by Evie Grace
‘Catherine, how will you explain my absence?’
‘I’ll say that you are at sea, or away on business. Please don’t make me do this.’
‘The very idea breaks my heart. You are the most beautiful, capable and loving woman, and it would be wrong to keep you bound to me for the rest of our lives when you have so much to give. I want you to be free to fall in love and marry, and have more children.’
‘It’s you whom I love. It’s you I wish to marry. There’ll never be anyone else.’
‘That’s easy to say, but it will be different when I’m half a world away. What if I don’t make it to Tasmania? Many are lost while crossing the ocean. Conditions on the ships—’ He stopped abruptly. He didn’t have to go on. Catherine knew what he meant.
‘Why don’t we say we are married right here in the eyes of God?’
‘I can’t have that on my conscience.’
‘I’ll follow you. I’ll earn my passage and bring our daughter with me.’
‘Stay here, look after our child and love her for both of us. I’m giving you your freedom. Say that you’ll accept it. I need to be sure before I go.’
‘Catherine, what he’s saying makes sense,’ came Stephen’s voice from her side. ‘I think it fair to give him peace of mind by agreeing to his request, as painful as it is to both of you.’
She gazed at her soulmate, lover and father of her baby, reading the hurt in his eyes. He hadn’t taken the decision lightly to ask her to end the engagement lightly.
‘You have good reason to ask this of me, but you’re wrong.’
‘No, my dearest and only love, it’s the right thing to do. Please,’ he whispered, inching closer under the watchful eyes of the guard. ‘It will give me peace of mind. This is the one last thing I ask of you.’
‘Your time is up,’ the guard interrupted.
‘Catherine?’ Matty said.
‘I’ll do it,’ she said softly. She removed the ring of plaited hair from her finger and dropped it on the ground.
‘I have something for you and our child.’ He kicked off his left boot. ‘Look inside.’
Catherine picked it up and then handed it back, removing a small, hard object with a roughened edge from its malodorous depths as she did so.
‘Hey,’ the guard said. ‘Show me your boot.’
Catherine palmed Matty’s offering and slipped it into her pocket, while the guard searched his footwear for contraband before throwing it back at him.
‘Move!’ he snapped.
Matty looked behind him as he shuffled along in line with the other men.
‘Always and for ever,’ he mouthed, craning his neck for one last sight of her until the prisoners rounded the corner of the building and disappeared. She couldn’t bear it. With a cry, she made to run after him, but Stephen caught her and held her back.
‘It is no use,’ he said, pulling her to him. ‘He’s gone.’
‘Oh, my poor Matty,’ she sobbed.
‘Hush there,’ Stephen murmured.
She was vaguely aware of his fingers tangling in her hair as he held her close with her head against his shoulder. She felt his body shaking as she trembled with overwhelming grief. She had lost the love of her life, while Stephen had lost his brothers.
She and Matty would never walk through the woods at Overshill again. They would never kiss under the moonlight, or share cherries dripping with juice straight from the tree. He would never go out into the fields and show their daughter the hops curling up the chestnut poles, the deer walking among the trees and the ladybirds crawling around the runner beans, like Pa had with her. How must he be feeling now?
She wasn’t sure how long they remained outside the courthouse, or what time they returned to the Black Horse.
Stephen ordered a light supper, and they ate half-heartedly. Mr Hadington’s man came to collect his payment, and the next morning, they made their way back to Overshill with the horse and cart. Catherine sat in the back wrapped in blankets and exposed to the sun, but she still felt cold, as if she’d been turned to stone. The judge and jury had put an end to her hopes and dreams for the future. She had no husband and her child was without a father.
She slid her hand into her pocket and pulled out the object that Matty had given her the day before. It was a curious thing, half of a silver coin, the curve as smooth as the day it had been minted, and the cut edge across the centre rough and uneven, but she recognised it. It was half of the sixpence that she had given him. He must have spent hours while he was imprisoned filing it into two.
She gripped it tightly.
‘You’ll be all right, Catherine,’ she heard Stephen say.
‘How, when my heart is broken?’ she exclaimed.
‘I mean in a practical way. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I know how I’d feel if anything should part me from Emily, but you will have Matty’s child to bring you comfort.’
‘Comfort? She will bring me only pain.’
‘She will remind you of him.’ He turned and looked over his shoulder. ‘She will help us all to come to terms with what’s happened.’
‘Let’s face it, Stephen. By the end of the year, I’ll have given birth out of wedlock to a convicted criminal’s daughter. Ma will never forgive me for that, and I’ll be looked down upon by every respectable person in Overshill.’ She gazed at him straight in the eye. ‘Not everyone is fair and reasonable like you.’
The news had been carried to the village ahead of them by others who had attended the trials, and they found themselves the centre of attention as they turned off the main road. Some workers who were digging in the chalk pit downed their tools and touched their caps as a sign of respect, while the wheelwright and his wife emerged from their cottage to stare and make barbed comments about the unseemliness of associating with murderers, and of a married man consorting with his brother’s betrothed. When they reached the forge, Len strode out, eager to hear the gossip first hand.
‘It’s bad news, in’t it? Everyone’s talking about it. I’m sorry, Stephen, and you, Catherine. We’re all sore about Matty. He’s always been a joker and a risk-taker, but his heart’s always been in the right place. As for Jervis, well, something bad was always going to happen to him.’
‘We’re a little weary, Len, so we’ll be on our way,’ Stephen said. ‘I have to call on my parents then get back to Faversham to see my wife and daughter tonight.’
