‘The heather has bloomed early this year, just for us,’ Charlotte explained. ‘It is beautiful. Come and look out the window. Dungorm has given us the gift of a glorious evening, to say farewell to us.’
Nell smiled wanly at the sight of the heather and obediently struggled to the window, her legs feeling weak and shaky. Sophie joined them, wondering if this would be her last view of Dungorm too.
Outside the window was the most magnificent view of the golden sun sinking to the west, the picturesque ruins of Dungorm castle rising from the burnished waters of the loch, the flourishing gardens, and in the distance the blue-gold smudge of the sea.
‘It is so beautiful, Charlotte,’ murmured Nell. ‘How are we ever to live away from Dungorm, from Scotland, from our home?’
‘We will come back, Nell,’ insisted Charlotte. ‘Do not worry. One day we will come back to Dungorm. Surely he cannot mean for us to go forever.’
Nell nodded wearily and sighed.
‘Do you think Aunt Arabella will give us back Mama’s locket and bangle?’ Nell asked eventually.
‘Not readily,’ Charlotte conceded. ‘But I have a plan.’
Together the girls sat on the bed with their arms entwined and Flossie at their feet. They stared out the window, watching the sun slowly sink into the horizon and the sky change colour to yellow, peach, crimson, blood red and, lastly, deepest purple.
Sally lugged in some buckets of hot water, and Nanny helped them bathe in the tin hip bath in front of the fire. Then she helped them change into their nightdresses and nightcaps.
‘Time for bed now, lassies,’ ordered Nanny, turning down the blankets.
‘Please, Nanny,’ begged Charlotte, ‘we just want to watch our last sunset at Dungorm. We may never see it again.’
‘All right, my bairns,’ agreed Nanny with misty eyes. ‘But do no’ stay up all night long.’ Nanny did not even try to put Flossie outside in the kennels for the night, allowing them one last night together.
The sun finally sank into the sea at about 11 pm and the sky grew darker, but still they watched, not wanting to miss a moment of their last evening at Dungorm. At last, Charlotte, Nell and Sophie all fell asleep on the same bed, dreaming of seas and sailing ships and strange faraway places.
Nanny came in early the next morning with a jug of hot water. The girls were sleepy after their late night and were reluctant to get up. Flossie seemed subdued and worried, sensing her world was about to be destroyed.
‘Och, lassies,’ scolded Nanny gently. ‘Ye canna be lazy this morning or ye will miss the train.’
Charlotte felt a flutter of fear in her stomach, like a flock of flittering butterflies. She climbed out of bed obediently and washed her face and hands in the steaming water.
Nanny helped her to dress in the usual layers of drawers, stockings, chemise, petticoats and warm dress. Even in the height of summer, Scottish weather was cool and changeable, switching from sunshine to rain to frosty winds and sleet in the space of minutes. Nanny brushed Charlotte’s hair vigorously and tied it back with a white velvet ribbon.
When Charlotte was dressed, Nanny gently coaxed Nell from her bed and dressed her, as she used to when Nell was but a small, helpless child. The trunks were locked and standing by the door ready to be carried down to the carriage. Each girl had a small carpetbag packed with the clothes and necessities for the journey to Liverpool.
Charlotte tucked the sprig of blooming heather inside her father’s book of Robbie Burns’ poetry to dry.
Next to her bed she had a pair of silver-framed portraits of her parents. Carefully she folded these together and buried them deep in her carpetbag, safely wrapped in a shawl.
Unlocking the carved timber box that had been her birthday present from her parents, Charlotte carefully placed inside it the book and red pebble she had found on the beach. The box, containing all her most precious possessions in the world, was carefully locked and packed away in the top of Charlotte’s carpetbag.
Nanny fussed around and brought the girls some tea and toast, and all too soon there was the sound of the carriage drawing up at the front door and a discreet knock on the door. Four of the serving lads took the girls’ luggage down to the carriage.
‘Well, my lassies,’ sighed Nanny, twitching their skirts and straightening the ribbons on their bonnets. ‘Come downstairs and say guidbye to your aunt and uncle. Say guidbye to Flossie first, there is nae time to be lost.’
Charlotte felt a pain in her stomach as strong as a blow. She and Nell dropped to the floor and hugged their dog with all their hearts, rubbing her black-and-white fur, stroking her soft ears, whispering gentle words of love and farewell.
