Lizzie, My Love

by Sara Bennett - Lizzie, My Love

  CHAPTER THREE

  THEY reached land less than a week later. Lizzie had never been so glad of anything in her life. The other women seemed glad too, and Jane, though quieter these days, ran to the railing with the rest of them to watch as the Governor made her stately way through the heads of Sydney Harbour, and passed by the many jutting points of land, and multitudes of secluded coves, before finally reaching the wharves of Sydney Cove.

  It bustled with life, people everywhere, and behind them the warehouses and dockside inns, the cottages and the merchants’ mansions. There was a windmill high up on a hill, and seagulls whirled and cried like deserted children. Trees and other greenery covered some of the further reaches of land butting into the harbour, which was blue, sparkling with sunshine, a twin for the sky above. The breeze brought with it new smells and tantalizing aromas, and Lizzie felt her spirits rise for the first time in many days.

  Jane saw her smile and hugged her suddenly close to her own breast. “Oh Lizzie, we’re here!”

  People had already begun disembarking. There were some porters on the wharf and vehicles for hire. A group of men were offering employment to the bounty girls, and Jane and Lizzie hurried to get down and beat the others to what was available.

  But by the time they had reached the men, what jobs were vacant had been taken. They were pushed and shoved by the swelling crowd, and in the end huddled back against some casks out of the way. Jane’s eyes were monstrous as she watched the seamen and the ships against the blue harbour background. A gang of convicts was engaged in moving some crates, and when one offered Jane an indecent proposal, Lizzie decided it was time to leave the docks behind, fascinating as they were.

  They wandered up into the township, carrying their bags as best they could. The cottages and taverns were crowded together along narrow streets, and unsavory characters watched the two girls pass. But gradually the streets grew wider, and the houses more respectable, and the passers-by too caught up in their own affairs to pay them much attention at all.

  Jane paused to mop her brow, looking about her at the carts and carriages. A chain gang was working on the side of the roadway, and they skirted them gingerly. There were soldiers parading outside a red brick barracks, and cabbages growing in an extensive garden. Some of the houses were quite elegant, and a number had beautiful grounds—the ex-convict classes vying with the free classes in the bitter determination to show who was the better man.

  Lizzie’s bag was weighing heavily on her thin arms, and she and Jane paused to purchase bread and cheese to munch on while they surveyed the scene. It was early afternoon already, and they had to find lodgings for the night.

  “Are you ill?”

  Lizzie looked up to find her sister frowning at her. “Ill, no, tired, yes. Oh Jane, I didn’t think it would be so difficult! I was a fool to believe all they said in those posters.”

  Jane shrugged, “We’ve only asked at about ten shops. There’s lots more, and they all look prosperous. Lots of houses, too. We’ll find something, don’t worry.”

  They looked at each other, both thinking it strange to have changed roles so. Lizzie sighed. She did feel odd. Dizzy and hot, and cold too. One of the other women had been feeling feverish these past days, but had not asked the doctor for medication in case they refused to let her ashore. Lizzie, sorry for her, had helped her to be comfortable. She swallowed, and pushing her own ills aside, smiled at Jane.

  “At least we’ve money for a few days,” she said.

  They wandered aimlessly along the street. Lizzie was remembering Hezekiah Gray’s offer of work, and suddenly she wondered if she had done the right thing in refusing. And yet how could she accept after what he had said, and done? It would mean burying her pride, and treating him as if he were not a rake, to be distrusted and disliked. She had caught sight of him when they were disembarking. He had been with Jason Wilson, and the two men had stood a while on the wharf, talking. She had watched him for some minutes before she became aware of the fact that she was watching him, and turned away. She had seen him on board ship, of course, during the final days, but he had not spoken to her and, as far as she knew, neither had he spoken to Jane. She thought of him now, and the picture was so clear and keen she jumped as if he had appeared at her side.

  “Lizzie, you are ill! I told you not to go near that woman—“

  “No, no,” she swallowed and brushed back a strand of dark hair from her forehead. “Look, here’s a laundry. We’ll ask in here.”

