James Cullen stood in the kitchen watching Cook get organised for the day. She was a small woman, short and tiny built. Her hands moved deftly, and she hummed while she worked. He realised he didn’t even know her name, to him and the children, she was always “Cook”. Elizabeth handled the convict domestics, she made sure they were fed and clothed and put in a good day’s work. “Cook” didn’t need handling.
‘I’ve got some fresh eggs and bread ready for you, sir,’ she said, without turning around.
‘Thank you, Cook.’
James Cullen sat down to eat, mulling over the upheaval the new arrivals would undoubtedly bring. James Blay was a good enough worker, but Cullen thought a family being nearby might distract him. ‘We will see. After all, he is still a convict.’
Robert Bishop knocked on the kitch
