitchen sideboard and the possums in a dark storeroom fruit box to Coco the elegant cat, the chooks in the fowl yard, Lola the cow and Angel the draught horse, grazing in a small paddock.
Poppy gave Maude a leg-up onto Angel’s back. Angel continued to graze, unperturbed.
‘Have you ever tasted a mango?’ Poppy asked suddenly.
‘No, what’s a mango?’
‘Follow me,’ ordered Poppy, running through the
long grass. ‘You are in for one of the best treats of your life.’
Overhanging the stable was the huge old tree. Poppy scaled the thick trunk effortlessly, showing Maude which footholds to use. She wriggled out along a branch and picked two oval, orange-green, speckled fruits. Poppy used her teeth and fingers to tear the skin.
‘They’re messy,’ Poppy warned Maude, handing one over. ‘The best way to eat them is hanging upside down like a fruit bat.’
Poppy demonstrated, hooking her feet under a bough and swinging upside down from the knees. She sucked on the sweet mango flesh, its juice dripping down onto the ground below. Maude tentatively followed her example.
‘Wow – that’s so good,’ Maude enthused, her mouth and fingers sticky with juice. ‘That’s the best fruit I’ve ever tasted in my life – and it grows in your back garden!’
‘How long are you going to be in Darwin?’ asked Poppy.
‘My father works for the government,’ explained Maude. ‘A public servant. He was transferred to Darwin a few months ago – something to do with the war. Mother and I followed him up here and arrived last week, although Mother would much rather have stayed behind in Sydney. She thinks Darwin is far too dangerous.’
‘Dangerous? What could possibly be dangerous about Darwin?’
Maude grinned and ticked the list off on her fingers. ‘Crocodiles, snakes, venomous spiders, mosquitoes, malaria, dengue fever, villainous criminals and soldiers – not necessarily in that order.’
Poppy snorted in derision. ‘Rubbish. Darwin is paradise.’ She swung down from the tree. ‘Would you like to see something quite amazing?’
‘What?’
‘A two-headed calf.’
Maude once more looked bemused, but obediently followed in Poppy’s wake. This time Poppy led Maude to the western side of the house.
‘This is my father’s study,’ explained Poppy, creaking open the French door. ‘He’s a doctor and works at the hospital in the afternoons, but he sees patients here in the mornings.’
The room was clinically white with a huge timber desk in the centre, facing the view. Bookshelves, crowded with journals and large jars, covered two walls. The third wall was occupied by an observation couch, medical charts and storage cupboards.
‘Dad collects medical curios,’ continued Poppy, gesturing to a human skeleton standing guard in the corner of the room. ‘That’s Hippocrates.’
Poppy shook hands with Hippocrates, making Maude giggle.
Two shelves of the bookcase were devoted to slimy, white specimens preserved in formaldehyde and a collection of skulls. Maude peered into each jar, her face a mixture of curiosity and revulsion. The collection included various floating organs, a soggy brain, a variety of animal foetuses, a dissected possum and a wrinkled human hand.
‘Look, this one’s a diseased liver,’ explained Poppy. ‘Dad saves it to show the miners and stockmen what will happen to them if they drink all their earnings in rum.’
‘Eeeewww,’ replied Maude. ‘Do they stop drinking rum?’
‘No – well, maybe for a day or two.’
In the very centre, in pride of place, was a glass tank containing the preserved remains of two calf heads, joined together at the neck.
Maude reeled back, swallowing nervously. ‘Is it real?’
‘Yes, of course. Isn’t it fascinating?’ asked Poppy, stroking the side of the tank, as though she was stroking the animal’s face. ‘The calf was born out on one of the stations. It had no chance of surviving, but they put the head in the icebox and saved it for Dad. He keeps it here to remind him of the peculiarities of Mother Nature.’
The girls poked around the exhibits, marvelling at the massive skull of a crocodile, big enough to encase a child in its jaws.
‘Feel his teeth,’ Poppy suggested, running her fingers over the powerful jaw. ‘Dad snared this croc on his fishing line. It completely swallowed a prize barramundi he had just caught. I was only eight and was fishing with Dad down near the creek. The croc thought I looked more delicious than the barramundi and started paddling towards me, licking his chops and dragging Dad’s fishing line behind him. He yelled at me to run. Next thing I knew, I was being chased up the mudflat by this enormous, prehistoric beast, who was gaining on me fast. It took Dad six shots to bring it down. Boy, was Dad in trouble when he brought it home and had to confess to Mum that the croc nearly snapped me up.’
A bell jangled from the front sitting room.
‘Come on,’ urged Poppy, ‘I think Mum wants us back.’
The girls returned to the sitting room, where the two mothers were still chatting.
‘Perhaps you’d like to join us at the weekly Red Cross meetings, Mrs Tibbets?’ suggested Cecilia. ‘Mrs Abbott, the Administrator’s wife, is our patron. We do lots of work for the war effort: rolling bandages, knitting socks and rugs, and making care parcels for the soldiers. It would be a nice way for you to meet some of the other ladies of Darwin.’
