The Lost Sisters: A gritty saga about friendships, family and finding a place to call home

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  The three horses in the stable began to whinny and paw the ground as the smoke from the burning building reached their nostrils. He had to get them safely away. Working quickly, he grabbed the tackle and shoving the bit into each of the horse’s mouths he connected a rein to each, talking quietly to the agitated animals. Holding the reins to the first, he opened the stall door and tried to coax the frightened beast forward. It refused to move. Walking to the side, he slapped its rump sharply and the horse walked forward. Holding fast to the rein in case the horse bolted, Seth encouraged the others out of their stalls. Walking them slowly forward, the boy talked gently to his charges. Jumping up onto the bare back of the lead horse, he nudged it with his knees. The horse walked on, and holding the leads of the others, Seth managed to lead the horses down the driveway and onto the street and safety.

  Eventually coming to Cardigan Street, Seth jumped down and banged on the blacksmith’s door. He quickly explained what had happened and the blacksmith agreed to his request of housing the horses until he could come back to claim them. Remounting the horse, Seth rode back the way he came and was dismayed and very shocked to see the house a raging inferno. He was right; it was too late to fetch the fire service now. If he had gone for the firemen first the horses would have been killed. Slowly making his way back towards the smithy’s house, Seth would spend the remainder of the night with the horses and decide what to do the following day.

  *

  Not knowing where Mr Abel or Master Zach were, Seth decided to visit the office in Burlington Passage. Walking through the streets, he wondered how he would break the news of the house having burned down to his master. He was grateful, at least, that the smithy had allowed him to sleep in the stables until such time as he would find his master and rectify his housing problem.

  The secretary had opened the office and greeted Seth with a disdainful stare. The boy stood in front of her desk still blackened by the smoke from the night before. Bits of hay clung to his torn and dirty clothes from sleeping in the stable.

  ‘What do you want?’ the secretary asked sharply.

  ‘I’m looking for Mr Abel or Mr Zachariah,’ Seth replied, feeling tired to the bone.

  ‘Really?’ the woman said with her nose in the air.

  ‘Yes really!’ Seth snapped. His patience with the snotty-nosed woman instantly gone. He was tired, dirty and homeless and he certainly didn’t need her attitude right now.

  Leaning his dirty hands on her desk caused the woman to sit back in her chair. Pushing his head towards her, he said through clenched teeth, ‘I need to see one of them and I need to see them now!’

  ‘They’re… not in,’ the secretary babbled.

  ‘Right. Now why couldn’t you have said that in the first place?’ Seth sneered right back at her. ‘When will they be back?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ the woman said quietly.

  Without another word, Seth strode from the office, leaving the secretary with her mouth hanging open. Out in the street, Seth was at a loss as to what to do. Walking back to the smithy, he reasoned one or the other of the Buchanans would have to come back to the office at some time. All he could do was wait and visit the office again the following day in the hope that one of them had returned.

  The smithy’s wife took Seth in and giving him some of her son’s old clothes sent him to the standpipe in the yard to wash. Another mouth to feed was no hardship to her and she knew she would be well compensated by Abel for the kindness she showed to his stable boy.

  Seth cleaned himself up and dressed in the clothes he had been given, he washed his dirty ones in a bucket of water in the yard. Throwing the wet clothes over a nearby fence to dry he went into the kitchen to the smithy’s wife.

  Placing a large bowl of porridge before him, she cut thick wedges of home-made bread and butter and passed them to Seth.

  ‘Thank you, missis,’ he said as he tucked in.

  Ruffling his hair, she gave him a smile. ‘It ain’t no bother, lad, you can stay here as long as you like,’ she said warmly.

  ‘I’ll go look for Mr Abel again tomorrow,’ Seth said with a forlorn look. Nodding, the woman went back to her chores leaving Seth to eat his breakfast in peace.

  Chapter 25

  Ezzie steered ‘The Sunshine’ out of the basin at the Old Limekiln Wharf and out onto the Birmingham Canal, showing a fascinated Zachariah how it was done.

  Edna and Abel sat in the belly of the boat with hot tea and discussed what had happened over the last few days, and how astounded Abel was to have found his family again. He asked, ‘Edna, what will you do if Ezzie and Peg decide to marry? Will you continue to live on the boat?’

