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

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  ‘Ladies, come in… come in. Please take a seat.’ He motioned to a couple of straight-backed chairs near his desk. ‘Now, how may I help you?’

  ‘We are looking to open a shop,’ Orpha said, ‘and living in Derry Street we would be looking for a property not too far from there… at the right price of course.’

  ‘Ah, a shop. May I ask what kind of shop?’ Mr Belcher sat with fingers brushing his beard.

  Orpha took out a jar of chocolates from her bag; pulling out the stopper, she offered the jar to Mr Belcher. Slipping a chocolate piece into his mouth, he savoured the creamy taste. ‘Delicious!’ he managed eventually. Riffling through papers on his desk he located what he was searching for. ‘Here we are,’ he said, wafting the papers up and down. ‘Now then, may I ask if you are looking for a shop only or a property that will include manufacturing facilities also?’

  The sisters looked at each other; this was something they had not considered. Then Orpha spoke up, ‘Well, not having millions of pounds to spare…’ Mr Belcher smiled kindly. ‘Maybe you could find us something with a shop area and an upstairs or back rooms we could use as kitchens and cold storage.’

  Riffling through his papers yet again, Mr Belcher waved a paper under Orpha’s nose. ‘I think I may have just the thing! This property is in Oxford Street.’

  ‘We know where that is and it’s not too far from the cottage!’ Peg said excitedly.

  ‘Would you care to take a look at it?’ the whiskered man asked.

  ‘Yes please!’ Orpha was beside herself.

  Noting down the address, Mr Belcher gave the details to Orpha. Giving their thanks, the girls rushed from the office and dragging the cart they set off for Oxford Street.

  They finally found the address Mr Belcher had given them and standing outside the building they looked up and down the street. Both sides were lined with houses interspersed with shops. It was in the middle of the town not too far from the market and quite near the dairy. Looking at the building, Peg said, ‘I like the little bullion windows, although it looks dark inside.’

  Orpha nodded and opened the door with the key Mr Belcher had entrusted to her. Walking inside, they saw it had obviously been a shop at one time. Having a good look around, Orpha felt it would be ideal for their purpose. Peg agreed and locking the door behind them they wandered back to Belcher & Son to return the key, but more importantly, to discover the asking price.

  Mr Belcher welcomed the girls in his office once more, seeing their excitement. After some discussion about the building and location, Orpha drew in a deep breath and asked the sale price.

  An astonished look passed between the girls as Orpha repeated what Mr Belcher told her. She gasped, ‘Two thousand pounds!’

  *

  Zachariah was up bright and early and met with Edna and Ezzie on ‘The Sunshine’ moored at the Old Wharf. Over tea, he explained how he and his father had found their house a smoking ruin on their return the previous day.

  ‘We turned into the driveway and then we saw it… our house had been razed to the ground!’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Edna gasped, her hand flying to her chest.

  Zachariah choked back the tears once again threatening to erupt. ‘The police said Mrs Buchanan had been seen setting the fire, but with no proof they couldn’t arrest her, so they released her.’

  Shock evident on Edna’s face, she wisely kept her thoughts to herself. That woman had meant to hurt the boy and his father… maybe even kill them!

  As Zachariah and Ezzie set off for the town, Edna’s mind went over what she’d been told. Although there was no proof that Hortense Buchanan had burned down the house, Edna knew in her heart it was the case. The question was, why? More questions unfolded in her mind. What would Hortense do now? Would she make another attempt on Abel’s life? Did she know Zachariah was Abel’s son? Did she know about the girls living in the cottage in Wolverhampton? If not, and if she had dumped Peg there as a baby, then she might decide to return and then discover the sisters living happily together; she might even try to harm them in the same way… by burning down the cottage! She would have to warn her son and Zachariah when they returned.