  The woman eyed them with sympathy. “I’m sorry, lassie, there’s nought for you here. My advice is to get back on the boat and go home. There’s girls arriving every day, and there’s not near enough work for them all. The ship owners are only interested in the bounty—they don’t care what happens to the girls. And, life being what it is, most of the poor lassies end up on the streets. And I don’t mean taking a morning stroll!”

  Jane’s eyes grew large. “We can’t go home!” she cried. “Our money went on coming out here.”

  The woman shrugged. “I can’t help you, love. I’m sorry, but there it is.”

  They turned out of the steamy, hot interior, dragging their feet. Jane wiped a tear from her cheek, suddenly more frightened than she had been in many years. “Oh Liz,” she breathed, “what’ll happen to us if there’s no work?”

  “Don’t talk nonsense,” Lizzie snapped. “We’ll find work.”

  Hezekiah’s offer came to her again, plummeting her spirits. If they starved—for the alternative was impossible—it would be her fault, the fault of her own stubborn pride. If only...

  A voice hailed them. They turned in surprise, as a youngish man stepped up to them, doffing his dusty hat, eyes shifting from Jane to Lizzie and back again.

  “Scuse me ladies,” he said, “but I heard you talking in there, and...” he cocked his head to one side. “Well, I’m looking for a girl meself to help me at me work. I bought an inn, a few mile up the road from here. And not being married, you see, I need a girl to help like. What do you say? I’m offering free lodgings and food, in return for a bit of help about the place.”

  The two girls looked at each other. Jane eyed him speculatively. “One girl, you said?”

  “Aye, well for the moment I’ve no need of two.”

  “I’m not leaving my sister,” Jane said belligerently.

  The hat was twisted between his fingers. He was only slightly taller than Lizzie, with sandy hair and a bony, nervous face. Yet his smile was gentle, and he seemed so anxious to please. “Well, I don’t know...”

  Jane tilted her head, and smiled. “Please,” she said.

  His own lips quirked, and they looked at each other consideringly. “You drive a hard bargain, don’t you?”

  Jane smiled. “I do!”

  “Very well.” The man’s thin face broke into an ear-to-ear grin. “Put your trust, girls, in Johnny Duff.”

  “Mr. Duff,” Lizzie said, stepping forward. “It’s very kind of you, however—“

  Jane pulled her aside, her pretty face taut with the need to win her case. “Don’t you dare put him off,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare, Lizzie! We’ll have free board and free food, and why, if we don’t like it we can leave. We have to go somewhere, and this is as good an offer as any. Besides ... I like him.”

  Lizzie sniffed, but her head was aching abominably, and she knew she had no choice. Jane took the sniff as capitulation, and returned to Johnny Duff with a smile. “It’s all right,” she said.

  Lizzie fixed him with a considering look. “What’s this inn called?”

  He winked at her. “The Thirsty Felon, I’ve called it. What do you think of that?”

  Jane giggled. “I think it’s a wonderful name!”

  Lizzie turned away so they wouldn’t see her dismay. It was a far cry from all her dreams, but they had little choice, at least, for the moment. She sighed, and picking up her bag, followed Johnny Duff. He and Jane walked together, chattering as easily as if they had known each oth
er all their lives. Lizzie envied them. She wished she could lift her spirits as easily, but they seemed very low at the moment. She wished, too, she felt less ill. It was hardly the moment to be getting feverish.

  Johnny Duff had a dray, and helped them up on to the seat, tossing their bags into the back where he had a number of barrels, sacks and various odds and ends underneath a tarpaulin.

  “How far is this inn?” Lizzie muttered.

  He smiled, as he jerked the reins to gee up the old horse, and they moved jerkily off into the other traffic heading out of Sydney Town. “A few mile up the road. Tell me, how was the voyage, ladies? I can see you’re new chums.”

  “New what?” Jane laughed.

  “New chums. New to the colony, I mean.”

  Jane chattered as they went, while Lizzie watched the passing scenery to ignore the bone-shaking jolt and rattle of the wooden dray. Her head was splitting so, she longed for nothing more than a dark room and a soft bed.