  Edna said, ‘I couldn’t work the boat alone, but I’ll decide if and when talk of marriage is mentioned.’ Both were delighted that their children marrying would bring the two families together. Abel also told Edna, ‘If ever you or your son need anything, you should come to me; after your kindness to my younger daughter, I would be more than happy to help you in any way I can.’

  ‘Thank you. It’s nice to see you ain’t snobby about cut-rats.’ Edna smiled.

  ‘People who work the canals are just hard-working folk, Edna, and for that reason alone they should be shown respect, in my opinion.’ Abel smiled back.

  ‘Tell me to mind my own business, Abel, but why the hell ain’t you divorced that Hortense?’ Edna asked in her forthright manner.

  ‘I suppose it was cowardice to a point. I thought the scandal of a divorce would see her in her grave and I couldn’t have that on my conscience. I have considered it many times, and if I’d known she’d abandoned Eugenie and abused Orpha, I would have done so immediately.’ Abel sighed loudly. Then he went on to tell Edna all about his wife and what she was like; her love of money and prestige, and keeping up appearances.

  ‘Ah well, it ain’t no use crying over spilt milk, what you have to do now is decide what you’ll do next,’ Edna said on a sigh.

  ‘I agree, and I know exactly what the next step is,’ Abel said.

  Edna nodded, suspecting she knew what he would do, and Hortense Buchanan would most definitely be in for a shock.

  The day passed peacefully on the canal network and Ezzie eventually moored up in the basin at the Old Wharf in Birmingham. It was decided that the two young men would search out suppliers for the girls’ products the following day, then Abel and Zachariah, giving their thanks for their first journey on a boat, waved goodbye as they left Edna standing on the deck of ‘The Sunshine’.

  Needing to get their ‘land legs’ back, the men decided to walk back to Aston Street. Zachariah was excited about the boat, saying, ‘I would enjoy having one of my own – for leisure purposes only of course.’

  Turning into the driveway of their home, both men stopped dead in their tracks. Their house was a smoking ruin. Rushing up the drive, they surveyed what was left of their once beautiful home.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Zachariah said, looking at his father. ‘Whatever could have happened?’

  Shaking his head, Abel ran his hands through his black hair. Both walked around the remains of the house, wisps of smoke still escaping from the brickwork. There was nothing left to say anyone had ever lived there. All of their possessions were burnt to ashes. However the fire occurred, it had left them homeless and in total shock.

  ‘Seth!’ Zach said, dashing to the stables. ‘He’s not here, Father!’

  ‘He must have got out, God willing he’s all right.’ Abel panted then added, ‘Let’s see if the police can shed any light on this.’ Running down to the small police station on Steelhouse Lane, Abel said, ‘We were lucky we weren’t inside when it went up, lad.’

  Stepping into the station, Abel introduced himself and his son to the duty constable and asked what was known about the fire in Aston Street. The constable said he would fetch the sergeant. Once seated in the Sergeant’s office, the story unfolded before them.

  ‘Young Jago Morton reported he had seen Mrs Buchanan set the fire before ru
shing back to her hotel room. I brought the lady back to the station for questioning and Jago was instructed to go home and stay there in case we needed to speak with him again.’

  ‘What?’ Abel asked incredulously. ‘Why on earth would Hortense do such a thing?’

  The sergeant answered by saying, ‘Mrs Buchanan denied having set the fire, sir, and it came down to her word against the stable lad’s. Although Mrs Buchanan had lamp oil on her skirt, it didn’t prove that she had burned the house down. She said she had brought a bottle of lamp oil but had dropped it; she had not seen said oil on her skirt until I noticed it during questioning her at the hotel.’

  ‘Then why would Jago accuse her? In fact, why was the boy following her in the first place?’ Abel queried.

  Shrugging his shoulders, the sergeant said, ‘The lad said he thought the woman to be up to no good. He would tell us no more, sir. Maybe you should be having words with him, maybe he will explain it all to you, that’s supposing he went home after I left him at the hotel.’

  Zachariah asked, ‘You don’t think…’

  The Sergeant assured them, ‘No, I don’t think the lad set the fire; after all, he was the one who alerted us to it in the first place.’

