Nellie's Greatest Wish

by Penny Matthews

  Contents

  1 THE ROAD HOME

  2 THE CAMERONS

  3 MARY

  4 BACK AT THE BOARDING HOUSE

  5 ON THE STREET

  6 A POOR BEGGAR GIRL

  7 ‘THE MINSTREL BOY’

  8 MRS ADAMS

  9 A VALENTINE

  10 EAST TERRACE

  11 AT THE FRONT GATE

  12 PART OF A FAMILY AGAIN

  Nellie’s Greatest Wish

  Nellie is returning to Adelaide after searching for the Thompson family at the Burra. She’s keen to get back to her best friend, Mary, who is ill in hospital. But she is in for a terrible shock … Even Nellie begins to feel that all is lost, and that she might never achieve her dreams. Will her spirit be crushed, or can she turn her fate around?

  Follow Nellie on her adventure in the final of four exciting stories about an Irish girl with a big heart, in search of the freedom to be herself.

  Puffin Books

  Aboard the Elgin on her way to South Australia, Nellie O’Neill made three wishes. She wanted to learn to read, to be part of a family again, and to be a person in her own right – not just a workhouse orphan. When she and her best friend, Mary, lost their jobs, and Mary fell ill, Nellie’s dreams took her to the Burra in search of her former employers, the Thompsons. Her quest failed.

  Now Nellie must walk all the way back to Adelaide on her own. She longs to see Mary again, but her other dreams couldn’t feel further away.

  ‘JESUS, Mary and Joseph, what am I doing?’ moaned Nellie. ‘Was I daft, thinking I’d walk all the way back to Adelaide?’

  The Burra, where she had lived for so many weeks, was now just a memory. After four days on the road, Nellie wasn’t sure where she was, or how much further she had to walk. Her face and hands were sunburned, her eyes felt gritty with dust and tiredness, and there were big raw blisters on her feet. She was hungry, too, and her water bottle was nearly empty.

  The thought of seeing her best friend, Mary Connell, kept her going. ‘You’re doing this for Mary,’ she told herself, over and over. ‘Every step brings you closer to Mary. Never ever forget it.’

  When Nellie had started her journey, she’d been so full of hope. Sure, Adelaide was a long way from the Burra, but she knew she could make it. Back home in Ireland, when she and her family had been homeless and starving, she’d been used to wandering from village to village and sleeping in the open. But now it seemed as if the long, dusty road to Adelaide would never end, and she’d have given the little finger on her right hand for some cool water to bathe her sore feet. Why was this great big country so dry? You hardly ever saw so much as a duck pond.

  For the last three nights Nellie had slept on the hard ground, wrapped only in her old tartan shawl. Not that you could call it sleeping when all she did was lie awake in the moon-shadows, shivering with cold and alert for the wild dogs that might tear her to pieces and gobble her up. Dingas, that’s what the man who drove the Burra coach had called them. She imagined their drooling jaws and sharp yellow teeth. They’d eat anything, the man said – even horses.

  Nellie hated the countryside after dark. It wasn’t only the padding feet of prowling dingas she feared. There were all sorts of strange noises too: hissing and hooting, howling and wailing. They weren’t the sounds made by any animal she knew. Every rustle made her sit bolt upright, straining her ears.

  Nellie was sure it was the Pookas, the bad fairies, who haunted the scrub and made her life a misery. Mary had once told her that all the Pookas would still be in Ireland, but couldn’t they have hidden themselves on a ship sailing to Australia? It could only be the Pookas who tweaked her hair and put grass seeds in her boots and sent great big black ants running up her arms and legs, leaving painful red bites on her body. And suppose there might be snakes? Nellie didn’t think she could bear it if she saw a snake.

  Tonight she’d very likely have to bed down in the haunted scrub again. To make things worse, the soles of her boots were starting to come away from the uppers, and she had no way of mending them. Maybe she’d be better off wearing nothing on her feet at all.

  There was hardly any traffic on the road, and Nellie had become used to the lonely sound of her own plodding footsteps. To stop thinking about the distance she still had to walk, she turned her mind to the spelling book her friend Tom Thompson had given her, almost a year ago. It was tucked safely in her bundle, and she didn’t need to take it out to study it. Already she knew the words and pictures on the alphabet pages by heart. Silently she recited them in her head.

