Farewell to Lancashire (30 page)

Mr Featherworth listened to what Mr Rainey had to tell him, asking a few questions, then shaking his head. ‘It’s a terrible business. The doctor tells me Mrs Blake is still out of her mind and very violent, has to be restrained for her own safety. Tomorrow we’re taking her to a place in the country near Halifax. It’s been strongly recommended by the doctor and is run by people who will care for her properly. I’m going with them to make sure everything is all right. I’ve got an order from the magistrate to take charge of everything until the heirs can be found.’

‘What are you going to do with the shop until then?’ Mr Rainey asked.

The lawyer sat tapping his fingers on the desk for a moment or two. ‘I shall have to employ someone to manage it, I suppose. I know nothing about shopkeeping.’

‘What about the senior man there?’ the Vicar asked. ‘Won’t he do?’

‘Well, he’s been very helpful and is keeping things going, but I’m not sure. He’s very young for such responsibility. I’d prefer an older man.’ And there was something about Prebble that Mr Featherworth didn’t quite trust. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but you got that feeling sometimes about people – and his judgement had never let him down before.

‘Why not give the young man a chance?’ the Vicar said. ‘I’ve known the Prebbles for years. They’re members of my congregation, regular attenders. I married the parents and christened young Harry. Decent folk, they are, from humble beginnings, but making something of themselves. You’d have to pay him more than he’s getting now, of course.’

‘I’ll talk to him before I make my mind up. Then there’s the maidservant, Dot. I’d thought to dismiss her but now I’m not sure.’

The Vicar pursed his lips, then passed judgement. ‘I don’t like to think of a housemaid having that place to herself. Who knows what she’ll get up to without proper supervision?’

Mr Rainey cleared his throat. ‘My wife has a cousin who works as a governess, but is between jobs at the moment and is coming to us next week for a rest before she seeks a new post, because she’s had the influenza and is run down. We could ask Alice – Miss Blair – to live there and keep an eye on things, if you like. You could trust her absolutely. She’d only ask for food and board, and perhaps a small honorarium.’

‘I was going to suggest a parishioner of my own, a widow,’ the Vicar said in an aggrieved tone.

Mr Featherworth stepped in hastily. He wasn’t fond of the Vicar and didn’t want him poking his nose into the Blakes’ affairs, which he would be able to do if one of his parishioners was installed above the shop. On the other hand, he did respect and like the Methodist Minister and his wife, who were both well thought of in town. ‘Perhaps you could introduce me to your wife’s cousin when she arrives, Mr Rainey? If she’s free, it may be just the thing. In the meantime I’ll have to consider how to contact the Blake sisters in Australia.’

The Vicar frowned. ‘You’re definitely sending someone to find them, then? Won’t that be rather expensive?’

‘It’ll be more expensive, yes, but I believe it’s essential. I’ve been considering asking the young man who works in the shop to go, not Prebble, but Zachary Carr. He knows the sisters by sight and he’s always been very helpful when I’ve dealt with him.’

‘That’s an excellent idea,’ Mr Rainey said warmly. ‘They’ll need more help in the shop, though.’

‘Prebble’s already asked about appointing someone. He tells me he knows a suitable young man. He’ll have no trouble finding more help in these troubled times.’

‘Have you asked the young fellow if he’s prepared to go?’

‘Not yet. I wanted to make enquiries about him first, to make absolutely sure that he’s reliable.’

Pandora hated sewing, so let the twins join that particular shipboard class without her. But she did join a group to whom one of the ladies was reading a book aloud. She’d rather have read the book for herself, but didn’t say that. At least it passed the time. And some of the other young women from Lancashire who hadn’t joined groups were misbehaving, so she didn’t want to be thought like them. Safer to participate in some quiet activity and keep out of the others’ way.

When the lady reader was unwell one day, Pandora volunteered to take her place, wanting to know what happened next in the story, as well as to fill in another hour or so.

Matron looked at her in surprise. ‘Can you read well enough?’

She bit back a hasty answer. ‘I think so. Let me show you.’ Finding the place they’d reached in the book, she started reading.

Matron stopped her after a couple of paragraphs. ‘Excellent. I’ll let you take charge today, then.’

‘Thank you. And Matron?’

‘Yes?’

‘Someone said there was a library on board. Could I borrow books from it, do you think? I’ll be very careful with them.’

Matron gave one of her rare smiles. ‘Not just a library. A benefactor has donated a box of writing materials and diaries, and those who know how to write can apply for a diary and keep a record of the voyage. Some people make two copies and send one back to their families. I’ve been waiting till the weather calmed down to distribute them.’ Her frown returned. ‘Unfortunately, the single women on this ship have been more difficult to settle than usual.’

Pandora beamed at her. ‘Oh, I’d love to keep a diary.’

‘You didn’t join the sewing class, though.’

She grimaced. ‘I don’t like sewing.’

‘Nonetheless, it’ll be helpful for you in your new life. There are no cotton mills in Western Australia and you young women were brought out as maids. Employers will think more of you if you can at least do the mending. Perhaps you could reconsider the sewing class?’

‘I’m not good at it and I doubt I ever shall be.’ And she hated sewing, would far rather use her brain.

‘There’s nothing like perseverance for improving a skill. Mrs Barrett says your eldest sister is quite a good needlewoman. I must say it’s very kind of her to instruct her maid as she is doing.’ She cocked her head, waiting for an answer, and when it didn’t come, she added, ‘Besides, the busier you are, the more pleasantly the voyage will pass.’

Pandora looked at her pleadingly, because this sounded like an ultimatum.

‘Didn’t you hear what I said? Sewing is a valued skill in a maid. You
need
to be able to do it. Besides, by joining the class, you’ll gain an item of underwear. There’s a box of underwear cut out and ready to sew, donated by a group of ladies who care about the welfare of young women sent out into the world on their own.’

