“Hi … ya,” he said. “So here you are, Sir Jake. I’ve been expecting you for years. We’ve got a lot to show you.”

“This is my wife,” said my father.

“Lady Cadorson,” replied Gregory Donnelly, bowing his head with a gesture of respect which he managed to convey that he did not feel.

“My son … my daughter …”

Did I imagine it or did his eyes linger on me with a hint of speculation? I felt myself growing hot under his scrutiny. I felt he was trying to see too much of me, to sum me up in a somewhat crude manner.

“So what’s your plan, Sir Jake?”

“I’m coming out to take a look at things. We all want to come out. We have two more with us … a relative of my wife and the man she will be married to very soon. We didn’t expect they would be with us, and I am wondering what accommodation there is out there. That’s what I want to make sure of.”

“Well, there ought to be room. There’s a shack adjoining the place which I could move into. Casual labour use it, but there’s no one there now.”

“We’ll come and take a look,” said my mother.

“That’s best, Lady Cadorson. I don’t promise the ladies there’ll be what they’re used to.”

“We shall probably be able to get a few things in Sydney,” suggested my mother.

“Reckon there’ll be no trouble at all. It’s a fine town, Sydney. Every time you come in there’s something new. Buildings seem to spring up overnight. There’s plenty of labour about. Should be another cargo coming in soon.”

My mother looked horrified to hear human beings referred to as cargo—criminals though they might be.

Gregory Donnelly had a meal with us and there was a great deal of discussion about what would be needed. Helena and Matthew had been introduced to him. I saw his quick appraisal and dismissal of Helena which angered me. There was an arrogance about him which I found distinctly irritating. He was a disturbing man; his essential masculinity made one think of relationships between men and women and I would rather not be disturbed by such thoughts.

Matthew was very interested to meet him and I could see that he was preparing to ask him many questions.

There was no lack of conversation. Gregory Donnelly made sure of that.

Jacco asked how long the journey out to the property would take.

“Depends,” said Gregory Donnelly. “Good horses might do the journey in a couple of days. You can take a buggy. There are two inns where you can spend a night. I usually camp down somewhere. I know the place. Been coming in and out of Sydney for years.”

“You make it sound simple, Mr. Donnelly,” said Jacco.

“I’m Greg,” he said. “We don’t stand on ceremony out here. I don’t know myself as Mr. Donnelly. That all right with you, Jacco?”

“That’s all right,” said Jacco, and Gregory Donnelly turned his eyes on me.

“That goes for all round,” he went on. He looked rather apologetically at my father. “Better to fall in with the ways of the natives. Makes for the easy way.”

“I’m quickly realizing that,” said my father.

And from then on he was Greg.

The nicest thing about him was his pride in his country. He talked of it with glowing enthusiasm. “There’s something about a town that grows under your eyes. There have been men here whose names will always live in Sydney, though they’ve gone now. Their names are on our streets. When you think a short time ago there was nothing here … Settlers are coming in now. Oh no, Miss, er … Annora, we’re not all convicts now.”

“We know that,” I retorted. “There were two people on board with us. They’ve come out to get land.”

“Going cheaply, ha. Well, why not? Get the place going. We’ve got a lot to be thankful for. MacArthur brought the sheep here. We call him the father of the sheep industry, and that is quite something now. We’ve got wool and we’ve got meat. Why, they call some wool Botany Bay. That was where they first came out to with their load of prisoners and when they saw this harbour they came here and they called the place after some important gent in England.”

“Viscount Sydney,” said my mother.

“That’s the fellow, but Macquarie is the man who made the place what it is. He said this was going to be a capital city of the world and believe me it’s fast becoming one. He’s built roads, houses, bridges, factories … We’ve even got our own newspaper. Yes, the Sydney Gazette. You can read all about it in there.”

Matthew said: “I’m interested in the convicts. I’m writing a book about them and I’ve come to collect information.”

“Well, take my advice, Matt.” He had already taken upon himself to give what he considered an appropriate version of Matthew’s name. “Don’t let them know what they’re saying is going into a book or they’ll shut up like clams. You’ve got to get them to talk naturally. Let it come out in conversation. I’ll show you a few of them on the property. They’ll be ready to talk.”

