Cry of the Rain Bird: A mesmerising Australian saga of love, intrigue and betrayal by Patricia Shaw

Author:Patricia Shaw [Shaw, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780755389612
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2011-10-26T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Jessie tried to tell herself that she was being patient, even wise, overlooking Corby’s infatuation with her sister. She was still hoping that she was misinterpreting all the signs. But she knew in her heart that her motive for not objecting was far from noble. It was sheer cowardice. She quaked at the thought of confronting them, meeting with lies. Or worse, the blatant truth.

‘Which would you prefer?’ she asked herself with grim humour as she tramped back from the hospital. ‘Or maybe that’s the question I should ask Corby. Whom do you prefer? You wretched man.’

This morning, despite Mr Devlin’s frantic efforts, a man had died of snakebite. He had been in agony but he hadn’t made a sound, he’d just lain there, his face contorted with the pain as Jessie sat with him, despairing. She’d never felt so helpless. All she could do was swab him with cool damp cloths, hoping to reduce the fever, while the island women stood by in tears. And then he was dead, in this strange place, far from his home.

She had managed to make some improvements. The hospital now had its own rain water tank and kitchen and a supply of real towels and bandages, but the Kanakas had resisted her suggestion of enclosing the building with walls to keep out vermin.

‘They don’t like being shut in,’ Devlin explained. ‘It’s hard enough keeping them in here; the concept of a hospital terrifies them. But you do a good job cheering them up, they’re very impressed that you come to visit them, it makes them feel safer.’

‘Thank you,’ Jessie said, grateful for the small compliment. ‘I was beginning to wonder if I was any use to them.’

‘My word, you are. They’re all very fond of you.’

Remembering that conversation now, she was angry with herself. She’d almost retorted: ‘I’m glad someone is.’

‘You’re full of self-pity lately,’ she muttered, clinging to her hood as a squall buffeted the trees along the track. ‘A man died only an hour ago and you’ve almost forgotten him, too intent on your own trivial worries.’

She began to pray for him, feeling he was entitled to her attention, and by the time she approached the house her depression had lifted. She should count her blessings, she decided. A healthy child, a good home, and company of sweet people of various interesting races. Should she ask for more?

‘Indeed I should. I can,’ she argued as she mounted the front steps. ‘Enough is enough. And if not, I have to leave.’

But once again, it was not the time. Elly came racing out to meet her, crying hysterically.

Jessie’s first thought was for Bronte. ‘What’s happened? Is the baby all right?’

‘Oh yes, missus. Baby good. But Joseph, he in bad at that other place. White men goan kill Joseph!’

Elly had made no secret about being madly in love with Joseph, which at first had amused Jessie. Lately, though, it had become irritating, with the girl mooning about lovesick and miserable in his absence.

She grabbed Jessie’s hand.

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