Ironbark (30 page)

‘The blighter's jolly hard to track down. Perhaps the two Smiths were related given their common vagabond origin?'

She forced a smile. ‘I understand many Romanies are transported to the colony.'

His tone was conspiratorial. ‘England's riddance, what?'

After his departure Keziah leaned against the door taking in large gulps of air, wondering if her performance had convinced him.

‘God damn your
gaujo
eyes, Kenwood!' One thought consoled her. Gem was free and close by.

Through the window she saw Trooper Kenwood dismount at Joseph Bloom's homestead. She was alarmed by the realisation of her mistake. She had automatically said ‘Romani' to correct Kenwood's word ‘Gypsy' in common usage by
gaujos
. Had Kenwood noticed?

• • •

Keziah's anxiety grew after finding under her door a hand-written invitation to afternoon tea at Joseph Bloom's house after school. Was this connected with Kenwood's investigation? Or a pretext to be alone with her? Despite his kindly solution to the problem of keeping Big Bruce MacAlister in school, Keziah still remained cautious around Joseph Bloom.

His house was unusual. In contrast to the standard separation between cookhouse and living quarters to contain any outbreak of fire, his
two
separate kitchens were a source of much speculation in the village. Local women didn't know the reason so gossip invented one. Keziah had overheard the claim that Mrs Rachael, Bloom's housekeeper, needed two because she kept burning pots and pans, that Mrs Rachael failed Bloom in the kitchen but pleased him in the bedroom! Their laughter was knowing, not vicious, as this type of arrangement was what assigned women could expect from a lonely master.

Keziah had discovered the truth. Mrs Rachael, a Polish Jewess transported from London's East End, kept a kosher household. One kitchen was for kosher meat brought from Goulburn, the other for dairy foods.

Keziah paused before Joseph Bloom's door. Attached to the doorframe was a small silver cylinder inscribed with an odd letter. She had seen similar
mezuzahs
in Liverpool and Chester, and knew it contained
holy words on a tiny scroll. Right now she really could use a blessing!

Ushered into the sitting room by Mrs Rachael, Keziah had time to observe the housekeeper – a sedate matron so spick and span her white apron looked as if it would recoil from the mere suggestion of a stain. Despite the woman's age, Keziah knew how loneliness attracts strange bedfellows and instinct told her that Mr Bloom was a lonely young man.

Guest and host faced each other on throne-like chairs. Keziah was glad she had dressed in Saranna's formal travelling outfit that she had re-tailored to fit her. Joseph Bloom wore a conservative English frock-coat with pinstriped trousers and a gold watch chain looped across his waistcoat. His black cap looked to Keziah like a velvet tea-cosy.

Loud noises came from one of Mrs Rachael's kitchens. Keziah wondered if the woman was making her presence felt as chaperone or as a jealous mistress?

When Joseph Bloom left the room Keziah studied the bookcase. Some titles were in a language she presumed was German, others were written in an unknown alphabet. Alarmed by the title,
Famous British Murder Trials
, Keziah felt a wave of nausea as she had a vision.
Joseph Bloom was in a courtroom wearing a barrister's wig. A red-robed judge sat before the British coat of arms.

On her host's return Keziah turned her attention to an exquisite silver seven-branched candlestick. Noting her interest he was happy to explain what it was.

‘This menorah is my most valued possession, inherited from my father Yitzhak Blum of Blessed Memory. A trader in old clothes, he saved for me to study Talmud at the yeshiva in Worms to become a rabbi. I regret I disappointed him. I chose to be a lawyer.'

‘You decided not to practise law in the colony, Mr Bloom?'

He explained that it was not permitted for those of the Hebrew persuasion to practise law in the German lands. After his father's death he went to London to work for his Uncle Shmuel, who gained
permission for him to study British law. After being called to the Bar his health had deteriorated.

‘The London winters?' He shrugged philosophically. ‘Ironbark's healthy climate healed my lungs. But perhaps I was never meant to practise law?'

‘Yes, you are! The colony needs your gifts!' Keziah said this with such conviction that it startled them both. She added hastily, ‘If you should so decide.'