  ‘What will happen to my wife, sergeant?’ Abel asked, dreading the man’s answer. He didn’t know if his wife was to blame in this debacle but he had his suspicions.

  ‘Well, sir, we let her go this morning. We couldn’t rightly charge her with arson without proof. She could have been telling the truth about spilling the oil, and the lad could have been mistaken in his identification of her. It was dark and stormy after all. I’m sorry, but you must see the predicament I was in.’

  The two men thanked the sergeant for his efforts on their behalf and left the police station.

  ‘We need to get to Wednesbury, son, but first I need a drink!’ Abel said as they crossed the tramway and walked down Ryder Street. Turning right at the end into Gem Street, they passed the Gaiety Palace and walked into the Three Swans Inn. Sitting at a quiet table in the corner with their beers, father and son looked at each other.

  ‘I can’t believe it has all gone, Father. You have Buchanan House in Wednesbury, but I have nothing left!’

  ‘Don’t you worry your head about that, son, we can get you another house. I’m just thankful you and I are still alive and breathing!’

  Discussing their options, Zachariah wondered if he could stay over in the office in Burlington Passage until they could find another suitable house while Abel returned to Buchanan House in an effort to ascertain what had gone on during his absence. Abel suggested they book into a hotel.

  *

  Jago Morton had arrived back at Buchanan House still shaking with fear and shock, and it was a while before Simmons could get a word out of him. Mrs Jukes fussed with hot sweet tea for the boy and slowly the story of the previous day and night came out. At the end of relating his tale, Jago burst into tears, whereupon Mrs Jukes grasped him to her ample bosom.

  ‘Beulah… you are suffocating the boy!’ Simmons said, raising a smile on the boy’s face as he gasped for breath.

  ‘I’ll have to go,’ Jago said as he controlled his breathing. ‘The missis gave me the sack.’

  ‘Well, Mrs High and Mighty bloody Buchanan ain’t here!’ Alice said sharply.

  ‘Let us all calm down and evaluate the situation,’ Simmons said quietly as he held up his hands. ‘Now, Jago, do you think the police will charge the mistress with arson?’ Simmons asked.

  ‘I don’t know! I mean, there was lamp oil on her skirt, but that don’t prove she did it, does it? But, Mr Simmons sir, I saw her! I saw her set light to that house, I swear!’

  ‘I believe you, lad,’ Simmons comforted the stable boy who was again beginning to shake. ‘The question is, do the police?’

  ‘They must do, otherwise they would still have him in the station!’ Mrs Jukes interjected.

  ‘Good point, well noted, Beulah, but consider this… it is Jago’s word against the mistress’s.’ Simmons kept his voice low.

  ‘Well, they ain’t gonna believe him over her are they?’ Alice asked.

  Jago’s tears flowed again and Alice caught a disdainful look from Simmons and a clip across the back of her head from Mrs Jukes.

  ‘Bloody hell Jago! See what you’ve done now?’ Alice complained, but she didn’t miss the small smile on the boy’s face.

  The slam of the front door and a screech filled the house. ‘Simmons, where the hell are you?’ Shocked faces looked at each other across the table as Hortense’s voice reached them.

  ‘We know nothing,’ Simmons said, instantly assuming a commanding role. ‘You,’ he pointed to Jago, ‘get in there, and for God’s sake keep quiet!’ Simmons pointed to the butler’s Pantry. ‘Mrs Jukes… the kettle, Alice… find something to do!’

  Hortense’s footsteps could be heard descending the steps into the kitchen.

  ‘Ah, welcome back, ma’am,’ Simmons affected his speech, ‘I trust you enjoyed your trip?’

  ‘Where is he?’ Hortense yelled across the kitchen. Alice dropped a cup, which shattered on the tiled floor. All eyes went to her as she scampered off for the broom. ‘Stupid girl!’ Hortense shouted after her. Turning back to the butler, she said menacingly, ‘Where is Jago Morton?’

  ‘I presume, ma’am, that he is in the stable where he usually is at this time of day.’ Simmons kept his calm.

  His sarcasm was not lost on Hortense as she yelled again, ‘Fetch him to me… NOW!’

