The Forgotten Pearl by Belinda Murrell Read Free Book Online Page A

for shepherd’s pie. Maude measured out a cup of sugar and added it to the bowl of flour, rolled oats and coconut. Poppy added golden syrup, water and bicarb soda to a saucepan of melted butter and stirred them together.
    â€˜Daisy, tell Maude the story of when you were a drover’s boy on the plains,’ urged Poppy, pouring the liquid into the bowl of ingredients and mixing them vigorously with a wooden spoon.
    Daisy laughed and shook her finger. ‘Don’t you ever get tired of that story, Miss Poppy?’
    â€˜No,’ she replied, handing the gooey wooden spoon to Charlie, who crowed and began licking eagerly. In an instant, his face was a sticky mask of caramel biscuit dough. Christabel hopped over and licked him on the face. Charlie giggled with delight.
    â€˜Please, Daisy?’ begged Maude with a beguiling smile, rolling the dough into balls between her fingers. Poppy flattened the balls with a fork and laid them on the baking tray.
    Daisy pulled the mince from the stove and sat at the table, a bowl full of potatoes in front of her. She began to peel them expertly with a sharp knife, her long fingers flying.
    â€˜Before I came to work with Doctor and Missus Trehearne I was a drover’s boy,’ began Daisy with a shy smile. ‘You see, I’m not originally from the bush – I was born on Never-Never Downs, a big cattle station down south. My mum and aunties worked in the kitchens at the homestead, and my dad was a stockman with all the other fellas. I had a great childhood, running wild and playing with the other kids.
    â€˜Gran taught us how to track goannas and find sugar bag – you know, bush honey – and discover water in the bush. She taught me how to find my way home from anywhere in our country, just by asking the birds.’
    Daisy scraped the potato peelings in the chook pail and started chopping the spuds into chunks.
    â€˜When I was fifteen, I fell in love with one of the drovers, a white man called Charlie, and he asked me tocome mustering with him. Those drovers worked hard, moving the cattle over hundreds of miles, following the feed and water, or taking them to market. They might be gone for months.
    â€˜Well, girls weren’t allowed to be drovers, but I wanted to be with Charlie. So I cut my hair short, dressed in a chambray shirt and moleskins, and told everyone my name was Jackie.
    â€˜I became a drover’s boy. For the next two years we drove those bullocks up and down the country, sleeping under the stars by the campfire and riding the horses all day. I cooked and scrubbed, branded cattle and mended tack. It was hard work but a good life.’
    Daisy scraped the potato into a pot of boiling water.
    â€˜As I grew older, it became harder to pretend to be a boy. I wore a scarf bound around my chest to hide my sex.’
    Daisy started stripping thyme leaves from a twig with her fingertips. Charlie junior put his arms up for a cuddle. Daisy swept him up in her arms and kissed the top of his dusky curls.
    â€˜One day, I started feeling sick. I could feel the spirit of a little piccaninny growing inside me. When Charlie found out, he was scared he’d get in trouble with the boss. He sent me to the missionary and told me not to come back or it would cause him big problems. When my time came, little Charlie didn’t want to come out into the big, sad world. The missionary’s wife helped me, but still Charlie didn’t want to be born.
    â€˜Finally, they called the doctor to come flying down. Doctor Trehearne and Missus Trehearne came on theplane to help. Missus Trehearne talked to baby Charlie and told him everything would be all right, it was safe to come out. Charlie fought for a while, but then he turned around and came out, meek as a lamb.’
    The thyme was scraped in with the mince, then Daisy began finely grating a block of cheese. Charlie licked the crumbs from his fingertips.
    â€˜Missus Trehearne was so kind