“That will be wonderful,” cried Matthew.

“I see you’re looking at me hopefully. Well, sorry to disappoint you. I’m not one of them. Came from Yorkshire. My father was a settler and it was Sir Jake here who put him in charge of the property. He died five years ago and I took over. I wasn’t born here, but then, who was? But I’ve adopted it. It’s my country and I’m proud of the way it’s going.”

He talked a great deal about the city and the property, the price of wool, of droughts, plagues of insects and of forest fires, which were a continual source of anxiety during the summer months.

I found myself listening with interest and wondered what my father thought of him.

I discovered later that evening.

“He’s certainly got a good opinion of himself,” said Jacco.

“I think we might well find a great number of his sort here,” my father pointed out.

“Surely there could only be one Greg,” said my mother. “Really he is most forceful … democratic, I suppose he would call it … insisting on Christian names so soon.”

“I thought your manager might be a little more subservient,” I said.

“We mustn’t expect that here. I imagine they are no respecters of position. It’s the way of the country.”

“He’s brash,” I said.

“I thought you took quite a dislike to him,” Jacco told me. “I thought he should have shown more respect to Papa.”

“Oh, he wasn’t disrespectful,” my father defended him. “That’s what you call masculine dignity.”

“I thought it was arrogance,” I insisted.

“I believe he’s a good man from what I gather,” said my father firmly. “Well, we shall find out.”

“I don’t see why we should delay looking at the property,” said Jacco.

“No reason at all. We’ll go as soon as Greg can arrange the transport.” He looked at my mother.

“I’ll be all right on horseback,” she said. “I’ve been riding all my life, haven’t I? A few miles of this bush or whatever they call it isn’t going to worry me.”

“It’ll be a bit rough going. We shall stay the nights at those inns.”

“Well, I must say I don’t fancy bivouacking—even under the expert guidance of our Greg.”

“No. I shall insist on the inns.”

“Helena can’t come,” I said.

“Oh dear,” said my mother.

“Matthew can take care of her,” put in Jacco. “After all, that’s his job now.”

“She’s nervous still. She clings in spite of everything.”

My mother said: “I think Annora had better stay here while we investigate. She’s right about Helena. The poor girl is in a nervous state. She went through a lot with poor little John Milward. To my mind he ought to know what’s happened. Anyway, you stay here, Annora. We’ll report. Trust me to see that when you come to the property you have as much comfort as I can get for you.”

“I’m longing to see it all.”

“So are we all,” said Jacco. “I don’t see why Matthew Hume can’t look after Helena.”

However it was finally decided that I should stay and a few days later my father and mother and Jacco set out, under the guidance of Greg, to see the property. They had acquired good horses and all that they would need for the journey. It had all been arranged with efficiency, said my father, by Greg.

Helena and I were together all the time. Matthew was out all day and would come back full of excitement. He talked to people and when he returned he kept to his room writing copious notes.

The relationship between him and Helena was a very unusual one. I was sure he thought that he had done his good deed by marrying her and there his responsibility ended. Helena said: “It was wonderful of him, but it is not like a marriage, Annora. It couldn’t be … after John. There couldn’t be anyone else for me.”

“Not after he deserted you!”

“He didn’t know about the baby.”

“He ought to,” I said.

“Oh, I couldn’t bear that. I wouldn’t want him to come back to me because he thought he ought to. I think that would be something between us all our lives, and it would have its effect on the child. He might resent it because it was due to the child that he had come back. After all,” she added with unexpected rationality, “if he had wanted to marry me, he would, no matter what anyone said. I mean if it had been the most important thing in the world …”

We took one of the buggies and went to the shops. There we bought clothes for the baby. I think Helena enjoyed that. We rode through the town and when we saw Hyde Park, we felt quite near home.

“These are our people, Helena,” I said. “We shouldn’t feel that we are strangers in a strange land.”

“I’m glad to be here with you, Annora. What should I have done if I had had to face all this at home?”