Daisy in the Mansion Page 6
Daisy felt weak with relief. Stay calm, stay calm, she said to herself. Just another minute then I’ll be out of here. She edged slowly toward the chair and reached for the apron. She dragged it toward her carefully, almost unable to breathe with fear.
With the apron safely in her hand she slowly backed out of the room. Her heart was thumping hard as she rummaged in the pocket of the apron. ‘Got it,’ she whispered as she pulled out the key. She closed the door softly behind her, and began the long creep down to the kitchen.
Daisy reached into the back of the cupboard where she had seen Mrs Bird hide the tin. Sure enough, there it was, pushed right to the back behind the crockery. Daisy pulled it out and climbed down from the stool she stood on.
Her hands shook as she pushed the key into the lock, snapped open the lid and peered inside. She lifted out the bottle and held up the candle so she could read the label. Quinine, the label read. What’s that? Daisy thought, wrinkling her nose in confusion.
She pushed the box back into its hiding spot and crept into the library, her flickering candle lighting the way. She held the small flame up to the shelves of books.
‘I know it’s here somewhere,’ she whispered, and put the candle and bottle on the floor as she looked for the heavy dictionary that she’d seen there on the first day.
She pulled it out and flipped through the pages. ‘Queen . . . quest . . .’ she muttered under her breath, tracing the words with her finger. ‘Here it is: quinine.’ Her eyes quickly scanned the text. ‘Oh no!’ she cried, leaning over to read the page again: ‘can be fatal in large doses . . . causes many serious health issues.’
Daisy sat on the carpet trying to breathe, but it felt as if an elephant had just sat on her chest.
Mrs Bird is poisoning Annie! Her mind spun wildly in shock. That evil old witch! Wait till I tell Mr and Mrs Bailey.
She pushed the book back onto the shelf, grabbed the bottle and rushed back to her room. She tucked it under her pillow, and tossed and turned until morning.
‘I have to talk to you,’ Daisy cried, running into the dining room the next morning in her nightdress and bare feet. Mr and Mrs Bailey looked up from their breakfast in surprise.
‘Whatever it is, Daisy,’ Mrs Bailey said, her voice icy with anger, ‘we’re not interested.’
‘No, but you have to listen,’ Daisy insisted. ‘It’s about Annie and Mrs Bird, and how she’s making her sick, and how I snuck into her room last night and got the key and then found this.’ She thrust the bottle of quinine toward Mr Bailey.
‘You went into Mrs Bird’s bedroom last night without permission and stole from her?’ Mr Bailey thundered. He ignored Daisy’s outstretched hand.
‘Err, well, yes,’ Daisy stammered, ‘but to save Annie, you see – look, you must look at this.’ She waved the bottle in his face.
‘That’s it, Daisy, we can take no more. You will go back to the orphanage this morning.’ Mr Bailey stood up, and threw his newspaper on the table. ‘I know you are desperate to leave, but accusing someone falsely is a serious crime. We cannot have a liar and a thief under this roof.’
Daisy felt as if she had fallen off Jimmy and had the breath knocked out of her. ‘But Mrs Bailey, it’s true,’ she insisted and tried to show the bottle to her, but Mrs Bailey simply shook her head.
‘We don’t want you here any more, Daisy. I can’t believe that you would steal, or that you would make up such a dreadfully cruel story.’ Tears filled her eyes. ‘I know that Annie loves you. But you must go.’
Daisy stood staring at each of them in turn. She looked down at the bottle in her hand. She had to try one more time.
‘Please listen to me,’ she said quietly. ‘Annie could die.’
Mr Bailey exploded. ‘How dare you use our daughter for your own wickedness! Come, Sarah.’ He held out his hand to his wife and they left the room together.
Moments later Lizzie came in. ‘You’re to go right now,’ she said, and stared at Daisy sympathetically.
‘Lizzie, you have to believe me,’ Daisy said, her voice cracking with emotion. ‘I would never do anything to hurt Annie, I just want to help her.’
‘Bit late for that it seems,’ Lizzie said. ‘Come on, the driver’s waiting.’
Daisy sat in the back of the Baileys’ luxurious car sobbing noisily. The driver glanced back at her in the mirror, but said nothing.
It’s not right, Daisy thought, feeling like she wanted to hit something in anger. I have to save Annie. She laid her head in her hands and let the tears come.
The car came to a stop and Daisy looked up through her matted hair to see the familiar front of the orphanage. The driver opened Daisy’s door then went up and rang the orphanage bell. Daisy followed slowly behind, unable to think clearly.
