Page 30 of The Pearl Sister
‘Your father is such an inspiration to me, Miss McBride, and I’m sure to you too.’
‘Of course,’ lied Kitty as she sipped the Earl Grey tea from a delicate china cup. They were sitting in the large overheated drawing room of a grand house in St Andrew Square, one of the most sought-after addresses in Edinburgh. The room was stuffed with more elegant objects than she’d seen in Miss Anderson’s fancy goods emporium. A display cabinet lined one wall, cluttered with statuettes of cherubs, Chinese vases and decorative plates. A chandelier dripping with crystals bathed everything in a soft light which gleamed off the polished mahogany furniture. Mrs McCrombie was obviously not one to hide her wealth.
‘So devoted to his flock and denying both himself and his family all the advantages that your mother’s birthright could have given him.’
‘Yes,’ Kitty replied automatically. Then, looking at the glazed eyes of her soon-to-be employer, she decided that the older woman looked like a young girl in love. She also noticed the large amounts of face powder Mrs McCrombie had caked on her skin and thought about how much it must cost to cover the many lines that wriggled their way across her face. The high colour of her cheeks and her nose spoke of too many drams of whisky.
‘Miss McBride?’ Kitty realised Mrs McCrombie was still speaking to her.
‘I do beg your forgiveness. I was just looking at that rather marvellous painting,’ Kitty improvised, pointing out a drab and miserable depiction of Jesus carrying the cross on his shoulders to Calvary.
‘That was painted by Rupert, my beloved son, God rest his soul. Just before he went off to the Boer War and ended up in Jesus’s arms. Almost as if he knew . . .’ Then she beamed warmly at Kitty. ‘You obviously have an eye for art.’
‘I certainly enjoy things of beauty,’ Kitty responded, only relieved she’d managed to say the right thing.
‘Then that is to your credit, my dear, given there have been so few of them around you during your childhood, due to your dear father’s sacrifice. At least it will have prepared you for what we may find in Adelaide. Even though my sister assures me they have every modern convenience I myself enjoy here in Edinburgh, I can hardly believe that such a new country can compete with a culture of centuries.’
‘I will indeed be interested to see Adelaide.’
‘And I will not,’ Mrs McCrombie said firmly. ‘However, I feel it is my duty to visit my sister and my young nephews at least once before I die. And as they seem disinclined to come here, I must journey there.’ Mrs McCrombie gave a mournful sigh as Kitty sipped her tea. ‘The journey will take at least a month aboard theOrient,a ship which my sister Edith assures me provides every comfort. However . . .’
‘Yes, Mrs McCrombie?’
‘If you accompany me, there will be no fraternising with young men aboard ship. No carousing, or attending any of the dances in the lower-class lounges. You will share a berth with one other young lady and you will be available to me at all times. Is that understood?’
‘Completely.’
‘My sister has also warned me that even though it is winter here, it will be summer there. I have a seamstress sewing me a number of muslin and cotton gowns and I suggest you source similar attire for yourself. In essence, the weather will be hot.’
‘Yes, Mrs McCrombie.’
‘I am sure you know that you are awfully pretty, my dear. I hope you won’t be one of those gels who swoons at the mere glance of a man.’
‘I have never thought of myself as such,’ said Kitty, seeing her freckled complexion in her mind’s eye, ‘but I assure you that I will not. After all, my father is a minister in the Church and I have been taught modesty.’
‘Your father tells me that you can sew and mend? And know how to pin up hair?’
‘I fashion my mother’s and my sisters’,’ Kitty lied, thinking she might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. She was going to Australia, and that was that.
‘Do you get sick often?’ Mrs McCrombie raised her eyeglass to study Kitty more closely.
‘My mother tells me I survived diphtheria and measles, and I rarely get a cold.’
‘I hardly think that that will be our greatest concern in Australia, although of course I will pack some camphor oil for my chest. Well now, there is little more to discuss. We shall meet again on the thirteenth of November.’ Mrs McCrombie rose and offered her hand. ‘Good day to you, Miss McBride. We shall cross the oceans together with a sense of adventure.’
‘We will. Goodbye, Mrs McCrombie.’
* * *
Kitty spent the following two weeks preparing the small trunk that had been bought for her by her father. The fact she was following in Darwin’s footsteps so soon after reading his books seemed positively surreal. Perhaps she should be frightened: after all, she had read enough in his books to know that the natives in Australia were extremely hostile towards the white man and cannibalism had even been rumoured. She doubted Mrs McCrombie would venture anywhere near where that kind of thing would happen, especially as any native who cooked her in his pot would have a decent meal for his extended family.
The house grew quiet as she worked into the night on her sewing machine, fashioning simple gowns which she hoped would be suitable in the heat. And at least the activity gave her a focus that blunted the gnawing in her stomach every time she thought about Annie and her father. She knew she had one last thing to do before she left.
* * *
The morning of her departure, Kitty woke before dawn and hurried out of the house before anyone saw her. Walking down the alley that led towards the docks, she tried to calm herself by taking in the sights and sounds of Leith for the last time. It was the only home she had ever known in all of her eighteen years and it would be what seemed like a lifetime before she saw it again.
She arrived at Annie’s door, drew in a deep breath and knocked cautiously. Eventually, the door was opened and Annie appeared, dressed in a threadbare smock and apron. Her eyes travelled briefly over Kitty’s face, before she silently stood aside to let her pass.
