Flame and Ashes

by Janet Mcnaughton

  After I read this out, Sarah asked Mama, was there any chance of us recovering some of our furniture? But Mama said we should not pin our hopes on such an unlikely event. “Those things are gone,” she added. “We survived without injury, and one day soon we will all be together again. That should be enough for us.”

  But I cannot help wondering if our fine furniture is somewhere in this city, sitting in a stranger’s house.

  Sunday, August 14th, South Side Warehouse

  Today being Sunday, we ran out of ways to amuse ourselves and talk turned to the day of the fire. It seems enough time has passed that we can speak freely of it now without renewing the fear and horror of the day. Phoebe and Liza told us how bold Miss Rosy was when she defended Mr. Morrissey’s cab against the looters, and it was clear that Miss Rosy liked to hear the story again. Her cheeks took on fresh colour and I could well imagine how fearsome she must have seemed. Next, Mr. Matt told us how Papa’s crowd organized themselves into a fire brigade, all hands standing ready with buckets full of water while the fire advanced upon the harbour. The flankers that first landed on the wooden windowsills were easily extinguished, but when the tar on the roof caught fire — not once but often — he said, “We knew we were sunk.”

  Then Ned began his tale. When the City Hall Skating Rink was set alight by flaming debris, he knew the sail works was bound to follow, for it was downwind and just across Prescott Street. “Most of the houses uphill was all aflame,” he told us, “and I thought of my rodney.” So off he went to the public cove where he kept his prize possession. He rowed it across the harbour and moored on the South Side. At first, he was terrified he’d see people burning to death, but when this didn’t happen he began to realize that they were keeping out of the fire’s path, so it wasn’t as terrible as he’d expected. He stayed there all night, watching. “I still sees it when I close my eyes before sleep,” he said. “Showers of flankers lashing across the harbour like a curtain of glowing, orange snow.”

  As he watched, building after building caught fire, burned and collapsed onto itself and the east side of the city was reduced to smoldering ashes. “By the time the sun came up,” he said, “I thought my life would never be the same.” But then he smiled. I think he smiled because he was right, but in a happy way. Without the fire, we’d never have met Ned.

  I’m glad he’s come to live with us now, and I believe he feels the same way about us.

  So many tales of bravery and daring were told this afternoon, I only wish Alfie had been at my side to hear them.

  Monday, August 15th, South Side Warehouse

  I am so very worried, I must record my fears here to quiet them. This is an unsettled time for everyone. Miss Rosy and Sarah are the only lucky ones. They have set up a millinery workshop for themselves and they spend their time working on “the fall line of hats,” but the rest of us can only wait for the SS Fez to arrive with new stock so we can open our shop.

  Today I found myself alone with nothing to do. Ned had taken Liza and Phoebe across the harbour so they could visit Liza’s friends at Mrs. Steele’s house in Georgestown. After they left, I could not sit still to watch the hat making. Nettie was busy kneading bread, and soon tired of watching me prowl around looking for something to do. “You’re all at sixes and sevens today,” she said, and told me I’d better get myself outside. I didn’t even wonder where Mama and Papa had gone.

  There’s a small patch of bare land beside the warehouse near the wharf. I was looking for a stone there, so I could draw some hopscotch squares, when I heard voices and realized that Mama and Papa were close by, sitting on a bench facing the water just around the corner. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I stood there frozen, listening to them.

  Papa said the new street lines for Water and Duckworth Streets are to be published any day now and there will soon be auctions of new bricks, but how, he asked, can bricks be laid in freezing weather. He grew more and more agitated as he went on to say that the Royal Engineers are waiting in Halifax to come and help lay out the streets, but they cannot because new barracks must be built for them at Fort Townsend, and that’s taking longer than expected. At this rate, no start will be made on our new store until next spring. Then he wondered how “the girls” will accept the plan that he proposes. Mama replied that we’d been brave since the fire, and she was sure we’d continue to be, no matter what.

