Chapter 24 - Mud Pies

Kneading the dough on the rough hewn table Elizabeth’s thoughts were wool gathering. The summer heat was gathering intensity and she felt in her bones the knowledge of another hot season around the corner. 

A multitude of thoughts rambled around in her head while she kneaded.  Will I ever get used to this heat? It is so different now that Thomas is a Captain. The grants of land seem to be coming at a great rate. Thomas is obsessed with the idea of being a Land Owner and why shouldn’t he be? He is a good farmer. I just wish he had more time for us. But who am I kidding, I am lucky to have him, a roof over me head, freedom and me babes. 

I just wish he wasn’t so all fired up about Governor Hunter still. I don't know what he has against him. I guess he still remembers what it was like when Major Grose was in charge and looked after the officers so well turning a blind eye to the rum trade. I suppose it is not unusual after the history that Thomas and Major Grose have after being on the Pitt together. 

I don’t think Hunter does himself any favours though trying to clean up the Rum trade, but he isn't strong enough to stand up to the soldiers. If only they could see the good Hunter is doing by encouraging exploration of land further out. Surely that is what we need to get over those mountains. Why I hear the other day that there are close on 2900 people here now.  

Pulling all these thoughts back to the present she found herself being squeezed in an enormous hug by Thomas as he planted a kiss on the back of her neck. 

“Elizabeth, have you seen what these rascals are up to? Come, have a look.” 

She quickly dusted her hands on her apron and followed him outside into the bright December morning. 

“What on earth…” she stammered, “where did.. Oh my!” 

“Yes I thought you might have something to say about this,” sniggered Thomas from behind his hand, trying not to show how far his grin travelled across his face. 

“Isabella, Tommy just what have you to say for yourselves?” she tried to ask sternly. 

A very muddy four year old Isabella and an equally dirty two year old Tommy looked up from the once white sheet that they were sitting on, surrounded by half a dozen what looked like mud pies. 

“Mumma want, come to a tea party, we has lots of figgy pudding…” Isabella started to ask. 

“OH I WANTS SOME BIGGY PUDDING, OH I WANTS SOME BIGGY PUDD…” sang Thomas at the top of his voice.

“No Tommy you not singing it proper, it’s give me some figgy pudding, OH GIVE ME SOME FIGGY PUDDING..AND BRING IT RIGHT HERE..” 

“But I wants biggy pudding,” wailed Master Thomas. 

Giving up on trying to look stern, Elizabeth grabbed Thomas and joined their children on her previously clean sheet sighing with contentment at her many blessings. 

With Christmas and the New Year just around the corner maybe it was time they started a new tradition for a new country. Mud pie picnics, maybe? 

Lifting her skirts and finding a relatively clean part of the sheet to sit on, she pondered where have the children learnt a Christmas Carol? The convict woman who came in to help around the farm often sings, maybe that explains it. 

I wish I could give them a few little presents for Christmas, but Thomas thinks it a waste of money. I don't remember getting presents when I was a little 'un. I guess he is right though, they are really too little to know what Christmas means. Even if they do know a Christmas Carol!  

“Can Papa and I have a cup of tea with our Figgy Pudding,” smiling she handed an imaginary cup to Isabella while accepting a handful of brown mud from Tommy.