‘Come on, lassies,’ Nanny urged. ‘’Tis time to be gaeing. Waiting will no’ make it any easier.’
Nanny scrubbed their tear-streaked faces with a handkerchief and hustled Charlotte and Nell up, out the door and down the stairs. In the hallway, all the servants were waiting respectfully.
Charlotte and Nell closely followed Nanny – rustling in their starched white dresses, stiff bonnets and squeaky new boots – and murmured their farewells. The serving girls bobbed curtseys, a couple wiping away tears, while the men nodded awkwardly, mumbling a few messages that hid the depth of their feeling.
It cannot be real, thought Charlotte. She was leaving the people she had known her whole life and now might never see again.
Charlotte felt as though she should be weeping or screaming. Yet she felt a total sense of disbelief, a sense of displacement as though she were a dispassionate bystander, just watching herself say goodbye to her friends, her home, her life.
Aunt Arabella and Uncle Roderick swept down the stairs, followed by the girls’ cousin, Roddy.
‘Adieu et bon voyage, Charlotte and Eleanor,’ said Arabella, pecking each girl on the cheek.
‘Come on, girls,’ urged Uncle Roderick, looking shame-faced. ‘Say your farewells quickly. We must not be late for the train.’
Charlotte took a deep breath. She had a plan that had come to her last night during her walk.
‘Before we go, I must ask a favour,’ Charlotte said quickly, in a loud voice which carried to many of the servants standing around. ‘When my mother was on her deathbed, she gave me her gold locket and a bangle for Nell.’
Aunt Arabella moved forward as if to interrupt but Charlotte hurried on, the words spilling out like a torrent.
‘Mama said I must always wear the locket so I could feel she was watching over me,’ Charlotte continued. ‘Aunt Arabella took the locket and bangle for safekeeping, but now that we are leaving our home, probably forever, I would like to have Mama’s things returned to us.’
Aunt Arabella gasped in outrage. Uncle Roderick went pale, then pink, a slight sweat breaking out on his forehead. He glanced quickly around at the large crowd of servants gathered in the hall, who were now watching with great interest for his response. He desperately glanced at Aunt Arabella, who glared back at him meaningfully.
Charlotte held her breath in anticipation. Nell looked up at her uncle with wide round eyes, her face wan.
‘Well,’ blurted Uncle Roderick, ‘well … they are very valuable …’
Sophie could not believe it. Uncle Roderick was going to refuse to honour his sister-in-law’s dying wish. Was it not enough to take the house, the ponies, their home?
Sophie felt the familiar sense of anger and frustration welling up inside. She summoned up all her strength and swooped through the hallway like a rush of wind, making the curtains billow, the candles flicker and the candelabra swing wildly.
Sally the chambermaid screamed. Nanny grabbed Charlotte and Nell and held them tightly by the shoulders. Uncle Roderick jumped, his face white. Sophie rushed past him, tweaking his cravat.
‘Of course you may have your mother’s locket and bangle,’ Uncle Roderick said quickly, smoothing down the dishevelled cravat. ‘Suzette, fetch them from my wife’s jewel casket. Arabella, give her the key. It is time we left or we re
ally will miss our train.’
Aunt Arabella fumbled in her reticule, her lips tightly set with fury. Wordlessly she handed Suzette the small gold key, and Suzette ran upstairs to fetch the items.
Charlotte took the locket on its chain with a sense of triumph. She slipped it over her head and hid the locket inside the collar of her dress. The bangle was still too large for Nell’s slender wrist so Nanny helped her tuck it away safely in the carpetbag.
‘Thank you, Uncle Roderick,’ said Charlotte quietly. ‘My mother would appreciate you looking after us.’
Uncle Roderick coughed once more.
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘Of course. Anything I can do to help. Roddy, say goodbye to your cousins.’
Roddy smiled warmly at his cousins for the first time since coming to Dungorm. He gave each one a brief hug.
‘Well done outwitting my mother,’ Roddy whispered to Charlotte. ‘Not many people can do that, especially not my father.’
Lastly, Charlotte and Nell said goodbye to Nanny, their beloved Nanny who had looked after them since birth. She hugged them both fiercely.