  It seemed in no time at all they had left the bustle behind and were passing through the toll-bar into the surrounding countryside. A little way further on, and fields of wheat and corn stretched away to either side, broken by fields of pasture dotted with sheep. There were large homesteads, with larger gardens and orchards. They passed through one or two wayside townships, with mills by the river and stone cottages. Bush, too, quiet and rather intimidating to one used to the thick populace of London.

  Lizzie dozed, head drooping towards her chest, and when she woke it seemed to her they had been travelling a very long time. The sky was turning to pink and mauve, and she shaded her eyes against the dying sun. The road stretched on, the bush hemmed them in. “How far is it for God’s sake!” she demanded.

  Johnny Duff looked hurt. “A few mile. Nearly there, ladies, never fear. Johnny Duff’s a man of his word.”

  Jane giggled, and Lizzie looked at her with a resigned sigh. She was in love again, and their feet were hardly dry from the ship. It had often amazed her how often Jane fell in and out of love, and it annoyed her a little, for she had never considered herself in love at all. Not even once.

  “Love is for common folk,” the old cook used to say to her. “To get on in the world’s more important than bodily matters.” And Lizzie, remembering the stolen passageway kiss, had flushed to the roots of her curling hair.

  “Here we are!”

  She came out of her reverie at the sound of his voice, looking about her a little dazedly. The ‘inn’ was a hut, made of split timber logs and roofed with slabs of bark, broken only by a cask fashioned into a makeshift chimney. There was a window, covered with fastened wooden shutters, and a trough and hitching rail. A roughly-painted sign was displayed proudly above the door, depicting a wretch with ball and chain fastened to one ankle who was drinking from a tankard. Behind the hut another building loomed, with large doors. The stable, no doubt.

  “What do you think then?” Johnny Duff demanded, attempting to hide the pride in his voice.

  Jane caught Lizzie’s eye, both girls looking a little bewildered. “Well,” Jane said gently, “I think it remarkable, sir.”

  “I think you did right in employing two women,” Lizzie muttered cryptically, and Johnny looked at her with some uncertainty. He jumped down to the ground. Jane took his hand with a smile, and hopped down beside him. Lizzie came more slowly, resting a moment against the wheel to ease her aching head. She shivered, rubbing her hands over her arms, watching as the other two began to unload the dray.

  “Come on, ladies. Come inside, and I’ll see to old Ned here.”

  Inside, the hut was sparsely furnished—a few shelves, and a bench, with a table by the fireplace. A doorway curtained with some yellowing material led through to a makeshift bedroom. The bed itself was a platform covered in bark with two blankets, one for beneath and one for above. A log of wood wrapped in more yellowing cloth was the pillow. Lizzie leaned against the jamb, feeling close to tears. Why, oh why hadn’t she swallowed her pride and agreed to Hezekiah Gray’s offer?

  But Jane was already putting their bags in and spreading out their own blankets. She was even humming under her breath, and Lizzie wondered suspiciously if she had gone mad. If love was such a tonic for the mind and body, perhaps Cook had been wrong?

  “I mean to build more, of course,” Johnny said from the other room. They could hear him heaving the purchases about. “But this will do for the moment. You ladies can have that room. I’ll kip in the stables.”

  “Oh Jane,” Lizzie whispered, when he had gone. “We’re miles from anywhere.”

  “There must be people,’ Jane said. “An inn has to have customers.”

  “I get lots of folk in here, you know.” Johnny was back again, as if reading their minds. ‘Folk on their way to Bathurst, over the Blue Mountains. Not too many places along this stretch of road for a man to quench his thirst.”

  They went out into the other room, where he was mopping his brow. He eyed Lizzie doubtfully. Jane dimpled, and he turned to her with some relief. Here was someone he understood, here was someone he could talk to. He had done right in bringing Jane.

  They ate a meal of stew, followed by bread cooked in the ashes of the fire, and afterwards warm, bitter tea. Lizzie couldn’t seem to swallow much of hers, and didn’t argue when Jane sent her to her bed. She was asleep almost at once, but not a restful sleep. It was filled with faces and black eyes, and the feel of strong arms binding her close. She did not hear Jane slide into bed beside her, and did not even think to worry for her.

