Kitty Read online

  Kitty straightened the sleeve of her dress. Mollycoddled, did he say?

  ‘Of course,’ she said, suddenly just as reasonable. ‘Thank you for your help, Captain, I am most grateful.’

  He nodded and added impassively, ‘And take your boots off—you’ve been sick on them.’

  Kitty removed her boots, turned on her stockinged heel and went back into the meeting house.

  No one acknowledged her as she took her place again, although Wai grasped her hand immediately. The tohunga had completed one cut, which ran in a curved line from her lower lip down towards her chin, then curved outwards and upwards like a fish hook, complete with barb. He was now using a different tool with a notched tip, again with the help of the mallet, to tap powdered charcoal into the oozing cut. It was still nauseating but Kitty hoped that now that her stomach was empty there would be no further danger of her throwing up.

  Beads of sweat had broken out on Wai’s brow, and she was beginning to flinch slightly at every tap of the mallet. She gripped Kitty’s hand tightly.

  Kitty glanced at the old women squatting several feet away, looking for some hint of sympathy in their wrinkled, brown faces. One had a facial tattoo herself, so surely she must be aware of the pain that Wai was experiencing?

  As if reading her mind, the woman muttered something to the tohunga, who nodded without taking his eyes off his work. The old woman then asked Wai a question in Maori. Without moving her lips, Wai replied, ‘Ae.’

  The women began to sing in low, soothing voices. Kitty couldn’t understand much of it, but managed to pick out the words ‘house’, ‘dream’ and ‘sea’. The song went on and on until Kitty realised that the women were singing the same thing over and over, lulling and calming.

  The tohunga started on the other side of Wai’s chin, the first cut of the flesh in the new line eliciting a sharp gasp of pain from her, and a single tear that dribbled across her temple and into her hair.

  Kitty was dismayed to discover that, at the sight of Wai’s pain, she was beginning to cry herself. She glanced up to see the old woman with the moko watching her.

  ‘Haunui, waiata i te reo pakeha mo te pakeha,’ she murmured.

  Haunui touched Kitty’s arm. ‘The kuia tells me to sing for you.’

  He cleared his throat and began to sing in a lovely and thoroughly unexpected baritone.

  Lie there, o girl.

  Roll on, to let your lips be tattooed.

  Roll on.

  When you go to the weaving house it is said:

  Where does this woman come from?

  Roll on.

  On going to the dance house it will be called:

  From where came these bald lips coming here?

  Roll on.

  From where came these red lips coming here?

  Roll on.

  Be a board on the shore and let go.

  Dream, taken by the deep sea, taken to the glinting sea, a chieftainess.

  Guide the loved one, eh.

  And Kitty did feel soothed, mesmerised almost, even when after a while Haunui stopped singing and the women took over again.

  In accordance with protocol, Wai was in a state of tapu and not allowed to mingle with anyone until the scabs on her moko healed. Unable to return to the Kellehers’ until they did, she stayed at Pukera in a little hut by herself doing jobs that didn’t require more than one person, such as weaving and plaiting ropes.

  Two weeks later, in mid-April, she came back. Kitty thought her moko was actually rather beautiful, reminding her of Celtic designs she’d seen at home. She wondered where the Maoris had originally come from—certainly not the Mediterranean, as George had been insisting of late, convinced that they were the ‘Lost Tribe of Israel’.

  One evening, several days after Wai’s return, she and Kitty were sitting on the bench in the back garden shelling peas for dinner the next day, when Amy emerged from her room wearing her best bodice and skirt, and a tortoiseshell comb that Kitty hadn’t seen before in her hair.

  Wai sighed. ‘Amiria, kaua a haere.’

  ‘Haere mai koe i ahau?’ Amiria said. ‘Ka pai ake tena mou.’

  Kitty observed this exchange with a distinct sense of foreboding.

  ‘No,’ Wai said in English.

  Amy shrugged then stalked off, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

  Kitty watched her climb the fence and disappear into the trees beyond the house. ‘Where is she going, Wai?’

  Silent for a moment, Wai ran her thumbnail viciously along the edge of a pod, opening it to flick the juicy little peas into her bowl. ‘There is a new whaling ship in the harbour, from Germany. She is going to visit the sailors.’

