Bridie's Fire (25 page)

34

Broken promises

Bridie knelt beside Tom and watched as he painted the advertisement on a big sheet of canvas, with little flourishes. The lettering was perfectly shaped, black and bold.

‘You've a fine hand, Tom Whiteley,' said Bridie. Even if she couldn't read every word, she knew elegant writing when she saw it.

‘Can you read it all right?' asked Tom, beaming.

Bridie took a deep breath and then confessed. ‘I never finished learning my letters.'

‘That's something else I'll have to teach you sometime. It's not so hard as it seems. Here, I'll point to the words as I read,' said Tom, sounding even more pleased with himself. ‘Grand Opening Night of the Star Theatre on Government Road, Under the patronage of Captain Worthington, Gold Commissioner, When will be Produced the thrilling musical drama of
The Princess of Patagonia
, Supported by the Full Company and featuring the Songbird of the South, Amaranta El'Orado. After which, the National Anthem with full band and chorus, and the whole to conclude with a grand vocal and instrumental concert of songs, duets and dances. Doors Open at 7 o'clock. Admission: Boxes 10s, Pit 5s.'

‘How are we going to manage a full band?' asked Bridie, a little worried by the extravagant description.

‘Eddie already has a big list of volunteers for the band. I've heard him talking about it. There's an American miner called Jake who can play the banjo, there are two fiddle-players as well as Marconi, and I'll play the tin whistle – when I'm not on stage playing the Princess' guard, that is – and there's a Cornish miner called Charlie Peat who has a trumpet. Oh, and Jacobus will play his concertina after he's finished doing his magic act.'

‘And all will come to our rough temple of drama to worship at the shrine of the beautiful El Ave Chant D'Oro,' said Jacobus, leaning over their shoulders. Bridie jumped. She hated the way Jacobus always sneaked up like that.

‘C'mon,' said Bridie, ignoring Jacobus. ‘Don't we have to hang this up somewhere? I'll help you.'

‘Eddie said to take it down to the old gum tree in front of the new government building.'

Bridie took a corner of the big poster and Tom took the other and they carried it down the road together.

‘You don't like the old wizard, do you?' said Tom when they'd got out of earshot of Jacobus.

‘What's there to like about him?' said Bridie.

‘Well, he knows some fine tricks and he treats that crippled dog of his well. I feel sorry for him. Besides, I heard that you nursed him when he was sick, but now you won't even talk to him.'

‘And what's it matter to you, Tom Whiteley?' she said, starting to feel annoyed.

‘It matters because I'd like to know you better, Bridie, and if you don't trust him, there must be a good reason,' he said, blushing a little as he spoke.

Bridie couldn't reply. She didn't want to talk about Jacobus. A hundred questions were whirling around in her head. Why did Tom want to know her better? Did he think she was pretty? Or did he like her like a friend or a sister? What was it that he saw in her?

They pinned the sign up outside the post-office building and stood back admiring it. There were dozens of other small signs and notes pinned to the wall of the building. Some were tattered and worn with age, some were on new parchment.

‘What are all those other signs about?' asked Bridie.

‘They're a bit like lost and found notices,' answered Tom. ‘See, this one is a note from one miner to his friend telling him to look down Chinaman's Gully when he arrives at the diggings. This one is from a woman looking for her husband: “Mrs Emily Durbridge seeks news of her husband, Henry. Anyone knowing of his whereabouts, please write or send word to . . .”, and then it's got an address in Melbourne. Eddie Bones says that sooner or later everyone in the world will come past the Ballarat Post Office.'

‘I wish that was true,' said Bridie. ‘It's three years since I've seen my brother Brandon. Sometimes I feel frightened that I wouldn't recognise him if he did come to the diggings. He'd be more than twelve years old. I don't even know what he looks like now. He wanted to go to America but I promised I'd bring him to Australia. I promised I'd send for him, but I don't even know how to find him, even if I had the fare. I sent him two letters from Melbourne but there was never any answer. He could be anywhere in Ireland, anywhere in the world.'