  At that, I turned and fled, and nothing Nettie said could make me go outside again. I finally had to take up Sarah’s copy of that wretched Wuthering Heights, which I’d abandoned weeks before, so I could brood in peace.

  What did Papa mean? I thought back to the conversation May and I had, just before I found Ned, and my heart froze. Papa couldn’t possibly mean to send us away to school, could he?

  Tuesday, August 16th, South Side Warehouse

  I stayed very close to Sarah today. A sleepless night knocked all the restlessness out of my limbs, and I feel better when she is near, so I took my Fancy Needlework down to the millinery workshop, although I did very little sewing. Miss Rosy soon remarked that I was yawning to split my face, but Sarah chatted away while they worked, without a care in the world.

  Papa came by at one point and paused to watch us sewing together with such a tender look, almost as if he were trying to fix us in his memory. When he was gone, I moved so close to Sarah that she had to ask me to give her a little elbow room, please, so I put my sewing away and brought my writing desk down here.

  I am certain now that he and Mama have decided to send us away to a boarding school.

  Oh, Papa is calling us now. How can I bear this?

  Later in the evening

  I am so very happy! Everything is fine, although I wouldn’t have guessed it when Papa asked Sarah and me to come outside with him and Mama so we could have a private conversation. I feared the worst as they led us to the same bench where I had overheard them talking yesterday, and Papa’s grim frown did nothing to reassure me.

  He said it was time to talk about the future, and we were faced with some serious decisions. He wanted Sarah and me to understand why he and Mama have chosen to do things as they are to be done. I knew they had decided to send Sarah and Alfie and me away to boarding school just like Ethel Pye. I had to will myself not to burst into tears.

  Then Papa said, “We have decided a new store must be our first priority. Once other shops are properly restored on Water Street, our trade here is bound to suffer. So we will put off building a new house until our shop reopens at the old premises. It may take more than a year, or even two, before we have a house again. I know this must be a terrible disappointment,” he continued, but I could not hold my tongue another second.

  “But we will remain together?” I asked.

  “Together?” Mama said. “Why Triffie, of course.”

  I threw myself into Mama’s arms and the tears I had been trying to hold back burst from me in a torrent. It was some time before I could explain myself.

  I was not scolded for eavesdropping. (It was, after all, an accident.)

  “My goodness, Triffie,” Mama said, “Mr. Pye’s situation is quite different, being a widower without property.”

  “But many good families do send their children away for school,” Sarah said, and she confessed that the thought had crossed her mind as well. (If only I’d known, I could have shared my worries.)

  “My dear girls!” Papa cried. “Never! Without you, our hearts would be quite broken. It’s been hard enough to do without Alfie for so long.”

  Mama added it was time for Alfie to come home and she was composing a wire that will go the clergyman in Scilly Cove this coming week, asking him to arrange a passage for Alfie and Ruby. “Alfie must be here before school starts in September,” she concluded.

  I was so happy and relieved and thought it just as well to get my worries all clewed up at the same time. “And will we go to St. Mary’s School?” I asked.

  Mama said, “Of course not, Triffie. You and Sarah will return to t
he Church of England Girls’ School,” and she told us Alfie will begin his studies at the Church of England Academy — which, by luck, is just a short distance from St. Thomas, where our school is to be. So everything works out just as I wished! We talked quite happily about our future. Papa said he felt a great weight had been removed from his shoulders to know that Sarah and I are content to remain here, however long it may take to build a new house.

  I am quite content to stay here. In fact, I would miss Ned and Phoebe and Liza and Miss Rosy and Mr. Matt very much. I can’t wait to tell May we’ll be back together in the fall. Perhaps I will write her a postcard!

  Thursday, August 18th, South Side Warehouse

  We have been so busy this week, it’s hardly the same place. Papa’s first shipment of goods arrived on Tuesday morning. The SS Fez is a big iron steamship and it loomed large as it docked at our wharf. We watched, safe and dry inside, as the men unloaded our goods in the pouring rain. Papa’s order was just a small part of the cargo, so it did not take long for the crates and one large barrel to be landed on the wharf. Then the ship sailed along the South Side to the Job Brothers’ warehouse.

