and joining at them at the tables were all the Irish maids and lads employed there.
‘It’s a celebration we’re to have!’ Mrs Kelly cried jubilantly. ‘On the instructions of the mistress! Oh, didn’t I tell yiz Government House would be a better place now its being run by a woman!’
The helpings of stew were huge, the warm freshly baked soda bread delicious, followed by an oatmeal pudding covered in warm sweet molasses.
‘Oh, by God …’ the Head Gardener was almost in tears. ‘Who would have thought … what a lady …’
The feast over, tankards of beer were served and all raised their drink in a toast to the Governor’s wife.
‘Three cheers for Mrs Macquarie! Three cheers for the Governor’s lady!’
They all drank the toast, followed by expressions of disappointment. ‘Bejabus,’ one said, ‘she’s watered down the grog!’
‘That’s because she doesn’t want yiz to get drunk,’ Mrs Kelly said, knocking back the rest of her own beer. ‘She don’t agree with drunkenness, m’lady don’t, and neither do I!’
The kitchen maids all stared at Mrs Kelly who often got drunk in the evenings, but none dared remind her of that.
More beer was brought out and Mrs Kelly continued her instructions.
‘Now, we are to have one more hour or so enjoying ourselves out here, but soon as the sun drops we are all to go back inside and the gardeners to their billets. So Paddy Mahoney – how about a good old song now?’
Paddy started the singing and another convict brought out a small mouth-organ and the clapping and dancing began.
Elizabeth stood with George Jarvis by one of the open, upper rear windows of the house, both smiling as they watched the fun.
‘What about the English and Scots and Welsh?’ George asked. ‘Are you going to let them celebrate their own saint too?’
‘Yes,’ Elizabeth said good-naturedly.’ Let them all have their special day in honour of St Andrew, St George and St David. It’s a small kindness, just one day off, and I have already informed Mrs Ovens and others of that fact.’
‘Ah,’ George murmured, comprehending. ‘Now I understand why there has been so signs of jealousy from the others, even from the English girls serving at the tables. The Irish and their Saint Patrick have won a special day off for them all.’
Elizabeth sighed. ‘They need some kind of reassurance, George, even if it’s only the reassurance that they share the same nationality as many others who ended up here.’
‘ Ello darlin! ’
Elizabeth almost jumped out of her skin as she turned round. ‘Who on earth…?’
‘It’s Bappoo …’ George had rushed to the door. ‘He must have escaped from my room.’
‘Bappoo? Is he an Aboriginal? And if so what is he doing in your room?’
George returned moments later with a white parrot perched on his outstretched arm. When they reached Elizabeth the parrot looked at her curiously for a moment, and then chirped again, ‘ Ello darlin! ’
She put a hand to her mouth and laughed. ‘George! Where did you get it?’
‘It’s a cockatoo. I bought him from a sailor when I was delivering letters to the captain of one of the ships. The sailor begged me to buy it because he needed money quickly.
‘Ello darlin!’
‘ What are you going to do with it?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘We can’t have it in the house, not a bird who says things like that … the visiting ladies of Sydney would certainly not approve … You could, of course, keep him in a cage in your room.’
‘No, not in a cage,’ George said firmly. ‘This bird is a free settler, not a convict.’
‘Then you will have to find him a place somewhere in the garden. Go down to Mr Byrne, the Head Gardener, and see if he can help you to find somewhere suitable.’
George sighed. ‘If you insist.’
Minutes later Elizabeth saw George down in the garden, surrounded by the Irish servants and gardeners, all laughing as the cockatoo kept chirping from one to the other, ‘ ello
‘It’s a celebration we’re to have!’ Mrs Kelly cried jubilantly. ‘On the instructions of the mistress! Oh, didn’t I tell yiz Government House would be a better place now its being run by a woman!’
The helpings of stew were huge, the warm freshly baked soda bread delicious, followed by an oatmeal pudding covered in warm sweet molasses.
‘Oh, by God …’ the Head Gardener was almost in tears. ‘Who would have thought … what a lady …’
The feast over, tankards of beer were served and all raised their drink in a toast to the Governor’s wife.
‘Three cheers for Mrs Macquarie! Three cheers for the Governor’s lady!’
They all drank the toast, followed by expressions of disappointment. ‘Bejabus,’ one said, ‘she’s watered down the grog!’
‘That’s because she doesn’t want yiz to get drunk,’ Mrs Kelly said, knocking back the rest of her own beer. ‘She don’t agree with drunkenness, m’lady don’t, and neither do I!’
The kitchen maids all stared at Mrs Kelly who often got drunk in the evenings, but none dared remind her of that.
More beer was brought out and Mrs Kelly continued her instructions.
‘Now, we are to have one more hour or so enjoying ourselves out here, but soon as the sun drops we are all to go back inside and the gardeners to their billets. So Paddy Mahoney – how about a good old song now?’
Paddy started the singing and another convict brought out a small mouth-organ and the clapping and dancing began.
Elizabeth stood with George Jarvis by one of the open, upper rear windows of the house, both smiling as they watched the fun.
‘What about the English and Scots and Welsh?’ George asked. ‘Are you going to let them celebrate their own saint too?’
‘Yes,’ Elizabeth said good-naturedly.’ Let them all have their special day in honour of St Andrew, St George and St David. It’s a small kindness, just one day off, and I have already informed Mrs Ovens and others of that fact.’
‘Ah,’ George murmured, comprehending. ‘Now I understand why there has been so signs of jealousy from the others, even from the English girls serving at the tables. The Irish and their Saint Patrick have won a special day off for them all.’
Elizabeth sighed. ‘They need some kind of reassurance, George, even if it’s only the reassurance that they share the same nationality as many others who ended up here.’
‘ Ello darlin! ’
Elizabeth almost jumped out of her skin as she turned round. ‘Who on earth…?’
‘It’s Bappoo …’ George had rushed to the door. ‘He must have escaped from my room.’
‘Bappoo? Is he an Aboriginal? And if so what is he doing in your room?’
George returned moments later with a white parrot perched on his outstretched arm. When they reached Elizabeth the parrot looked at her curiously for a moment, and then chirped again, ‘ Ello darlin! ’
She put a hand to her mouth and laughed. ‘George! Where did you get it?’
‘It’s a cockatoo. I bought him from a sailor when I was delivering letters to the captain of one of the ships. The sailor begged me to buy it because he needed money quickly.
‘Ello darlin!’
‘ What are you going to do with it?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘We can’t have it in the house, not a bird who says things like that … the visiting ladies of Sydney would certainly not approve … You could, of course, keep him in a cage in your room.’
‘No, not in a cage,’ George said firmly. ‘This bird is a free settler, not a convict.’
‘Then you will have to find him a place somewhere in the garden. Go down to Mr Byrne, the Head Gardener, and see if he can help you to find somewhere suitable.’
George sighed. ‘If you insist.’
Minutes later Elizabeth saw George down in the garden, surrounded by the Irish servants and gardeners, all laughing as the cockatoo kept chirping from one to the other, ‘ ello
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