‘Well, look what the cat dragged in,’ Miss Dunham cried. ‘They must have been in quite the hurry to get rid of you, seeing as you’re still in your night clothes.’
Daisy didn’t even look at her; she just shuffled past toward the cottage she shared with Edith.
‘DAISY Sanderson, you’re wanted at the office.’
Daisy looked up wearily from the pile of saucepans she was scrubbing. Her face glowed red with sweat and her hair was plastered to her forehead.
She’d been back at the orphanage for a week now but she still couldn’t bring herself to tell Edith what had happened at the Baileys. It all seemed like a bad dream. And she’d been too tired and worried to come up with an escape plan. She couldn’t think about Dad without a tight knot forming in her belly. And was Annie even still . . . alive?
Daisy wiped her damp face with her arm, trying to push the awful thought away. What could Mr Geoffery possibly want with me this time? she wondered. Probably to tick me off again for disgracing him, she thought and clenched her fists by her side. Well, I’ll tell him to shut his mouth once and for all, she decided. I’ll be escaping from here soon, anyway.
But it seemed so hard. Everything seemed so hard now, and unfair.
Daisy sighed deeply and followed the Day Girl to the Superintendent’s office and waited while she knocked on the door.
‘Daisy Sanderson,’ the girl announced, and stood back to let Daisy enter.
Daisy stared with shock when she saw that Mr and Mrs Bailey were both in the room. ‘I don’t need you to tell me again how much you hate me,’ she said. ‘I only wanted to help Annie, but you wouldn’t . . . Oh no. She isn’t . . . ?’
‘Oh no, Daisy.’ Mrs Bailey quickly reached out to give her a hug. ‘Annie’s fine. And we’re not here to tell you off. We’re here to thank you.’ Tears filled her eyes and she was unable to talk.
‘You were right, Daisy,’ Mr Bailey continued, as he came over to put a hand on Daisy’s shoulder. ‘Absolutely right. Mrs Bird was poisoning our little girl.’ His face clouded with anger and he rubbed the back of his neck. ‘We had a look at the bottle after we had calmed down and I had a chat with our doctor about it. He said Annie’s illness could be matched to quinine poisoning.’ He pursed his lips angrily. ‘So we confronted Mrs Bird and it seems she didn’t want to lose her job after Annie got better from pneumonia, so she added drops of quinine to her food, just to keep her sick enough to need a nurse. But she’d been putting in too much and Annie had become dangerously ill.’
Daisy felt an enormous weight lift from her shoulders. She looked up at Mrs Bailey with relief. ‘And will Annie get better now?’ she asked.
‘She’ll be like brand new in a few weeks,’ Mrs Bailey said, and gave Daisy another squeeze. ‘She’s already so much better after just a few days.’
Daisy felt her throat tighten, and the room blurred as tears flooded her eyes. ‘Oh, thank goodness,’ she said, and suddenly felt exhausted. She dropped onto a chair and put her head in her hands.
‘Now, Daisy, we owe you an enormous apology,’ Mr Bailey said. ‘And we don’t know how we will ever repay you for making Annie well again.’
Daisy met his eye and gave him a sma
ll smile.
‘Would you please come back home with us and let us make it up to you?’ he asked.
Daisy shook her head. ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘I would like very much to see Annie again, but I can’t waste another minute. I so badly want to see how my dad is, and stop my sister from going to Sydney, and get my family back together again.’
Mrs Bailey nodded at her. ‘We thought you might say that. Tell us what we can do to help. Anything.’
Daisy stared at her, feeling something bloom inside her that she’d lost this last week. It was hope. ‘Really?’ she said. ‘You’ll really help me?’
‘Of course,’ Mrs Bailey said. ‘How could we not do everything to help your family when you have done so much for ours?’
‘Right then,’ Daisy said, shaking herself. ‘Firstly, can you help my friend Edith? Her little brother has been adopted out and she’s desperate to find him.’
‘I don’t think that will be –’ Mr Geoffery began.
Mr Bailey fixed him with a cool stare and Mr Geoffery nodded meekly.
‘What else, dear?’ asked Mrs Bailey.
Daisy sat up straight. ‘All I need is my horse and some supplies, and I’ll be on my way.’
I was born in a hospital where geckos ran across the walls and monkeys played outside the windows. The hospital was in a country called Malaysia. My parents lived in Malaysia for three years because my dad was in the Australian Army and the army sent him there.
