15
In January, as the barometer on the drawing room wall plummeted, indicating the start of the wet season, Kitty woke up with sweat dripping from her brow. She was due any day and she prayed to the Lord it would happen soon. The humidity hung like a soupy, airless blanket and she dug deep to breathe. Too exhausted to rise, she lay there wishing for both a storm and her waters to break. She rang the bell to indicate to the kitchen that she wanted breakfast. These past few days she had been in bed, unable to countenance the thought of putting on her corset – albeit specially made for her condition – plus the numerous petticoats, plus a dress on top of that. It was easier to lie here in her nightgown, her belly unrestricted and her skin comparatively cool.
Her thoughts turned again to Camira, and Kitty bit her lip hard in frustration. It had all been going so well; even Andrew had said what a bright little thing she was after he’d asked her a few questions in German. Since the ‘deal’ had been wrought between the two women, and as Camira had realised she would neither be locked up nor taken away in the night to the local prison for misdemeanours unknown, she had proved herself willing and eager to help in any way she could. Whoever had formerly employed her had taught her well. Soon she was busy about the house, tutting at what she obviously thought was the tardiness of the maid, a sloe-eyed Singalese girl called Medha, who spent more time looking at her face in the mirror than actually cleaning it.
Kitty concealed her amusement as Camira took control, issuing orders for the floors to be swept at least three times a day to remove the interminable dust, and scrubbed every other. The mahogany furniture gleamed from layers of beeswax and the cobwebs that had ingratiated themselves into high corners were swept away along with their inhabitants. As Camira bobbed about the drawing room as lightly as a butterfly, Kitty watched from her writing bureau, where she could hardly raise the energy to pick up her fountain pen. Even though Camira was almost certainly further on in her pregnancy than she, it did not seem to affect her.
Ten days ago, Kitty had even discussed with Andrew the idea of getting rid of Medha and having Camira take over.
‘Let’s just wait and see what happens after her baby is born. No point in doing anything hasty. If she ups and leaves, we’re high and dry at a moment when you will need all the help you can get.’
And then the following day, as if Camira had heard Andrew’s words, Kitty had gone to the hut and found it deserted.
‘Fred, where is Camira?’ she’d asked him as she stepped outside.
‘She gone.’
‘Did she say where?’
‘No, Missus Boss. Gone,’ Fred had informed her.
‘I did warn you, darling. These blacks just don’t play by the same set of rules as we do,’ Andrew had said later. ‘Good job we didn’t sack Medha.’
Kitty had felt intense irritation at Andrew’s obvious satisfaction that he’d been right all along. Every day since Camira’s disappearance, Kitty had gone to the hut and found it as deserted as the day before. And given the fact she had promised Andrew not to advertise Camira’s presence in their home, Kitty could not ask around the town to find out if anyone had seen her.
‘She go walkabout, missus,’ was all Fred would say.
Apart from her anger that Camira had left without so much as a by-your-leave, especially after her kindness to the girl, Kitty missed her. She had discovered that Camira had a very good grasp of English and a wicked sense of humour. She had found herself chuckling over small things for the first time since she had arrived in Broome, and had almost felt that Camira – despite their vast cultural differences – was a kindred spirit. As Kitty’s time had drawn nearer, she had felt comforted by the girl’s calm, capable manner.
‘Don’ ya be worryin’, Missus Boss, I singa your baby into the world, no problem.’
And Kitty had believed her, and had relaxed and smiled until even Andrew had noticed the difference and been glad that Camira was there.
A tear dribbled out of one of Kitty’s eyes. She would not make the same mistake again.
There was a short knock on the door. Kitty roused herself into a sitting position as it opened.
‘Mornin’, Missus Boss, I bringa you breakfast. Medha, she still sleepin’ on the job.’
Kitty watched in total shock as Camira – a newly slim Camira – dressed immaculately in her white uniform, with a headband holding back her glossy raven curls, danced towards her with the tray. ‘Tarik tellum me you bin naughty girl an’ not eatin’ your food good. I make-a you egg and bringa you milk for baby,’ she chirped as she placed the breakfast tray across Kitty’s thighs.
‘Where . . . ?’ Kitty swallowed, trying to find the words. ‘Where have you been?’
‘I go walkabout, havem baby.’ She shrugged as though she’d just been down to the bakery to buy a loaf of bread. ‘She come good an’ easy. Women sayum she pretty an’ healthy. Eat a lot, though.’ Camira rolled her eyes and indicated her breasts. ‘No sleepa for me.’
‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me where you were going, Camira?’ Anger was beginning to replace relief at the sight of her. ‘I’ve been worried sick!’
