The Letter

Three small pairs of glittering dark eyes stared at a face dotted with tears.

"Grandmother," three worried voices called out. "Why are you upset?"

A pair of old hands refolded a letter placing it on her lap. Boorong sighed and said, "To explain that, I will have to tell you a story about a dear old friend". She stood up still holding the letter in one hand and glided across the room to a small chest in the corner. She drew out a small dusty book.

"This is a diary", she said in the quieter tone she took when telling her stories. "Catherine used to be so proud that she could write, as when she was young her mother sometimes used to give her some money and let her go to school. Her mother must have hoped that she'd go far in the world."

Boorong took a deep breath and started to read:

My sister's skin is not a lady-like white but instead a deathly pale, she is shivering whilst burning up. My sister is dying. I have so many regrets. I wish that she didn't come with me to this cursed place.

"Now grandchildren, Catherine and her sister Phebe came to this land from England as convicts. Phebe was sick. It was probably a sickness they called prison fever. It killed lots of people who were transported from England to New South Wales all those years ago. I met Phebe and Catherine at the dock when they first came off the boat. They seemed so lonely and helpless. They seemed to be the only still point in the sea of people."

"When I learned Phebe was sick, I did my best to look after her by crushing up Kallara leaves, turning them into a tea like my mother did. I knew we were friends even though we didn't understand each other's words. Eventually, after the Governor adopted me I began to understand. I did not wish her to die like my people did from sickness the boats brought."

Boorong read on:

I hate leaving my sister alone but I have to. I work as a maid at the Governor's house. I am very lucky. In London, I made matches, earning a pittance. I wouldn't let my sister work there. I couldn't breathe.

I had to be the one who provided for Phebe. Dad went off when Phebe was born. Mum left us when I was old enough to work. Phebe is the only family I have . I had to work hard to keep us out of the workhouse but when times got a lot harder, I was let go. So I stole. That's what got us into this whole mess and my sister is dying.

Boorong continued:

'From the beginning, Phebe had always been friendly to me, but her sister Catherine didn't seem to like me. She acted quite warily around me. I wanted to be her friend. I wanted to help her sister. But she seemed to act like I wasn't there.

Phebe hasn't been getting any better. Her fever is burning right now but she says that she feels cold. It's my fault she's here. She had heard that I was going to be transported to New South Wales. She said she helped me sell the cloth and now she dying because of me. Boorong is trying to help. I'm doing my best and doing nothing at all. Even though I was suspicious of her in the beginning, thinking she was trying to poison my sister, she wasn't. Even though she looks different to us, she's a lovely person. I don't know how I would cope without her.

"I looked after Phebe a few hours before she died. She was saying that she felt queer. Strange." "As if a thousand butterflies were pushing on her and if one more came along, something would happen, something frightening, somthing big."

Tears ran down Boorong's face once more. Her grandchildren became scared. She'd never become this emotional in her stories before.

"Catherine was so upset. She cried all day and night. I went back to the Governor's house. Not because Catherine wasn't my friend, but because our tradition was that you didn't speak of, or live where a person had died.

After a few months, I realised that I needed to talk to Catherine about Phebe.

The Governor took pity on her and gave her a pardon. She gave me her diary as she was going back to England. She said that there had never been anything for her in New South Wales. Her life had just been misery after misery. She thanked me for helping, for staying strong and looking after Phebe. Then she left. "

Boorong unfolded the parchment. It crackled as she smoothed it out.

"Just today I received this letter from Catherine." Boorong took a deep breath and started:

I am finally happy. I am a Governess - teaching two darling children to read and to write. I have a husband, two children and today, a grandchild. Before the birth, I was talking to my dear daughter Eliza about Phebe and you. She was so touched by the story that her little one is called 'Phebe Boorong' Abingdon. It is quite a scandal but they will get over it!

Boorong's face was once again studded with tears but this time she was smiling.