The Forgotten Pearl (2 page)

1

The House at Myilly Point

Darwin, October 1941

Poppy was sprawled along a branch of the old mango tree, her back against the gnarled grey trunk, reading a book. From the house she was completely invisible, cloaked by the thick, green leaves. Flopped at the base of the tree among the tangled roots lay her dog, Honey, tongue panting in the heat.

A piercing scream broke the muggy stillness. It stopped and then started again, louder than before.

Poppy looked up then dropped from the tree, lithe as a possum, to the muddy ground below.

‘Poppy! Poppy! Where are you?' called her mother's voice. ‘Come quickly.'

Poppy flew across the garden, along the verandah and into the drawing room, her curly black hair flying and her dress rumpled.

A middle-aged woman, her face red and perspiring, stood on the sofa, clutching a girl to her chest. The woman continued to scream at the top of her voice, her hair seemingly electrified with fear. The girl was frozen in horror, her mouth agape – but this might have been due to lack of oxygen because she was being squeezed so tightly.

Poppy glanced over at her mother, intrigued by the commotion.

Cecilia Trehearne was making low, soothing noises, trying to coax her guests down from their perch. ‘There, there, Mrs Tibbets – it's nothing to be frightened of.'

She gestured at Poppy. ‘It's Basil. He's under the sofa.'

Poppy repressed a grin and dropped to her knees, groping under the furniture. She slowly withdrew her arm, entwined with a thick, golden-green snake about two metres long, marked with striking black-and-white diamonds. She draped the heavy body around her neck, holding the snake's head in her palm, gently stroking his scaly skin. Mrs Tibbets screamed louder.

‘You really shouldn't scream,' Poppy told Mrs Tibbets. ‘Basil is lovely but he has a nasty bite if he gets upset.'

The woman stopped hurriedly, staring transfixed at the huge snake.

‘Why don't you put Basil back outside, Poppy?' suggested Cecilia softly. ‘And bring in some tea for Mrs Tibbets and Maude. Daisy should have it nearly ready. And I think you must have been just on your way to get changed?'

Poppy smiled – the humour of the scene in the sitting room just a few moments ago was too much to resist. She was grateful to her mother, giving her a chance to escape just so she could have a hearty chuckle on the way to the kitchen.

When Poppy returned a few minutes later, her face suitably composed and bearing the heavy tea tray, Mrs Tibbets was sitting on the sofa, huffing slightly, with Maude close beside her. Poppy set the tea tray down in front of her mother.

‘Thank you, darling,' her mother said, lifting the china teapot and pouring out a cup. ‘Mrs Tibbets, this is my daughter Poppy. I think she's about the same age as your daughter Maude, so perhaps they'll enjoy spending some time together while you are in Darwin. Poppy, the Tibbets have just moved in next door. I did
remind
you they were coming for tea.'

Mrs Tibbets glanced over Poppy, noting the hastily brushed curls, the fresh blue dress and streak of mud on the back of her calf.

Poppy plopped down onto a footstool, smiling at Maude. Maude smiled back rather shyly.

‘What was that
thing
?' demanded Mrs Tibbets, fanning herself with her gloves.

‘That's Basil, my pet diamond python,' explained Poppy. ‘He's lovely. He lives in the rafters of the verandah and eats all the mice and rats and tree frogs, although I don't really like him eating the frogs. He usually only comes out at night, but perhaps something disturbed him.'

‘Is he really your pet?' asked Maude, peeking up from under her eyelashes.

‘Yes, he comes when I drum on the verandah post – well, sometimes. He's really very affectionate, although he doesn't like strangers.'

Mrs Tibbets shuddered at the memory.

‘Poppy has quite an unusual menagerie of pets,' Cecilia explained, passing a teacup to Mrs Tibbets, then one to Maude. ‘She can show you some of them after tea if you like, Maude. So, how are you enjoying Darwin so far, Mrs Tibbets?'

‘It's unbearably hot – and the humidity! Not to mention the mosquitoes and sandflies!' Mrs Tibbets huffed again, delicately mopping her brow. ‘I worry about Maude because she has such a delicate constitution. The tropical climate is not suited to her at all, but her father wouldn't listen to me. He insisted we all come up to Darwin with him. I just hope it's not the death of one of us.'

