‘Stay here,’ Eliza commanded and ran after Annie. ‘Mrs O’Reilly, stop,’ she said, but Annie kept walking.
Panting, Eliza drew even with her. ‘It doesn’t have to be like this. Why don’t you come into town? There’d be work here for you.’
Annie stopped and looked at her. ‘Doin’ what? Cleanin’ and cookin’ for other people? Workin’ ’ere?’ She pointed at Lil’s Place. ‘No thank you, Miss Penrose. I like me own place and me independence but it’s too far for Charlie and you’re the one who told me she needs to get her education. She’s your responsibility now.’
With that, Annie strode away. All Eliza could do was watch her go.
She returned to Charlie.
The girl choked back her tears and she took a shuddering breath. ‘What’s going to happen to me?’
‘We’ll work something out, Charlie. Now, are those your things?’ Eliza pointed at a bundle wrapped in a faded red kerchief. ‘Bring them inside and I’ll put them safe in the office. You can help me by setting out the slates and perhaps we can persuade Miss Donald to let you help the little ones with their arithmetic.’
Charlie sniffed, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her patched jacket. ‘Me?’
Eliza summoned a reassuring smile. ‘Yes, you.’
As she lit the fires, she watched Charlie carefully placing the slates on the desks and wondered what on earth she was going to do with her. She could hardly install her at Cowper’s house. Perhaps she could speak with Mrs Russell to see if the charity of the Ladies’ Committee extended to abandoned waifs. She suspected it extended only as far as expecting the abandoned waif to act as an unpaid servant.
When Flora Donald arrived, Eliza explained the situation.
‘She just abandoned her?’ Flora sounded incredulous. ‘What are you going to do with her?’
The answer to Charlie’s predicament had come to Eliza and she smiled. ‘I have an idea but it will have to wait until after school. Do you think she could help you with the little one’s arithmetic today?’
Flora’s eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened but in the end she agreed. Charlie struggled with her task, however, not because she did not know what she was teaching but because the ingrained distrust of the scruffy child ran right through the school.
At the end of the school day, Charlie helped Eliza to tidy the room. When she was done, she sat on the step of the teacher’s platform and waited for Eliza to fetch her bundle from the office.
‘Am I going home with you, miss?’ Charlie asked as Eliza handed her the bundle.
Home. What a curious concept, Eliza thought. It had been many years since she’d had a home of her own. Her father’s disgrace and death had set her adrift and she certainly didn’t consider Cowper’s house a home.
‘We are going to visit a friend,’ she said. ‘Ready?’
Charlie hefted her possessions and followed Eliza.
They stopped at Netty Burrell’s shop and Eliza stood outside the door, gathering her courage. This would be a huge imposition on their budding friendship but she could think of no other immediate solution for Charlie.
Eliza opened the door of the dressmaker’s and ushered Charlie in. Netty, busy with a customer, glanced from Eliza to the child and back again.
‘I’ll be with you in a moment,’ she said.
Eliza settled Charlie in front of the cosy fire and they waited for the customer to leave. Netty shut the door after her and turned the sign on her window to CLOSED.
Hands on hips, she addressed the child. ‘It’s Charlotte O’Reilly, isn’t it? To what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘May we speak in your kitchen?’ Eliza said.
Netty nodded. ‘Can you mind the shop for me, Charlotte?’
Charlie nodded and Netty bustled Eliza into the kitchen.
‘Now, what’s this about?’
‘I have the most enormous favour to ask of you,’ Eliza began and explained that Annie O’Reilly had abandoned her child on the doorstep of the school that morning. ‘I was hoping,’ she concluded, ‘that you and Bill could take her in … just until we can find something more permanent for her.’
‘Take her in? You mean feed and clothe her? Who’s going to pay for that? Annie O’Reilly?’
‘Netty, you are the most Christian woman in this town. Charlie’s not a bad child.’
‘Not what I hear. Her mother—’
‘Her mother loves her. She loves her so much that she is sacrificing herself for Charlie to get the life she deserves.’
Netty frowned and Eliza sensed her wavering.
‘Very well, but only temporarily, mind and,’ she added, almost as an afterthought, ‘my Amos would need to agree, but he’s a softhearted ninny.’