  The rain had kept Papa home and it was funny to watch him take orders from Ned, but he’s the only one here who knows how to handle cargo. Afterwards Papa said we are lucky to have him. I’m sure Alfie would have enjoyed learning to use the ropes and pulleys. I can’t wait for him to be with us again.

  When everything was safely stowed on the second floor, Papa insisted we eat dinner before opening the crates. It was noon and Nettie had a nice pea soup with dumplings ready, and, as Papa said, he and Ned needed to dry out as much as the cargo did.

  We could barely contain ourselves while we ate. It felt like Christmas morning and our dear shopgirls were just as eager as Sarah and I. We spent the whole meal talking about what we most wanted to find in the crates. Miss Rosy wanted more millinery supplies, of course, and Liza still longs for a sewing machine. Papa told her, if he had only known he was about to lose them all, he would certainly have ordered one last May when this order was placed. Phoebe said she’d be pleased to sell anything. “I still dream that I’m standing behind my counter, in a crisp white blouse and neat serge skirt with rows and rows of lovely gloves under the glass in front of me.”

  Liza said, “Well girl, we’ll be on the go again just as soon as we gets everything arranged. You’ll have to teach me how to manage like a shopgirl.”

  Papa said he hoped it would stop raining. As soon as he had a list of the goods we have to sell, he planned to go over to Monroe’s wharf where The Morning Despatch is printed to submit a shop opening announcement to that paper. “And that should get us started.”

  I asked if he would tell people that Ned will row them across to us, and he laughed and said he wouldn’t be putting it quite that way. Then he asked for our opinion of the wording. “How’s this? ‘Water cab service across the harbour offered to all customers, free of charge’?”

  Sarah said it sounded as if Papa had hired a Victoria cab to float across the harbour. Ned wondered if people would be disappointed “when they sees my old rodney.”

  Mama told him that it was part of our trade to make people believe something they might take for granted is actually quite wonderful. “I’m sure your neat little rodney will delight everyone,” she added.

  By then our bowls were empty and I could wait no longer. “Papa,” I said, “we have been very patient and you look quite dry —”

  I got no farther because everyone burst out laughing.

  “You have been patient,” Papa said, throwing down his napkin.

  As we rose from the table, Phoebe began to gather the plates. Nettie insists on eating after us now, as she did before the fire. She was sitting by the window, waiting for us to finish, and she spied Phoebe right away. “What do you think you’re at, Miss?”

  Phoebe replied that dinner had been so fine, she felt she should help with the dishes. Anyone could see what a sacrifice this was for her. Luckily, Nettie wouldn’t hear of it.

  “Go on with your foolishness. Time for you to get back to your proper work, and me to mine.” And Nettie shooed us toward the stairs. Even Mama came down to help.

  The second floor is cozy. The stove keeps the damp off, and we’ve swept it clean. Phoebe and Liza even washed all the little windows with vinegar and newspaper soon after they arrived, so it’s almost bright. Ned began to open the crates with an old pry bar that Papa had discovered on the first floor. When he was done, he went down to the ground floor to find more empty crates that might serve as shop counters.

  We fell upon the contents of the first crates with cries of delight. Inside we found ready-made winter fashions for ladies: coats and dresses, skirts and blouses. Mama said that she thought we could spare a good set of clothes for Liza, Phoebe and Rose, adding, “After all, our shop must look smart.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Winsor,” Phoebe cried, running her hand over a neat dress of navy crepe. Her eyes shone. Miss Rosy thanked Mama too, but she wasn’t about to let anything slow us down, saying they’d see about that after we finished working. There were crates of yard goods and even some gloves to make Phoebe happy, but no clothes for girls. I tried to hide my disappointment. I would like to have a new dress too. Then we opened a small crate filled with bars of Castile soap and eau de cologne.

  “Now this is bound to be popular,” Miss Rosy said, “with everyone needing a bath.”

