Sarah Thornhill by Kate Grenville Page B

there. That I’d keep him company in his wornness and farawayness.
    The door was open. He knew I’d be coming along, I thought.
    The rain had stopped, the moon was out, enough to see a long sleeping mound in the bed. That was Jack, but there was another mound at his feet that was the girl, coiled up in herself. Blanket on the floor from where he must of covered her up and it slid off. She was awake. Eyes gleaming at me.
    Poor thing, I thought. Everything foreign, Jack the only thing you know. But canny enough to creep round till you found him.
    Longed to get in with Jack, but the bed too small for three, and I couldn’t turn her off, poor thing.
    Auntie Dolly look after you, I whispered.
    Picked up the blanket from the floor, tucked it round her, kissed the top of her head. She watched me. But never moved, never made a sign. I went back to my bed.

    When I come down to the parlour in the morning, she was with Jack by the fire. Still in the dirty pinny. The air in the room unsettled.
    Yes, well, you should of taken her back to her own bed, Ma was saying. Not wrapped her up snug like it was her proper place.
    Never slept on her own before, Mrs Thornhill, Jack said. Not one night in her life. Not the way they do things there.
    Well, this is the way we do things here, Jack, she said. Sooner she learns that the better.
    Only a little thing, Jack said. Bit of kindness don’t go astray.
    All right, Ma said. I can see what I’m going to have to do. She’ll go to her bed tonight and I’ll turn the key.
    Lock her in! I said. That’s too hard, Ma!
    She wheeled around at me.
    I won’t have this, Dolly, she said. This answering back. And as for you, Jack Langland, you been with the savages so long you’re getting to be one.
    Anne rang the bell for breakfast. The girl jumped at the sound, burrowed into Jack.
    Rachel! Ma said. Come in to breakfast now! Come along dear, into the dining room! Rachel!
    Took her by the wrist, tried to pull her out of the room. The girl was stronger than she looked.
    I’ll tell her, Mrs Thornhill, Jack said. Let me tell her, in her tongue. She’ll go with you then.
    Got down on his haunches, made the sounds of that other language, smooth runny words. With those words in his mouth he was a man from another place.
    That’s enough Jack! Ma said. I’ll have no more of that jabber! She’s got to learn to talk proper.
    Better if Jack tells her, Ma, I said. Till she gets used to us.
    I was too old to be spanked, but that was the thought on Ma’s face. Pale, she was that cranky.
    Then Pa was in the doorway. Went straight to the girl. Put his hand under her chin, looked into her face.
    How’s my poppet, he said. How’s my little girl.
    The warmth in his voice the only good thing in that room.
    Tell her, will you lad, he said. Tell her how much she means to her Grandpa.
    No, William! Ma said. Got to get her in the way of English. Longer we leave it, harder it’ll be.
    That’s well and good, Meg, Pa said. But I want her to hear a kind word.
    Jack spoke to the girl. Her eyes went from him to Pa but her face was a mask. Pa leaned down, kissed the top of her head.
    Thank you, lad, he said. You’re as good a feller as ever drew breath.
    But Jack didn’t want thanks. He was watching the girl.
    What’s done is done, Pa said. But you get a chance, do things different, you’re a lucky man.
    Do what different, Pa, I said. What chance?
    Pray God you never have to know, he said.
    Come along, quick now William, Ma said. Bring the girl in, we’ll get the breakfast done.
    I let them go out into the hall, hoping for a word alone with Jack at last. Had the room to ourselves, just the girl stuck to his side. Got our arms round each other. One person again, just for a few heartbeats.
    Sarah Thornhill, Jack whispered. Thank God for you.
    Don’t go again, I said. Not ever.
    Not ever again, he said.
    Then Ma was at the door.
    Come along now