The Cedar Cutter

by Téa Cooper

  ‘City folk want it all for themselves. This is my tree and I’ll be havin’ it. I’ve waited too long for this one.’

  ‘She’s a big bugger. How long do you reckon it’ll take us to get it down?’

  ‘Believe me now, do you?’

  Slinger grunted. ‘We’ll get it down quick enough, a week, bit more maybe. It’s the sawing’ll take time unless we get some help.’

  ‘I’m not for getting help. I reckon we go back to Wollombi, pick up the rest of our gear and some supplies, then come back in. Those two’ll be gone by then. They’re not cutters, they won’t touch it, and we can get to it.’

  ‘And when they come back and find the tree gone?’

  ‘We’ll be gone. You’re going north and I’ll be on my way to Sydney for a boat to take me home.’

  ‘Might be easier just to put a bullet in them and bury them.’

  ‘No, it wouldn’t, you fool. Someone knows they’re here and I for one have no intention of swinging. Not before I make it home. We’ll go back to Wollombi, wait it out for a few days then come back and take another look, make sure they’ve gone before we bring the gear in.’

  Roisin hurried down the street from the school, calling a morning greeting here and there and waving to some of the children as they headed for the school gate. People acknowledged her, glancing in her direction, nodding as she passed, greeting her by name as though she belonged in the town. It gave her a feeling of security and pride to be recognised as the local dressmaker.

  And Jane, what a godsend. What luck to find someone with such skill. Quite why Jane hadn’t set up her own business, Roisin had no idea. If Sydney had so many women running businesses then why couldn’t Wollombi? Maisie and Elsie ran the inn and the General Store. With Jane’s help she could imagine a whole emporium selling haberdashery, small items, buttons and silk, lace and bolts of material. And those wonderful ladies’ fashion papers Mrs Winchester had shown her, available for people to browse through. Then the orders would come flooding in. She might even have to expand further. For the time being though she intended to concentrate on the business in hand. Mrs Winchester’s evening dress was without a doubt her finest achievement. And now to make Lady Alice happy.

  She ducked around the back of the street, running alongside the school, and knocked on the door of the storehouse. After a moment or two the heavy wooden doors swung open, bringing the stench of lanolin and wet fleece.

  ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Morning. What can I do for you?’ A red-faced man with a purple nose, thick shoulders and a short bull-like neck, lumbered from behind a tower of baled fleece.

  ‘Elsie, Mrs Sullivan, said if I called in you might be able to sell me some fleece.’

  ‘Earmarked for Sydney. All baled and ready.’ He sucked on his pipe, adding a whiff of damp tobacco to the already pungent air.

  ‘Would you have any offcuts I could purchase?’

  ‘Offcuts? Dags, you mean?’

  ‘I need a small amount of fleece for a project I’m working on.’ No need to go into explicit detail. It wasn’t something a man, any man, needed to know about.

  He sighed and sent a cloud of smoke wreathing around her face. ‘Only the cleanings there.’ He tossed his head at a stinking pile in the corner of the room. ‘Help yourself.’

  ‘I’ll pay you for it.’

  ‘We could sort it another way.’ He took a step closer to her, the stench of tobacco, sweat and wet sheep making her gorge rise. ‘I’ll call in one afternoon after I finish up here.’

  Call in. What was he talking about? Roisin bent down and picked through the smelly pile of offcuts, gathering several handfuls. ‘I’d like this please.’

  ‘It’s all yours.’

  She slipped the fleece inside the bag she carried over her arm. ‘Please let me give you something for it.’

  ‘Nah.’ He sniffed. ‘Now Carrick and his cutters have gone, you’ll be a bit lonely like. Can’t be having that.’ He sucked on his pipe and sent a cloud of smoke swirling around her face, then reached out his hand.

  She stepped back. What was he thinking? ‘Let me pay you for it.’ She shuddered, produced a shilling from her pocket and extended her gloved hand.

  ‘Cheap at ’arf the price.’ He wiped his hand over his nose and gave her a lecherous wink.

  Surely the man didn’t think … ‘Well, thank you. Thank you very much.’

  He grunted and sucked on his pipe again. ‘What time do you open, then?’

  ‘Open?’