Invited to discuss her pupils' progress she felt on safer ground.

‘Even the youngest children recite their alphabet with confidence and can write their names. Winnie had trouble learning to read but she has a wonderful gift for drawing. She sees everything in pictures. So I invented a special alphabet made up of little stick figures.'

‘How does that work?' he asked politely.

She jumped to her feet to enact it. ‘The letter M is two boys facing each other and shaking hands. T is a scarecrow. P is a fat man with a puffed-out chest.'

Joseph Bloom's smile made him look quite boyish. Encouraged, Keziah rushed on.

‘The older children write and illustrate their own book. They pool their talents on each chapter, free to write about the world around them or soar off on a flight of fancy. I gave the final chapter to a Catholic and a Protestant who always squabble. Now they must pull together to write it.' She paused, suddenly serious. ‘Am I talking too much?'

‘Not at all. Your enthusiasm is most refreshing.'

Keziah continued on. ‘I am concerned about Big Bruce MacAlister. He will soon need to study at a higher level than I can teach him. He needs to study Latin, science or law.'

‘I share your concern. I am working on a way he can be granted a scholarship to attend a senior school, yet still allow his mother to survive comfortably on her farm.'

Keziah clapped her hands. ‘How clever of you.'

He looked pleased but changed the subject. ‘How do the children spend their leisure?'

‘Leapfrog, races. Their favourite game is “Bushrangers and Troopers”. I
was
disturbed to discover troopers literally flogging little Davey Collins for his crimes as a bushranger.'

‘Children reflect the adult world. May I ask how you dealt with this problem?'

‘I suggested the bushrangers challenge the troopers to a game of cricket.' She gave him a sidelong smile. ‘The bushrangers won by three wickets.'

‘What an ingenious solution. Despite my British citizenship cricket remains one of life's mysteries to me but it is an excellent way to teach children fair play.'

Just as Keziah was beginning to relax, his next question unnerved her. Did she believe in coincidences? Keziah tried to give a neutral response but Joseph Bloom was gazing into the middle distance as if he had half forgotten her presence as he explained the reason for his question.

Yesterday he had been reading the passage from the Book of Job, ‘Nowhere in the land were women as beautiful as Job's daughters'. One of whom was
Keziah
. Then Trooper Kenwood had arrived to question him about the coach tragedy victim, Keziah Smith.

‘The same girl Jakob Andersen said Caleb Morgan was pursuing, you remember when I passed on Jakob Andersen's letter to you?'

Keziah felt the blood drain from her face.
How on earth could I ever forget!
‘Keziah Smith was my fellow passenger. I told Trooper Kenwood all I knew. Is there a problem?'

‘No. I just thought you might be interested in the
coincidence
.'

Keziah felt a sense of relief when her host left the room again to ask Mrs Rachael to serve tea.

Left alone Keziah desperately tried to predict Joseph Bloom's next move. First Jake, now Kenwood. Pure coincidence? No! Joseph Bloom
had linked her to Keziah Smith! Lawyers were clever, tricky by nature. How could she hope to hoodwink him? Would he expose her? Or invite her to share his bed as the price of his silence?

She pressed her fingertips to her temples convinced that the life at Ironbark Farm she had built for Gabriel was going to be shattered.
Why am I always fated to run away?

Joseph Bloom returned with Mrs Rachael carrying a silver tea service and rich cakes. He cast Keziah a searching look but his request for her to pour tea appeared to be innocent.

Keziah poured it in her best Saranna Plews style. Again she was caught off guard.

‘I should imagine, Miss Plews, that as a teacher you are interested in history?'

She teetered on the verge of panic. Her grasp of history was elementary. What if he asked her about King Canute or that awful King Henry who chopped off his wives' heads?

Joseph Bloom seemed content to question himself. ‘What exactly
is
history? Records by historians to flatter their rulers and patrons? Or is it what
ordinary
folk experience when their world veers off its axis?'

Keziah thankfully accepted an almond cake to avoid replying.

