Chapter 25

Sidra jumped to her own defence and barked out, “No, Dad, we didn’t! We both have been given jobs at part-time trainee level, so we will soon be earning money, and all by our own efforts.”

She saw everyone was smiling, and her ire subsided. “Well, it is true,” she said petulantly.

Reg reached over and gave her a hug. “Well done, Sidra. You too, Elizabeth my daughter.”

That got him a smile of pleasure from Elizabeth, then Sidra glared and belatedly gave him the same smile.

“You were teasing me, Dad!”

“Yep,” Reg agreed with a grin. “One of the joys of life. You can only do that with those you love.”

That produced glances of approval from his wives. Jessica told her daughter, “You know perfectly well that your Dad loves you, Sidra, so he can tease you all he likes. Remember, you can always tease him back.”

Memory came flooding back to Sidra, and she rushed to hug Reg.

“I am glad you are my Dad now, Reg; much better than that monster who was my biological father. You may tease me all you like as long as you love me.”

“I will always love you, Sidra,” Reginald confirmed. “And you, too, Elizabeth,” he added, so that she was not ignored. “I love the pair of you as much as if you were biologically my children. Love is not a matter of genetics; it is a matter of choice. We chose you to be our daughters, so you deserve our love forever.”

Sandra chose at this point to say her own piece.

“Sidra and Elizabeth, back when I was the babysitter, I saw your Dad act lovingly to all his wives, and he was no different a person when my boyfriend baled out on me. Reg and all his women comforted me and guaranteed me a job with them; but it was Frances who later decided that I needed to become another Robertson spouse if I was going to enjoy life fully again. She was right. This family is all about love.”

Late the next day the men from the bank turned up at the Robertson home to make their gold collection. Frances reminded them that this lot was from their own land, so 100 per cent to their bank account, while the new gold from the Robson farmhouse was the Colony’s due, with the Robsons only getting the finder fee agreed. The men confirmed that they had been instructed to that effect. They were impressed by the heavy nuggets found by Reginald, and said so.

He commented, “I am sure it is due to this land being virgin at this time. A similar effect happened in Victorian Australia when large finds were made there. I am not expecting many large ones, just as Australia had only a few of immense size.”

“Still, these two alone will be a great boost to your bank account, Mr Robertson.”

“I reckoned that to be the case. It is nice to have an adequate bank balance to our name.”

The men hoisted the heavy nuggets onto their carrier and left. This was a more interesting task than their usual work at the bank, heaving money bags and boxes around, or moving furniture to suit the current bank chiefs. It made them more inclined to get a metal detector to check their own farm for valuable metals. The Robertsons mentioned a flying metal detector, so possibly you could hire one of these to check your own land.

Fiona brought Reginald up to date regarding her pharmacy.

“John tells me he has applied to the Colony Admin department for his Rehome pharmacy licence. They told him that with his formal qualifications from England, this was a mere formality; that the licensing procedure was to ensure that all the pharmacies were safe for the public and run by qualified persons. There would be checks to reinforce that.

He and I have agreed on a publicity plan through the online newspaper. We intend to go with the line of the ‘First Pharmacy in the City’ and that we are operating with the approval of the medical services of the Colony. The ownership will be admitted to be me as the daughter of an executive of a pharmaceutical supply company on Earth, with a quote from me saying “As well as being owner, I have been educated in pharmacy in an English university and as soon as I am fully qualified I will be able to stand in for Mr Meadows during his vacation breaks.” I was advised to use the word vacation instead of holiday this time, as we have so many former Americans in the Colony. I expect that the language of Rehome will change over time due to so many dialects of English coming together. That is what happened with the North Americans as they came together as a nation. The first Englishmen to arrive maintained the old word faucet, while England changed to use tap for the same object.”

Reg said to her, “Faucet is an odd word to have in English. I once looked it up and found it related to the bung hole of a cask or barrel in France in the fourteen hundreds. As the technology improved, it became a screw valve in the cask, and then became a proper opening valve for the beer or wine barrel, and later for water supply purposes. The faucet version, as you said, got imported to England from France and was in use there when the early settlers went to America, taking it with them. The same valve switched to being a tap in England, but remained a faucet in the United States though they also use tap and spigot for special uses of the same kind of water valve. Nothing in English ever seems to start in England, I find.”