Eliza smiled. ‘Thank you, Netty. I will speak with the Board of Advice and see if some sort of scholarship can be found to help with expenses.’
The women returned to the shop. Charlie had her nose against the glass-fronted counter.
‘Ma used to do sewing like that,’ she said pointing to an embroidered smock, ‘back when we lived in Tasmania. She’s been making some clothes for the baby out of old shirts. They’re pretty. Wish she’d make me somethin’ pretty.’ Charlie touched her own raggedy jacket with a naked yearning in her eyes.
‘Charlie, you’re going to stay with Mrs Burrell and her husband for a few days,’ Eliza said.
‘Here?’ Charlie looked around the immaculate shop.
‘Yes, here,’ Netty said. ‘But I’ve a few rules, Miss O’Reilly. The first is that anyone staying with me has to take regular baths.’
Charlie took a step back. ‘Ma says baths are bad for a body,’ she said.
‘And I say cleanliness is next to Godliness. Come with me.’
Charlie turned tremulous eyes on Eliza. ‘Miss Penrose?’
‘While you are under Mrs Burrell’s roof, you will do as she says,’ Eliza said.
‘And I’ll see if I can find something more suitable for you to wear,’ Netty was saying as Eliza closed the door behind her.
17 July 1873
The following morning, an unrecognisable Charlie O’Reilly came to school. She stood in the doorway, a lunch pail held to her like a shield. Every child turned to look at her and even Flora Donald gaped. In a neatly darned blue dress and a spotless pinafore, with polished boots, thick woollen stockings and her hair washed and brushed, Charlie had become Charlotte.
Flora Donald glanced at Eliza and said in a low voice, ‘You think you can make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear? We’ll see.’
When the children were released for their short lunch hour, Flora took the duty in the playground while Eliza ate her lunch in front of the meagre schoolroom fire, one ear on the burble of children’s voices.
She stiffened as the sound turned to an indecipherable chant and Flora Donald’s shrill cry of ‘Stop that!’
Eliza ran out into the playground to find a fight in progress. Such events were not unknown between the boys; rivalries existed between the children of the town mines and those of the satellite settlements and these quite often devolved on the schoolground.
Every child in the school seemed to have gathered at the fence to the ponies’ paddock, cheering the miscreants on while Flora Donald wrestled with the ramshackle gate. Eliza hurried across to lend her assistance but Flora had at last reached the adversaries.
Flora bent over, hauling Charlie off a larger girl. Holding Charlie by the ear, she shook her as Martha Mackie scrambled to her feet, red faced and indignant, her dress and pinafore smeared with mud—and worse.
‘She attacked me, miss,’ Martha screeched, one finger pointing at the struggling Charlie.
‘You deal with Miss Mackie,’ Flora ordered. ‘I’ll deal with this baggage.’ Still holding Charlie by the ear, Flora marched the protesting child back to the school house.
‘What happened?’ Eliza asked Martha.
‘She attacked me.’
‘She wouldn’t have attacked you without reason,’ Eli
za said. ‘So I’ll ask again, what happened?’
Martha’s jaw jutted and her mouth set in a tight line.
Eliza looked around the gaggle of remaining children. Her gaze fell on Joe Trevalyn. Joe couldn’t lie to save himself and she could see from his downturned mouth that he had seen what had caused the affray.
‘Joe?’
The boy shuffled his feet. ‘Martha said some things about her mother,’ he said in a quiet voice. Then, surprisingly, he looked up, his eyes flashing from Eliza to Martha. ‘If she’d said them about my mother, I’d have thumped her too.’
‘What did she say?’
Joe flushed. ‘I don’t like to say.’
‘She said Charlie’s mother was a filthy whore who’d open her legs for any man,’ Bert Marsh said.
Eliza turned to look at the prissy Miss Mackie. ‘Did you say that, Martha?’
Martha’s chin lifted defiantly. ‘It’s true.’
‘Do you even know what it means?’
Martha seemed to deflate a little and she shook her head. ‘I heard someone telling my ma,’ she said.
‘It is probably the worst thing one person can say about another,’ Eliza said. ‘If anyone is owed an apology, it’s Charlotte.’
