Farewell to Lancashire (33 page)

‘Run things for them two, do you?’ Jack asked.

‘I don’t know what I’ll be doing yet,’ he said ruefully, and explained the terms under which he was employed.

‘Had it easy in life, they have. You can see it. Things ain’t easy here, though, ain’t easy anywhere for most folk.’ He spat over to one side to show what he thought of that. He drove along in silence for a while, except for encouraging his horses to keep moving forward and yelling the occasional remark about the state of the road to the two men in charge of the second wagon.

‘What brought you to Australia?’ Reece asked.

Jack grinned. ‘The government, when I was a nipper. Landed in Sydney, I did, in a convict ship.’

‘What had you done to deserve transportation, if you don’t mind me asking?’

Jack’s face went grim. ‘Stole some food to keep my family alive. Stole a shawl for my mum, too. We was starving after Dad died and she was blue with cold that winter, her clothes were so thin. Didn’t help her much, did I?’

‘I’m sorry. Have you heard from your family since?’

‘No.’

‘That must have been hard to bear.’

The man shrugged. ‘Nothin’ I could do about it.’

‘But you own this cart now?’

Jack nodded, failing to hide his pride in this. ‘Got an early pardon, I did, for saving the life of a guard who fell into a river. Best thing I ever done, hauling that fat sod out of the water. I got a job as drayman’s helper afterwards and he taught me to drive. Good bloke, Matt was. And then I met my lass. She’d been brung out here too. Stealing as a servant. Same reason as me: her family was hungry. Anyway, I married Nellie, was lucky to find her.’

‘You seem to have prospered.’

Jack shrugged. ‘Me and Nellie worked all the hours God sent and built up gradual to owning our own business. I’m doing all right now and she’s never gone hungry since we met. That’s my son on the other wagon, the big chap. Tommo. He’s never gone hungry in his life, my son hasn’t. And he owns that cart. Good worker, he is.’

‘I admire what you’ve done and hope to follow your example. I’ve a lot to learn about Australia, though. If you’ve any advice about how to get on out here, I’d appreciate you sharing it.’

The driver thought hard for a while, then shrugged. ‘If you’ve got what it takes, an’ you don’t get no bad luck, you’ll get on by working hard and not drinking away what you earn. You’re the sort to get on, I reckon.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘You’re a worker. You didn’t stand and watch us load stuff on the cart like your master did, you helped us.’

When they were a few miles away from the farm, there was a yell from behind, and they turned to see that one of the wheels of the other wagon had hit a half-buried piece of rock and was skewed at an angle.

Cursing, Jack yelled at his beasts to stop and thrust the reins at Reece. He jumped down and ran back to look at the damage.

‘Good thing we always carry a spare wheel!’ he called to Reece. ‘Some don’t, but it can cost you days if a wheel gets damaged when you’re out in the bush.’

By the time they’d changed the wheel it was fully dark and Jack decided to make camp and spend the night here, since there was a farm nearby where they could get water for the horses.

Reece had no choice but to stay with them, but wondered how Francis and Livia would get on overnight without anyone to help them.

As the sun sank slowly in the west, sending long shadows across the bare earth in front of the shack, Francis paced up and down. ‘Where are they? They should have been here an hour ago.’

Livia, who was sitting on the edge of the tiny veranda, shrugged. ‘Perhaps one of the horses went lame.’

‘That’d only account for one wagon. Reece should have brought the other one here. How are we to manage without proper beds?’

She smiled. ‘It’s not going to be cold. We have a rug in the cart, and food. We can have bread and cheese for supper.’

But the butter she’d brought had melted, which made Francis pull a face, and the cheese had sweated and looked unappealing.

‘No use worrying,’ she said cheerfully. ‘It’s not poisonous and I’m ravenous. Light me a fire to boil some water, Francis, then go and check the shack for spiders and snakes.’