  Kitty’s eyes widened. ‘To…?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But why? Why would she want to do that?’ Kitty asked, genuinely puzzled.

  ‘For the things that they give her. Money, the new comb. Muskets.’

  ‘Muskets?’

  ‘Ae.’

  ‘But muskets aren’t allowed here,’ Kitty said. ‘Reverend Williams has forbidden it.’

  ‘I know, but the men from the whale ships still trade them. Not all, often not the ships from America, but many.’

  ‘Has she done it before?’

  Wai reached for another handful of pods. She seemed more sad than angry now. ‘Many times. She does not care. She will usually go at night. I do not know why she goes early today.’

  ‘While she’s been living here?’

  Wai nodded.

  ‘I’ve never heard her going out,’ Kitty said. But then why would she? She worked so hard these days she was exhausted and slept like the dead.

  ‘You are not supposed to.’ Wai glanced up. ‘Will you tell the minita and Mrs Kereha?’

  Kitty thought for a moment. ‘I don’t know. I should. What do you think?’

  ‘I think it would be best for you to pretend that you do not know.’

  ‘But it’s a terrible thing to do, Wai. It’s…it’s prostitution. It’s very wrong.’

  Wai shrugged. ‘I think so. I would not do it. My father would kill me.’ She glanced up, and Kitty saw from the fear in her eyes that she meant the words literally. ‘But I would not do it even if I was not promised. But not everyone is like me. Many girls from the village do it.’ She paused, as though debating whether to say something else or not. ‘And my father wants the muskets.’

  A tiny chill crept up Kitty’s spine. ‘What for?’

  ‘He wants to be sure.’

  Kitty waited, but Wai seemed reluctant to go on. ‘To be sure of what, Wai?’ she urged.

  Wai frowned. ‘He thinks that many more people will come here soon, to Aotearoa. He has thought this since Mr Busby came.’

  Kitty nodded. She knew of James Busby, although she hadn’t met him. He was the British Resident and had lived at Waitangi across the river for the past six years, charged by the Crown with keeping the peace between the Maoris, the missionaries, and the Queen’s less law-abiding subjects who congregated at Kororareka and at Te Wahapu and Okiato, further around the harbour. She also knew that Mr Busby was not well regarded; the missionaries considered that he interfered with their work, while at the same time remaining aloof and refusing to take their advice in matters concerning the Maoris, and the Maoris were generally distrustful of his motives.

  ‘He thinks that one day there will be more Pakeha here than us,’ Wai went on, ‘and that we will lose our lands and our voices. That is what he wants the muskets for, to protect those things!’

  ‘Does Reverend Williams know your father is stockpiling muskets?’ Kitty asked.

  ‘No.’

  Kitty suddenly wished she didn’t, either.

  Amy came home in the early hours of the morning. Kitty didn’t know whether she’d managed to exchange her favours for a musket, but within ten days it was clear that she’d brought something back from the German whalemen.

  Kitty was in the kitchen stoking the fire for the breakfast porridge when Wai came to tell
her that Amy appeared to be sick. Kitty, who was tired and had a headache herself, was a little sceptical, as Amy had declared herself to be grievously ill before, usually on washing day, or whenever Sarah decided that the floors needed a particularly rigorous scrub. But Wai, looking worried, seemed convinced that her cousin’s ailment was genuine this time.

  Kitty considered telling Sarah, who was still upstairs, but decided that if Amy were only pretending there would be no point in upsetting her aunt for nothing. She followed Wai to Amy’s room, waiting until Wai told her she could go in.

  Amy’s room certainly smelled odd, slightly sour and rancid, as though milk had gone over. It was also dark, as the curtain over the window had not been pulled back. Amy lay on her side with the sheet kicked off and her feet hanging over the edge of the mattress.

  ‘Amy?’ Kitty said hesitantly, moving closer. Wai, looking quite frightened now, stepped out of her way.

  Amy groaned, and then coughed raggedly. Her lank hair was matted, and when she rolled onto her back Kitty could see that her face was flushed and sweaty. The whites of her eyes were laced with an angry, crusty redness, and her breath smelled awful. Sweat trickled down her neck and her cotton nightdress was soaked.

  ‘Amy, what’s the matter?’ Kitty said, pressing her palm against the other girl’s forehead, then snatching her hand back in shock; Amy felt as though she were burning up.

