The Winter Promise

by Rosie Goodwin

  ‘I . . . I came to say goodbye, Charlie, and to wish you luck.’

  He was shocked to see that there were tears on her lashes, and he felt heat rise in his cheeks. She looked so beautiful that it was all he could do to stop himself from rushing across and taking her in his arms, but he knew that he mustn’t. It would only make things worse.

  ‘I wish you luck too.’

  She detected the tremor in his voice and smiled. ‘It was good of you to stay on after my father granted your pardon to help him prepare for the new governor.’

  Charlie shrugged. ‘It was the least I could do. He gave me a chance when others in his position may not have, and I’m grateful to him for that.’

  ‘So, when will you be leaving?’

  ‘Later this afternoon, just after your ship has sailed. I shall be travelling with a chap called Digger Barnes – we got talking one day because it turns out he comes from Nuneaton like me, although he’s been here for thirty years now. He’s off to try his luck at gold prospecting too, so we decided we may as well go together. He’s a bit of a character, so it should be fun if nothing else.’

  ‘But what will happen if you are not lucky?’ Her voice held concern now.

  ‘Don’t worry. Your father has kindly given me a more than generous bonus, and I shall be leaving enough for a passage home here just in case I’m going on a wild goose chase. I intend to prospect for a few months and then if nothing comes of it, I’ll come back and book a passage on the next ship home.’

  She stared at him for a moment, then hesitantly held out a piece of paper on which she had written her London address. ‘I thought perhaps you could write to me . . . or perhaps one day if you do return, you might pay us a visit. I know everyone would love to see you again.’

  ‘I might just do that.’ He reached out to take the paper from her, but as their fingers brushed he groaned and within seconds she was in his arms and he was raining kisses down on her face.

  ‘Oh Charlie, I shall miss you so much,’ she gasped, as she stroked his thick hair. She was crying now, and it was almost more than he could bear.

  ‘I love you, Francesca,’ he told her in a choked voice. ‘I think I have since the first time I saw you. And if things could only have been different . . .’

  ‘Shush!’ She raised her small finger to his lips. ‘I do understand. You must go away and make your fortune and then who knows what the future holds?’

  The sound of her mother’s voice calling for her wafted into the room and Charlie quickly released her. ‘This is it then . . . this is goodbye.’

  She shook her head. ‘Not goodbye, never goodbye. It is only en attendant de retrouver, mon amour. We shall see each other again. I know it. But until then, take care, and know that I will be thinking of you.’

  Then she lifted her skirts and was gone, leaving only a waft of her perfume behind, as Charlie lowered his head and brushed the tears from his eyes.

  It was much later that afternoon before Charlie left the governor’s house for the final time, and at the end of the drive he paused to take one last look at it. He had been happy there, but now it was time to try to make something of himself so that he could make Opal, Susie and Francesca proud of him.

  He found old Digger in the inn waiting for him.

  ‘All ready for this, are yer, lad?’ Digger enquired, as he drained the ale from his tankard. Digger was a well-known character in the district and had been earning a living on the neighbouring farms doing any odd jobs that needed doing. Charlie thought he might be somewhere in his mid-fifties, although his long straggly hair and grey beard made him appear older.

  ‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ Charlie said, and went outside where the cart that was to be their transport stood waiting on the dusty road, a donkey harnessed to it and patiently munching on a nosebag. The back of the cart was already piled with everything they might need: tarpaulins to sleep under, pans for sieving the contents of the riverbed, shovels, bedding, plus bags of groceries and supplies consisting mainly of dried beans and rice. ‘We’ll hunt for us meat,’ Digger had told Charlie and it had made him think back to the times when he had caught rabbits for his mother or Opal to make a stew from back home. Happy times that could never come again.

  Charlie tossed his bag into the back, then clambered on to the plank seat beside Digger. As they set off, the older man handed Charlie a map. ‘I’ve been to the land office an’ staked us a claim on a piece o’ land down by the creek just west o’ Ophir,’ he explained as Charlie studied the map. ‘There ain’t no better place for findin’ gold than close to runnin’ water, you believe me. Trouble is there ain’t many places yer can find water in the outback.’

