Skylark by Jenny Pattrick Page A

readings are going well. Mattie is quite astonishing the way she knows what is needed to heal our divisions. Yesterday, looking down from my upstairs window, I saw four of the younger children act out the Wellington earthquake and my abduction by Bully Hayes. They did it with such squeals and shouts, their little bodies tumbling and shaking. The dogs’ kennels were sent rocking on their sides and the big apple tree became Bully’s ship: a pirate flag, made from a flour bag which Mattie gave them, fluttering from its branches. And later, there in the river paddock, were Lydia and Lysander trying to ride old Xerxes, standing bareback! Jack came running to supervise. I thought he would put a stop to it, but no: as I watched, he took the reins and led the big horse carefully in a circle while the twins slowly got the hang of it. Bravo, bravo! Blood will out!

T HE J OURNAL OF L ILY A LOUETTE CONTINUES …
    S CENE : Various theatrical establishments in the North Island of New Zealand
I pursue my trade as an artiste
    A week or two after that dreadful earthquake I awoke with a start to find Tommy Bird sitting large as life and grinning at the foot of my bed. I should not say large as life as he was a small little fellow and always would be.
    â€˜Tommy Bird!’ I cried. ‘Have you no shame? I am a lady now and this boarding house is as respectable an establishment as can be.’
    But I was glad to see him and he knew it. He wagged his coppery little head, winked and did a handstand over the iron bars of the bedstead.
    â€˜Anyway how did you make your way in?’ I asked, as I knew Mrs Anderson would not let a stranger across her doorstep without being paid a penny or two, and Tommy never had a brass farthing about him.
    Tommy laughed and pointed to the window. ‘Up the tree, along the branch and over the sill, easy as pie, my sweetheart. I am sent to bring you down to the circus.’
    â€˜What, the circus has come to this sad town?’ I said, gathering my shawl about my shoulders, for Tommy had let in a sharp draught along with his supple little body. ‘Is Mr Foley mad? The people are still camping in the streets. They have more pressing matters to attend to than circus tricks.’
    But it was all true, and Mr Foley had his head screwed on when it came to business (not so tightly screwed when it came to the ladies, but he was a good man for all that). He had planned to return for a season in Wellington, and when he heard about the earthquake he decided to keep to plans, reckoning that a nervous populace would be more in need of a bit of magic and a laugh than a town full of safe and contented people. By the time I was up and dressed and down to the shore, there was the flag of the Royal Victoria Circus flying high on its mast and a band of natives already at work helping Mr Foley’s men erect the planking stands and the big canvas roof. The steamer from Nelson was anchored in the bay and a couple of flat-boats were bringing in those familiar crates of animals and costumes, tying up to the newly lengthened public jetty. How quickly life was returning to normal!
    You had to laugh at Mr Foley’s good luck. There was a decent yardage of new shore now, risen in the quake. Where water had lapped at the bottom of Willis Street, there was now plenty of room to erect the circus and house the animals! I doubt Mr Foley paid a penny to rent his space, as no one had thought yet who might own the new land!
    â€˜Oh-ho!’ said that very man, spruce in his boots and britches and red braces over a nicely pressed shirt (some woman was looking after him and I hoped it was Maria). ‘Here is my little Miss Tournear, grown a bit longer in the limb and pretty as a picture!’ He made a mock bow and kissed my hand, like lord to lady, his wide moustaches brushing my fingers soft as a feather. ‘I hear you are a hit with the fellows up at the theatre. That’s a good girl. You are learning