Free Baptism of Fire by Christine Harris Page A

peered in through the glass: grinning, curious. She whisked the skimpy curtains across the glass and the murmur of voices told her the onlookers had not left, even though their view was now obstructed. A high-pitched squeal suggested the pig had also changed windows.
    Leaving Uncle Henry and Aunt Constance to their clinic, Hannah and Joshua headed towards the village. Hannah’s footsteps were light and quick. She was looking forward to this unexpected freedom and a buoyant mood settled on her. Best of all, she had her cousin to herself. They could talk privately. ‘Joshua, tell me about our relatives.’
    â€˜Which relatives?’
    She shrugged. ‘ Any relatives. I don’t even know if there are any. I didn’t know about you until a few months ago.’
    â€˜ You were a surprise to us!’
    â€˜So Uncle Hen …’ She stopped herself using his name. They were outside the house and it was against the rules. ‘My uncle never told you about me?’
    Pushing aside an overhanging bush, Joshua laughed. ‘He couldn’t. He didn’t know either. I heard him tell my mother about you after the letter came.’
    â€˜Have we other relatives?’
    â€˜We had a grandfather in England, but he died when I was young. I don’t know much about him.’ He frowned. ‘I … we have a grandmother …’
    â€˜ A grandmother !’
    Joshua looked surprised at the intensity of her response.
    â€˜Tell me about her? Is she nice? Does she live in a city? What colour is her hair—it’s not red, is it?’
    â€˜I’ve never seen her.’
    â€˜Oh.’
    â€˜I was born here, and Mother and Father have never been back. I expect they can’t afford it. But Grandmother writes sometimes, especially at Christmas. We don’t get the letter till March orApril though. One year it was June. The ships don’t call regularly. You never know when they’ll come.’ His eyes sparkled. ‘Once a Captain had some apples on board and I had a whole one all to myself.’
    Two men appeared on the narrow path and Hannah averted her eyes and stepped aside. In spite of the colossal wooden clubs they held, the two men exchanged cheerful greetings with Joshua. Hannah doubted she could even lift one of those weapons, never mind swing it to defend herself or inflict damage. The rounded head of the club was spiked like a pineapple. She winced as she considered the effects of having one connect with her head.
    The village was close, and in a short time they reached it.
    â€˜That’s Ratu Rabete’s bure .’ Joshua pointed to a house that was not only larger, but higher than all the others.
    Some of the villagers called greetings. Hannah felt awkward about the Fijians’ state of undress, but Joshua seemed perfectly at ease. A group of naked children surrounded them, chattering andpointing. Hannah scarely knew where to look.
    Was that someone she recognised? Yes. It was the woman she had seen on the beach, on the day of her arrival. She saw Hannah at the same moment. Today, the woman was just as friendly; just as keen to communicate; and just as stupendous. Whenever she laughed, her breasts wobbled. Most of her wobbled, in fact. Only a scanty portion of her body was concealed behind a leafy skirt.
    â€˜This is Luata, Hannah,’ said Joshua with the flourish of an arm.
    The two exchanged smiles.
    â€˜She does our washing twice a week,’ Joshua explained. ‘When she remembers to turn up. And when she remembers to bring it back.’
    Hannah laughed.
    Luata tugged at Hannah’s bag, trying to peer inside. Joshua said something to her in Fijian and she paused, shrugged, then resumed her quest. Hannah opened the bag but the contents did not excite much enthusiasm.
    Luata spoke and Joshua translated. ‘Luata says you have the face of the sun.’
    Hannah felt herself blush.
    Sudden cries and groans signalled a disturbance near