  Morning found her unrested, and dizzy when she tried to stand. Neither of the girls had undressed, and Lizzie lay back, trying to still the throbbing in her head. Her throat felt sore and dry, and she swallowed carefully.

  She felt a tremor of fear. The memory of her illness two years ago was suddenly clear in her mind. She had almost died then of a fever and if she had not been strong of body and will she would certainly have died in the workhouse. If she died now, Jane would be alone, with no one to care for her. She could not bring her sister all these thousands of miles and then die on her, could she?

  “And who ever said anything about dying?” she retorted loudly, and tried to force unwilling legs out of bed. She clung a moment to the door jamb, getting her breath.

  In the other room, Johnny had started a fire in the big hearth, and the flames made the place almost cheerful. He smiled up at Lizzie, and Jane looked up from her place beside him, blue eyes dancing. “Lizzie, Mr. Duff has so many plans. You wouldn’t believe –” she stopped, frowning at her sister. “You look tired. Sit here and I’ll tend to breakfast.”

  Johnny winked as she sat down stiffly beside him. “Your sister is a right bossy piece. I’ve been told cooking is woman’s work. Wish I’d had someone to tell me that this year past!”

  Lizzie forced a smile, and watched covertly as he set about lacing up his boots. He was not a handsome boy, but there was humor in his features, and something of strength and determination in the line of his mouth and jaw. His hair was an uncompromising ginger, and lank, but looked clean. She let her glance slide to Jane, and studied her too for a moment.

  “Here we are!”

  Jane placed the egg and fried bread in front of her. Lizzie stared at it, willing her stomach to quieten. After a moment, she pushed it away and said, in a shaking voice, “I think I’m going to be ill. Perhaps you’d excuse me.”

  Jane found her beneath a tree, resting her forehead to the trunk and feeling sorry for herself. The younger girl bit her lips, terror for a moment making her mind blank. Lizzie had been so ill, that time in the workhouse. They had thought she would die. And now she was ill again, and they were alone out here in the bush with no one to help and she didn’t know what to do. It took considerable will-power to steady her hands, and she went forward briskly.

  “Lizzie, you should have stayed in bed. Come now.”

  Lizzie leaned against her, seeming not to know for a moment who she was. Jane looked up in relief when Johnny ap
peared. “What shall I do?” she whispered, blue eyes filled with sudden tears. Johnny felt his heart melt at the sight of her brave, lovely smile.

  “Don’t fret,” he said, trying for a brisk note. “Just take her in and make her comfortable.”

  When Jane reappeared Johnny was staring down at his boots. He pulled a face when he saw her. “You want a doctor, I suppose, Jane. The thing is ... there’s not one around here. I’ll have to go into Sydney Town, and then like as not no doctor’ll come out here unless he’s paid more than he should be. I haven’t got that kind of money.”

  Jane’s eyes blurred with more tears. “What else can we do?”

  He sighed. “Aye, well I can try. And while I’m there I’ll visit the apothecary and see about some medicine for her.”

  Jane put her hand on his arm, squeezing it warmly. “You’re a good man, Johnny Duff,” she whispered. He paused, looking down at her, and then suddenly stooped and kissed her lips. He was gone before she could do more than touch the spot with her own fingers. It was a far different kiss than any she had had before, certainly any she had had from Zek Gray. There was no artifice about Johnny, what you saw was what there was. For the last time in her life, Jane Banister fell in love.

  ***

  The day dragged endlessly into evening. Jane swept out the taproom as best she could—the floor was of hard-packed earth—in between going in to Lizzie to mop her face with cool water, and try to get her to drink. She was burning, and tossing so violently on occasions that Jane struggled to hold her down. Her breathing was harsh, and once she cried out. Jane watched her constantly after that, but as evening drew in Lizzie fell frighteningly quiet and lay still, only the sound of her breathing breaking the stillness of the room. Outside, crickets sang a constant chorus, and the bush lay dark and strange. Jane had never felt quite so lonely in her life.

  Jane had dozed off herself when she heard the horse. It drew closer, and just as she imagined it would pass by the pattern of hoof beats altered. The animal snorted, jingling its reins. Thinking it was Johnny returned at last, she ran out into the darkness, snatching up the whale-oil lantern.