  Meanwhile, having found and struck a deal with suppliers for his half-sisters, Zachariah suggested to Ezzie they have a pie and a pint in an inn before returning to Edna on the boat. Sitting at a small table in the bar, the two men discussed the arson attack and what Zachariah would do regarding living accommodation now. The green-eyed boy said, ‘I will have to stay at the hotel for the foreseeable future, but my first priority is work. Keeping the consultancy business open is imperative; no work means no money.’

  Climbing aboard ‘The Sunshine’, the young men were happily telling Edna of the deals they had made with the new suppliers when Ezzie noticed his mother’s sombre mood. When pushed, Edna related her fears regarding Zachariah, his father and his half-sisters.

  ‘If she did set fire to your house, lad, she may well try the same thing at the cottage if she gets wind of the girls living there. Also, if she finds out about the office you and your father have together…’ Edna let the sentence hang.

  ‘Christ, Edna!’ Zachariah put in. ‘I never thought of that!’ Then another thought struck him and turning to Ezzie he said, ‘You have to be extra vigilant too. If Hortense discovers your part in the girls’ business and that you and Peg are courting, God knows what she’s likely to do.’ Seeing Edna pall, he continued, ‘Edna I don’t wish to frighten you, but we must take extra precautions just in case. Ezzie, you must not, under any circumstances, leave your mother on this boat alone!’

  Ezzie nodded his agreement, all three now aware of the peril they could be in if Hortense Buchanan made it her business to investigate them further.

  Mother and son had no load to return to Wolverhampton as they set the boat in the direction of the town, but that was the least of their worries at that moment. Zachariah had assured them they would be financially compensated by Abel for the loss of load. For now, they had to get back and warn the girls that they could all be in great danger. As their journey continued, Ezzie’s mind whirled with thoughts on how to keep them all safe from Hortense’s wrath.

  Chapter 27

  Abel had boarded the first train to Wednesbury out of New Street Station and mulled over his situation as the train rumbled along the tracks.

  The more he thought about what the sergeant had told him, the more he began to believe Jago’s explanation over Hortense’s. The question he kept coming back to was, why? Zachariah had told him his wife had visited the house in Aston Street. She had met Mahula. She had met Zachariah, so obviously she knew who he was and the connection to Abel. Could it be she wanted rid of them as she had her daughters? Had she hoped her husband and his son were inside as she lit the fire at their house? Why go to such lengths? Why not just divorce him? Scandal and money. That was the answer, Hortense could not bear the thought of scandal.

  Alighting the train at the end of his journey, Abel hailed a carriage and gave the cabbie the address of Buchanan House. Another thought formed in Abel’s mind as the carriage trundled through the cobbled streets. Could it have been Hortense who had knocked down and killed his beloved Mahula? The shock of losing his home to the fire had worn off somewhat and anger had replaced it.

  If it was ever proved that Hortense had caused Mahula to lose her life… then God help her!

  *

  Abel strode through the front door of Buchanan House yelling for Hortense. His voice echoed through the hall and the staff in the kitchen tensed.

  Jago ran to hide in the butler’s pantry.

  Striding into the parlour, Abel marched across to the fireplace where Hortense sat.

  ‘What the bloody hell has been going on?’ he shouted.

  ‘It’s all the fault of your stable boy!’ his wife spat back.

  ‘Hortense! You were arrested by the police for God’s sake!’ Abel began to pace back and forth in front of the fire.

  The butler, cook a
nd maid had tiptoed from the kitchen and now stood outside the parlour door listening intently as the argument raged on.

  ‘You were arrested for arson!’ Abel yelled.

  ‘I was released as there was no proof of my guilt! I was exonerated!’ Hortense was on her feet. ‘If you spent more time at home instead of…’

  ‘Instead of what?’ Abel asked, trying to draw her out.

  ‘Working so much,’ his wife’s temper calmed a little.

  ‘I have to bloody work so hard because you keep spending the money on all this damned rubbish!’ Abel swung his arms around, encompassing yet more new furniture.

  Hortense’s temper flared again, ‘I will not be blamed, Abel!’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ he was quick to answer, ‘you won’t take responsibility for anything, will you?’

  ‘Just what are you referring to now, Abel?’ Hortense sneered.