  ‘What is it?’ Wai asked, her eyes huge.

  Kitty shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, hoping she didn’t look as frightened as she suddenly felt.

  They heard George then, bellowing from somewhere inside the house.

  ‘Oh dear, go and see what he wants, will you?’ Kitty said.

  ‘No, you go. Please. I will stay with Amy.’

  Kitty saw Wai’s concern, and her fear, and nodded. As she went out she could hear Wai beginning a low prayer in her native tongue.

  Inside, Kitty found George standing halfway down the stairs, looking most put out.

  ‘What is it, Uncle?’

  ‘There is somebody at the door,’ he snapped. ‘Really, where is everyone this morning? I’m very busy working on my sermon. Reverend Williams is away this Sunday, as you well know.’

  ‘Amy is ill.’

  ‘Well, answer the door,’ George said, then disappeared back up the stairs.

  Annoyed because he could quite easily have done it himself, Kitty wiped her hands on her skirt and snatched open the front door. It was Rian Farrell, obviously back from his most recent jaunt on the high seas.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said.

  ‘Good morning to you too, Miss Carlisle,’ Rian said, taking off his hat. ‘I realise it’s rather early, but I’d like to talk to Reverend Kelleher, please.’

  ‘Amy’s sick.’

  ‘Your housegirl?’

  ‘Yes.’ Kitty dithered for a moment, remembering what he had said about his crew seeing to themselves regarding medical matters. ‘She’s really ill and I don’t know what to do. Would you mind having a look at her? Please? I don’t know whether to send for Doctor Ford or not.’

  Rian looked away for a second, then back again. ‘Is it something I might be familiar with?’

  ‘I don’t know!’

  ‘All right, although I doubt if I can be of much help.’

  He followed her inside just as Sarah came down the stairs, hurriedly tucking her greying hair into her house cap.

  ‘Good morning, Captain Farrell. Kitty, Reverend Kelleher has just informed me that there was no one to answer the door. Where are the girls?’

  ‘Amy’s sick, Aunt Sarah. Captain Farrell has agreed to have a look at her.’

  Sarah blinked. ‘I hardly think that’s appropriate, Kitty.’

  ‘Aunt Sarah, I think she’s very sick. She needs help.’

  At the urgency in her niece’s voice Sarah closed her mouth and followed Kitty and the captain through the house and out to the backyard. Kitty tapped on Amy’s door.

  ‘Wai? Captain Farrell is here. Can he see Amy?’

  The door opened. Wai seemed unexpectedly relieved to see Rian. ‘Kei te mawiwi ia. Kaore au i mohio he aha ai.’

  ‘Kai te pai te wa nei?’ Rian asked, startling Kitty, who’d had no idea he could speak Maori so fluently.

  ‘No, she will not mind,’ Wai said, reverting to English. ‘I do not even think she knows me. I am very worried.’

  Rian nodded and stepped into the room. Kitty and Sarah stayed outside.

  ‘What is it?’ Sarah asked anxiously a minute later when Rian reappeared.

  ‘I don’t know, Mrs Kelleher,’ he said, ‘but I think you should send for Doctor Ford straight away. Is he in Paihia at the moment?’

  ‘I believe so. I’ll send Wai.’

  ‘No, Miss Carlisle can go. Wai should stay with her cousin.’

  Sarah looked vaguely put out by the authoritative tone in his voice, but nodded her agreement nevertheless.

  Rian touched a hand to Kitty’s arm. ‘And ask Rebecca Purcell to come over, too, will you? But not the children.’

  Kitty nodded, and then she was gone.

  The doctor was at home, just about to sit down to a hearty breakfast of porridge, eggs, toast, jam and tea, but left the lot on the table after Kitty told him what had happened. Collecting his hat and his bag he headed off for the Kellehers’ immediately, while Kitty ran over to the Purcell household.

  She knocked loudly on the door and went in without being invited, interrupting the entire Purcell family about to begin their own breakfast.

  ‘Kitty!’ Rebecca said, pushing herself laboriously to her feet. She was eight months pregnant now, and getting ungainly. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘It’s Amy,’ Kitty said breathlessly. ‘She’s very sick and I think we might need your help. Would you please come?’

  ‘Of course I will,’ Rebecca said.