Tom reached over and touched her lightly on the arm. ‘Everyone is coming for the gold from all around the world. Maybe he stowed away on a ship or got himself a job as a cabin boy. He might be like the lads I came with. Teddy Raggan was only twelve. Maybe your brother will come to the diggings one day, Bridie, just as you have.'

Bridie tried to laugh, but the sound came out as a small broken sob.

‘I'll tell you what we'll do,' said Tom. ‘I'll put a sign up for you. You never know, you might get news of him, and even if he doesn't come himself, there are enough Paddys on the goldfield, one might be from your part of the country, one might have even been in the same workhouse as you.'

Back at camp, Tom pulled out his pen and ink again and read out each word as he wrote it in his elegant, curling handwriting.

‘
If this should meet the eye of Brandon O
'
Connor
who may have come to the goldfields from County Kerry,
Ireland, or any person from County Kerry who knows his
whereabouts, his sister, Miss Bridie O
'
Connor of the Star
Theatre Troupe, is most anxious to hear news of him.
'

They walked back along the dusty road to the post office and Tom nailed the note up alongside the raggedy older signs. Bridie touched the clean paper with her fingertips, tracing over her own and Brandon's names, the two words she clearly recognised.

‘It's hot as hell today, so of course the ink dries quickly,' said Tom, taking off his cap and wiping the sweat from his forehead.

‘Sometimes, when it gets this hot, I go up to the waterhole,' said Bridie.

‘You know somewhere good to bathe?' asked Tom, his eyes lighting up. ‘I thought the creek was too shallow or too filthy hereabouts. Will you take me there?'

Bridie led the way across the hot, golden ground and into the scrub. When they reached the waterhole, Bridie looked up at Tom. He was much taller than her, almost a man, and she was overcome with embarrassment.

‘I'll just sit and have a rest while you swim,' said Bridie.

Tom didn't argue with her. He threw off his shirt and untied his boots, but when it came to taking off his trousers, he blushed and then laughed at himself.

‘It's hot enough that my trousers will dry on the walk back,' he said, buttoning them up again. He dived into the waterhole, sending sprays of silver water up into the air. The bush was still and shimmering in the afternoon heat.

Bridie watched his red-brown hair and the white arc of his arms as he swam out into the heart of the deep waterhole. Then he turned and called to her, ‘Bridie O'Connor, you can't sit there in the burning sun. I promise, I'll not look at you, but you've got to come into the water.'

Bridie swallowed hard. There was nothing she wanted more. ‘You promise you'll keep your face turned away from me?' she called.

‘I promise!'

Bridie stripped down to her underclothes, shyly, all the time watching the back of Tom's head. The water had turned his hair a rich, dark mahogany. The bush was still, with only the echo of bird cries against the surface of the billabong.

Bridie dived into the cool water and gasped with pleasure. Her shift clung to her skin and her bloomers filled with water and billowed around her. She dived under and her hair swirled as she parted it with her hands. When she surfaced, Tom was watching her, grinning.

‘You promised to keep your back turned,' said Bridie, splashing water into his laughing face.

‘You'd not deny a man such a vision of loveliness as yourself.'

‘A lie on my soul if you're not the worst flatterer in the whole Colony, Tom Whiteley,' said Bridie. She tried to sound cross but the words came out full of warmth. Tom dived deep into the tea-brown water so she couldn't see him, but she felt the swish of his body as he moved past her underwater. He came back to the surface, spluttering. For a moment, he rested his hand lightly on her shoulder, as if to steady himself but Bridie felt the caress of his fingertips like fire on her bare skin. She turned quickly, and swam away from him, her shoulder tingling where he'd touched her. The water was like liquid silk against her skin and she opened her mouth, savouring its sweetness.

35

The living and the dead

Bridie worked late into the night, sewing furiously to finish everyone's costumes for the grand opening. The troupe had rehearsed the play countless times and Eddie Bones said that they would open on Friday night, but here it was Monday and there was still so much to do. When Bridie went to the store to buy more thread, Mr Pescott was happy to give it to her. A group of boys followed Bridie down the road, calling out questions.

‘Are you in the show, miss?' called one boy.

‘I betcha she's the Princess,' said another, elbowing his friend. ‘She's Tom Whiteley's girl.'