Cecilia nodded politely, passing over a plate of egg sandwiches. Poppy squirmed.

‘Sandwich? The eggs are from our own chickens,' offered Cecilia. ‘It's the start of the wet season, but you do get used to it. And you came up from Sydney? My eldest daughter, Phoebe, is training to be a nurse down in Sydney. She says spirits are generally high down there, despite the war.'

Poppy jiggled her knee, nearly upsetting the half-full teacup.

‘Thank you. The sea journey was dreadful, simply dreadful . . .' Mrs Tibbets replied, helping herself to a dainty finger sandwich. ‘And we do miss our friends in Sydney. I am also frightfully concerned about Maude's education – she has no hope of a decent schooling up
here. How is it possible there is not even
one
high school in Darwin? But her father insisted it wouldn't hurt her for a few months.'

Cecilia poured some more tea. ‘I'm sure Maude will learn lots up here. Perhaps she could join Poppy for some of her lessons?'

Mrs Tibbets studied Poppy carefully. Poppy had the feeling that Mrs Tibbets found her wanting compared to Maude's sophisticated friends in Sydney.

‘I'm surprised you haven't sent your daughter down south to boarding school,' said Mrs Tibbets.

Cecilia glanced fondly at Poppy. ‘Edward and Phoebe went to boarding school in Adelaide,' she explained. ‘Bryony went for a while but she absolutely hated it. We decided the younger children should attend school here, and we've employed a governess to teach them for the last year or so.

‘Now, Poppy, why don't you take Maude and show her your room and some of the animals?'

Poppy leapt to her feet with relief.

‘Come on, Maude,' invited Poppy with a generous smile. ‘I have two orphan baby possums that I'm rearing at the moment, and my dog, Honey, and the most beautiful little wallaby called Christabel. She lives in a sugar sack on the kitchen door . . . And there are the chooks and a cat and two pet tortoises named Tabitha and Tobias . . .'

Maude stood up, smoothing out her flared skirt. She was dressed in the height of fashion – a white cotton dress with short puffed sleeves, fitted bodice, a simple ruffle at the neckline, short socks and patent-leather Mary Jane shoes.

‘Is that all right, Mother?' she asked.

Mrs Tibbets wrinkled her brow doubtfully. ‘Perhaps you'd better stay here, Maude. You know you're allergic to cats. And that snake looked positively evil –'

‘Basil is perfectly harmless, and I'm sure the girls would enjoy some fresh air,' Cecilia assured her. ‘Poppy will look after her.'

Maude escaped after Poppy, before her mother could say more.

Poppy led the way out onto the deep verandah, which wrapped completely around the large white timber house. The house was set up high to catch the sea breezes, and she paused to look out over the view. It never ceased to make her catch her breath in awe at its beauty.

The Trehearne house sat on Myilly Point, just north of Darwin township, with views north-west over the turquoise Arafura Sea and east to the white sand and breakers of palm-fringed Mindil Beach. The garden was filled with bougainvillea and frangipanis, banana and paw-paw trees, and lush tropical plants, which grew so quickly that it was a losing battle to keep them tamed.

Poppy set off around the corner, leading the way towards the back of the house, chattering to Maude. Maude caught a glimpse of various spacious rooms through the windows – the sitting room, dining room and bedrooms – all stirred by the lazy whir of ceiling fans.

‘That's my room – I share it with my sister Bryony. She's sixteen,' whispered Poppy. Maude peeked through the window. One half of the room was spotlessly tidy; the other half was cluttered with overflowing baskets and tottering towers of books. A girl sat at the dressing table, carefully applying crimson lipstick. Her black hair was
meticulously curled, and she wore a fashionable navy dress with padded shoulders and a nipped-in waist.

‘She looks like a film star,' Maude sighed, flicking her fringe out of her eyes.