  ‘Open for business of a night time?’

  ‘How dare you!’ She turned on her heel and bolted down the street, her stomach twisting and her bag at arm’s length to avoid inhaling the foul-smelling fleece and the equally foul insinuations the horrid man had made.

  As soon as Roisin rounded the corner, Jane dropped her broom and came running into the street.

  ‘Oh, Jane, I’m so pleased you’re here. We have to talk. The most awful thing has just happened.’ Nothing could be more important than the dreadful, smelly man in the wool store.

  ‘Lady Alice is here already.’

  ‘She’s earlier than I expected.’ Would nothing go right today?

  ‘I think she’s very keen. She was a little annoyed you weren’t at home when she called. I’ve given her a cup of tea and she’s waiting, tapping her foot and sighing.’

  Roisin eased the pins from her hat and slipped her gloves off as she made her way along the flagstone path. She’d have to tread very carefully. Grace Winchester was lucky to have been granted such a perfect figure, and although she was sure she could help Lady Alice, she wasn’t sure how far she could push her. What would she say when she suggested padding her bosom?

  Sucking in a deep breath, she shrugged out of her jacket and closed the door behind her blessing Carrick and the never-ending woodpile that kept the house cosy. Lady Alice sat perched in front of the fire, her fingers fiddling with the handles of the carpetbag resting in her lap. Her dress no doubt.

  Dear God, please let the dress be a better colour than her other clothes. She could adjust it, remake it, just not change the colour, no matter what ideas Jane might have about dyeing lace with garden vegetables. And no amount of discreet padding would help.

  ‘Good morning, Lady Alice. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, I had to take my son to school.’

  ‘Your son. How delightful, I didn’t know you had a son.’

  ‘He’s a bit of a handful sometimes, but I wouldn’t part with him for the world. You know what children are like.’

  ‘Sadly, I don’t. The good lord hasn’t seen fit to bless me with children. I sometimes think I have left it all too late. I was hopeful the change in climate, the sea journey …’ She lifted her shoulders then let them drop with a resigned sigh. ‘I was hopeful that the country air might make a difference. It doesn’t seem to be the case. I’m sorry, it is not something I should bore you with.’

  Roisin set her hat on the table, then smoothed her hair. She could feel Lady Alice’s gaze burning a hole in her back so she turned with a bright smile. The woman needed a large dose of confidence and she intended to provide it.

  ‘The truth is I’m not attractive to my husband. I do not seem to have the vivacity that Grace has.’ Lady Alice delved into her carpetbag and produced a bundle wrapped in an Indian silk shawl.

  Roisin reached out and took the bundle from Lady Alice’s lap. ‘Why don’t you show me your dress?’

  ‘I can never compete with Grace, she is so …’ Her face flushed and she gestured helplessly.

  Roisin lifted the bundle to the table. If the dress had something to recommend it she could work with that. Otherwise, she’d no idea what she’d do.

  ‘I had the dress made in Sydney. I feel I have made a mistake. It is not a colour I’d normally wear.’

  Roisin’s heart sank. It would be another disaster. Just how many overskirts and embellishments could she attach to an evening dress? She unwrapped the shawl and gasped.


  ‘You see what I mean. I fear I have been led astray.’

  ‘Lady Alice, not at all.’ She shook out the teal-coloured silk. ‘It’s delightful.’ This she could work with. The colour was brilliant, like a peacock’s tail. The scooped neck and the short sleeves were perfect. The ruching across the front had obviously been inserted to draw the eye away from Lady Alice’s minute attributes.

  ‘It seems wonderful in your hands, put me inside it and it is transformed into a brightly coloured sack more suitable for vegetables. I was swayed because it reminded me of home.’

  ‘Not at all, not at all. I can help you.’ And she could. A surge of anticipation traced her skin. She could do this and send another satisfied customer on her way.

  ‘Would you be kind enough to step behind the curtain and slip it on? If you have any difficulties with the lacings I can call Jane to assist you.’

  Roisin hid her smile. What a wonderful addition Jane made to the business. Her mind flashed back once more to the turbulent days at Maison Français. The laughing girls, the thrills and the fun. That was what Lady Alice needed. She’d turn this poor little brown mouse into a swan and let her sail forth and win her husband’s affections. She rubbed her hands together. It was a challenge, but one she could rise to and the prospect left a satisfied glow inside her.