A few minutes later there was a yell from the shack and he erupted out of the door, standing staring back into it.

She swung round. ‘What’s wrong.’

‘Snake. I think there’s a shovel on the cart. I’ll chop its head off. Watch the door in case it comes out.’

It took him several minutes to corner the snake, then he brought its separated head and body out and tossed them to one side with a shudder. By that time she’d brewed a pot of tea and had their simple supper laid out on the blanket.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said as he sat beside her on the ground.

‘What for?’

‘Bringing you to such a primitive place, with no comforts or servants. I didn’t think it’d be this bad.’

‘We have Reece to help us, though he’s not like a servant, is he? But he’s very capable. And anyway, I’m not helpless. I can milk cows, thanks to our lessons with Reece’s cousin, and feed hens, and cook bread. Come and eat your food. We shall do fine. Your health is far more important than living in luxury.’

‘We’ll get you a maid as soon as we possibly can. They say there’s another ship due soon, so we’ll see if we can hire one of the women from it.’

They sat by the fire for a while, and then, as there was still no sign of the big carts, they made up a bed inside the shack and settled down for the night.

‘It’s nice, really,’ she said.

‘What is?’

‘Being on our own. We’ve not been on our own for months.’

‘We’ll build a shack for Reece away from this house,’ he said, taking her in his arms. ‘I’d welcome a bit more privacy to make love to my wife.’

She snuggled up against him. Maybe this time they’d manage to make a child. They’d been trying for a while now, without a sign.

Reece and the two big carts arrived at the block about ten o’clock the following morning. He explained about the wheel but could see that Francis wasn’t happy about him failing to arrive.

‘They should still have sent one cart on! I don’t like my wife roughing it.’

‘They needed all three men to change the wheel, and even if I’d had a horse, I’d have stayed with them. Not only were
your
possessions on those carts, but everything I own in the world, too. And the roads round here aren’t good enough to travel in the dark. There was no moon last night.’

Jack slouched across, his face impassive, as if he hadn’t heard the conversation. ‘Where d’you want us to put your things, Mr Southerham?’

‘We’ve brought a big tent to use as a storeroom, and for Reece to sleep in. If you could help set it up first then unload into it, I’d be grateful.’

‘Yeah, right. Cup of tea would be nice to start us off, missus.’

Reece could see Francis bridling at this casual way of treating his wife, so said quickly, ‘I’ll make the tea.’

Livia smiled at them all. ‘No, I will. You men get on with unloading things and I’ll call you when the tea’s ready.’

She had more sense than her husband, Reece thought as he turned to inspect the terrain and ask Jack’s advice about where to site the tent.

‘I thought to put it over there,’ Francis said.

‘You’ll get a river running through it come winter if you do that,’ Jack said. ‘Up to you. We’ll set it up where you want.’ He winked at Reece.

‘A river?’

Jack pointed to the ground. ‘Come winter, you’ll get run-off coming down here.’ He saw Francis’s puzzled look. ‘Rainwater. Got to go somewhere, hasn’t it? Most of the rain comes in winter and runs away downhill. Don’t want it going into your stores, do you?’

‘Where would
you
advise us to put it?’ Reece asked.

‘Billy will know.’ He pointed to the man who’d sat silently for most of the journey next to Tommo. He was clearly part-aboriginal, but dressed and acted like his companions, and they seemed to treat him as an equal. ‘Good lad, Billy is. We’ll get the tent unloaded while he looks round.’

By the time Billy had chosen a piece of land that rose a little, about a hundred yards from the shack, the tea was ready. The men drank it with loud appreciation, after which they set to and erected the tent.

‘Is there anything you don’t know how to do?’ Reece asked, watching how capably the other three worked, compared to himself and Francis.

‘Y’have to be able to look after yourselves when you’re on the road,’ Jack said. ‘Poor sort I’d be if I couldn’t put up a shelter and cook my meals when I’m away from home.’

