In the Land of the Long White Cloud

won’t scream the whole time, Gwyneira thought, when the baby still had not calmed down after a half hour in his birth mother’s arms. Only after she laid him down again in the improvised baby basket—Kiri would have loved to carry the babies around with her constantly, but Gerald did not allow that during work—did thelittle one calm himself. Moana sang a song for the children while she cooked. For the Maori, every female relative of the appropriate generation was considered a mother.

    Mrs. Candler and Dorothy were delighted to finally have the Wardens’ heir presented to them. After giving Fleur a lollipop, Mrs. Candler could not get enough of little Paul. Gwyneira understood clearly that a test of his physical health was being carried out, and so she was happy to allow her old friend to take Paul out of his blankets and weigh him in her arms. The little boy was in fine spirits. He and Marama had enjoyed the rocking of the carriage. Both children had slept sweetly during the trip, and just before arriving, Kiri had fed them again. Now both babies were awake. Paul looked at Mrs. Candler with big, attentive eyes and moved his legs energetically. The Haldon housewives’ suspicions that the baby might be handicapped were thus definitively laid to rest. All that remained were the concerns about his paternity.
    “The dark hair! And the long eyelashes! Just like his grandfather,” cooed Mrs. Candler.
    Gwyneira also pointed out the shape of Paul’s lips, as well as his definite chin cleft, which both Lucas and Gerald shared.
    “Has the father heard about his luck yet?” another matron butted in, having just interrupted her shopping to have a look at the baby. “Or is he still…oh, forgive me; that’s really none of my business.”
    Gwyneira smiled sunnily. “But of course! Although his well-wishes haven’t had time to make their way back to us yet. My spouse is in England, Mrs. Brennerman—without my father-in-law’s approval. Hence all the secrecy, you know. Lucas received an invitation from a well-known art gallery to display his works there.”
    That was not even a lie. In truth, George Greenwood had been able to interest several London galleries in Lucas’s work—though Gwyneira had first heard this news after Lucas had left Kiward Station. But she didn’t need to tell them everything.
    “Oh, that’s wonderful.” Mrs. Candler was delighted. “And here we thought…oh, forget it! And the proud grandfather? The men in the pub missed his celebratory merrymaking.”
    Gwyneira forced herself to exhibit a relaxed but slightly concerned face.
    “Mr. Warden has not been feeling well lately,” she explained, which was pretty close to the truth, since her father-in-law fought daily battles with the whiskey he’d enjoyed the night before. “But naturally, he’s still planning a party. Perhaps another big garden party since the christening was a rather spartan affair. We’ll make up for it, right, Pauly?” She took the baby from Mrs. Candler and thanked heaven it did not scream.
    And that was it. She had survived it. The conversation now shifted from Kiward Station to the wedding being planned for Dorothy and the Candlers’ youngest son. Two years earlier, the oldest had married Francine, the young midwife, and the middle son was off exploring the world for the first time. Mrs. Candler reported that they had just received a letter from him from Sydney.
    “I think he’s in love,” she said with an impish smile.
    Gwyneira was truly happy for the young couple, though she could vividly picture what was coming Mrs. Candler’s way. The rumor, “Leon Candler is marrying a convict girl from Botany Bay,” would soon eclipse the rather meager sensation, “Lucas Warden is displaying art in London.”
    “Just send Dorothy to me for her wedding dress,” Gwyneira said as she bid them a friendly farewell. “I once promised her I’d lend her mine when the time came.”
    Hopefully it will at least bring her luck
, thought Gwyneira as she steered Kiri and her brood back to the coach.
    Well, that had been a success.
    Now for Gerald…

    “We’re throwing a party!” Gwyneira declared, having hardly set foot in the salon. With a look of determination, she took the whiskey bottle out of Gerald’s hand and locked it behind the glass in the liquor cabinet. “We’re going to start planning it right away, and you’ll need a clear head for that.”
    Gerald already seemed a little foggy. Despite his glassy