Free Daughter of the Regiment by Jackie French Page A

started. It was Cissie’s voice. The hole showed so little of its world, he hadn’t seen her approach and still couldn’t see where she was. She must be standing just downstream.
    The boy jumped. He gulped water the wrong way, so he choked, and stood up coughing. ‘What the … what are you doing creeping up on me like that? I might have drowned meself in fright.’
    Cissie’s voice was unsympathetic. ‘Only if you’d been fool enough to stick your head in the pool. Who are you?’ she repeated.
    ‘Who wants to know?’
    ‘I do.’
    The boy shrugged. ‘Daniel then.’
    ‘Daniel what?’
    ‘Who gave you the right to ask the questions?’
    ‘You can ask too if you like.’ Cissie stepped forward, closer to the boy. Harry could see her clearly now.
    ‘I don’t need to ask questions,’ said the boy smugly. ‘I know who you are and all anyway.’
    ‘Who am I then?’
    ‘You’re the girl who lives at the garrison with the soldiers. Captain Piper told my Da all about you.’
    ‘Oh!’ Cissie sat on the bank and hugged her knees. ‘That’s who you are then! The new people who’ve settled down the river. Captain Piper said you’d all come up to join your father.’
    ‘Who did you think I was then?’
    Cissie wrinkled her nose. ‘How was I to know? An escaped convict maybe.’
    ‘Do I look like an escaped convict?’
    Cissie looked him up and down. ‘You might be.’
    ‘Well, I wouldn’t be wearing my best clothes to go honeying, would I?’ demanded the boy, exasperated.
    ‘Is that what you’ve been doing? Getting honey?’
    The boy nodded. ‘One of the black women down the river told my ma about a hive along the creek up this way. The dray overturned when we crossed a river—only a week out from Sydney, too—and all the sugar got wet and dissolved away, and then the ants got in the treacle. It’s been weeks since Ma had any sweetening and when she heard about the honey …’
    ‘Weren’t you afraid they’d sting you?’ asked Cissie admiringly.
    ‘Nah, these is native bees. Native bees don’t sting.’
    ‘How do you know?’
    ‘The black women said. They know everything, the black women do. The bees didn’t sting me, so it must be true. Besides, it’d’ve been worth it for the honey.’ The boy grinned again. ‘And I got something a touch better than honey.’
    ‘What?’ demanded Cissie.
    ‘A swarm! A swarm of bees! They just dropped into my sack, easy as you please.’ The boy gestured to the sack on the ground.
    ‘They’re in there? Can I see them? Please!’
    ‘Course not. They might fly away. Or, maybe if they get angry they sting.’
    ‘Could I just see the honey then?’ Cissie hesitated. ‘I’ve never seen honey.’
    ‘Never!’
    ‘Not that I remember. Maybe I did back in Sydney or back in England—but I was too young then to remember anything … or not much anyway. Not honey. I’ve read about it though. I’ve read a lot. Captain Piper’s got two whole chests of books, and Mama and Papa had some as well … Can I see it? Please?’
    The boy hesitated, then vanished in the direction of the horse whinny. He was back a few seconds later. He held out a slightly grubby hand. ‘You can taste it if you like,’ he offered.
    ‘Really? Your ma won’t be angry?’
    ‘There’s plenty there,’ reassured Daniel. ‘It was a whole tree full. They’re not like bees back home. I’ve never seen a hive so big before.’
    ‘Did you keep bees back home?’
    ‘My grandfather did. Twenty skeps out the back, and more sometimes. He made mead too, but they never let me taste it,’ said the boy regretfully.
    ‘What’s mead?’
    ‘It’s a drink. Honey and spring water. It’s got to be spring water mind, that’s what grandfather said. And yeast. Some people add herbs as well, but grandfather says they spoil the taste. Then you let it brew and that’s the mead. Like beer maybe, but better. Least that’s what grandfather said.’ Daniel held his hand out to her again.