‘God bless ye, my wee bairns,’ Nanny choked. ‘Miss Charlotte, ye must look after Miss Nell and keep her safe. Please write to us and let us ken how ye fare?’
‘I do not want to go to Australia,’ wailed Nell, flinging her arms around Nanny.
‘I ken, my sweet,’ Nanny replied gently. ‘But wha’ canna be changed must be endured.’
There was one last hug. Sophie brushed Nanny on the arm to say goodbye, and Nanny shivered.
‘Goodbye, Nanny, thank you for everything,’ Sophie whispered, knowing that Nanny couldn’t hear but needing to say goodbye anyway.
‘Fare-ye-well, lassies. Fare-ye-well.’
Uncle Roderick shooed the girls out in front of him, bundling them out to the driveway and into the carriage.
Sophie swooped through the carriage door at the last moment and squeezed into the small space next to Charlotte. Charlotte glanced at the space beside her, a quizzical look on her face.
The carriage jolted forward and slowly rolled out of the driveway. The driver clicked loudly and flicked his whip. The horses broke into a trot and clattered onto the roadway, their necks arched proudly.
‘Thank you,’ whispered Charlotte softly to the space on the seat beside her.
‘Pardon?’ asked Uncle Roderick brusquely.
‘Oh. I said thank you for returning Mama’s locket,’ replied Charlotte.
‘Humph,’ snorted Uncle Roderick, opening his newspaper.
The carriage thundered past the kirk and through the crofters’ village. Charlotte stared out the window, watching the beloved landscape of Dungorm slip away in the hazy June sunshine.
She turned and looked out the back window. A flicker of movement from behind caught Charlotte’s eye.
On the road leading from Dungorm came a flash of black and white, a shadow of movement. Charlotte’s heart leapt into her mouth.
‘Wait,’ she called urgently. ‘It is Flossie, chasing us.’
Nell and Sophie turned to look. Flossie was loping behind, her ears flopping and tongue panting.
‘Stop,’ shouted Charlotte. ‘Stop the carriage. It is Flossie.’
The driver checked the horses. Uncle Roderick leant out the window.
‘Drive on … at full speed,’ Uncle Roderick yelled. The driver responded with a crack of his whip. The horses broke into a canter.
Charlotte and Nell stared out the back window of the carriage, tears streaming down their faces, watching Flossie drop further and further behind, getting smaller and smaller, until she disappeared altogether. Charlotte thought her heart had finally broken into hundreds of tiny pieces.
Sophie suddenly felt exhausted. She could not bear any more.
She fled, away from the scene of Charlotte and Nell yearning for their dog, up and away from the shiny black horsedrawn carriage, the kirk, the loch and the rolling green hills of Dungorm. She drifted up and away to the dark tunnel of sleep.
Sophie woke up feeling exhausted, with a pounding headache. From the living room, she could hear the sound of the radio playing, and Nonnie and Jess laughing together as they washed up.
Sophie lifted the locket over her head and slipped it under her pillow. She pulled the covers over her head and tried to go back to sleep. But sleep eluded her.
Why did everything have to be so difficult? Why did Eliza and Alexander have to die? Why did Charlotte and Nell have to lose everything they loved?
Sophie curled herself into a ball and wept. She cried until there were no tears left. She cried for Eliza and Alexander and James, for Charlotte and Nell. She cried for her own parents, and for herself and Jess and Will.
At last she stopped crying and crept from her bedroom to the bathroom to fetch some tissues. As she crept silently past Nonnie’s room, she heard her grandmother on the phone.
‘I’m really worried about her, Karen,’ explained Nonnie. ‘Sophie has hardly eaten anything since she came here. She’s fading away to a shadow. She’s pale, with big dark circles under her eyes, and when I went to wake her this morning she was crying as though her heart would break. I don’t know what to do.’
Nonnie paused to listen to Sophie’s mother’s response. ‘Do you think she might be anorexic? I know lots of girls these days seem to get anorexia and stop eating.’ She listened again. ‘Should I take her to a doctor?’… ‘Do you think she’s worrying about Jack’s retrenchment?’… ‘Do you need me to lend you some money?’… ‘No, that’s what families are for, darling.’… ‘Talk to Jack.’