‘No worry, Missus Boss. Easy. She poppum out like snail from shell!’
‘That is not what I meant, Camira. Although of course I am happy that you and your baby are well and healthy.’
‘You come alonga hut after breakfast and I showa baby to you. Me helpum you eat?’ Camira proffered the spoon after she’d expertly sliced the top off the boiled egg with a knife.
‘No, thank you. I’m quite capable of feeding myself.’
As Kitty ate the egg, Camira bustled around the room, putting things straight and complaining about the layer of red dust that had gathered on the floor since she was last there. Kitty realised that she would probably never know where the girl had gone. She felt only relief that Camira’s labour was over and envied her incredible recovery from it.
Later that morning Kitty followed Camira to the hut, where the girl carefully unlocked the door. There on the floor, in a drawer that Camira had taken out of the chest, was a tiny infant, squalling with all its might.
‘Tolda you she a hungry one,’ said Camira as she plucked the child up, sat down on the bed and promptly undid the loops that held the buttons on the front of her blouse. Kitty saw the huge engorged breast, the nipple now dripping with milky fluid as Camira arranged the baby upon it. The squawking stopped instantly as the baby suckled and Kitty’s eyes were glued to the process. She had never seen another woman’s breasts – her own baby would be bottle-fed by a nurse as breastfeeding was considered only for savages. And yet, as Kitty watched mother and baby joined in such a natural ritual, she decided it had a beauty all of its own.
When the baby’s lips finally released the nipple and its head lolled back against Camira’s chest, the girl swiftly arranged it over her shoulder and began to rub its back vigorously. The baby burped and Camira gave a nod of approval.
‘Holdum her?’ She proffered the baby towards Kitty.
‘It’s a little girl, you said?’
‘Her name is Alkina – it meanum moon.’
Kitty took the naked baby in her arms and caressed the soft, perfect skin. There was no doubt that, in comparison to her mother, Alkina was of a lighter hue. The baby suddenly opened its eyes and stared right at her.
‘Goodness! They are . . .’
‘Women saya yella,’ said Camira as she fastened up her blouse. ‘From a yella man in Japtown. He bad fella.’
Kitty stared down at the telltale signs of a heritage that had blessed this baby girl with the most gorgeous pair of eyes she had ever seen. They were an arresting amber shade that was almost gold, and their almond shape made them appear even larger in the tiny face.
‘Welcome to the world, Alkina, and God bless you,’ Kitty whispered into a miniature ear.
Perhaps it was her fancy, but the baby seemed to smile at her words. Then she closed her incredible eyes and slept peacefully in Kitty’s arms.
‘She is beautiful, Camira,’ Kitty breathed eventually. ‘Her eyes remind me of a cat.’
‘Women saya that too. So I callum “Cat” as nickname,’ she giggled as she gently took the child from Kitty and tucked a piece of cloth around its bottom before tying it at both sides.
Someone once called me that too . . . Kitty thought. Placing the baby back in her makeshift cradle, Camira brushed her daughter’s forehead and whispered some unintelligible words against her skin. Then her eyes darkened and she put a finger to her lips. ‘Cat secret, yessum? Or bad baby fellas come take her. You understand?’
‘I promise, Camira, Cat will be safe here with us. I will tell Fred to guard her when you are working in the house.’
‘He still smellum bad, but Fred good fella.’
‘Yes, Fred’s a good fella,’ Kitty agreed.
* * *
Two weeks later, still no storm had broken and no baby of her own had appeared to ease Kitty’s mounting discomfort. Andrew was not helping matters by sulking about the two pearls he’d entrusted to T. B. Ellies’ skilled hands, only to watch them be whittled away to dust in front of him.
‘It’s simply not fair. Father is always asking me why the luggers never discover the treasures he used to when he was commanding them. Good grief, Kitty, when he first came to Broome, one could walk along Cable Beach and pluck them up by hand in the shallows! Does he not understand that the entire world has moved here since and is fishing for them? We are pushing into deeper and more dangerous waters every day. We lost another diver only last week due to the bends.’
Kitty now knew the condition and the symptoms as thoroughly as she knew the common cold. She had been intrigued to catch a glimpse of a diver for the first time, a young Japanese man who was being fitted into a new diving suit that Andrew had ordered from England. The slight man had climbed into the enormous beige canvas suit and a heavy spherical bronze helmet had been lowered over his head and screwed on tightly at his collar. His feet were weighed down by leaden boots and his crewmates supported him as they checked that the airflow through the slim pipe was working correctly.