‘Thank you, that’s very kind, Mrs Trehearne.’ Mrs Tibbets nodded, smiling, and then caught sight of her daughter. ‘Oh goodness gracious me, Maude Cordelia Tibbets – what on earth have you been doing?’
Poppy glanced at Maude and realised that she did not look the same as she had when they left the room half an hour before. Her white dress was rumpled and streaked with horsehair and dirt. Her mouth and hands were sticky with mango juice and grime, and there was a twig tangled in her hair.
Maude tried to straighten her skirt with her palm, but that only succeeded in further staining the once-white fabric.
‘Oh, Mama, we have had the most lovely time,’ explained Maude, her cheeks pink with excitement. ‘Poppy showed me her orphan possums, and her dog Honey, and I fed the baby wallaby with a bottle, and I rode on Angel the horse, and we climbed a tree and ate a mango, and Poppy showed me a two-headed calf, and the skull of a crocodile that nearly ate her! I think I’m going to love living in Darwin.’
Mrs Tibbets’s eyes widened. Poppy swallowed. Cecilia glanced up, alarmed.
Mrs Tibbets took a deep breath. ‘Why, darling, I’m so thrilled that you’ve made a friend.’ Mrs Tibbets smiled at Maude and then at Poppy. ‘Perhaps tomorrow Poppy can come to our house. But now we’ve stayed too long and must get home to unpack the silver.’
2
A Surprise Visitor
The bell rang for dinner. Poppy pulled a brush through her tangled hair and straightened her ribbon. Doctor Trehearne liked the family to dress for dinner.
When she hurried into the dining room, her parents were already seated, her father at the head, her mother, elegantly dressed in a green silk sheath, at his right-hand side.
‘Here she is, my darling girl,’ greeted Doctor Mark Trehearne. ‘How was your day? Did you enjoy meeting the new neighbours?’
Poppy stooped to kiss his cheek, inhaling the lingering smell of disinfectant and tobacco. Mark was dressed in a dark-brown suit, starched white shirt and tie.
‘Yes, I met Maude and she seems like a lovely girl,’ agreed Poppy, ‘although you should have heard her mother scream when she sat on the sofa and found Basil curled up under the cushion.’
Mark chuckled at the thought.
Bryony sashayed into the room, her dark hair pulled back into a pompadour roll, her lips conspicuously bare of make-up. She slipped into the seat at her father’s left.
‘And here’s my beautiful Bryony. She looks just as gorgeous as her mother did when I first laid eyes on her in England twenty-three years ago. I thought she was a dark-haired angel welcoming me to heaven.’
‘An angel with a hypodermic syringe and a bedpan!’ joked Cecilia.
‘Well, I still maintain that if it wasn’t for your uncanny nursing skills, I wouldn’t be here today, and neither would either of you!’
Cecilia smiled
at her two daughters and began to serve the baked potatoes. Mark carved into the butt of roast beef in front of him, releasing a mouth-watering aroma.
‘I bet Mama didn’t have so many freckles, though,’ added Poppy, raising her eyebrows innocently at her sister.
Bryony screwed up her nose, which was really only lightly sprinkled with freckles.
‘No, she didn’t have freckles, but that’s because she grew up in misty Cornwall instead of the tropics,’ agreed Mark, serving Poppy some meat. ‘I think Bryony’s freckles are charming.’
While her parents were distracted with serving dinner, Bryony took the opportunity to poke her tongue out at her sister.
Cecilia, who seemed to have eyes in the back of her head, frowned warningly at both girls as she poured out the gravy.
A noise sounded from the hallway. Honey barked in warning, then woofed a joyous chorus.
‘I wonder who would be dropping in at this hour?’ asked Mark. ‘I hope it isn’t a patient in the middle of dinner.’
Cecilia flung her hand to her throat and half-rose expectantly.
‘It’s probably just dearest George,’ suggested Poppy, darting a mischievous glance at Bryony. ‘Perhaps he’s come to sing arias under Bryony’s window.’
Bryony ignored Poppy but straightened her back and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.
The dining room door flung open and a tall, handsome young man in army uniform strolled in, a broad grin lighting his face. He held his hat in his hands.
‘Edward,’ shrieked Poppy, sending her chair flying backwards.
‘Edward,’ cried Cecilia, rushing forward to fling her arms around him.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Bryony, crowding around him. ‘Why are you in Darwin?’
‘Can you stay?’ begged his mother. ‘Have you had dinner?’
‘It’s sooo good to see you,’ shrieked Poppy.
Edward embraced his mother and sisters, and shook hands with his father. ‘I’m on leave for a few days,’ he explained. ‘We finished our army training down in Sydney, and we’re heading overseas – to Europe, I guess. Our ship’s refuelling in Darwin, so I received permission to come and see my family and beg their forgiveness.’ He shot an apologetic look at his father. ‘I didn’t want to leave the country without asking for your blessing.’
The Forgotten Pearl Page 2