‘Women are the hidden characters in European history,' he reflected. ‘Apart from royalty, wives of famous men and, forgive me, courtesans, their role is seldom recognised.'

Keziah tried to assume an intelligent expression but her thoughts were in chaos.
Courtesans!
Where was all this leading? His bedroom?
If Gem found me in a compromised situation he would shoot to kill and ask questions later!

Joseph Bloom continued on blithely. ‘And yet women by nature are enormously influential in building communities and achieving change. We Jews are fond of the quotation, “a woman of valour's worth is above rubies”.'

He offered her another cake. ‘It seems to me you ladies are the
spaces
between the lines
of the historical events recorded by the male of the species.'

Keziah was out of her depth. Did he expect her to say something? Was this a trap? He opened a book that had the title
A History of the Romani Tribes of Europe
. Keziah choked on her tea.

‘The Romanies are a nomadic people that a lazy world labels Gypsies. We Jews are known as the People of the Book. Romani people are sometimes called the Brothers of the Wind. Both our peoples have parallel experiences of persecution. Both forced to flee from country to country across Europe.'

He appeared unaware of her reaction. ‘At different times my people were granted refuge by enlightened or mercenary rulers but later made scapegoats, the subject of false libels. In medieval Spain we were given three choices. Flee, enforced conversion or be slaughtered.'

Despite Keziah's trepidation she was fascinated by the parallels he was drawing.

Joseph Bloom continued. ‘The Romanies possess an extraordinary life force. Despite persecution they retained their nomadic way of life down through the ages. No host nation ever destroyed their soul.'

He placed the book on the table. ‘You may care to read it. In my opinion Jews and Romanies are heroes in the art of survival. Why? I suspect we have three traits in common. We cling to our own relationship with our Creator but do not force our beliefs on others. We greatly respect animals and the natural world. We
love and protect our children
.'

Keziah looked into his eyes and at last understood the message behind his words.

When he enquired about her foster son, Keziah was happy to sing Gabriel's praises.

She decided the timing was perfect. ‘Is there some way I can formally adopt him?'

‘There is nothing so secure as a legally binding piece of paper. Leave
that to me. I will arrange for you to sign the legal documents,' Joseph Bloom offered. He poured wine into two thimble-sized glasses. ‘You are a teacher of great value to our community. In Hebrew we toast to life.
L'chaim!
'

Keziah gave him her most glorious smile and repeated the toast. The wine tasted even sweeter mixed with her sense of relief. She left his house, light of heart and convinced Joseph Bloom was to be trusted. Both came from tribes that had suffered at the hands of
gaujos
.

• • •

That night as she bathed Gabriel by the fire, Keziah was startled by an image in the dancing blue flames – Gem being pursued by the traps! Was this the future or was he in danger right now?

She was suddenly aware that Gabriel was crying, trying to bring her back to him.

Forcing herself to block out that frightening fragment of time she cuddled him in her arms.

‘Forgive your mama, Gabriel. I was so slow to love you but you are teaching me to be a good mother. I'll make it up to you, I promise.'

That night she tossed and turned trying to sleep. She knew that Gem was the love of her life. So why did the image of Jake Andersen keep intruding into her thoughts?

June 1838 – November 1841

God does not pay at the end of every week. But he pays.

Anne of Austria to Cardinal Mazarin

Gabriel lay in his cot happily singing himself to sleep, as was his habit. Keziah settled down by the fire with the latest newspapers.

She was startled to read in
The Sydney Herald
that an expedition had been mounted to search for the fabled Inland Sea. One particular line leapt right off the page.
‘The leader of the forthcoming expedition is an Englishman new to the colony, Mr Caleb Morgan, son of John Morgan of Lancashire, a gentleman said to be well known to Governor Gipps.'

Mi-duvel! Caleb's still here!
With no one to share her fury she was overcome by frustration. Grabbing the nearest object she ran outside and hurled the boot at a tree. Too late she saw that the tree harboured an innocent family of cockatoos – who squawked in high-pitched outrage as they abandoned their refuge in full flight.