  ‘What about the disappearance of Eugenie and Orpha… I suppose you had no hand in that either…!’ Abel’s voice was laced with sarcasm.

  ‘So you are still singing that old song,’ Hortense rasped nastily. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? It had nothing to do with me!’

  ‘Is that so?’ Abel screwed up his mouth and arched his eyebrows. Watching his wife carefully, he saw the flicker of doubt on her features as her colour drained.

  Hortense harrumphed as she retook her seat. Rapid thoughts flicked through her mind as she produced a handkerchief from her dress sleeve. Did he know she’d abandoned Eugenie? Was he aware she’d driven Orpha from the house? If so, how had he found out?

  ‘Yes, that is so,’ she sniffed as she dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief pretending to be upset.

  ‘Hortense, you are a liar, a bigot and a very evil woman! I thought I loved you once, but be sure now that any love – if that was what it was – has died, never to be resurrected!’ Abel watched his wife’s head snap up, her eyes wide with shock.

  Outside the door, Simmons looked at Beulah who had her hand across her mouth. Pulling his mouth down at the sides, he pinned his ear back to the door.

  Abel’s voice rose again as he continued his tirade, ‘I want you out of this house by tomorrow!’

  ‘Abel!’ Hortense gasped. ‘How will I live? What will I live on?’

  ‘Live on the money you got for the emerald you stole from me!’ Abel yelled.

  ‘But there wouldn’t be enough…’ Hortense blanched as she realised her mistake.

  ‘I knew it!’ Abel shouted, triumphant again.

  ‘No Abel, you don’t understand…’ Hortense managed before her husband cut off her sentence.

  ‘What is it that I don’t understand, Hortense? Please enlighten me,’ he said almost soothingly.

  Hortense rounded on him her voice full of fire. ‘You, with your daughters – always doting on them! You never showed me love like that!’

  ‘Hortense, you never warranted it. You are a thief and I won’t have you in this house any longer, now I suggest you call for Alice, I think you need a cup of sweet tea!’

  Hearing the last, the staff scuttled swiftly back to the kitchen in time to hear the tinkle of the parlour bell.

  Simmons sat with his tea and thought. So it was the mistress who had stolen the gem after all!

  *

  A little while later, Abel stomped into the kitchen at Buchanan House. ‘Alice go upstairs and pack the mistress’s things.’ He then instructed Simmons to find Jago Morton and bring him to the kitchen table. Alice fled up the stairs as Simmons called Jago’s name loudly.

  Stepping from the butler’s pantry, the stable boy walked towards Abel, his head down.

  ‘Sit down, lad. Mrs Jukes, tea if you’d be so kind,’ Abel said. ‘Now, I want you to tell me everything you know.’ Raising a hand slowly, he went on, ‘You are not in trouble, Jago, so don’t worry about that; just tell me the all of it.’

  Jago related his experience of the day he followed Hortense to Birmingham, interspersed with Simmons’ confirmation here and there. Then they went over it all again; Mrs Jukes providing sustenance with tea and cake.

  Hortense had quietly crept to the kitchen door behind Abel and listened in to the beginning of the conversation. The little weasel was telling Abel everything – something he would come to regret if she had her way. Silently making her way back to the parlour, Hortense eyed the study door. Slipping into the room, it was a matter of minutes before she came out again – eleven emeralds in their velvet bag tucked safely in her bodice.

  Hearing a noise upstairs, Hortense ran to her bedroom where she saw Alice folding clothes and packing them in a large trunk.

  ‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’ Hortense yelled at the girl.

  Alice quivered as she replied, ‘The master told me to pack your things, ma’am.’

  ‘Well you can just bloody well unpack them!’ Hortense shouted as she left the room.

  With a heavy sigh, Alice began to unpack the trunk and hang the clothes back in the wardrobe.

  Hortense stamped into the kitchen and, spotting Jago sitting at the table, she yelled, ‘What are you doing there? I thought I said you were sacked!’

