The Sun Is Often Out

Chapter Four

A/N: Yuranigh was a tracker of the indigenous Wiradjuri people, who are the traditional custodians of the Wiradjuri nation (Central New South Wales).

When Mr and Mrs Lancelot Hale returned from their honeymoon three weeks hence an unspoken standoff began between the new wife and her mother-in-law. Jessie compared it to a crown prince marrying his bride: Aunt Mary akin to Queen Victoria while Gertie played the part of the feckless Princess of Wales. Whoever won the day would determine the future of life at Gamboola, whether it would continue on as before or leap forward into a new age of revelry and culture. Lance came off the worst in this association with Prince Bertie, being neither socialite nor philanderer, and his ambivalence towards choosing a side led to several tense weeks while his wife and mother grappled for control.

May, for her part, appreciated the change. Gertie brought with her from Bathurst many novels she had never seen before, copious amounts of sheet music, and a sweetness of temper that would have been grating if it were not so sincere. She rarely had an unkind word to say about anyone—and even then, her unkindnesses tended to be followed by pity for the recipient. Each evening after supper Gertie would play some new piece on the piano in the parlour as the Hales watched, each becoming more enamoured of her as her clear singing voice rang out across the room, until even Aunt Mary had to concede defeat. The peace of her home was forever lost; there would be no more silent meals, no quiet needlework by the fire on dark nights. When she offered to teach May and Jessie to play the piano Aunt Mary accepted with a resigned smile, and returned her focus to Redruth and the education of the one child in her care not within Gertie's sphere of influence.

As the weather cooled it brought with it mornings where the valley below the house was blanketed in fog, and May thanked her scratchy wool stockings as many times as she had cursed them in the months before as she and Jessie shivered over the fields on their way to school. One Saturday that winter, when heavy rain kept them indoors while it battered rhythmically on the metal roof, Gertie allowed them to select something to read to while away the day from her extensive library.

Jessie was moping from being cooped up inside, and she paced the bedroom while May traced the titles on the spines of the books. The names gave her a thrill as she read them—The Woman in White, The Count of Monte Cristo, A Romance of Exmoor—each filling her mind with fantastical images of doomed love affairs, vengeful aristocrats, and tragic demises. She had recently devoured Wuthering Heights on Gertie's recommendation and her imagination remained deep in the Yorkshire moors, loathing Heathcliff with passionate vehemence but desperate for him to succeed in his fiendish plots. Jessie groaned behind her and May glanced over her shoulder.

"Can't you just pick one?"

She shook her head. "There's too many to choose from. Who would have thought Gertie read so much?" She gave her cousin a sly grin. "Maybe she's not so thick after all?"

Jessie gave a derisive snort. "I wouldn't say that. I heard her asking Mama this morning where the birds go when it rains."

That made May laugh. "What a question."

"Still..." Jessie flopped back onto the bed, her legs fidgeting. "Lance loves her. I suppose I have to love her too, for him. She's not a bad sort, really."

"No, she isn't," May agreed. She selected the nearest book—the aforementioned romance in Exmoor—and walked over to pull Jessie up off the bed. "Come on. Let's go down to the fire. I'll read first; you go use your wiles on Cook to make us some johnny-cakes."

Her cousin grinned. "With treacle on top."

The door to the bedroom opened and they both turned their heads to see Gertie, her eyes red at the edges, wiping at her cheeks with a lace handkerchief. She started when she noticed them standing there.