  ‘A-p-e spells Ape. B-e-l-l spells Bell. C-h-u-r-c-h spells Church, and how long is it now since I’ve been inside a proper church, or even said my prayers? Father Donnelly would think me the worst heathen ever born. D-o-g spells Dog. How thankful I am that the dingas have left me alone, touch wood. Perhaps the blessed saints are watching over me, after all. E-a-g-l-e spells Eagle. Now that’s something I’d love to be, because then I could fly all the way to Adelaide.’

  Instantly Nellie imagined the empty plains skimming away beneath her, and the vast blue sky above. How wonderful it would be to fly like an eagle! Her friend Li’s pet bird Bertie must have felt like that when he was free of his cage. But Nellie wasn’t an eagle, or even a little parrot like Bertie, so back she went to the spelling book.

  ‘F-o-x spells Fox. G-o-a-t spells Goat, and what a goat I’ve been, leaving my poor Mary all alone in Adelaide. H-o-r-s-e spells Horse. Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what wouldn’t I give for a horse!’

  Towards evening, as the shadow walking at her side grew thinner and longer, she heard sounds of trotting and jingling behind her. She turned to see a light four-wheeled buggy coming down the road.

  Nellie expected it to go past her in a cloud of dust. But to her surprise the driver pulled up with a ‘Whoa, Brown Bess!’

  A plump, dark-haired woman and a man with fine ginger side-whiskers looked down at Nellie in a friendly way, and immediately she was sure she could trust them. Their horse was shining and well cared for, and Nellie knew that people who looked after their animals were good people.

  ‘We’ve room for one more, if you’d care to travel with us,’ the man said in a broad Scots accent.

  It was a long time since Nellie had spoken a single word aloud, and when she opened her mouth, her voice came out in a hoarse little squeak. She cleared her dry throat and tried again. ‘Thank you, sir, that would be grand,’ she said.

  Scrambling up into the buggy, she squeezed herself onto the seat next to the woman, trying to make herself as small as possible.

  The man gave the horse a touch with his whip. ‘Trot on, Brown Bess!’ he said.

  The woman moved sideways to give Nellie more space. ‘We’re from Braeside Farm, down the road a few miles,’ she said. ‘I’m Janet Cameron, and the gentleman beside me is my husband, James. And who are you, my dear? You look quite done in. Have you been walking a while?’

  ‘I’m Nellie O’Neill, if you please, ma’am,’ said Nellie. ‘I’ve come from the Burra, and I’m on my way to Adelaide.’

  ‘Adelaide!’ said Mrs Cameron. ‘That’s a very long journey for such a wee lassie. I’m surprised those who care for you would allow you to do such a thing on your own. Wouldn’t they be worried about you?’

  Nellie’s laugh was more like a croak. ‘Sure, there’s nobody to worry about me except myself. It was my choice entirely to make the journey.’

  ‘Well,’ said Mrs Cameron, ‘after all that walking, I expect you’re hungry.’ She reached down to a sack under the seat, and gave Nellie a couple of small, rather withered apples. Nellie ate one, relishing its sweet juice, and slid the other into her pocket for afterwards.

  Soon, lulled by the regular
clip-clop of Brown Bess’s hoofs, Nellie closed her eyes. She was almost asleep by the time Mr Cameron turned the buggy off the road and on to a narrow track.

  Immediately Brown Bess began to trot faster.

  ‘Bess can’t wait to be home, and neither can I,’ said Mrs Cameron. ‘We’ve been visiting my aunt in Clare for two days, and although it was good to get away, we missed the children. Now, Nellie, it will soon be dark, and you’re welcome to stay with us for the night. It’s not right that you should sleep by the roadside.’

  ‘You are kindness itself, ma’am,’ said Nellie gratefully. ‘I’ll rest easier knowing there aren’t any wild animals wanting to make a meal of me.’

  Those wicked Pookas won’t tease me tonight, she thought with relief. Surely the blessed saints really are looking after me; and how could I ever have doubted it?

  THE very first stars were twinkling in the sky by the time Brown Bess pulled up outside a thatched stone cottage. The door burst open, and out raced a small crowd of children – five, six, seven of them. They hugged their parents, jumping up and down with excitement.