  Mama agreed, but added that we’ll be needing a sign that reads At Greatly Reduced Prices as fancy soaps and scent will not be at the top of shopping lists now. This caused Papa to remark that Mama is “every inch the businesswoman,” and she glowed to hear his praise.

  Miss Rosy was transported by joy when we opened the next crate, as it was filled with millinery supplies. She ran her hands over the bolts of felt, the packets of feathers, velvet flowers and ribbons as if they were the riches of the earth, promising to make Liza into a milliner while she was waiting for a sewing machine.

  The next crates were full of men’s and boys’ shoes. “So,” Papa said, “we only have ladies’ fashions and men’s shoes.” He hoped another shipment would arrive soon to fill the gaps in our stock.

  Next we opened two smaller crates. One held watches and jewellery, and the other knives. Papa said the knives are probably more valuable than jewellery now.

  When I asked if we’d be changing our prices to reflect this, Papa was scandalized. “That, Triffie my love, is called profiteering,” and he explained that merchants must never make profit out of misfortune caused by disaster or war, calling this “one of the graver sins of commerce.” I was mortified to have made such a mistake, but he patted me on the head when he finished, to show my ignorance had not offended him (and now I know better). Papa went on to say, when the shop opening announcement is printed, it will state All Goods Offered at Pre-Fire Prices, so everyone will know we are honest traders.

  The last crate was filled with package upon package of small paper bags. “Candy bags,” Mama said. And we were all silent for a moment, remembering our fine candy kitchen.

  As if he’d read everyone’s mind, Papa said, “This place is not clean enough for a candy kitchen.” Then he pointed to a barrel as tall as I am and sighed. “Only the hogshead left. I’m afraid I know what’s inside.” It was filled with sugar, the entire winter’s supply for the confectionery.

  “My goodness,” Mama said. “That’s a grand lot of sugar. How much, exactly?”

  “One thousand, five hundred pounds,” Papa replied. “It’s cheaper to buy this way.”

  We stood in silent awe for a moment, then a giggle escaped Mama. Miss Rosy pressed her hand to her mouth, but she too succumbed to giggles. The silliness of all that sugar was too much for us. We laughed until our sides ached and tears ran down our cheeks.

  “Oh dear,” Mama said when she was finally able to catch her breath. “What will we do with it all?”

  Papa replied that in time he would t
ry to find a place to rent so we can get the candy kitchen on the go once more, but he was more interested in getting the shop opened just now. Then he and Mama went to compose the shop opening announcement, leaving us to lay out the shop. While we were busy with the new stock, Ned had carried up enough crates for us to make a start on our counters, and Miss Rosy was eager to take the space in hand. While Phoebe, Liza and Miss Rosy planned the layout of our shop, I went to the crate of soap and picked up a bar, so pretty in its fancy paper wrapping. I closed my eyes and breathed in the soapy scent. It smelled so clean, so unlike the stink of ashes and fish and rotting cod livers that clings to us now. It smelled of the life we’ve lost.

  I try not to dwell upon the past, to be content with our new life, but just for a moment, I wished us back in Papa’s store, with everything so clean and orderly, just as it had been before the fire snatched it all away. I wished so hard, my eyeballs hurt. When I opened my eyes, Sarah was watching me. She put her arm around me and gave me a little squeeze. “Come now, Triff. Just think how happy Alfie will be when he gets home and finds we are open for business again.”

  That cheered me. The makeshift counters are laid out in a large U now, with plenty of space to store stock behind. The shop is neat and ready for customers. By Monday, we’ll be open.

  Saturday, August 20th, South Side Warehouse

  Mama and Papa spent all of yesterday in our new shop, entering the stock into an inventory book, which must be done before goods can be sold. Mr. McAllister generally keeps track of inventory for Papa, but he is still on holiday in Scotland. While they worked, Mama’s thoughts strayed again and again to the sugar and what a waste it seemed to have so much when others had none at all. The only other useless items were the candy bags.