Chapter 19
The cicadas blasted their relentless call into the cool early evening like the pulse of a sleeping giant. The girls had swept inside and were chanting grace. Miss Barton presided over them although her lips never formed a single word. The yard was empty and Elanora wove stealthily to the laundry and slunk inside.
“Hello?”
“Good gracious me!” Sallyanne dropped her rag. “What’s wrong with you?”
It wasn’t quite the reception she expected and Elanora took a step back.
“No, I’m sorry, I mean to say, are you all right? You’re in such a state. Are you starving? Have you lost your clothes? What happened to you?” her English accent was clear now that she wasn’t speaking through clenched teeth. It was musical and warm.
“I guess I am a mess. I haven’t seen a mirror for a while.” Elanora grabbed at her matted plait. She screwed up her face. Her school uniform was worn thin, the hem had long since dropped and shredded. Her blouse was stained and she had used threads from her skirt to attach one side of it to the other in place of buttons. Her black leather shoes were scratched brown and she had no socks at all.
“Where are your parents?” Sallyanne asked.
“They’re not around anymore. They died and I ran away from where I was staying.” And that’s not altogether a lie, she thought.
“My parents passed away too,” Sallyanne said, taking Elanora’s hand warmly. “Maybe this is as good a place for you as any. At least you will have food and somewhere to sleep. But we have to get your name added to the list first. Maybe we could slip you into the new group of girls that’s arriving soon from Sydney without the matron noticing. It might work.”
The idea of slipping unnoticed into this world too, made Elanora grimace. “I’m sure that will work,” she said.
“I think it will be safest for you tonight to stay in here. After that, maybe you could use the old shed in the bush. No one ever goes there, but you seem to be perfectly brave when it comes to the bush,” she shuddered. “It’s really not very nice, but it will be safer than being caught by Miss Barton.”
“What was it you were in trouble for today, anyway?” Elanora asked.
“Every morning before breakfast we have chores. I was supposed to help prepare the copper for wash day. Sort the clothes, a hundred other things. But this morning I had a frightful headache that kept me awake all night. I told Miss Barton and asked to be excused. She allowed me an hour in the infirmary. The problem was that she’d left her book on the shelf in there and I couldn’t help myself. It’s been so long since I’ve even held a book that I took it and started to read. Even though my head was throbbing I read page after page, it was so good. And that was when Miss Barton came back in. She said that if I had a real headache I wouldn’t be able to read even the title so she called me a liar.”
“And stood you in front of the whole school for a telling off then she made you stand on a rock for the rest of the day! Have you had anything to eat?”
“One of the girls sneaked me some bread.”
“How’s your head now?”
Sallyanne smiled, “Not the best. I’ll be glad when I can get to bed. I’m sorry there’s no bed for you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I just need to get clean!”
They both giggled at the state of her. Quietly at first, then hysterically, clutching their stomachs gasping for air, erupting again when Elanora pointed at the threaded buttonholes or her rag edged skirt, or when she lifted up her mangled orange plait. Laughter bubbled in Elanora’s body like sudsy water, rinsing her clean and growing exponentially till it cascaded from her eyes in tears. Tears that streamed down her cheeks and reminded her of sadness. She teetered on the border of elation and misery. But at that moment Sallyanne embraced her in a tremendous hug, catching up one of Elanora’s dangling buttons in her hair, which led to another outbreak of giggling.
“Oh my hair,” Sallyanne said as they came apart, laughing. “I’m so glad you’re here, Elanora.”
“I think I am too,” she replied.
A corseted black shadow appeared at the threshold, rising until it obscured the last ray of sunlight from the mirthful pair. Sallyanne scrambled to her feet, head bowed. Elanora took longer to stand. The wait showed on Miss Barton’s face, which seemed to swell with the effort of containing her rage. She made several tilts of her head as if forcing down something thick, the way a goanna gulps at a rat.
“What is this?” she managed to regurgitate.
“I’m sorry, Miss. I saw all the girls today and hoped I might find a place to stay with you.”
“Do you know this creature, Milkthwaite?” She could barely bring herself to look at Elanora.
“No Miss Barton.”
“My name is Elanora Lacey, Miss.”
“Why are you not with your parents?” she asked, casting a scornful eye.
“My parents are dead, Miss. I haven’t got anywhere else to go.” Elanora hoped she wouldn’t have to supply too much detail as she didn’t think her brain was quite up to the challenge.
“I am Miss Barton to you and this is The Institute for the Betterment of Girls not a society for stray cats and homeless dogs. You don’t belong with us. We are a home for proper English girls, not for brazen natives.”
“My parents were English, Miss Barton. From London, actually. They died when I was very young and I was left with an Australian family. They were bad people so I ran away. I want to be with good English people.” She was sure she knew more about England than most girls in that era would, but about the England of the past? She guessed enough about this pompous battle-axe to know that her only chance lay in appealing to her patriotism.
Miss Barton gulped at another bulk in her throat and focused her bloated eyes on Elanora.
“I cannot abide red heads,” she said. “Flaming tempers and untamable natures.”
The revulsion on her face made Elanora flinch. She dipped her face, wanting to hide the comeback that formed on her lips but Miss Barton must have taken it for shame and been satisfied.
“Sleep in Milkthwaite’s bed tonight and in the morning you will earn your keep by helping with morning chores. After breakfast, though, I want you gone! I see something in you that I don’t much like the look of. As for you, Milkthwaite,” she said boring down on Sallyanne, “finish your chores then get this girl into something acceptable. And burn that filth she is wearing.” The shadow retracted.
Sallyanne leant back on the wall and let out a sigh, “I can’t believe it. She’s not usually that nice.”
“That was nice?”
“You’ve no idea,” said Sallyanne counting every one of her lucky stars that circled around her aching head.