herself in the broken mirror Mrs Southerham had given them.
Her skin was a light golden colour now, though still much paler than everyone else’s. She didn’t spend any more time than she had to in the sun because she still found the heat uncomfortable. Her hair was shiny again though – she put up one hand to touch it. It had been dull during the times they’d gone hungry after the cotton mills closed.
Were people still starving in Outham? Was the Civil War still going on in America? They were cut off from the latest news here, because without a railway system newspapers took a long time to reach the country settlements. Mr Southerham grumbled about that quite often.
If you went anywhere, you went on foot or by horse. Her employer had said he’d teach her to ride, if she liked. She’d remind him of that. If she could ride, maybe he’d let her go to visit Xanthe and Maia on her own occasionally. Surely she’d be safe with so few people around? And learning to ride would give her something different to do. It got so boring doing the same chores every day, with no one to talk to now, even. She’d never have chosen to be a maid. When she’d worked in the mill, it had been hard work, not particularly interesting, but she and her workmates had had fun as well, and her time off had been her own.
She took the bowl of water outside and threw it on the small row of plants struggling to survive. It didn’t do to waste water here. It hadn’t rained once since they arrived in December.
As she went to draw another bucket of clean water, she saw a few kangaroos hopping among the trees behind the house – females. Kevin said the male kangaroos could be dangerous, but the females were gentler. They seemed to go round in groups. She’d seen this lot before. The biggest one had a ragged ear.
When the animals had moved away, she got the fire burning and made herself a pot of tea, drinking it from one of the half-pint enamel mugs everyone used, though the Southerhams always got out their china teacups in the afternoons – you have to keep up standards – which made extra work for their maid. She had to wash the tea service carefully afterwards, with a tea towel in the bottom of the tin washing-up bowl to prevent chipping the fine china.
She swirled the dark liquid round her mug, watching the hollow in the centre, seeing how deep she could make it. There was no milk for the tea because the Southerhams didn’t want the trouble of keeping a cow, and there was no other way of getting milk here. Anyway, milk would sour too quickly in this heat. She didn’t add sugar, either, because she’d grown to like the bitter taste of unsweetened tea during the years when sugar was too expensive, years when they’d struggled to find one decent meal a day and a few pieces of dry bread the rest of the time if they were lucky. They’d had to reuse their tealeaves several times in those days, till finally the water was barely coloured, which was perhaps why she enjoyed strong tea now.
Mrs Southerham came out on to the veranda of their tiny wooden dwelling, yawning and stretching, then walked across to join her at the table under its canvas awning. ‘Is there any tea left in that pot?’
‘Plenty.’ She started to stand up.
‘Sit down. I’ll get my own. I think the wedding went well, don’t you?’
‘Yes. Cassandra made a beautiful bride.’
‘Not as beautiful as you will be one day.’
‘I doubt I’ll find another man like Bill.’ He’d been the kindest man she’d ever met, and fun to be with.
‘Oh, I think you might find someone else. I was quite on the shelf myself and resigned to living and dying a spinster, when I met Francis. You’ll see. A girl as beautiful and intelligent as you is bound to attract interest.’
Pandora didn’t argue. It wasn’t worth it. She didn’t want to marry someone from round here and spend the rest of her life stuck miles away from anywhere. She went to get out the flour and
Her skin was a light golden colour now, though still much paler than everyone else’s. She didn’t spend any more time than she had to in the sun because she still found the heat uncomfortable. Her hair was shiny again though – she put up one hand to touch it. It had been dull during the times they’d gone hungry after the cotton mills closed.
Were people still starving in Outham? Was the Civil War still going on in America? They were cut off from the latest news here, because without a railway system newspapers took a long time to reach the country settlements. Mr Southerham grumbled about that quite often.
If you went anywhere, you went on foot or by horse. Her employer had said he’d teach her to ride, if she liked. She’d remind him of that. If she could ride, maybe he’d let her go to visit Xanthe and Maia on her own occasionally. Surely she’d be safe with so few people around? And learning to ride would give her something different to do. It got so boring doing the same chores every day, with no one to talk to now, even. She’d never have chosen to be a maid. When she’d worked in the mill, it had been hard work, not particularly interesting, but she and her workmates had had fun as well, and her time off had been her own.
She took the bowl of water outside and threw it on the small row of plants struggling to survive. It didn’t do to waste water here. It hadn’t rained once since they arrived in December.
As she went to draw another bucket of clean water, she saw a few kangaroos hopping among the trees behind the house – females. Kevin said the male kangaroos could be dangerous, but the females were gentler. They seemed to go round in groups. She’d seen this lot before. The biggest one had a ragged ear.
When the animals had moved away, she got the fire burning and made herself a pot of tea, drinking it from one of the half-pint enamel mugs everyone used, though the Southerhams always got out their china teacups in the afternoons – you have to keep up standards – which made extra work for their maid. She had to wash the tea service carefully afterwards, with a tea towel in the bottom of the tin washing-up bowl to prevent chipping the fine china.
She swirled the dark liquid round her mug, watching the hollow in the centre, seeing how deep she could make it. There was no milk for the tea because the Southerhams didn’t want the trouble of keeping a cow, and there was no other way of getting milk here. Anyway, milk would sour too quickly in this heat. She didn’t add sugar, either, because she’d grown to like the bitter taste of unsweetened tea during the years when sugar was too expensive, years when they’d struggled to find one decent meal a day and a few pieces of dry bread the rest of the time if they were lucky. They’d had to reuse their tealeaves several times in those days, till finally the water was barely coloured, which was perhaps why she enjoyed strong tea now.
Mrs Southerham came out on to the veranda of their tiny wooden dwelling, yawning and stretching, then walked across to join her at the table under its canvas awning. ‘Is there any tea left in that pot?’
‘Plenty.’ She started to stand up.
‘Sit down. I’ll get my own. I think the wedding went well, don’t you?’
‘Yes. Cassandra made a beautiful bride.’
‘Not as beautiful as you will be one day.’
‘I doubt I’ll find another man like Bill.’ He’d been the kindest man she’d ever met, and fun to be with.
‘Oh, I think you might find someone else. I was quite on the shelf myself and resigned to living and dying a spinster, when I met Francis. You’ll see. A girl as beautiful and intelligent as you is bound to attract interest.’
Pandora didn’t argue. It wasn’t worth it. She didn’t want to marry someone from round here and spend the rest of her life stuck miles away from anywhere. She went to get out the flour and
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