‘Of course,’ she said to George, ‘the father is not going to want to keep the baby that killed his wife. It would only be a painful reminder of his loss. I’m amazed he didn’t get rid of it straightaway.’ She grabbed her bag and stood for a moment looking at her fella, splayed out over her bed, the sheets still tangled in his legs. He was plump with satisfaction; she’d done that to him, made him soft with her loving. His white belly wobbled as he sat up against the pillows, and she leant over and kissed the bald spot on his head. ‘You look like a Roman emperor.’
‘Feed me some grapes, slave, and satisfy all my desires,’ he commanded.
‘Toodaloo then,’ she said, and as she left the hot northerly wind grabbed hold of the front door and ripped it from her grasp, slamming it behind her. She walked to Sturt Street, holding hard to her hat, which threatened to fly off, and hailed Jones’s cab, which she couldn’t afford but she wanted the Cottinghams to think she was better off than she was. She didn’t want them to think she needed the child. They had to think she loved it. It would appease their consciences as they handed it over.
Beatrix stood at the gate of the Cottingham house. ‘My, my, my,’ she said. The Cottingham house made her cottage look like one of the Chinese-ie tents that used to pop up on hillsides in clusters like white mushrooms. She and the other children were alternately warned to stay away from those Chinese-ie encampments and threatened with being dragged off to them if they didn’t toe the line: ‘You kids bloody behave yourselves or you’ll be boiled up by them Chinese-ies with the miners’ washing!’
She wiped the sweat from her brow. By God it was stinking hot. She tucked some stray hairs behind her ear, walked up the path and pressed the bronze doorbell. Today her life would change. Today she would set herself up for many years to come.
The door opened and Beth stood looking at her. The girl could look downright insolent if she wanted to.
‘G’day Beth. Haven’t seen you hanging round with Young Colin next door in a while.’ Beth must run rings round that simple boy. Beatrix could read people and this girl was determined to do something. Beatrix couldn’t get a handle on what that something was, but she knew it probably wouldn’t include Young Colin.
‘I been busy helping with the baby,’ said Beth. Beatrix noticed that Beth had turned out a particularly pretty girl with lovely thick dark hair, a face like a pixie and big brown eyes. She must be at least fifteen now. Beatrix stepped into the foyer without being asked and ran her fingers over the ornate hallstand; she’d always wanted one of those. She took in the huge gilded mirror and the family portraits, all looking sternly down on her, the intruder.
‘Come in,’ said Beth pointedly.
Beatrix heard the tone. Beth was cross because she hadn’t waited to be invited and was already well into the foyer.
‘Where the hell did they get a mirror that size?’
‘It’s imported,’ muttered Beth, reaching for Beatrix’s hat.
‘You’re a lucky girl to land a job here, aren’t you, Beth? Lucky you had me to step in,’ she said, holding her hat on her head. She would take it off when she was good and ready. ‘You could be working in a pub pulling pots for smelly miners like those sisters of yours, specially after your ma died and your pa disappeared. This is a lark — all thanks to yours truly.’ That would put the young miss back where she belonged.
‘Can I take your jacket and hat?’ asked Beth coldly, reaching again for the hat.
‘Not yet.’ Beatrix slowly unbuttoned her jacket. Given the heat, she was more than pleased to be rid of it. She took her time, taking the opportunity to have a good look at the place while Beth stood impatiently waiting.
‘This town is full of single miners that’d be happy to have a wife as pretty as you, Beth,’ Beatrix said.
‘I’m quite happy with my Young Colin,’ said Beth.
Beatrix leaned towards her and said conspiratorially, ‘Some girls look like a mallet hit them. I’ve heard that said of Miss Cottingham.’
‘Nurse Drake.’
She turned and saw the Cottingham girl standing in the doorway directly off the foyer.
Blimey, did Miss Cottingham hear what she’d just said? She quickly whipped off her hat and hung it on the hallstand. ‘Well, where’s this beauty of a bub then?’ she said too cheerily, trying to smother her previous comment before it could breathe.
‘Come this way,’ Miss Cottingham said.
Beatrix noted that Beth skipped a quick step to wedge herself between Miss Cottingham and herself as though Beth was Miss Cottingham’s protector and Beatrix thought yes, there was something vulnerable about the Cottingham girl, something yearning in her.
The portraits watched Beatrix suspiciously as she followed the two girls past the hallstand, past shut doors, past one door she couldn’t help but notice was boarded over with ugly planks of wood as though a child had clumsily hammered them up.
‘Well, I’m guessing that room’s out of bounds — I suppose there’s a dead body in there, is there?’ she laughed, but the two girls completely ignored her. They led her past the dining room and she tried desperately to peek in on her way past. From the glimpse she got it looked bigger than her entire cottage. She kept following as the two girls led her into