Knowing it wouldn’t be wise to defy Matron, and bearing in mind the fact that she wasn’t so well supplied with clothing that she could ignore a free gift, Pandora gave in. ‘Oh, very well, I’ll join the sewing class, then. But I’ll ruin anything I touch. I just don’t seem able to sew a straight seam, however hard I try.’

‘I’ll teach you.’ This was said very confidently.

She hid her doubts and was given a diary and writing implements that very afternoon, something which thrilled her. She stroked the crisp, clean paper of the first page and considered how best to begin.

One thing Pandora did enjoy was organising their mess’s meals, but she was thankful they hadn’t got any of the more unruly single women in their group to disrupt things.

Food was plentiful and many of the young women from Lancashire put on weight quickly, acquiring rosy cheeks again. There were some startling transformations. One woman, who’d seemed middle-aged, grew young again before their eyes.

Well, it was no wonder. For breakfast they had tea or coffee with bread and butter, and there was as much as anyone could want. Occasionally they had molasses or jam to spread on the bread, or ship’s biscuits instead of bread. Pandora didn’t care what they were given. She’d been hungry for so long, she enjoyed every mouthful now.

Dinner was usually meat and potatoes, with preserved pork or beef being the most common meats, though occasionally there was fresh meat when one of the ship’s animals was slaughtered. None of the Lancashire contingent complained if the preserved meat was a little salty. They’d all known hunger.

With the food they were sometimes given preserved cabbage or pease pudding made from dried peas. The preserved cabbage wasn’t to some people’s taste, but Matron urged them to eat it to ward off scurvy.

A few girls hid the cabbage in their handkerchiefs and tossed it into the sea, others refused point-blank even to touch it. They were stupid, Pandora thought. It stood to reason Matron knew what she was talking about, as she’d done the voyage several times now. It seemed a strange way to earn a living, but the older woman obviously enjoyed ship life and was often to be seen gazing out at the ocean, her expression content.

The women were given flour, suet and sugar for each mess every alternate day, and were allowed to make cakes of any sort from it, which the cook would bake for them.

Pandora asked his advice and learned a lot about cooking in difficult conditions. Xanthe took an interest in this, too, but some of the mess leaders only made simple things to which they were used, not showing any interest in extending their skills.

Others were too busy stealing things from one another to care what they ate, as long as there was food. The more they recovered from the famine days, the worse some of the girls’ behaviour grew. The objects they liked most to steal were photographs of the others’ sweethearts or brothers. Then they’d pretend that these were
their
sweethearts. This caused a lot of distress among the victims.

When she found her father’s book gone from under her pillow, Pandora reported it to Matron, who searched all the single women’s cabins, with the Purser standing by. The book was found and many other small articles too that people had missed.

Afterwards the Captain himself gave them all a scolding and threatened to lock the ones who’d done it below instead of allowing them on deck. But even that didn’t stop the pilfering.

In the end some girls took their little treasures to the Captain and asked him to keep them safe till the voyage was over.

The Blake sisters gave their more precious possessions to Cassandra, the main one being a photograph of them and their father, now without its frame, which they’d had to sell. She’d shown them their mother’s locket, which had photos of their mother and father as young people in it. They hadn’t expected to see that again.

Not until the trunks were brought up at the end of the first month, as was usual, to allow for a change of clothes and access to their other possessions, did Cassandra get a chance to see what she’d ‘inherited’ from Hilda.

The missing maid’s trunk was placed in her cabin next to her own and Miss Pershore’s. That left them barely enough room to squeeze past to get to the tiny washstand fixed to the wall.

‘Why don’t you sort out your box first?’ she suggested to the older maid. ‘My mistress wants me to help her go through her things.’

‘I will then, thank you.
My
mistress will leave what is taken from her box to my judgement. I’ve got everything ready for a quick exchange.’ Miss Pershore looked down her nose at Cassandra, because she’d quickly learned that her companion was not a real maid and lost no opportunity to emphasise her own superiority.

‘I’m sure you have. And any hints you can give me for packing my mistress’s things again will be most welcome.’

Somewhat mollified, Miss Pershore spent ten minutes outlining her way of organising things, which involved making packages of clothing for each stage of the journey, each bundle wrapped in clean sheets. These could be removed from the trunks quickly.

Cassandra tried to look interested, because life in the tiny cabin was easier if Miss Pershore was not in a bad mood, but she had other things to worry about at the moment and it was hard to concentrate. Her monthly had not come and though she’d never been as regular as her sisters, there were changes in her body which signalled her condition all too clearly. Her breasts were tender and she felt slightly nauseous in the mornings.

She’d been trying to tell herself that the huge changes in her life had made her late, but this morning she’d had to rush to the water closet to be sick. It was no longer impossible to deny the facts: she must be expecting a child.

She shuddered every time she thought of that, couldn’t even bring herself to tell her sisters. She’d wanted children, of course she had, but not one forced upon her by men like that. Why, she’d never even know which man was the father.

And what about Reece? She’d dared hope he’d not hold what had happened against her, that they’d be able to marry, but this was far worse. No man could be expected to take on the child of such a coupling.

That thought made her cry sometimes after she went to bed. She muffled her sobs under her blankets, not daring weep for too long in case it made her eyes red.

There was no denying that her future was looking bleak.

Soon she would have to tell her sisters. They were looking at her with the question in their eyes already. Only she didn’t want to admit it to anyone yet, because she felt deeply ashamed of her condition.

After an hour’s earnest perusal of the contents of her trunk, Mrs Barrett sighed and waved one hand languidly. ‘You can close that thing. I don’t want anything else out of it. We have enough to manage with in the cabin trunk, really. Why don’t you go and sort out your new possessions?’