It was well into the afternoon by the time they’d unloaded everything and put it in the big tent, making space in a corner for Reece to sleep behind some boxes.

‘Do you three want to stay the night here?’ Francis asked. ‘It’s all right by me if you do.’

‘Got a friend nearby. I’ll go and see him. Didn’t realise you were moving next door to old Kevin. If you’ve time, I’ll take you across to meet him. Doesn’t hurt to meet the neighbours.’ He looked sideways at Francis. ‘He’s an ex-convict like me, though, so perhaps you’d rather not.’

Francis looked at him in shock. ‘An ex-convict is allowed to lease a block of land?’

‘He was a
gentleman
back home. Irish. Fell foul of the government because he wanted to free Ireland, so they sent him out here. He’s a good fellow, but.’

‘I’ll go and meet him with you,’ Reece said, seeing by his expression that Francis was going to refuse. ‘How far away is his place, Jack?’

‘An hour for us. But if you cut across the slope on foot, it won’t take you more than a few minutes to get back.’

Reece didn’t wait in case Francis refused but joined Jack on the cart. A neighbour who knew this area would be able to help them in these new conditions, whatever his background.

Kevin Lynch was older than Reece had expected, his face lined, his hair white. He was very thin, his skin tanned but with a yellowish undertone, as if he wasn’t well.

When Reece offered his hand, Kevin shook it and grinned. ‘Not frightened to touch an ex-convict, then, Mr Gregory?’

‘Terrified. And my name’s Reece.’ Ordinary Australians didn’t stand on ceremony with one another. He liked that. ‘I’m general servant to the Southerhams next door until a year next April, then I’ll find a piece of land and set up on my own.’

‘Know about farming, do you?’

‘A bit. I worked on a farm for a couple of years after the cotton mills shut down. I’ve still got a lot to learn, though, so if you’ve ever got any advice about conditions here, don’t hesitate to share it. I’ll listen gratefully.’

He didn’t stay long, but left with a standing invitation to ask for advice any time or simply to come visiting.

He wished it was his land, and that he was working for his own future not the Southerhams’. But he’d served several months now, and the rest of the time would soon pass. And maybe by the end of it, he’d have a wife. He hoped so.

He’d work on that letter to Cassandra tonight. And he’d put it in the post next time he went to Perth, however much it cost to write to England. They charged by weight, he’d heard, and he’d written a lot of pages, but he didn’t want to take out any of them. She had to know what she’d be facing here.

He prayed she’d come and join him. He missed her so much.

E
arly in the morning of the 13th December, Cassandra heard someone call out that land had been sighted. She got up, throwing on her clothes any old how, eager to go up on deck and see her new home. But her body betrayed her, rebelling at such haste. Clapping her hand to her mouth, she fled to the water closet.

When she returned to the cabin, she found Miss Pershore sitting on the edge of the lower bunk, staring at her as if she’d grown two heads.

‘You’re expecting a child, aren’t you?’ she demanded in a tone of both triumph and disgust.

‘Yes, I am.’

‘I’ve wondered all along whether you really did have a husband, because you never talk about him, and that’s not natural. I think you’re just saying you’re a widow to escape the consequences of fornication!’

Cassandra drew herself up to her full height and stared down at the scrawny, scowling woman. She’d tried in vain to get on with Miss Pershore, to stay polite, but if she let this accusation go unchallenged, her child would be labelled a bastard and the stigma of that would ensure the poor little thing would be treated badly throughout its life. ‘I was brought to join this ship by a clergyman and his wife, who vouched for me and who knew what my married state was. Do you think they’d have done that if this child was the result of my immorality?’

Silence, then Miss Pershore let out a loud sniff. ‘Does your mistress know about it?’

‘None of your business.’

‘She doesn’t, I can tell. And she won’t want you as a maid once your condition is known. They never do.’

‘Then I shall find myself another job.’

‘You won’t get one as a lady’s maid.’