I came to live in Australia when I was two, and my parents and brother and I lived with my grandparents and aunty in a big double-storey house near the sea. Like Daisy, we had lots of pets. A few years later my little sister was born, and I took care of her the way Daisy takes care of Flora. Even though Daisy’s life was very different to mine, and very different to yours today, the one thing that never changes for Australian girls is the importance of family.
I was born and grew up in Italy, a beautiful country to visit, but also a difficult country to live in for new generations.
In 2006, I packed up my suitcase and I left Italy with the man I love. We bet on Australia. I didn’t know much about Australia before coming – I was just looking for new opportunities, I guess.
And I liked it right from the beginning! Australian people are resourceful, open-minded and always with a smile on their faces. I think all Australians keep in their blood a bit of the pioneer heritage, regardless of their own birthplace.
Here I began a new life and now I’m doing what I always dreamed of: I illustrate stories. Here is the place where I’d like to live and to grow up my children, in a country that doesn’t fear the future.
FROM the outside, the Melbourne Orphanage looked like a lovely place to live – a grand old building set in fine gardens. But for the children who lived there, life was often harsh and sometimes terribly cruel. They had to work hard and some were treated very poorly.
The Melbourne Orphanage was originally called the Melbourne Orphan Asylum. It opened in South Melbourne in 1851, then moved to Brighton in 1878, and was renamed in 1926.
The orphanage had five separate cottages, with about 30 children under the care of a House Mother. There was a school and small hospital at the site as well.
The older girls were expected to help take care of the littlest children, and the older boys had to work in the grounds, growing vegetables and taking care of livestock.
At Christmas, the children gathered under a large pine tree in the garden and were each given a small toy. For most of them this was the best day of the year.
Occasionally families would visit the orphanage to adopt a child, often breaking up siblings who sometimes never saw each other again.
During the Depression years, many children were sent to the Melbourne Orphanage because their parents couldn’t afford to take care of them. Sometimes these parents came back for their children when times got better; sometimes the children were forced to stay at the orphanage until they were sixteen and legally allowed to leave.
Today Australia no longer has orphanages. Homeless children are cared for in foster homes.
A Different Time
Nowadays we know that babies and children need lots of hugs and love to grow up as healthy, happy adults. But in the first half of the last century, children – especially orphans – weren’t treated as gently, and they often didn’t receive enough affection and care. This photograph was part of an exhibition that toured the country, showing people what life used to be like for children in orphanages. In 2009, Kevin Rudd (who was the Prime Minister) apologised to Australian orphans for how badly they were treated. Thankfully, now we know how to care for them better.
‘F LORA! Flora, I’m back!’ Daisy banged hard on the front door of Aunty May and Uncle Bertie’s dilapidated cottage. ‘Flora,’ she called again, and leant to peer into a cracked window, her heart beating wildly with excitement. She could hardly believe that any second now she’d be hugging her little sister again.
‘Good heavens, it’s Daisy!’ an excited voice called from behind her.
Daisy whirled around as Mabel and Elsie ran towards her. They flung their arms around her in a tight hug.
‘How on earth did you get here, Daisy?’ Mabel cried.
‘We missed you so much,’ Elsie said, and squeezed her harder.
‘I’d tell you if only you’d let me breathe,’ Daisy spluttered, as she untangled herself from the twins. ‘You see, the Baileys’ driver dropped me off, and Annie’s going to be all right now, and Mrs Bird is gone thanks goodness and . . .’ She had to stop to take a breath.
‘Oh, but Daisy . . .’ Mabel’s face dropped.
‘You’re too late,’ Elsie said, and took Daisy’s hand.
Daisy’s veins felt like they had filled with ice-cold water. ‘What do you mean, too late?’ she whispered.
‘Your aunt took Flora to Sydney yesterday,’ Mabel said, her eyes filling with tears.
‘We’re ever so sorry,’ said Elsie.
It’s 1942 and Pearlie is all alone in Darwin. Not only has she been separated from her family, but now Beake, the spy, is back and he’s on the loose. He’s out to get Pearlie – but she has a plan . . . Can she pull it off ? And when bombs fall on Darwin, will Pearlie survive?
Follow Pearlie on her adventure in the third of four exciting stories about a courageous girl in a world at war.
Gabrielle Wang is the much-loved author of many popular books for young people, including the Pearlie and Poppy books in the Our Australian Girl series. Her most recent novel for middle readers is the lyrical fantasy The Wish Bird.
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THE BEGINNING
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