  On the way out of town, they passed the penal prison and Charlie shuddered. Had it not been for the kindness of the ship’s doctor and the governor, he might still be incarcerated in there. Instead, he was free to seek his fortune as he wished. His eyes strayed to the sea and on the horizon, no more than a tiny dot in the distance, he saw the ship that was bearing Francesca away from him. Purposefully he turned his eyes to the front again. There was no point in yearning for what he could never have, but if things worked out as he hoped, he might at least have a chance to earn enough to return home and look after his sisters again.

  Many days later, they finally arrived at the patch of land where Digger had staked his claim, and at first sight Charlie was concerned. They were miles from anywhere and he felt vulnerable, but Digger was optimistic as they stood on the banks of the creek.

  ‘We’ll make a camp a way back from the water,’ he told Charlie. ‘Durin’ the summer months, the creek is little more than a dribble, but with the rains due it’ll turn into a ragin’ river in no time an’ we don’t want to get washed away. You go and set up the tarpaulins and I’ll start to unpack the cart. Then we’ll each take a rifle an’ go huntin’ for our dinner. The woods should be full o’ livestock an’ I’ve a yen for a bit o’ meat after livin’ on beans and rice for days. A nice juicy wallaby or wombat wouldn’t go down amiss an’ there should be plenty o’ them about here. But watch out for spiders an’ snakes.’

  Charlie shuddered. He’d never been keen on spiders – or snakes, for that matter – particularly some of the venomous ones that were native to Australia.

  By teatime, as the sun began to sink in the sky, they had erected a fairly comfortable camp and a wallaby was roasting on the fire they had built, along with a pan of rice to go with it. Digger had proved to be a very good hunter so Charlie was at least reassured that they wouldn’t starve while they were there, although he was already wondering if he had been right in his decision to try his hand at prospecting.

  ‘We’ll make a start on this part o’ the creek first thing in the mornin’,’ Digger decided as he carved the meat on to two tin plates. ‘You can dig an’ I’ll do the sievin’.’

  Charlie was only too happy to do as he was told. Never having tried his hand at prospecting before, he had very little idea what he was doing, whereas Digger seemed to be an old hand at it. Now that they only had each other for company, Charlie realised that he actually knew very little about Digger, aside from the fact that he had come from the Midlands. The man never spoke of his personal life so as they were eating, he asked, ‘Do you have a family, Digger?’

  The man shook his head as he wiped the juice from his beard with the back of his hand. ‘Nah . . . not anymore, nor never will again.’

  ‘So, you did have a family then?’

  With his stomach full, Digger crammed tobacco into his pipe and, after lighting it, he stared into the flames thoughtfully for a moment, before answering, ‘Aye, I had a family once, a long time ago . . . A wife and a child.’

  ‘What happened to them?’ Charlie was curious now; he had never seen Digger as a family man.

  ‘They both died o’ the fever.’

  ‘Oh . . . I’m sorry.’ Charlie wished he hadn’t asked.

  Digger shrugged, although his eyes looked haunted
. ‘It’s just one o’ them things, lad. An’ when it happens, you either pick yerself up an’ get on wi’ life, else you go under. I decided to think meself lucky I had ’em, even if it were only for a very short time. The trouble is, when you’ve had the best there’s no point in searchin’ for somethin’ better. My wife were the best lass in the world, an’ when I lost her I decided that from then on I’d be tied to no one. We had a little farm, but once I lost her an’ the nipper I left it lock, stock an’ barrel, an’ I ain’t never been near the place since. I just goes from one place to another makin’ a livin’ as best I can. But that’s enough o’ this maudlin’ talk. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us tomorrer, so let’s get some kip.’

  Realising that Digger didn’t wish to say any more on the subject, Charlie threw some more wood on the fire to keep the wild animals at bay and crawled beneath the tarpaulin with his bed bale, and within minutes he was fast asleep.