  Simmons sniffed his disgust at being sent on such an errand and walked out of the back door. Waiting just outside for a few minutes, he then returned saying, ‘I’m afraid he’s not there, ma’am.’

  ‘Well where is he?’ Hortense’s voice rose an octave.

  Wincing at the screech Simmons replied, ‘I’m afraid I have no idea… ma’am.’

  Hortense spun on her heel and as she left the kitchen she shouted over her shoulder, ‘Tea… immediately!’

  Alice sidled into the kitchen saying, ‘Has her gone?’

  Simmons did not correct the maid’s grammar, in fact he replied in the same vein, ‘Her has!’

  *

  Booking into the Midland Hotel next door to their office that evening, Abel and Zachariah sat in the bar, neither tired enough to sleep. Drink after drink was consumed but drunkenness was staved off by shock. They quietly discussed the events that had brought them here.

  Abel cast a glance around the room. It was late and there was no one around save for the bar keeper who was busy washing glasses and tankards.

  Looking back at his son, he saw the tears roll down the young man’s cheeks. ‘Cry it out, lad,’ He whispered.

  Zach’s shoulders heaved as he covered his face with his hands but he made no sound other than his breathing. After a moment he dried his face on his handkerchief and said, ‘All of mother’s things…’

  ‘Aye lad, I know and I’m sorry in my heart for that.’ Abel cut across, ‘But Zach, we have our memories and no one can take those away.’

  The boy nodded and they clinked glasses before finishing their drinks.

  Eventually they retired to bed to rest, both knowing that sleep would evade them.

  Chapter 26

  Orpha and Peg had chatted all the time they worked in the kitchen at the cottage in Wolverhampton. The boxes of chocolates began to pile up as taking time off had seen them a little behind with their work. Now they were working hard to catch up.

  A knock came to the door and Orpha was delighted their bins of coffee had finally arrived. Thanking the man who carried them into the scullery for her, Orpha gave him a box of chocolates and his eyes lit up. ‘Thank you, miss,’ he said, ‘the wife will enjoy these!’

  ‘Peg,’ she said after the man had left, ‘let’s take a break and make some coffee!’ As they sat with their drinks, Orpha spoke again, ‘I wonder if the men have managed to find us new suppliers yet.’

  Peg shook her head, saying, ‘I wo
nder what we’ll do with all that coffee.’

  Laughing, Orpha set her mind to experimenting with their new ingredient. As she was thinking she absent-mindedly brought a chocolate square to her mouth. Slipping from her fingers, it landed in her cup and began to melt as it floated on the hot coffee. Peg watched as Orpha shrugged her shoulders and took a sip. With a look of surprise she said, ‘This is delicious… try it!’ Passing her cup to her sister, she watched as Peg sipped.

  ‘Bloody hell! Well at least we know now how to combine the two!’ With that she dropped a piece of chocolate into her own cup.

  *

  The girls rose early the next day so that they could deliver their orders to the grocery shops around the town. Dragging the handcart behind them Orpha said, ‘There has to be a better way than this!’ Peg nodded in agreement wondering what Orpha was planning next.

  Delivering to Cooper’s Grocery, they trudged up Raby Street, the cartwheels rattling on the cobblestones. ‘Peg,’ Orpha said emphatically, ‘we have to have our own shop! This is ridiculous. Look at us…’ She stopped and pointed at the cart. ‘How can we be taken seriously in the business world?’

  Looking back at the cart, Peg nodded and answered with, ‘I tell you what, let’s get this lot delivered then we’ll have a look round for a suitable property.’ She didn’t mention the Toyes’ shop again, as it was in Birmingham and much too far to travel every day.

  Orpha gave her sister a hug and they set off once more invigorated by the prospect of becoming shop owners.

  On their return they walked down St. George’s Parade and they passed the vicarage on the corner of Old Hall Street. On the opposite corner stood Belcher & Son, Estate Agents. Leaving the cart outside, they walked in through the door and a little bell tinkled their arrival. Mr Belcher senior sat behind a desk and, over a small pair of spectacles, he looked up at the girls. He had a full head of silver-white hair with beard and moustache to match. Orpha smiled, thinking he looked like Santa Claus. Standing to greet them, she smiled again; the man was no more than five feet tall.