Looking at her now, Emma realized with a rush of compassion that little had changed with regard to the incorrigible Nelly. The eyes still held a measure of mischief, and few handsome men were safe in her company. There was no denying the affection with which she gazed on Emma now. No, Emma thought warmly, Nelly had not changed, she probably never would. Not even the ravages of time would change her except to broaden the already dumpy figure, or to couch those bright, honest eyes in fleshy cushions. Nelly was just Nelly. And you either loved or loathed her. Emma loved her.

‘Stay with me, Emma gal,’ Nelly pleaded now, ‘and I promise not to chastize you no more.’ In truth, although she didn’t come right out and say it, she was pledging not to question Emma about things that were painful. They both knew what she was really promising. For Emma, it was enough. Sighing, but with a smile that warmed Nelly’s heart, Emma sat down again. ‘Oh, there’s a good ’un!’ Nelly cried. ‘You can tell me again about your trip to Australia… about how that cousin of yours turned up unexpected… that dreadful Martha! Oh, and d’yer really believe as how her husband, Silas, has struck up a close relationship with Rita Hughes? By! I’ll bet that mard arse Martha didn’t like her nose being put out of joint, did she, eh? Oh, but she’s only herself to blame… leaving a reg’lar fella like Silas on his own out there. Go on,’ she urged, ‘tell me everything. Don’t leave nothing out.’

‘I must have told you at least four times,’ Emma protested. But then, seeing that Nelly was perched on the edge of her seat, all agog with excitement, she sighed and smiled, and outlined the highlights of her long journey yet again: the seemingly never-ending but peaceful sea voyage; the joy of having Marlow all to herself when business was so far away that it could not part them; the strange feelings of both excitement and regret at setting foot on those same shores where she and Nelly had been delivered as prisoners too many years before.

‘Y’know, Emma gal… I’ve made me mind up good an’ proper…’ Nelly had grown thoughtful all the while Emma was describing how ‘it was strangely unsettling to be walking the streets of Fremantle… seeing the prison where we were kept and the house where we later enjoyed our freedom; little has changed, although the convict system will shortly be a thing of history’. Now, Nelly was made to cry out, ‘I never ever want to go back there… wild horses wouldn’t drag me, I’m telling yer!’ Nelly was adamant, shaking her head and looking altogether terrified at the very idea.

‘We did have awful experiences there, didn’t we, Nelly?’ conceded Emma. ‘And I can understand why you would not want to go back. But we came out of it all very well, you can’t deny that. And Australia is very beautiful.’