The gardens weren’t far away, but the girls took their time walking there. There was so much to see! Dora pointed everything out patiently to Carly along the way.
Carly hadn’t been quite honest when she said she wasn’t nervous about boarding school. In fact, she was terrified. But Dora’s friendliness and the excitement of the city were helping her to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. The city sights took her breath away. The buildings were tall and glittering, and there was more traffic than she’d ever seen in her life. In between the modern office blocks were elegant old sandstone buildings that hinted at the city’s past.
They came to an intersection and stopped at the traffic lights. They were taking ages to change. Carly gazed at an old building on the far corner and wondered what the street would have looked like in the olden days. She stroked the shawl. It was soft and fragile and spotted with age. She tried to imagine herself wearing it with a long, wide dress, back in the days when horses and carriages rode through the cobbled streets. She flung the fabric around her shoulders ... and then everything went black.
When the light returned, everything had changed.
It was as if someone had switched stations on the radio; the sounds were completely different. The whooshing of cars, the honking of horns, the rumble of buses and the beeping of traffic lights had all gone. They had been replaced by the clopping of horses’ hooves and the rattling of carriages. Carly gazed about with an open mouth. The glassy skyscrapers had all disappeared! In their place were low sandstone buildings, golden and grand. The traffic lights had vanished. There was also an odd smell in the air: horse poo.
People were striding about, but they looked nothing like the people that Carly knew. They weren’t in business suits or pencil skirts, or the shorts and t-shirts of tourists. There were men with whiskery sideburns and moustaches wearing top hats and waistcoats and long, flapping coats – in spite of the heat – and high boots. There weren’t many women. Carly saw only three or four, and they were flouncing about in dresses with huge bell-shaped skirts and tiny waists. Their hair was tucked up into bonnets. Around their shoulders they clasped shawls just like Carly’s.
She was so astonished that it took a while to realise how uncomfortable she was. She started to notice that it was hard to breathe. Her chest and belly felt strangled, the way they had felt after Christmas dinner when she had eaten too much while wearing her favourite shorts that she didn’t want to admit she’d grown out of. She looked down and nearly fainted in shock. Just like the women bustling about on the street, she was covered in a shoulder-to-toe gown with a domed skirt! The tightness about her middle, she realised, was a corset! She put a hand to her head. Her long, straight brown hair was twisted up into a bun. There was a frilly bonnet on her head.
Carly gazed about in a panic. Dora wasn’t there. What on earth is going on? She had a vague feeling that it had something to do with the shawl around her shoulders. Carly wondered if she should be scared. Everything was so strange! And yet ... she felt more excited than afraid.
She stepped onto the road. No one took any notice of her. She took a deep breath – she was used to the smell of horse poo – and crossed the road. She wandered down the street, gaping at the sights.
‘Hello there,’ said a posh English voice. ‘Are you lost?’
Carly spun around. A lady smiled at her. She was tall and dressed in a long, brown gown with a white lace collar and white frills at her wrists. She had pale skin and grey eyes and reddish-brown hair that hung in ringlets at each side of her face. She was carrying a big carpetbag that made Carly think of Mary Poppins.
‘Um,’ said Carly. Confusion had taken her voice away.
‘Never mind, dear,’ the woman said. Her voice was warm and musical, but firm. ‘I’ll look after you. Have you just come in on a ship?’
‘... er ...’ said Carly.
‘You poor dear – it’s frightening, isn’t it? You do look awfully young to be travelling alone. I suppose you haven’t any parents. Come with me – come, come, don’t worry.’ The woman strode off, leaving Carly stunned by the side of the road. Then the woman stopped and turned back. ‘But where’s your luggage? Oh, never mind, we’ll find you supplies. Heavens!’ she put a gloved hand to her mouth. ‘Where are my manners? I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Mrs Chisholm. Caroline Chisholm.’
‘I’m Carly,’ Carly croaked. ‘Carly Mills.’
‘Well, Carly,’ Caroline Chisholm smiled and clasped her hands together. ‘Welcome to Australia.’
‘You’ve come at rather an awkward time,’ Mrs Chisholm said as they scurried down the street. ‘I hope you don’t mind a bit of discomfort?’
‘Uh ... no ...’
‘Good girl. I’d normally take you home, but today is the day to put my plan into action. I’m terribly sorry. You won’t be in luxury, but at least you’ll be safe.’
Carly stared dumbly at the woman by her side. Mrs Chisholm was about her mother’s age, she guessed, although with fashions being what they were, it was hard to tell. She walked with a very upright posture. Carly realised that it was probably the corset that held her up so stiffly, and that she probably looked just as awkward herself.
The woman seemed kind, but nothing she said made any sense.
‘Oh dear,’ Mrs Chisholm said, as if reading Carly’s thoughts. ‘I haven’t explained, have I? It’s just that
