Read Online Nanberry by Jackie French - Free Book Online Page B

watched the girl for a moment. Was she as lonely as he was? What did she have in common with the other women, with their drinking and their swearing? Thank goodness the Governor had assigned her to him.
    He would have liked to hug her, but it might be misinterpreted. He didn’t want her to think that his interest was anything but fatherly. Fatherly … Were a convict girl and a native boy as close as he would ever come to having children of his own?
    â€˜You can’t tame an o’possum,’ he repeated gently. ‘Where’s Andrew?’
    â€˜Asleep, sir.’
    â€˜Wake him up and ask him to join us for supper.’
    â€˜Us, sir?’
    â€˜Tonight all three of us will eat together.’

Chapter 20
ANDREW/NANBERRY
    S YDNEY C OVE , 2 J UNE 1789
    â€˜Toast,’ said Nanberry, carefully turning the slice of soda bread over above the flames so that it browned on both sides. Outside the kookaburras welcomed the new day.
    Father White smiled at him. ‘Excellent, Andrew. Now bring it to the breakfast table and put it in the toast rack.’
    Maria brought a bowlful of boiled eggs over. She sat next to Father White, a bit uncomfortably, Nanberry thought. He placed the toast in its rack then sat on the other chair. They had three chairs now, one for him and Maria too, even though she was only a woman.
    Chair , toast , table , eggs … He knew so many words now. He was even working out the complicated ways the English put them together.
    â€˜Would you like an egg, Andrew?’
    Nanberry took an egg. He placed it in the eggcup, just likeFather White did with his, and cut off the top. It was a funny way to eat an egg, yet this was what the English did. It was silly to sit dangling your legs off a chair too, instead of comfortably on the ground.
    Father White smiled at Maria. ‘Are you missing your o’possum, girl?’
    She flushed. ‘Of course not, sir.’
    â€˜If the Governor’s cat has kittens I will try to get you one.’
    â€˜A cat? Truly, sir?’
    â€˜If I can.’
    Father White took his hat and coat — freshly brushed by Maria — and opened the hut’s door.
    The bungu glared up at him from the doorstep. It gave a squeak, then ran inside on all fours and clambered up the table leg. It looked around for its sack of wilted greenery and squeaked again.
    Nanberry laughed. Oh, it was good to laugh.
    â€˜Maria’s friend is back.’
    â€˜My friend —’ Maria blushed. Nanberry wondered if she had another friend.
    â€˜Your o’possum. I think it’s looking for its bed.’
    â€˜I threw the leaves out and washed the sack. It stank.’
    Father White stared at the bungu, no, the o’possum . ‘Let’s see how tame it will become. It’s quite fascinating, don’t you think?’
    â€˜No, sir,’ she said frankly.
    Father White smiled. ‘Get Lon to gather dry leaves for a nest. Find it a basket.’
    â€˜On my clean table, sir?’ Maria’s voice was resigned.
    â€˜I’ll send a small table up from the hospital. The o’possum’s basket can sit on that. Lon can bring fresh leaves for it to eat each day too. But see what other things it will eat.’
    â€˜Oh, it will do that, sir.’
    â€˜It will be company for you,’ Father White said gently. ‘What do you think, Andrew? Will it amuse you to have a pet o’possum?’
    Nanberry knew the word pet , though the idea was strange. A pet was an animal you owned, but didn’t eat; you laughed at it, though it could be useful too. The English kept dogs and cats. Like Father White keeps me …
    He thrust the thought away. He was no pet!
    â€˜I am Nanberry Buckenau.’ The words came before he knew he was going to say them. It was the first time he had used his full name in the colony.
    Father White looked puzzled. ‘Your name is Andrew now.’
    â€˜I am Nanberry.’
    Father White shook