  ‘Jane.’

  ‘Yes, Miss.’ She’d never cure Jane of her deference.

  ‘Would you please assist Lady Alice? We have work to do.’

  While Jane and Lady Alice disappeared behind the curtain, Roisin buried her head in her trunk, rummaging until she found a kingfisher-blue silk corset and a more decorous plain cream one. Both would be too large for Lady Alice; however, they would explain her thoughts. The black and red one she tucked back to the bottom, out of sight.

  When Lady Alice appeared from behind the screen with her eyes downcast, clasping the skirt in her bunched fists, Roisin took a deep breath. ‘Please relax. Drop your hands and stand still. I have to make a few tucks and pleats.’ She tightened the dress around the waist and loosened the laces across the back of the shoulders, making the neckline gape painfully at the front.

  ‘Oh no! That is just making matters worse.’ Lady Alice wrenched away, clasping the yawning material to her scrawny chest.

  ‘Please, trust me. Now turn to me. The carriage of your head is excellent; however, a little more padding here might …’ She wisped her hand across Lady Alice’s chest. ‘Your waist is exquistely slender, with a bit of artifice we can assure the décolletage will be all you would wish for.’

  ‘I’d prefer a more flowing line and not too colourful, a grey perhaps, with the smallest amount of trimming.’

  ‘No, no. The colour is perfect, it brings out the highlights in your eyes and flatters your complexion. I want you to stand very still, close your eyes and promise me you will not open them until I say so.’

  Jane frowned at her and Roisin shook her head. All she needed was a moment or two and a large amount of trust. She dragged various remnants and offcuts of silk from the trunk. She’d much rather use the fleece, but the rotten stench still clung to her nostrils and to ask Lady Alice to put it against her skin would simply be too much. Balling the silk, she slipped it down the front of the dress and moulded it to the gaping fabric. Then she spun Lady Alice around and laced the back of the dress as tightly as she could. ‘Don’t open your eyes, not yet. Jane, can you fetch the glass please. Now before you look, Lady Alice I have to ask you to trust me and use your imagination.’

  ‘My imagination is running riot. I have no idea what is going on, I feel like a stuffed Christmas goose.’ Lady Alice smothered a giggle, the first Roisin had heard from her, and flashed her eyes open. Her cheeks pinked as she gazed in the mirror. ‘Oh my dear.’ A tear trickled down her cheek. ‘I have bosoms.’ She turned this way and that then threw her shoulders back. ‘Big bosoms!’ Her shrill laugh tinkled, filling the little room. ‘You have worked a miracle.’

  ‘Not a miracle, simply a bit of padding. Now this is very rough and doesn’t fit you at all well. Given a bit of time I can make a corset that will fit you perfectly, and believe me, no one will know where the padding ends and you begin.’

  Lady Alice ran her hands down to her waist. ‘I’m a little lumpy.’

  ‘You won’t be. I have some fleece, which we’ll insert in the corset. The dress is perfect and so are you.’

  ‘Not perfect. A definite improvement.’ The smile still hovered on her face and she stretched onto her toes, turning in front of the mirror.

  ‘It’s imperative that you stand tall and throw your shoulders back.’

  ‘You sound like my governess. Please don’t tell me she was right all along.’

  Roisin’s lips twitched and she slid her hand under Lady Alice’s chin. ‘It’s all about your stance and the manner in which you hold your head.’

  ‘An illusion.’

  ‘Yes, I think you could say that.’

  Lady Alice giggled again. ‘My corset. Would it be possible to make it the same colour as the dress? I love this colour. It is like the wings on the ducks in the ponds in Ireland. Mallard ducks. It reminded me so much of home, I’m sure that is why I was drawn to it.’

  ‘It’s the perfect colour for your complexion.’ Roisin unfolded the peacock-coloured corset and held it up. ‘Something like this is what I have in mind?’

  ‘Oh!’ A dreamy look crossed Lady Alice’s face as she ran her fingers over the pleated silk. ‘It is simply …’ She frowned. ‘How long will it take? I have only a few days before we return to Sydney.’