She laughed at the word picture. “That seems about right. The various dialects of English in the UK are all affected by the historical native languages of Old Welsh, Old English, Brittonic, and Gaelic, so that words often vary according to location: spiggy, spuggy, speug or spyug, spurdy and spadger for the house sparrow are examples. Who knows how these names came about? In America the word sparrow refers to a different bird species, probably chosen from a resemblance to the English sparrow, the same as our fishmonger uses Earth names to classify native Rehome fish species.”

“Interesting analysis, Fiona. I wouldn’t want to apply that too widely, though. For example, making assumptions about fungi might be dangerous where some Earth mushrooms like Chanterelles are edible and tasty, and some like the Amanita group are deadly poisonous! You can’t always tell by looks which are the dangerous ones so applying common names may not be advisable.”

Reg switched topics. “Anyway, when are you opening the pharmacy?”

“I am waiting until I know that the local health services are on board, just in case we are clashing with someone else starting a pharmacy operation. If we are, we could negotiate geographical areas of operation. I know that sounds like collusion for a monopoly, but it makes simple sense in the Colony at this time. We can argue about competition once we have a bigger population and a bigger economy. This is the development phase, when speed of development is paramount; getting the services started.”

“What if the hospital want to continue with their own pharmacy?”

“That’s fine, as the hospital is in City One, and we are setting up in City Two.”

“My wife, you seem to have everything sorted, so I shall leave you to your new business.”

“Thank you, my husband, for your trust in me. You are fairly competent, yourself.”

Reginald told the others about his gold discoveries above the marble area, and how he wanted to go over the rest of their land before it got taken on by the new owners.

“I heard you say that you had completed your gold digging over by the Robson farm, so possibly we can get the same done on our own land.”

The prospect of gathering gold that would all belong to them was enough to get their approval, so next day would be a gold-getting day. Fiona would join them as soon as she knew she was clear of her pharmacy duties. Sandra declared her intention to look after the children for the day, in case her morning sickness got the better of her. Frances agreed that was a wise move, and Jessica interjected, “If Sandra is going to look after our children, I would like to join the rest of you at gathering gold. You seem to have fun with it.”

“Why not?” said Frances. “Welcome to the digging team.”

Sandra was quite happy to be left with all the children, as she had been doing that from the start, as her original employment. The ladies went off on their more localised digging stint, so expected to be home for lunchtime with their first collection of finds.

Reg had an appointment with George Georgeson, the nearby farmer with two sisters for wives, one with a baby and the other expecting one. George had asked Reg to call to discuss a problem, but didn’t say what the problem actually was, leaving Reg curious. He had checked the weather, and decided that the long walk would do him no harm.

When he arrived, George welcomed Reginald at the farm door, but steered him to his nearby barn.

“This where I want you to have a look, Reginald.”

He opened the side door and gestured for Reginald to enter.

Everything looked normal for a barn, including horse stalls (assuming horses were ever allowed on Rehome). The stalls mostly held bales of hay, or stored farm implements. George pointed to one that held hay.

“In the front corner, Reginald,” he advised, and Reginald cautiously peeked in. There was what looked almost like a dog bed made with small branches and lined with hay, and in it were a bunch of what could only be described as puppies.

“Puppies? But Rehome doesn’t allow dogs to be brought in!”

“Quite,” agreed George, “but these are local animals. I was out cutting hay with my scythe, and one sweep hit the mother animal while she was protecting her litter; the tip went straight through her and killed her stone dead. When I had a look, I found this sort of nest among the hay, and these babies – I prefer to call them pups – were lying inside, curled up together. There are eight of them. The girls didn’t want me to kill them, but I pointed out that we had nothing to feed them with.

The response was ‘Can we not try them with breast milk?’” and George completed his story with a grin.

Reginald raised his eyebrows. “Is that feasible? Human breast milk from a different planet may not be compatible with their metabolism.”

George shrugged. “I know, but with nothing else, the girls wanted to try. They expressed some milk and used a baby’s bottle and nipple, and got the pups to drink some.

The first time we tried, they just vomited it up within a few minutes, but the girls persevered, and gradually some stayed down. All I can say is, the pups are still alive, even if they spend most of their time sleeping; perhaps adjusting to the human milk. I was wondering if them being so young, they are better able to adjust for survival. That is just my thought, nothing more.”

Reginald offered his opinion.

“Well, I am surprised; no, I am amazed that they are still alive. Keep going, for either they will survive, or they won’t. There is nothing else that you can do, short of finding another female of these animals to suckle them. I haven’t seen them before, so they can’t be common.”