‘I’m not apologising to her. She started it and look what she’s done.’ Martha pointed to some torn broderie anglaise on her pinafore. ‘And I’m filthy.’
‘Come with me,’ Eliza said, ‘and you can explain properly to Miss Donald how this happened.’
In the schoolroom, Flora stood the two girls in front of the platform and asked for an explanation.
‘She attacked me for no good reason. She’s a menace. Everybody says so.’ Martha shot Charlie a hateful glance. ‘Just wait till my pa hears about this.’
‘Martha,’ Eliza warned. ‘What did you say to Charlotte?’
Martha’s defiance had returned. ‘I didn’t say anything. She just came at me with her fingers like this.’ Martha held up her hands like claws.
‘We both know that is not the truth,’ Eliza said.
‘That’s enough, Miss Penrose,’ Flora Donald said. ‘If Miss Mackie says the attack was unprovoked then I believe her. Martha is not a liar. Charlotte, why did you attack Martha?’
Charlie said nothing.
‘Charlie tell her,’ Eliza urged.
But Charlie remained obstinately silent, staring at a spider web in the rafters above Flora’s head.
‘Charlotte, you will apologise to Martha,’ Flora said.
‘Shan’t.’
Flora’s thin chest rose and fell. ‘Very well. Martha, go and clean yourself up. You are excused from school for the rest of the day.’
Martha gave Charlie a look of triumph as she left the room.
‘Well?’ Flora said. ‘What do you have to say for yourself?’
Charlie maintained her silence.
‘Very well.’ Flora opened the lid of her desk and produced a heavy leather strap, split at one end. While Flora had always been generous in her application of the cane, Eliza had never seen her use what looked to her something akin to a medieval torture device.
‘What is that?’
‘It’s a tawse. Miss O’Reilly knows what it is, don’t you?’
Charlie began to whimper. ‘Give me the cane, Miss Donald. I’ll be good. I’ll say I’m sorry.’
‘You had your chance. Now hold out your left hand. Support it with your right so it’s good and firm.’
Charlie whimpered, hiding her hands behind her back.
Flora Donald grabbed the child’s left arm, forcing it palm up. ‘Now your right. Hold still. Miss Penrose will you please hold the child’s arms steady?’
‘I will not,’ Eliza said, aghast. ‘May I speak with you in private, Miss Donald?’
‘There is nothing to discuss. I am quite satisfied that Miss O’Reilly attacked Martha and she is deserving of punishment.’
‘Please,’ Eliza said, ‘this child was taunted beyond endurance. She is not the one who should be punished.’
‘That’s enough, Miss Penrose. If you’re not going to assist then hold your tongue. Your hands, child.’
Charlie’s back stiffened and her chin came up. She stuck out both her hands, palms up, her eyes fixed on the spider web as Flora raised the strap.
The terrible thwack echoed around the room. Silence had fallen on the playground. The lower halves of the schoolroom windows were frosted, for which Eliza was grateful, but she had the impression of shadows pressed against the glass, listening.
Charlie gave a sharp hiss of breath as the strap raised again, coming down with a ferocity that shocked Eliza. This time Charlie screamed, tears rolling down her cheek.
‘Leopards do not change their spots, Miss Penrose.’ A fierce light gleamed in Flora Donald’s eyes as she raised the tawse again. ‘Spare the rod, spoil the child. You are the daughter of a whore, Charlotte O’Reilly, and putting you in fine clothes will never change that fact.’
Eliza rushed at Flora, grabbing her arm before she could bring the strap down again. ‘That’s enough, Miss Donald, you’ve made your point.’
The arm within her grasp could have been made of iron. Flora Donald’s face twisted with hatred. ‘That child needs to be beaten and beaten well. If she’s not got a mother to do it then I must do it for her. She will see the light of the Lord’s grace today and be thankful.’
‘Get out, Charlie,’ Eliza said. When Charlie didn’t move, she said with more urgency, ‘Go, now!’
Charlie turned and ran, slamming the door behind her.
Eliza wrested the tawse from the other woman and hurled it into the fireplace. ‘I will not see children beaten for crimes they did not commit, Miss Donald. Ask Joe Trevalyn or Bert Marsh what was said to her and you’ll understand.’