  By the end of the first day prospecting, every muscle in Charlie’s body ached, but they hadn’t found so much as a single nugget. For all that Digger was somewhat older than him, Charlie had been surprised to see that he could work tirelessly. They took it in turns with the spades, filling the pans and rinsing the contents in the creek for signs of yellow gold – but all they had unearthed up to now was rocks and mud.

  Digger laughed at Charlie’s glum expression as they sat at the side of the campfire.

  ‘Don’t look so disheartened, lad. No one ever said it was goin’ to be easy. Happen we’ll shift a bit further down the creek come mornin’. We might have more luck there.’ He glanced at the darkening sky and sniffed the air. ‘I reckon the rains will be on us any day now. Can you hear the dingos howlin’ in the woods? That’s a sure sign.’

  Charlie hotched a little closer to the fire as he stared nervously towards the trees. ‘You don’t reckon they’ll come close, do you?’

  Digger laughed again and took a gulp of the gin he had brought with him. ‘Not so long as we keep the fire burnin’. What you have to remember is they’re as scared of us as we are o’ them. Most times they’ll only attack if they’re starvin’ or they’ve been cornered.’

  Charlie nodded miserably. His hair was caked with dust and he smelled of sweat and mud, so he decided to go down to the water’s edge for a swim.

  The creek was quite shallow, but Digger had warned him that it could be very deep halfway across.

  ‘Don’t get goin’ in too far,’ he warned. ‘Evenin’ time is a favourite for water snakes an’ it ain’t unknown for crocodiles to be found in there neither. Now they are nasty critters an’ they’d have your leg off in the blink of an eye.’

  Disconcerted, Charlie decided that he’d settle for a wash instead and after paddling into the shallows he threw off his shirt and sat down in the water as he washed the dust from his body. He still didn’t feel completely clean, but at least he felt better than he had now the sun had gone down. But the midges and mosquitoes that had plagued him mercilessly ever since they had arrived were still intent on biting, and so he hastily pulled his shirt back on and set off back to the camp.

  They had been panning for over two weeks, in which time the rain had come down in torrents, turning the slow, trickling creek into a raging river. The scrubby barren land was transformed as fresh grass sprouted from the earth, and suddenly all manner of wildlife was to be found drinking there. With every day that passed now, Charlie was becoming a little more disheartened, to the point that he was seriously considering going back to the port and catching the first boat home. Already, he hardly resembled the smart young man who had left the governor’s house. A beard was sprouting on his chin, his hair was growing long and he’d forgotten what it felt like to be properly clean.

  But then, as they toiled side by side, he heard Digger take a deep breath and, glancing up from his own pan, he saw him holding up a small yellow nugget.

  ‘There, y’are, Charlie lad,’ he chortled gleefully, jumping up and punching the air triumphantly, sending a flock of cockatoos that had been perching in the trees fluttering into the sky. ‘Our first piece an’ where there’s one, there’s more. Come on now, put yer back into it, we’re gonna be rich.’

  Suddenly forgetting how cold, wet and miserable he had been feeling, Charlie set to with a vengeance. At last all their hard work was beginning to pay off.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  It was now mid-April and the stench from the River Thames was overpowering. The little hut Susie shared with the babies and Mrs Dyer had been bitterly cold when she first arrived but now it was at least a trifle warmer as the weather heated up. But the warmer weather brought the flies. They buzzed everywhere and Susie had given up trying to keep them from going inside.

  Mrs Dyer now spent most of each day lazing in her old rocking chair drinking gin, which reminded Susie of her nanny, leaving Susie to care for the babies and do the housework and the shopping. The only time the woman ever made an effort to look smart was if she had a young woman delivering a baby to her. In actual fact, the babies were very easy to care for. The medicine Mrs Dyer insisted they have saw to that. They slept for most of the time, and as soon as the poor little things so much as whimpered, Mrs Dyer would make Susie dose them up again.

