Devotion(92)

‘Krinkri,’ they would say, and the others would pause in their work and straighten their necks, as though they were aware of being observed. As if they knew I was there, in their number, trying to remember what it was like to hunger.



In early summer I looked up from Thea’s side at the morning’s campfire to see my mother approaching, Hermine toddling at her side. My sister had grown, and while I still sometimes tried to attract her attention, tickling her feet with rushes from the creek or whispering her name in her ear, she no longer seemed to notice me. She had grown leaner, a little neck emerging from baby fat. I watched her bend clumsily and pick up a fragment of quartz from the ground and flushed with memory from the night of her birth.

Thea, in firelight, hand on mine.

‘Good morning,’ my mother said to Anna Maria.

‘Johanne.’

Mama turned, looking out at Thea’s flourishing vegetable patch. ‘I was speaking with Eleonore and Emile. They’re sending their girls down to Adelaide. Pastor Flügel told Elder Pasche there is a dearth of fresh vegetables amongst the English. The women at Neu Klemzig are now getting two or three shillings a cabbage head. I thought Thea might like to go down with them. You have so much produce already.’

‘As the moon swells, plant for above ground. When the moon wanes, plant all for below.’

‘When are they leaving?’ Thea asked.

Mama sat down at the campfire, pulling Hermine back from the embers. ‘Tomorrow evening,’ she replied. ‘Augusta and Elize are going, too.’ She cleared her throat. ‘And Christiana Radtke.’

I noticed Thea glance at Anna Maria.

‘Thea, if you all leave at midnight, you should reach the plains by morning. Then you can sell the vegetables and return with the money. It will be a full moon and light enough. You can follow the new track through the Tiers.’ She lifted Hermine onto her lap as the breeze shifted the smoke into her eyes. ‘I was hoping, Thea, that you might take something from my own garden for me. Until I am free to go myself, there being no other . . .’ She stopped short, lips pressed together.

Thea looked at Mama and something passed between them.

‘Of course you’ll go,’ Anna Maria said gently. She inclined her head at my mother. ‘How are you?’

Mama pulled down her headscarf, passing it to Hermine to play with. ‘Things are as good as can be expected. The new cow is yielding excellent milk.’ She smiled at Thea. ‘I have some butter I would like you to take. Pastor Flügel says it is like gold to the English.’

‘And Matthias? How is he?’

Mama raised her eyebrows. ‘He is well. The work, this land . . .’ She shrugged. ‘He thinks he is a man now. He wishes to marry. Start a family.’

My mouth slipped open and I fought a sudden rush of jealousy. Matthias? Already? He has a family. I had been his family. For so long we had shared everything, and for a moment I did not understand why he had not told me this himself.

‘Truly?’ Anna Maria looked surprised. ‘He works hard. I often see him.’

‘Thank you. He does.’ Mama looked down at Hermine sucking on the headscarf. ‘How quickly they grow.’

Matthias, you are leaving me behind. The thought filled me with sadness.

‘I think of Hanne all the time,’ Thea said quickly. ‘I am so sorry. I am so . . .’ She brought a hand to her cheek, eyes swimming.

My mother took a deep breath. ‘“For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.” I have been dwelling on this scripture. I pray on it.’ Then, as if afraid she had said too much, Mama stood and lifted Hermine onto her hip and left Thea and Anna Maria staring after her.


The next evening I followed Thea like a shadow. The young women were silent as they set out near midnight, neat braids wound over their heads, dark gowns covered with Sunday aprons, bare feet stepping noiselessly on the track.

Each bore a heavy basket or yoke on her back, and as the moon rose vast and orange in the sky, I listened to them breathe, falling in behind Thea as the track narrowed. The girls walked in single file up the slope away from the valley.

It was only when the glow of Heiligendorf ’s fires were hidden from view and the incline levelled out that the women began to talk.

‘Elize?’ Henriette tapped her on the shoulder.

‘Hm?’

‘What’s the stick for?’

Elize glanced behind her. ‘Reinhardt said we’re to be watchful of Tiersmen.’ She considered the heavy stick in her hand. ‘He made me take it.’

‘Tiersmen?’

‘Men living in the Tiers. The stringybark forest. He’s worked with them, sawing, stripping bark, out on the station, and says some are scoundrels.’

‘What do you mean, “scoundrels”?’ asked Augusta.

‘Convicts from the east. Escaped maybe. Released? I don’t know. But he saw one man’s back and it bore scars of flogging. He said they gamble and drink and live rough in the forest.’

‘You’re going to protect us all with a stick, then?’ Christiana’s voice piped out behind me. I turned and saw her peer into the dark bush on either side of the track. ‘Some use that will be.’