Flora Donald fixed hot, angry eyes on Eliza, a look that would have done Medusa credit. ‘Nothing justifies physical violence in the playground. And as for you, how dare you undermine my authority,’ she said. ‘Get out, Miss Penrose. Get out of my school. I am advising the board that your employment is terminated. If you know what’s in your best interests, you will leave Maiden’s Creek and never come back.’
Eliza took a deep breath. Further argument seemed pointless. She collected her belongings and, with her head held high, shut the door on the Maiden’s Creek school. The crowd of silent children in the school yard parted before her like the Red Sea.
As she crossed the creek, the enormity of what she had done settled on Eliza’s shoulders. She had defied Flora Donald’s authority and undermined her in the eyes of her students. It was possibly one of the worse things she, as a mere assistant teacher, could have done. Flora had been right to sack her but she had not been right to beat Charlie with such a hideous instrument.
Eliza had seen the light of a zealot in Flora’s eyes. If she had not intervened, what would have happened? Flora seemed more than capable of beating the child senseless.
At that thought, Eliza stopped and leaned against a wall to catch her breath. Yes, she had saved Charlie, but at the price of losing her only source of income.
‘Eliza? Are you all right?’
She looked up at the one person she really didn’t want to see at this moment.
Alec McLeod.
She managed a watery smile and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear with a shaking hand. ‘Not really,’ she admitted and, looking into his concerned brown eyes, she found herself confiding the story in him.
He shook his head and pushed his hat back. ‘I had a tawse applied to me once in my schooling.’ He flexed the fingers of his left hand. ‘I’ll not forget it, but first things first. Let’s see to Charlie.’
‘I’ve betrayed Charlie,’ Eliza said, fighting back tears. ‘Annie trusted me and I let her down.’
Together they hurried down to Netty’s shop but Charlie had not returned. Eliza told her about the incident at the school and Netty’s kindly face crumpled. ‘Oh, the poor lass. You should’ve seen her f
ace when I gave her the dress and boots. You’d think I’d given her the crown jewels,’ Netty said. ‘And that spiteful little cow Mavis Mackie …’ Netty drew in a sharp, angry breath. ‘What’s done is done. I’m guessing she’ll have gone back to Mad Annie.’
‘In that case I must see she got home safely.’ Eliza looked up at Alec. ‘I hate to ask this, but can you loan me the money to hire a horse?”
‘More than that,’ he said. ‘I’m coming with you.’
They rode in silence, Eliza too sunk in misery to initiate conversation. It had been her encouragement that had prompted Annie to entrust Charlie to her and she had betrayed that trust.
At Annie’s hut the dog lay on the verandah, its head on its paws. It looked up at the newcomers but didn’t bark. From within the hut came the sound of gulping sobs. Eliza and Alec dismounted and stood together, staring at the front door, listening to the broken child crying her heart out.
Eliza grasped Alec’s sleeve. ‘This is my fault.’
He shook his head. ‘No, I have to share some of the responsibility. Annie asked me for advice and I put the idea in Annie’s head that if Charlie could do well at school then there was a future for her.’
‘Good intentions are not enough, are they?’
The door to the hut burst open and Annie stormed out, her face suffused with anger. She pointed at Eliza. ‘This is your doin’, Miss Penrose. Look at what that cow ’as done to me girl.’
She went back into the hut and hauled Charlie out. Charlie turned a mottled, tear-stained face up to her mother.
‘It weren’t Miss Penrose. I told you, Ma.’
‘’old out your ’and,’ Annie ordered.
Charlie complied and Eliza drew a breath at the sight of the ugly welts already turning to bruises and swelling across the child’s palm.
‘Can you bend your fingers?’
Charlie shook her head, tears starting afresh.
The red heat of anger rose in Eliza’s chest. She knew Flora had exerted force but this was brutal. Alec McLeod shifted and she glanced at him. His eyes blazed with fury.
‘Oh, Charlie, I’m so sorry.’ She sank down and took the child’s hands in her own, running a gentle finger along the welts. ‘Annie, do you have some arnica for the bruising?’
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