‘She tries!' replied Poppy, rolling her eyes. ‘She's sweet on a young officer named George, who's started hanging around the house like a bad smell. She's turned completely dopey. He's always asking her to dances and picnics and the cinema, but Mum and Dad are quite strict.'

Poppy slid her fingers under the partially opened window and opened it a crack.

‘You'll catch it if Dad sees you wearing bright-red lipstick like that!' Poppy called through the opening.

Bryony did not deign to answer, preferring to throw Poppy's pillow at the window instead.

Poppy continued along the verandah with Maude.

‘My brother, Edward, ran away to be a soldier – he's only nineteen, and Mum and Dad didn't want him to join up. Dad was furious when he received the letter, but by then it was too late.'

A small white-and-caramel dog bounded up and began licking Poppy vigorously, tail wagging. Maude held out her hand to be sniffed.

‘This is Honey.' Poppy stroked the dog's head. ‘Isn't she beautiful? Watch – she can do tricks.' Poppy clicked her fingers and Honey jumped up on her hind legs. Poppy made a circular motion with her hand and Honey twirled around, pirouetting daintily.

‘Oh, she's gorgeous,' cried Maude. ‘How did she learn to do that?'

Poppy lowered her hand and Honey dropped, then sat up and begged. Poppy laughed, fished a dried biscuit from her pocket and fed it to Honey.

‘I trained her. She can dance on her hind legs, roll over, play dead, beg and fetch, although Daisy says she drives her crazy constantly begging for snacks in the kitchen. I've had her since she was a tiny puppy. She loves to come everywhere with me.'

‘Would she do it for me?' asked Maude.

‘Maybe – give it a try.'

Maude copied Poppy's gestures but Honey ignored her.

Poppy laughed. ‘She'll take her time to get to know you. Come on.'

Poppy and Maude continued walking along the verandah towards the back of the house.

‘We have to be careful with our animals. Dad's last dog, Poncho, was eaten by a crocodile.'

‘Nooo,' exclaimed Maude. ‘You're teasing me!'

‘True as anything,' Poppy retorted. She spat on her palm and crossed her heart. ‘The butcher's horse was badly mauled drinking at the creek just a couple of weeks ago. It had to be shot. Sometimes they get people, too. Dad used to bring his shotgun down to the beach when we went swimming, just in case.

‘They normally stay in the rivers and estuaries, but sometimes they swim out to sea for miles. Once, a huge croc tipped over Dad's boat while he was fishing. Dad thought he was going to be croc dinner, but the stupid reptile ate Dad's canvas tackle bag instead – Dad says he's never swum so fast in his life.'

Maude looked sceptical but didn't argue.

‘The bag probably stank to high heaven of rotten fish!' suggested Poppy, pinching her nose comically.

Poppy clattered down the verandah steps towards the garden, Honey at her heels. At the very back of the house, at ground level, was a smaller stone outhouse, including kitchen, storerooms and laundry. The building was attached to the main house by a covered walkway.

‘There's Basil,' said Poppy, pointing up into the rafters at a large golden-green coil. ‘And here's Christabel.'

A bulging hessian sack hung from the kitchen doorknob. Poppy scooped inside and brought out an armful of soft, grey fur, curled in a ball.

Maude tentatively stroked the fur. Christabel's ears flickered back and forth, but she kept her eyes firmly shut.

‘Would you like to feed her?'

‘Yes, please.' Maude's eyes shone.

Poppy pushed her way into the kitchen, where a young Aboriginal woman was peeling potatoes at the kitchen sink. A dark-skinned child played at her feet, springing a peel of potato skin up and down. He stared solemnly at Maude through thick-lashed chocolate eyes.

‘Thanks for the sandwiches, Daisy – they were delicious.'

Daisy smiled back, her teeth startlingly white against her dark skin. ‘A pleasure, Miss Poppy. I know how hungry you get.'

‘Daisy, this is Maude, our new neighbour,' Poppy said, fetching a baby bottle of milk from the refrigerator. ‘And this is Daisy's son, Charlie.'

Poppy bent down and tickled the child on his tummy. Charlie squealed with delight and raised his arms. ‘Charlie up,' he demanded. Poppy obliged, swooping him off his feet.