“Now, Reginald, as to why I asked you here. If these are something like dogs, do you think they can be trained as pets, or even as guard dog equivalents?”

Reginald was taken aback. “This is beyond my expertise, George. In fact, it is probably beyond anyone’s expertise. The nearest to an answer would be to see if any naturalist has encountered them and voiced an opinion about them: what they eat, how they fit into the local ecology, whether they are prey or predator, whether they are pack animals like dogs, or loners like some other animals. If they are pack animals and predators, that makes them similar to dogs, but also to wolves (that all our dogs are descended from). Wolves are tougher to domesticate, so starting with pups of a wolf equivalent, you may have the best chance of success.”

“So you think it is worth asking around? I won’t get into trouble for killing the mother?”

“Only with the father of the pups, if he comes looking, but he has no chance of raising the pups with no milk to offer, so possibly he will just accept that their mother is dead and the pups have vanished. He will probably assume another predator ate the pups, and move on.”

“That sounds a reasonable assumption, Reginald. I’ll check the Rehome encyclopaedia, and see what I can find. Some expert may be shown there. If so, I can ask for advice.”

“I just had a thought, George. If, and it is a big if, they are like dog puppies, and you are able to raise them, you might be able to breed them and sell the later puppies as pets. You will have no competition, due to the embargo on living imports, so it could be a lucrative pet trade.”

“That’s an interesting thought, Reginald. I was wondering what we would feed them on, when they get beyond the milk stage.”

“That is one of the questions to get answers for, George. The encyclopaedia may mention what they normally eat. That will give you some clue.”

George was on his phone like a heron after a fish. His excitement was evident when he called out a few minutes later, “It is a Garrad; that’s what they call it. The database says it forms packs like dogs, and preys on burrowing rodents that are like rabbits. The encyclopaedia says none of these Garrads are known to be in captivity, but the local scientists are keen to get hold of one to see if it can be trained to hunt for a human master. Oh, Reginald, I can see possibilities here.”

“So can I, George. Offer the pups to the scientists to raise and try to train, but if their attempts are successful, say you want a pair of them for your family pets.”

“Do you think our babies will be safe around Garrads when they are adult beasts?”

“That I cannot say, for Rehome animals are new to us recent arrivals. Wait and see what the scientists say they are able to do with the animals. That may give us some helpful guidance. Remember that while almost all dogs are okay around small children, you still get the occasional feral response of a large dog as a predator seeing small prey. Until you are certain, it would be wise to never leave a small child alone with a Garrad.”

Reginald’s phone sounded, so he answered it. It was Sandra.

“Reg darling, there is a piece in the news that you should read. It is about National Parks.”

“Thanks, Sandra. The children all okay?”

“Yes, they’re fine. No need to fret, daddy,” she jibed.

Reginald switched to the Colony news channel and quickly ran through the headlines to find the word Park.

“Governor announces Park policy”, it said. “Governor Kempe today declared that the Colony was instituting a program of National Parks, to be rolled out over the next few years. He declared that it was important for the future life of the Colony for parts of the planet to be reserved for mental and physical recreation; to keep areas of unspoiled natural beauty for the population to visit and unwind as they viewed it, and for the children to learn more about the ecology of our wonderful planet.”

The story went on, “The first National Park has been delineated, not too far from City Two but will be accessible only by rail, once the track is built. The Governor has appointed as National Park Administrator for the Colony, Mister Reginald Robertson, and he will shortly move his residence to the Park official entrance, as soon as that entrance is established and the rail link laid to it. Eventually he will be responsible for all the Parks, but at the moment he will look after the one newly designated as our initial Park.

The Governor explained that in a National Park there must be no disturbance of the natural ecological balance by humans, so hunting of birds and animals will be prohibited within its boundaries, and the only fishing allowed will be recreational sport fishing by amateur anglers, on the basis of catch and return. Most other rules will be similar to those in National Parks on Earth, however it is not intended that roads or buildings be constructed within a Park, nor any mineral extraction permitted, as that can cause water pollution as well as degradation of the land.

Transport within the Park is restricted to two wheels and two legs, and bicycles will be preferred to motorcycles. A small area will be devoted solely to disability vehicles, and short tracks for that purpose will be laid to allow them to get to special viewing points.”

The story ended there, and Reginald nodded to himself as he allowed the words to percolate through his brain.