  ‘Captain Farrell said not to bring any of the children.’

  Rebecca hesitated for less than a second, then whipped off her apron. Win, unhappily eyeing his wife’s very pregnant belly, opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. His lips moved, though, and Kitty thought he might be saying a quick prayer.

  They followed the doctor’s boot prints along the beach, but he was still with Amy when they arrived back. Rian was in the parlour having a cup of tea with Sarah and George, who had evidently been forced to give up on his sermon.

  They didn’t have to wait long to hear the doctor’s diagnosis. He entered the parlour a few minutes later looking grim, followed by Wai, who was crying.

  ‘Has your girl been out and about visiting?’ he asked Sarah, who was standing beside George with her hands clasped anxiously together.

  ‘No,’ Sarah said. ‘Oh, she goes over to the village occasionally.’

  Doctor Ford shook his head. ‘No, I mean anywhere out of the ordinary. Or, more to the point, visiting with any persons out of the ordinary. Foreigners, perhaps. Sailors?’

  Sarah suddenly realised what he was implying. ‘Certainly not, Doctor Ford. Reverend Kelleher and I most definitely would not allow it.’

  The doctor looked dubious. ‘They do lie, you know, some of these girls.’

  Kitty felt profoundly embarrassed for Wai—what a thing to say in front of her!

  Turning to Wai, Doctor Ford asked brusquely, ‘Well, has she?’

  Staring fixedly at her feet, Wai shook her head vehemently. Kitty felt her own face colouring and hoped no one would notice. But, glancing up, she saw that Rian Farrell had, and was regarding both her and Wai with thoughtful interest. Kitty looked away again.

  ‘What exactly has the girl got?’ George interrupted.

  ‘Well, from the white spots in her mouth and throat, I strongly suspect she’s contracted measles,’ the doctor replied.

  Rebecca gasped. ‘Measles?’

  Reaching for his Bible, George said, ‘We must pray for deliverance.’

  ‘Measles is very contagious, isn’t it, Doctor?’ Rebec
ca said. ‘We saw it in England before we came out here. Oh Lord, what will we do?’

  Doctor Ford held up his hand. ‘Calm down, please, Mrs Purcell. Panicking will be of absolutely no use to anyone. Now, who has been in contact with…what was the girl’s name?’

  ‘Amy,’ Kitty said.

  ‘Who has been in contact with Amy over the last week or so?’

  There was an awful silence as everyone contemplated how many people the peripatetic and garrulous Amy must have encountered.

  ‘All of us,’ Sarah said in a small voice. ‘And she was at the school yesterday morning.’

  ‘She came to our house to borrow something the day before that,’ Rebecca said. ‘Dates, I think it was. She had a cup of tea with me.’

  Sarah muttered, ‘Lord have Mercy.’

  Doctor Ford said, ‘Was she sneezing or coughing then?’

  Rebecca’s face went pale. ‘Yes. I offered her a syrup for the cough, but she didn’t want it.’

  The doctor sighed and rubbed his hands wearily over his face. ‘Measles is extremely contagious. If it hasn’t spread already it will do, if we don’t impose a strict quarantine. Reverend Williams must be informed and so must Tupehu. Is the Reverend at home? No? Well, in that case, Reverend Kelleher, you will have to take charge. No one may leave or visit either Paihia or Pukera until the disease has run its course. No one. Captain, your ship will have to be confined at anchor for at least—’

  Rian said, ‘To my knowledge the girl has not been out to the Katipo.’

  ‘But you are here now, are you not? So you’re already at risk of carrying the infection,’ the doctor said bluntly.

  ‘Then we all are,’ Rebecca whispered, her hands moving to her swollen belly.

  In her mind’s eye Kitty saw the disease detach itself from Amy’s body and form a heavy, swirling miasma, then curl down off the bed onto the floor and flow invisibly through the back door into the house, where it would seep inexorably into the fabric of her own clothes, and then ultimately her body. She shivered, and realised that her headache had worsened.

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so,’ the doctor said. He turned back to Rian. ‘And neither must the other visiting ships be allowed to sail. We don’t know who she contracted the disease from, and she possibly doesn’t either, but I’ll wager at least a pound that it had something to do with a sailor. They will have to be told over at Kororareka as well,’ he added.