Bridie spun around on her heel and glared at them. ‘Off with you, you pack of half-wits,' she shouted. The boys laughed at her flash of temper, but they slowed their pace and let Bridie stride ahead. She couldn't help feeling a thrill of pleasure at what they'd said, even though she wondered how they could think she looked like a princess in her threadbare green dress, her hands red and raw from hard work. And who had told them she was ‘Tom Whiteley's girl'?

In the theatre, Freddy Wobbins and Tom were on stage, working through their lines, but they were constantly distracted by the argument Eddie Bones and Amaranta were having in the orchestra pit. Bridie stood at the theatre entrance with the princess costume in her arms, waiting for Amaranta to notice she was there.

‘But this
is
what you wanted,' shouted Eddie Bones. ‘We're back in the theatre, just as you insisted.'

‘Eddie, you told me that we would stage this show for no more than three months, and then you'd sell your interest in the Star and we'd both go back to Melbourne. Now I discover you've signed a one-year lease and commissioned some fool to build us a bark hut to live in! One year! What folly! I will not waste my life and ruin my chances in this dusty hellhole while you play the great man among the barbarians!'

Bridie wanted to cover her ears. After all the work they'd put into the theatre, she couldn't bear to hear Amaranta speaking ill of it. To Bridie, it was the most exciting place she'd ever seen. She didn't care about the rough bark walls or the dirt floor. She knew that the Star Theatre was a place of magic for all its shabbiness.

Bridie sent a worried frown in Tom's direction, wishing he would intervene, but he shrugged and shook his head. One by one the actors left the theatre, leaving Eddie and Amaranta to fight it out alone. Bridie took the costume back to the tent and laid it out lovingly on the red satin quilt, admiring her work. It was the finest thing she'd ever made in her life and she couldn't wait to see Amaranta wear it on opening night. It had taken Bridie countless hours to sew the dozens of layers of feather-white silk into place. On each fold of fabric was a cluster of tiny seed pearls and silver and white brocade gleamed on the bodice. Carefully she gathered up the dress and placed it in Amaranta's trunk, where it glowed like a fairy's gown. Bridie was sure that Amaranta would change her mind about Ballarat, once she'd worn the costume on opening night and seen how much everyone in the audience admired her. Maybe the show would be so successful that Eddie would be able to build a real house for them all to live in. Then Tom could write letters to help her find Brandon and she would save up the fare and send for him. The world seemed full of endless possibilities. She stepped out of the tent and sang to herself as she set about preparing the evening meal beneath a clear, bright afternoon sky.

The evenings were becoming icy. In the middle of the night, Bridie woke up feeling the chill against her face. There was a glow of light from the nearby tent. Bridie crawled outside and looked to see who could be awake at so late an hour. There were angry voices coming from Amaranta and Eddie's tent. Bridie was used to the sound of their muffled arguments but this time there was a third voice interwoven in the heated conversation. She lay in the dark, puzzled by the interplay of the voices. Suddenly there was the crack of a gunshot. Shivering, Bridie reached for a blanket, wrapped it around her shoulders and ran over to the big tent. Tom was standing by the entrance looking uncertain. ‘What's happened?' said Bridie. ‘Why are you just standing there?' She tore open the tent flap and rushed inside.

There was chaos everywhere. Everything had been swept from Amaranta's dresser and the big looking-glass was smashed in pieces on the dirt floor. Backed into one corner was Jacobus, with his hands in the air, and on the other side of the tent, Eddie Bones and Amaranta were struggling for possession of Eddie's silver pistol. Suddenly, the gun went off again. Bridie smelt the sharp tang of burning gunpowder. For a split second, everything in the tent, in the whole world, became absolutely still except for the gentle swish of Bridie's blanket falling onto the dirt floor. And then Bridie felt it. It was like being seared with a burning coal. She looked down and saw a flower of red spread across her nightgown. Everyone was staring at her and she couldn't think why. Bridie touched the red flower. Her hands came away wet with blood and then there was a strange high wailing sound that filled her ears, a cry from far away, like the cry of a banshee, and her legs gave way. The tent swirled around her and Tom reached out to catch her as she fell.