Page 89 of The Pearl Sister
‘Death makes saints of us all, doesn’t it?’ Drummond gave her a wry smile. ‘Anyway, now you’re well and the weather has improved, I’ll probably make tracks in the next day or so.’
‘Surely there’s more rain to come?’
‘Perhaps, but I don’t want to be under your feet any longer.’
‘Please stay until the weather is more settled,’ she begged, the thought of him leaving unbearable. She was sure it washisvoice that had called her back when she’d stood on the brink of death. ‘Charlie adores you.’
‘That’s kind of you to say so. And you?’
‘Mama! Uncle Drum!’ Charlie burst through the door. ‘Our hut is finished. Will you come and see it now?’
‘Of course.’ Kitty stood up, grateful her son had broken the moment.
They crowded into the tiny hut, drank tea and ate the iced buns that Tarik had made. They had the texture of bullets, but nobody minded.
‘Can we sleep in here tonight, Mama?’ Charlie begged.
‘Sorry, darling, but no. Cat sleeps with her mother, and you sleep in your bedroom.’
Charlie pouted as the adults rose and crouched down to leave the claustrophobic space.
That evening, Kitty took more time than normal to perform her toilette. Whether it was the way Drummond had nursed her, his voice pulling her back towards life, or the way he played so naturally with Charlie and Cat, she could deny it no longer. Dabbing her neck with a little perfume even though she knew it attracted mosquitoes, she stared at her reflection in the looking glass.
‘I love him,’ she told it. ‘God save me, I can’t help it.’
They ate dinner together that evening, Kitty’s hands shaking as she struggled through the three courses. Whether Drummond could feel the sudden electricity in the air, she had no idea. He ate well, enjoying a bottle of wine from a case that Andrew had had sent up from Adelaide. He seemed oblivious to the seismic shift inside her.
‘Might you pass me a small glass of the wine?’ she asked.
‘Do you think that’s wise?’ Drummond frowned at her request. ‘I hardly think it’s a good idea, given the delicate state of your health.’
‘Maybe not, but I wish to toast to the fact that I still have health to worry about, and am not lying in the morgue like poor Mrs Jefford.’
‘All right.’ He poured her a thimbleful.
‘A little more, if you please.’
‘Kitty . . .’
‘For God’s sake, I’m a grown woman! If I wish to take a glass of wine, I shall.’
‘I can see you’re better.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Back to your bossy ways.’
‘Am I bossy?’ she asked him.
‘It was a joke, Kitty. Most things I say are. What’s bitten you tonight? You’re as jumpy as an unbroken mare.’
Kitty took a sip of her wine. ‘I think that almost losing my life has . . . changed me.’
‘I see. How?’
‘I suppose I’ve realised how fleeting it can be.’
‘It can indeed. And here in this great new world of ours, more so than most other places.’
‘I will also confess that in the past I’ve doubted God’s existence, but that night I felt him. I felt his love.’
‘God’s oath!’ Drummond refilled his glass with wine. ‘You’ve had an epiphany. Will you soon be begging the local reverend to be the first female to take the cloth?’
