Skylarking by Kate Mildenhall Page B

very shape of her, were so familiar to me, and yet, tonight, in the lantern light in that crowded room, she was no longer only mine.
    She lifted her fingers and played a chord, a pleasing one, and then her voice rang out.
    My Bonnie lies over the ocean
    My Bonnie lies over the sea
    My Bonnie lies over the ocean
    O bring back my Bonnie to me …
    It truly was a sweet voice, and I saw Father close his eyes and smile at the verse. Mrs Walker nodded her head gently.
    Harriet played another single chord, and inclined her head to us to indicate we should accompany her. Slowly, quietly at first, a few voices joined hers.
    I hated singing in front of others, for I knew my voice was awful. Albert had come to stand beside me, and I moved away slightly so that he would not hear how tuneless I was.
    Bring back, bring back
    O bring back my Bonnie to me, to me
    Bring back, bring back
    O bring back my Bonnie to me.
    I felt a nudge in my ribs. Albert grinned at me.
    â€˜Don’t you laugh at me,’ I admonished him.
    â€˜I’m not,’ he whispered back.
    â€˜Harriet is the songstress – not me.’
    â€˜I don’t care much for singing,’ he said softly, and the next chord on the piano vibrated right at the core of me. A strange feeling, not unwelcome at all.
    I stared straight ahead but I knew he was watching me.
    Harriet’s voice rang out even stronger now, and I chanced a look at McPhail as she went into the next verse. He was standing against the mantle over the fireplace but he could not keep his eyes from Harriet. They were filled, I saw, with a kind of longing. Albert looked at me with tenderness sometimes, but it was nothing like the desperation in McPhail’s gaze.
    I forced myself to glance away and, as I did, I caught the eye of Mrs Walker, who traced back to where my attention had been. I witnessed her puzzlement at McPhail’s expression, and the way her face moved to a sudden understanding as she looked from him to Harriet and back again.
    O blow the winds o’er the ocean,
    And blow the winds o’er the sea
    O blow the winds o’er the ocean
    And bring back my Bonnie to me.
    We all joined her to sing the final chorus, but I was rigid now with nerves. It was as though I were approaching the climactic scene in a book, and I wanted to read on and also I didn’t, for once I went on, I would know what happened and all the possibilities and imaginings would be reduced to one ending.
    I almost wanted Mrs Walker to cause a scene. But then, as always, I was entrapped by my love, my loyalty for Harriet, and I wanted to warn her, to beseech McPhail to look away, for goodness sake. The haunted, hungry look in his eyes had now gone and in its place were tears, which he roughly wiped away.
    Harriet stood up and moved back from the piano and we all clapped. Soon after, the evening ended and our guests left. It turned out, however, that Harriet’s fate had been sealed.
    As we were finishing dinner a few days later, our door burst open and Harriet appeared, wild and breathless.
    â€˜Whatever’s the matter, Harriet?’ I said, and appealed to Mother with my eyes.
    â€˜You can leave the table, dear,’ she said.
    I suspect, thinking back on it, that she already knew exactly what Harriet was about to reveal to me.
    â€˜I am being sent to Melbourne!’ Harriet said, clutching both my hands in hers, once we were sat on my bed.
    â€˜You’re what?’
    â€˜Melbourne. They are sending me to Melbourne to stay with Aunt Cecilia for three months. Three whole months! I am so desperately excited but I told Mother that I could not go without you. Melbourne – can you imagine! And I will stay at Aunt Cecilia’s grand house and be introduced around and may have suitors.’
    My head was spinning. Not once had I considered that this would be the outcome of that night.
    â€˜But when will you go?’
    â€˜After Christmas, January sometime. I am overwhelmed at