  ‘Jane and I will work on it and I believe we can have it ready for you in two days.’

  Jane stared at her, eyebrows raised and Roisin flashed her eyes in warning. Yes, it would be hard work, but they could do it. She reached for a length of Jane’s lace. ‘We’ll run two rows of lace here and it will sit proud and add to the effect. I’ll need to take a few more precise measurements, if you can spare the time.’

  ‘Of course, of course. I have all the time in the world.’ Lady Alice grasped hold of the mirror, a secret smile lighting her eyes.

  Wouldn’t Lady Alice’s husband be in for a surprise?

  Thirteen

  The time flew as Lady Alice’s corset began to take shape and the final lace overskirt was sewn onto Mrs Winchester’s dress. Without Jane’s fine stitching and patient perfectionism Roisin would never have managed to complete anything. Poor Ruan, however, was left increasingly to his own devices, foraging in the garden, collecting treasures, attending school.

  ‘Ruan, where are you?’ Roisin peered through the kitchen window into the yard, then spotted his treasure box sitting on the floor next to the fire. She climbed the ladder to the attic and checked his bedroom. He was nowhere to be seen. She rushed outside and scanned the street. ‘Elsie, have you seen Ruan?’

  ‘After school. Not for a couple of hours.’

  Her stomach performed a series of cartwheels. How could she have lost sight of the time and Ruan? He hadn’t even eaten dinner. She’d sent Jane to deliver Mrs Winchester’s dress and get a bit of fresh air after the late evening they’d had the night before. She’d spent the morning putting the finishing touches to the lace on Lady Alice’s corset and Ruan had vanished.

  Elsie frowned and gave a disappointed tut. ‘The bloody cutters are back in town. Camped down by the brook. Bunch of rogues and scoundrels.’

  Roisin’s heart picked up a beat at the news. Not only would Ruan be safe, but Carrick was back in town and sooner than she’d expected. ‘That’ll be where he’s gone. Ruan has taken such a liking to the man.’ And so had she.

  Elsie’s mouth dropped open and her hand dampened Roisin’s blouse when she laid it on her arm. ‘Best go down and check. Ask Maisie first. Can’t be too careful.’

  ‘He’ll be fine if he’s with Carrick.’ She made to return inside to her sewing. Maybe she could convince Carrick to stay and share tea with them. She still hadn’t produced the me
al of pickled cabbage and mutton pie she’d promised.

  ‘You go find your boy and bring him back. Can’t be too careful with those cutters. Go now. I’ll keep an eye on your place.’

  Maybe Elsie was right, she’d become just a little too free and easy with Ruan. He had to learn to tell her where he was going. Carrick or no Carrick. The caring nature of the people in the small town had lulled her into a false sense of security. After Ruan’s escapade with the old Aboriginal man she’d kept him close to the house for a day or two; however, once she’d received the commission from Lady Alice and Mrs Winchester, she’d become too busy to worry.

  She turned and headed across the street to the inn. The bullock dray was drawn up at the camp alongside the brook and even from a distance she could see the fire burning beneath the ever-present billy. No sign of Ruan, though.

  Waiting for her eyes to become accustomed to the dark interior of the inn after the sunshine outside, she hovered in the doorway. Harry Kidd had his head down, deep in conversation with a well-dressed man at the bar, otherwise the inn seemed empty. A shudder ran through her, a chilly finger tracing her spine, and she turned back to the welcoming sunshine, uncomfortable and unwilling to disturb the men’s conversation.

  She hovered a moment outside the inn, gazing across at the expanse of grass next to the brook. Then she spotted Ruan and Carrick hunched at the edge of the water. Fishing!

  Elsie and her fearmongering. Of course Carrick would take care of Ruan, although who had managed to find whom would be impossible to guess, they seemed to have a sixth sense about each other’s whereabouts.

  She lifted her hands and waved. ‘Ruan. Carrick.’

  Carrick turned and waved back, making no effort to move. What did it matter? She was wasting time. Time she could spend on sewing. She had only two days to finish the corsets and everything required hand stitching. Carrick would bring Ruan home. She turned and made her way back up the street.

  ‘Well, where’s my boy?’ Elsie stood in the middle of the road, hands on her hips.