She’d shuddered at the thought of all those tons of water pressing down on the man’s frame as he dived twenty fathoms below, protected only by flimsy canvas and the precious air that flowed through his lifeline. The intense pressure could severely damage the ears and joints and, if a diver persevered, it could lead to paralysis and death, a condition known as the bends.
‘God rest his soul.’ Kitty crossed herself. ‘They are brave men.’
‘Who are paid a fortune to be brave,’ Andrew pointed out. ‘I’ve had another request to up their wages, and still I hear talk of this ridiculous “no blacks” policy actually being implemented in Broome. Can you imagine whites ever signing up to do the job?’
‘No,’ she replied, ‘but then no matter what their skin colour, I cannot imagine anyone risking death every day simply to earn money.’
‘My dear, you have never known starvation, or the responsibility these men feel to earn as much for their families as they possibly can.’
‘You are right,’ she said quietly, irritated at how Andrew could encompass both avarice and morality in a few short sentences. She stood up. ‘I think I’ll retire for a nap.’
‘Of course. Shall I send for Dr Blick to call on you this evening?’
‘I doubt he can tell me more than that the baby is not yet ready to make its entrance into the world, and I know that all too well.’
‘Mother told me that most first babies are late.’
But most of their mothers were not living in Broome, with the wet season approaching, Kitty thought to herself as she nodded at him and left the room.
Camira woke her later that evening and placed a cup of something noxious-smelling on her nightstand.
‘Missus Boss, baby nottum come. Not good. We helpa little fella, yes?’ She proffered the cup to Kitty. ‘My women drinkum this. Missus Boss, it is time.’
‘What’s in it?’
‘Natural. From the earth. No harm. Drinkum now.’
And Kitty, desperate as she was, did as she was told.
The pains started a few hours later, and as Kitty rose to use the privy, a splash heralded the breaking of her waters. Calling for Andrew, who was currently sleeping next door in his dressing room, Kitty walked back to the bedroom and lay down.
‘The baby is coming,’ she told him as he arrived at the door.
‘I will send for Dr Blick immediately.’
‘And Camira,’ Kitty said, as a contraction surged through her. ‘I want Camira with me.’
‘I will get her now,’ Andrew promised as he dressed hurriedly and shot off.
Throughout that long feverish night, as the thunderclouds gathered above Broome, Kitty could remember little, apart from the pain and the soothing voice of Camira.
Dr Blick had arrived – from the look of his rolling countenance, straight from a drinking den on Sheba Lane.
‘What is a black doing in the birthing room?’ he’d slurred to Andrew.
‘Leave her!’ Kitty had shouted, as Camira hummed under her breath and rubbed Kitty’s back.
Andrew shrugged his shoulders at the doctor and nodded. After a fast examination, Dr Blick told her there was plenty of time to go and that she was to call if she needed him. Then he left the room. So it was Camira who encouraged her to stand up, to pace the floor ‘and walka the baby outta there, as I singa it here’.
At four in the morning, the clouds finally burst and the rain started to pelt on the tin roof.
‘He’s-a coming, he’s-a coming, Missus Boss, very soon now . . . dunna you worry.’
And as the lightning flashed above them, illuminating the garden outside and Camira’s trance-like expression, with a huge push and a crash of thunder, Kitty’s baby arrived into the world.
Kitty lay there, unable to do anything but pant with relief that the pain was over. She raised her head to see her baby, but instead saw Camira between her legs, biting on something.
‘What are you doing?’ she whispered hoarsely.
‘I’m-a settin’ him free, Missus Boss. Here.’ She swept the baby up in her arms, turned it upside down on her palm and slapped its bottom hard. At this indignity, the baby gave out a loud shriek and started to cry.
‘Here now, Missus Boss. Holdum your baby. I get docta fella.’ Then she stroked Kitty’s forehead. ‘He big strong boy. You clever woman.’
And with that, she left the room.
Dr Blick, who had obviously been sleeping off last night’s entertainment in the drawing room, staggered through the door.
‘Good Lord! That was a fast labour,’ he commented, as he tried to wrestle the baby out of Kitty’s arms.
‘He is well, Doctor, and I wish him to stay with me.’
‘But I must check him over. It is a “he”?’
‘Yes, and he is perfect.’
‘Then I shall tidy you up down below.’
She watched as Dr Blick lifted the clean sheet that Camira had placed over her.
‘Well now, I see there’s no need.’ Dr Blick had the grace to blush as he realised he’d slept through the entire event.
‘Would you ask my husband to come in to see his son?’
‘Of course, dear lady. I am glad for all that it was such a smooth and fast process.’
Yes, it was, because Camira was here and you were not, thought Kitty.
As Andrew entered the bedroom, Kitty thanked all of the stars in the sky that Camira had returned to her.