Sophie crept away, feeling devastated. Her grandmother thought she might be anorexic. Everyone was worried about her, as if they didn’t all have enough to worry about.
She climbed back into bed, her face to the wall. She did not want to face Nonnie or her life.
Think of something else – Charlotte and Nell on their long, dangerous journey. Her hand found the locket under the pillow and pulled it back over her head.
Sophie whooshed down through the tunnel of darkness into a stormy sky. She could see a vast, tossing ocean, and in the middle bobbed a tiny ship, its sails furled tightly and masts heeling over. Charlotte and Nell must be on that ship.
Sophie found them in one of the cabins.
Nell tossed and turned in her lower bunk, a bucket beside her bed. She had been in bed all day.
‘Charlotte, I feel terrible,’ Nell moaned. ‘My head aches, my throat’s sore and my stomach’s roiling.’
‘I know, Nell. You will feel better in a day or so,’ soothed Charlotte.
A chilly wind continued to blow from the north. The waves grew stronger and higher, urging the ship ever southwards.
Waves slapped on the hull, sailors called, timbers groaned, sails flapped and the ship pitched and rolled, heeled and surged.
Charlotte listened anxiously to the wind in the rigging and the sails flapping.
She remembered the horror stories she had overheard Sally telling Nanny about the ship that had been wrecked in a wild storm less than a day’s sail from Liverpool, when every person on board had drowned.
Thoughts crowded her mind, of the terrible wreck of the Eliza Mackenzie at Kyle of Lochalsh, where her own strong father had lost his life.
‘Come on, Nell,’ coaxed Charlotte. ‘We should go up to the saloon, where there are other people. Perhaps we will find out what is going on. It must be better than this tiny airless cabin.’
Charlotte supported Nell as they walked through the corridor, fighting the pitch and roll of the ship.
They heard frightened cries and moans coming from the crowded steerage hold, and smelt the faint waft of vomit and unwashed bodies.
In the saloon, Charlotte and Nell found a place on one of the long benches.
‘Shall we play backgammon, Nell?’ suggested Charlotte. ‘It will take your mind off the storm and the illness.’
Nell played listlessly, distracted by the frightening sounds and moti
on.
A sudden lurch tossed a teapot, cups, saucer and milk jug to the floor. A woman carrying her baby crashed heavily as she lost her footing. The baby wailed in fright.
Nell and Charlotte clung to each other to avoid being pitched to the floor as well.
They sat in miserable silence, fighting the unpredictable wallowing of the ship and the waves of fear engulfing them. Sophie huddled beside them feeling as much trepidation as the passengers.
Babies screamed. Children cried. Ladies moaned. Gentle men made hearty jokes which did little to alleviate the fear.
One by one, passengers succumbed to seasickness, hurrying away to their cabins looking pale and clammy. One of the smaller children vomited in the saloon, filling the air with its putrid stink. A stewardess cleaned up the mess and swabbed the floor with pungent vinegar.
After a while Captain Jamieson came into the saloon to report on the storm.
‘It’s one of the fiercest storms I’ve encountered on the voyage to Australia,’ he warned the passengers. ‘We’ve grave fears for the forward mast, but we’ve axes ready in case we need to cut it free.’
One of the stewards ran in at this moment, his face pale with panic.
‘Capt’n, sir, we’re taking on water,’ he yelled. ‘Someone opened the portholes in their cabin and there’s seawater flooding the first-class cabins and corridor. We’ve managed to get them shut but there’s water everywhere.’
The captain turned and hurried to the door to deal with this new emergency, the sailor at his side.
‘Everyone, stay here until we’ve dealt with the flood,’ the captain ordered the passengers sternly, over his shoulder. ‘I don’t want anyone getting in the way.’
‘What idiot would open their portholes in a storm?’ Charlotte overheard Captain Jamieson mutter to the sailor.
Charlotte felt nauseous, not with seasickness but with the realisation that the first-class cabins were flooded and all her treasures were in her carpetbag on the cabin floor.
She thought of her father’s book of Robbie Burns’ poetry, the twin portraits of her parents in their silver frames, their books and sketching paper, and her tiny sprig of blooming heather. Most of all she worried about her carved oak treasure box. All would be irretrievably ruined by water damage.
The Locket of Dreams Page 13