  Sometimes Susie thought longingly of the comfortable little bed and the pretty clothes she had had back at the house in London. She missed Matthew too, but even that couldn’t tempt her back to the nanny – not that she’d know how to get back even if she wanted to. Even thinking about the spiteful Agatha could bring her out in a cold sweat, so all she could do now was wait for Mrs Dyer to hear back from Opal. Almost every day Susie asked if she had heard from her, but the reply was always the same: ‘Not yet,’ and Susie was becoming increasingly upset. Surely Opal should have replied to Mrs Dyer’s letter by now? Or perhaps she didn’t want her anymore? Sometimes she thought of running away again, but then what if she did and Opal replied? And so she stayed and one long day ran into another.

  On this particular morning, after changing the babies’ bindings and giving them a pitifully small amount of milk, Mrs Dyer pressed some coins into her hand.

  ‘Get yourself off to the market an’ get us some meat an’ vegetables for dinner,’ she instructed. ‘An’ make sure you only spend what you have to an’ bring the change back, else I’ll skelp yer backside.’

  The threat held no fear for Susie. Mrs Dyer had many faults, but she had never once lifted her hand to her, unlike her nanny back at Matthew’s house. It was funny, she thought, how she always thought of it as his house and not Alicia’s. Perhaps it was because after the initial novelty of having her there had worn off, Alicia had paid her little heed whereas Matthew had always taken the time to give her a kind word.

  Susie took the money and ran her fingers through her matted hair. She had no hairbrush, so she tied it back with a length of string and set off in her ragged clothes for the market, attracting more than a few sympathetic glances on the way. She knew that she must look a sight, but it was hard to keep clean when there was only the dirty river water to wash in and she only possessed the one set of clothes Mrs Dyer had bought her. On odd occasions, she had tried to wash them in the river, but the nights by the water’s edge could still be nippy so most times they were still wet when she put them on again the next morning.

  Today, however, the sun was shining brightly, so she set off with a wicker basket over her arm and a smile on her face. Once at the market, she bought some green beans, potatoes and peas still in the pod, then she visited the butcher and bought some mutton. Satisfied that she hadn’t overspent, she retraced her steps back to the bridge that spanned the river. It was noisy up there with the horses and carriages rattling by, but Susie stopped for a moment to watch the boats as she always did. Suddenly she heard a shout, and a passing carriage pulled up with a jolt just yards ahead of her and a man jumped out the back.

  ‘Suzanne!’

  Her jaw dropped as she saw Matthew racing towards her, and without stopping to th
ink she turned to run. But it was too late. His legs were much longer than hers and he had her arm in a grip within seconds.

  ‘Suzanne . . . it is you, isn’t it?’ He looked a little uncertain as he stared into the grimy face of the child who was struggling to get away from him.

  ‘Get off me!’ Susie’s basket went flying, sending vegetables rolling along the pavement.

  The second he heard her voice, he knew he hadn’t been mistaken and now his face was kindly as he told her, ‘Oh, my dear girl, you can have no idea how worried we’ve been. We’ve had every policeman in the city out looking for you. Why ever did you run away?’

  Knowing that she had nothing to lose anymore, Susie glared at him. ‘I ran away because . . . because of my nanny. But I left you a note – didn’t you get it?’

  Matthew looked grim as he shook his head. He had always had his concerns about Agatha, but each time he had raised them with Alicia, she had insisted that she was exactly what Susie needed. His mother-in-law had once promised to check Agatha’s references, but shortly after returning home, her husband had suffered a mild stroke so her mind had been occupied with other things. And now Susie was confirming that the woman wasn’t what she had made herself out to be, just as he had feared, and his blood boiled. Why hadn’t he checked the references himself? he wondered, as guilt sliced through him.

  ‘Was she nasty to you?’ he asked, and the concern in his voice made tears burn into her eyes.

  Susie nodded miserably and lowered her head. ‘Y-yes, she smacked and pinched me, but I couldn’t tell you because she said that if I did, she would punish me even more.’