Wild Lands Read Free Page B

haphazardly along the burning timber. If her father were there he’d tell Kate to cheer up and be grateful for the roof over her head and food to eat. At the thought of him she felt a little better and she found herself staring at the stone fireplace that was large enough for her to walk into. Its internal ledges held clothes irons ready for heating, kettles and pans, while overhead, large iron arms could be swung back and forth to hold pots over flames. Lambeth may not have been the nicest of people, but she prepared delicious chunky stews of birds, kangaroo and possum. Miraculous concoctions of potatoes and flesh were made rich with gravy, her speciality a lavish braised liver sauce. Even the Reverend remarked that the cook’s clear soup of boiled bones was not to be sniffed at.
    The smoke curled through the hole in the bark ceiling above the fire as rain fell. Kate’s sleeplessness had come a few weeks after her father’s death. At first it was her mother’s tears that woke her in the middle of the night and then Lesley’s frequent pacing in the small parlour, which had been her pride. Whatever the reason, Kate had grown used to waking when the household was asleep and because her movements were strictly supervised by Lambeth during the day, she enjoyed her nightly wanderings. Wrapping Lambeth’s shawl about her shoulders, she opened the kitchen door. The slab stone step was freezing underfoot and the rain had intensified. Mud splattered her feet as large droplets splashed the dirt of the narrow track that led to the cottage. The building was out of bounds to everyone except those who were assigned specific tasks, such as cleaning and the serving of meals and tending to thefire. This rule was especially difficult for Kate, whose own mother slept in the cottage’s second bedroom.
    Wiping rain from her cheeks, Kate ran between the two dwellings, mud squelching between her toes. She wondered if her mother would be awake. On previous occasions when she’d snuck into the cottage there’d often be a light beneath her door, but she didn’t dare disturb her. It was enough to sit outside her mother’s room, to remember what it was like to be a family, until sleepiness overcame her and Kate was ready to return to bed. The front door handle turned easily. Kate wiped one foot over the other and stepped into the austere parlour. The room was in semi-darkness. She shut the door quietly and waited, listening, then tip-toed across to the fire. Kate could tell that the Reverend had only recently gone to bed. The stink of a slush lamp hung in the air, an open bible sat on a table and the Reverend’s coat was folded carefully over the back of a two-seater sofa.
    Outside a rumble of thunder was accompanied by a flash of lightning. Kate flinched, watching as the brightness lit the white-washed walls, emphasising the plainness of the room and the musket sitting on brackets above the mantelpiece. Droplets of moisture sprinkled the timber floor as Kate lay the shawl across a chair to dry and then warmed her hands by the fire. She knew she would be in dreadful trouble if she were caught in the cottage, but she couldn’t help it. Kate didn’t see much of her mother. She was always busy penning the sermons the Reverend dictated and running his household. Lambeth said it was just plain wrong for Lesley Carter to sleep under the same roof as the Reverend, but it didn’t really bother Kate, except that there was no room for her.
    A light still shone from beneath her mother’s door. Kate placed her palm on the timber frame as thunder rattled overhead. In between the sounds of the storm Kate was sure she heard a rustle from within and the murmur of voices. Perhaps her mama had taken to saying prayers, as it was said the Reverend did so dayand night. But then it was two voices she could hear, a man and a woman’s, her mother’s and … The keyhole was cold against her skin. Kate