  Looking at them, Nellie felt a mixture of curiosity and envy. That girl with the long braid must be about my age, she thought. She has two younger sisters, just as I did, and three little brothers. And then there’s a baby. Oh, the baby would melt my Mary’s heart, so she would, with her beautiful curly hair.

  ‘Nellie is staying with us tonight,’ Mrs Cameron told her children. ‘She has walked all the way from the Burra. Nellie, this is our family. First comes Jessie, and then we have Meg, Agnes, Jock, Robbie, Tam and Flora.’ She touched each of her children on the shoulder as she introduced them. ‘Jessie, could you make a sleeping place for our guest, please? Take a spare blanket from the linen press. Now, my babies, tell your father and me what’s been happening while we’ve been away. Have you all been behaving yourselves?’

  That night Nellie joined the family around the kitchen table for a meal of thick barley soup and bannocks. Curly-haired Flora, who was just two, insisted on sitting on her lap. There was so much talking and laughter that Nellie could do little but smile as she looked from one cheerful face to another.

  Bedtime came early – ‘to save on candles’, as Jessie explained to Nellie. The children all shared a bedroom: Jessie, Meg and Agnes in one double bed, the boys in another, and Flora in a cot. Nellie lay on a straw mattress between the girls’ bed and the wall, listening to the sounds of gentle breathing all around her. It was her greatest wish to be properly part of a family again, and to be included in this happy household, if only for a short while, made her hurt with longing.

  She thought for a long time about how different her life would have been if the terrible famine in Ireland had never happened. Her mama and dada, and her little sisters and her baby brother, would very likely still be alive. She’d never have been taken to the Killarney workhouse, and she’d never have come all the way to South Australia. Probably she’d be working on her dada’s farm; or else she would have gone to be a servant in one of the great country houses.

  Then she began to think about the Thompsons, the family she’d once worked for in Adelaide. She’d travelled to the Burra with her friend Li in search of them, but all she’d found was their lucky black cat, Sooty. She had loved the Thompsons and had begun to think of them as her family. But it seemed that they, too, were gone from her forever.

  Since I left Ireland, Nellie thought, the only thing in my life that’s stayed the same is my dear Mary. She’s all I have now, and I swear I’ll never leave her again.

  ‘Nellie, wake up!’

  Nellie opened her eyes and stared into Jessie’s eager face. She closed them straightaway. Surely it wasn’t time to get up yet. She was so warm and comfortable!

  But now Jessie was shaking her by the shoulder. ‘Father wants you,’ she said. ‘He says you must go to him immediately.’

  Reluctantly, Nellie climbed off her mattress, pulled her shawl around herself, and limped down to the kitchen. The whole family was there, seated at the table. Flora, helped by Tam, was quietly feeding her porridge to a black-and-white collie puppy.

  ‘Ah, Nellie,’ said Mr Cameron. ‘I have good news for you. This morning, when Jock and I were bringing in the cows for milking, we had a chance meeting with our neighbour, Mr Bennett. He and his wife are leaving for Adelaide today, and if you can be ready in two flicks of a lamb’s tail, they’ll willingly give you a seat in their carriage.’

  Nellie’s joy was so great that for a moment she couldn’t speak. ‘Oh, sir, I can hardly believe it!’ she said. ‘I’m anxious to see my friend Mary again, and I was sure I could walk all the way, only I was starting to be afraid my boots would never last the distance. Of course I can go barefoot – I was barefoot all the time back home – but the earth is so much softer in Ireland. Here it’s all dry and cracking, with the biggest ants you ever saw –’

  ‘They’re bull-ants,’ Robbie interrupted. ‘We call ’em bullies.’

  ‘Well, they’re bullies indeed, for they weren’t kind to me. One of them got into my boot and bit me on the big toe, the creature!’

  ‘I’m glad to hear you talk, Nellie,’ said Mr Cameron, laughing. ‘Last night we heard scarcely a peep from you – although with the racket from our brood, that’s not to be wondered at.’

  ‘Sure, I was so tired. But then I had the best sleep I’ve had in days, and now I’m entirely myself again.’

  ‘Why are you anxious to see your friend?’ Mrs Cameron asked in her soft voice. ‘Is she in poor health?’