  Abel stood to face his wife. ‘Jago is in my employ, not yours!’

  ‘Are you keeping him on? Even after the lies he told about me?’ Hortense was astonished.

  ‘They were not lies!’ Jago also stood which gave him confidence to continue, ‘I saw you! I saw what you did!’

  ‘You lying little…!’ Hortense took a step forward with her hand raised to strike the boy.

  Abel caught her arm, saying, ‘I thought I told you to get out of my house! Alice is packing your things!’

  ‘Well I told her to put them back!’ his wife spat.

  Dragging her upstairs by the arm he still held, they entered her bedroom. ‘Alice, pack her things, she’s leaving today! And you…’ he poked a finger at his wife, ‘…leave Alice to do my bidding or else you will leave in what you stand up in!’ Nodding to a muttering Alice, Abel let go of Hortense’s arm which flew to her bodice, giving the impression of shock. Feeling the little bag of emeralds, she watched Abel stalk from the room and an evil grin curled the corners of her mouth.

  ‘I will send for these things when I’m settled elsewhere, so hurry up, you lazy girl!’ Hortense marched from the room, down the stairs and, grabbing her coat from the coat stand in the hall, she walked out of the front door, slamming it behind her.

  Finally settled in a hotel room, Hortense fumed her anger. How dare Abel believe a stable boy over her? Even if she was guilty, it was still his word against hers. She had been foolish in her anger by letting Abel know she had taken the emerald, but he was unaware she had stolen the other eleven. Abel did not know where she was now so he would be unable to recover the gems. Abel was angry with her, but he was not distraught which told her his blasted son was still alive. This thought then led her to remember the girls; were they still alive, she wondered. Having no idea where Orpha might be, she knew where she’d left the snivelling baby so many years before. Maybe it was time to revisit the cottage where she’d abandoned Eugenie. Touching again the emeralds in her bodice, Hortense smiled. To ensure everything Abel owned reverted to her on his death, she had to be rid of his children… all of them.

  Chapter 28

  Zachariah had gone back to the office in Burlington Passage where his secretary informed him of a visit made by a young boy who was filthy dirty asking for either Mr Buchanan. Being told the boy had not left his name but would call back, Zachariah prayed it was Seth Walker and that his stable boy had not perished in the fire. Certainly, the police made no mention of having found a body in the ashes and Zachariah, noting the horses were missing, was confident now the boy had got them and himself safely away before the house had been claimed by the flames.

  Sure enough, an hour later saw the boy standing in Zachariah’s office wearing old clothes supplied by the blacksmith’s wife.

  Speaking to his secretary, Zachariah said,
‘I will be out for the rest of the day, and I have decided to find a couple of men to watch over the premises at night. Be assured you are quite safe.’ Explaining he would be back before she left for the day, he and Seth strode out and headed for the ‘Golden Peacock’. With beer in hand, the boy related what he’d seen on the night of the fire.

  ‘You are certain it was the same woman who visited my mother?’ Zachariah asked.

  The boy nodded. ‘Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but your mother didn’t get many visitors so I was very curious. I got a good look at that one and I’m sure it was the same one who fired the house!’

  Zachariah and Seth left shortly after to attend the police station in Steelhouse Lane where the stable boy gave a sworn statement to the sergeant about what he saw on the night the house in Aston Street had burned to the ground.

  *

  Seth Walker sat before the sergeant in the police station in the torn and tattered clothes he had been given. The policeman nodded every now and then as he listened to Seth’s story unfold. A young constable sat in and took notes then he waited as Seth finished speaking. Zachariah sat in silence throughout.

  ‘You have any more to add, lad?’ the Sergeant asked.

  ‘No sir,’ Seth said respectfully.

  Turning to the constable, the Sergeant asked, ‘Where was it this woman lives?’

  Riffling through a stack of papers on the table, the constable replied, ‘Buchanan House in Wednesbury, sir.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ the Sergeant mused, ‘I think it’s time to be having another word with the lady. Where can I find you gents if I need you?’