  ‘She has consumption, ma’am,’ said Nellie, ‘and she’s in that Infirmary in Adelaide, and I don’t know that she’s being cared for. I should never have left her. All we have is each other.’

  ‘Well, the Bennetts are kindly people, and you’ll be safe in their care,’ Mr Cameron said. ‘But you’ll have to hurry – I believe I hear their carriage now. Run outside and see, Robbie.’

  Robbie raced outside, raced back, and announced excitedly that the carriage had almost reached the driveway

  When it stopped outside the cottage, Nellie could scarcely believe her eyes. It was the smartest turnout she’d ever seen. A covered carriage, drawn by two black horses, and with a driver in the front! To think she’d be riding in such a fine vehicle! Mr Bennett must be a very wealthy gentleman indeed.

  In just a few minutes Nellie was ready to leave, her bonnet on, her bundle firmly tied, and her breakfast, a thick marmalade sandwich, in one hand. Mr Cameron helped her climb into her seat and Mrs Cameron passed up her bundle. ‘I hope you’ll find your friend greatly recovered, Nellie,’ she said.

  ‘I hope so, too,’ Nellie said. ‘And I thank you most heartily, ma’am, and you, sir, for the help you’ve given me. You couldn’t have done more if you were angels from Heaven itself.’

  ‘You were most welcome in our home,’ Mrs Cameron replied. ‘Go well, now.’

  With a crack of the whip and shouts of ‘Hey-up!’ from the coachman, the carriage rumbled away, slowly gathering speed. The older Cameron children ran after it, waving, and the puppy yapped with delight as it bounded behind them. Nellie leaned out of the window and waved back with both hands, only stopping when the carriage reached a bend in the track.

  ‘It will be a long day for you, Nellie,’ said Mr Bennett. ‘We don’t expect to be in Adelaide until late in the afternoon. We shall be ending our journey in North Adelaide, so you’ll have to make your own way into town. Will you be able to do that?’

  ‘Indeed, sir, I can manage very well on my own,’ said Nellie. ‘Right now I can hardly believe that I’m riding in your lovely carriage. I am so grateful to you.’

  She eased off her broken boots and sank back into the soft leather seat. With her feet hidden beneath her skirt, she wiggled her blistered toes on the thick carpet covering the carriage floor. It felt just as good as she’d imagined.

  The Queen of England wouldn’t be riding in a fancier conveyance than this, she thought. I must be the l
uckiest girl in the whole of South Australia!

  BACK in Adelaide at last, Nellie walked over the long wooden bridge that crossed the River Torrens. Beneath her the water shimmered pale gold in the late afternoon sunlight. Two men in a small boat were rowing downstream, leaving a V-shaped wake in which a mother duck and her fluffy babies bobbed.

  Looking at them, Nellie couldn’t help smiling. I hope my Mary is well enough to go outside, she thought. Tomorrow I can take her for a walk along the river bank. She’d love to see the ducklings. And the swans that aren’t white, but black, with feathers like big flakes of soot.

  She felt in her pocket: the apple was still there. She’d give it to Mary as a treat. How surprised her friend would be to see her! And how much she had to tell her! She gave a little skip at the thought, and then hobbled as her boots rubbed painfully on her blisters.

  Most of the shops in Hindley Street were closed at this time of day, although the hotels were open for business, and a hawker selling pies was doing brisk trade. As usual, there were pigs and dogs roaming around in search of food: the dogs were mostly thin and wild-looking, and Nellie was afraid they might be dingas. She kept well away from them. Some Aboriginal people had made a fire and were cooking something – a small animal with the fur still on it.

  Picking her way around piles of horse and cattle dung, Nellie at last reached the Infirmary.

  As soon as she opened the front door, she smelled that familiar smell of disinfectant and human misery. I must get my Mary away from this place, she thought. It’s enough to make anyone ill, so it is.

  The entrance hall was cold and gloomy. Nellie could hear people talking somewhere close by, but there was nobody on duty. That didn’t matter: Nellie knew where Mary was.

  At the door to the women’s ward, she stopped. I wonder if Mary is sleeping, she thought. I hope she is, because then I’ll wake her up, and my face will be the first thing she sees. A little quiver of joy rose in her as she imagined Mary’s happiness and surprise.