‘Don’t mind me. One day soon, when you have a spare hour, come and find me,’ Len went on. ‘I have a business proposition for you, something for the future.’
He wished them both farewell and Stephen made clicking sounds in his throat to send the horse forward. It walked on more eagerly now that it was nearing home, and it turned into the farmyard at a smart trot.
‘Thank you, Stephen,’ Catherine said, as he helped her down from the cart.
‘There’s no need to thank me,’ he said gruffly, turning away to unfasten the traces. ‘I’m sure I’ve felt more grateful for your company these past few days than you’ve felt for mine. Would you like me to come with you into the house?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘You go and see George and your ma. And give Emily my kind regards when you get home.’
‘Take care, Catherine. Look after yourself and the baby.’
She watched him lead the horse away before she walked indoors to face Ma. She found her standing at the top of the stairs.
‘Ma, what are you doing?’ she shouted as a hairbrush and a comb whistled past her ear.
‘Clearing your room.’
‘But this is my home.’ She shrank back as a shoe bounced down the steps.
‘You aren’t welcome here any more.’
Catherine stepped back beside the grandfather clock that had chimed throughout the progress of John’s recovery and her teenage years. It had stopped at two o’clock on the day of the riot at Bossenden Wood and no one had bothered to take the key and wind it up again. She saw the door to the parlo
ur ajar and recalled the day when she had found Drusilla lying on the couch, under the influence of Ma’s sleeping drops.
‘You’ve been nothing but trouble since before you were born. You were the cause of your mother losing her position in service—’
‘That’s unfair.’
‘The vicar has called to offer his condolences and prayers in a most disdainful way. Pa is no longer a churchwarden – it was suggested that he was no longer a fit person and should give up his post. I don’t see how you can live with yourself. You have neglected your brother and half-killed your grandfather by breaking his heart. All this worry has made me ill. You have brought shame on our family. Now everyone knows that you are having a murderer’s child.’
‘Matty is innocent,’ Catherine said.
‘Not according to Judge Denman and every other right-thinking person. He was found guilty.’
‘Let me speak with Pa.’ He would listen to reason, she thought.
‘He doesn’t want to see you.’
‘I don’t believe you. Where is he? I shall go and find him.’
‘Don’t! He isn’t himself. I fear he will kill you if he sets eyes on you.’
‘You can’t mean that.’
‘In Pa’s mind, everything hinged on Matty marrying you and now that it can’t happen, he is lost. He blames himself for allowing Matty to deceive us and for not being able to keep Wanstall Farm in our hands. And he’s livid at you for not keeping him on a tighter rein. He wishes that you’d never bin born.’
The words cut through her heart. Pa was the one person, apart from Matty, who had loved her unconditionally, or so she thought. How could he abandon her now?
‘I’m sure I can bring him round.’
‘There’s no chance of that now.’ Ma was spitting like a cat. ‘We have lost the farm.’
Catherine was stunned into silence.
‘Squire Temple was already unhappy about the state of the fields – the barley is hardly worth cutting, and the hops are riddled with the weevil, but Matty’s conviction was the final straw. He sent his bailiff round as soon as the news came through. He didn’t even come himself to give Pa notice. We have a month to get out. Where will we go? What will we do?’ Ma took the smelling salts from her pocket. ‘We have worked on this farm, worn our fingers to the bone, ploughed the money that we earned back into the land and buildings, and what have we to show for it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And it’s all down to you!’
Grief surged through Catherine’s body. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel such pain. Poor Matty, and now poor Pa. The loss of the farm was the worst torment that he could possibly suffer.
‘Can’t we speak to the squire?’ she asked. ‘Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I can’t run the farm. I know the business as well as anyone else.’
‘Only sad old widows run farms,’ Ma said scathingly. ‘Why should he listen to the Rooks when he already has a new tenant in mind?’
‘So soon? Who is it?’
‘Mr Nobbs. Can you believe it? Of all the people in the county, it has to be that sly, underhand snake of a man who’s gone creeping around on his belly, ingratiating himself with the squire and stealing what’s rightfully ours. He’s been crowing about his good fortune as he struts around Overshill with his wife.’
‘There must be something we can do.’
‘By the end of this week, we will be homeless and destitute.’
‘We can rent a cottage in the village. I can go out to work while you look after John.’
‘We can’t afford to rent anywhere, you numskull. The money has run out. Pa has spent what little we had left on running back and forth with you, and there’s precious little coming in. We will starve.’
‘What about Young Thomas? We can stay with him for a while, just until we are back on our feet.’
‘When will you realise that there is no “we”? You are no longer one of us.’
Catherine made to go up the stairs, but Ma barred her way.
‘There’s nothing left that belongs to you. Leave now. I can’t bear to look at spoiled goods any longer.’ She turned her back on her.
‘Ma?’ Catherine reached out her hand, her fingers quivering.
‘Go! Get out and never show your face again,’ Ma snapped.
‘Where is John? I should like to see him before I go.’
‘You can’t. He’s sleeping.’
Realising that she was defeated and nothing she could say would make any difference, Catherine picked up her basket from the hall, placed a few of her belongings inside, and threw her cloak over her shoulders before heading to the front door.
‘Not that way!’
She turned and walked out to the kitchen. She took half a loaf and a block of butter and stuffed them into her basket before she left through the back of the house. As she made her way across the yard, the hens came running.
‘I’m sorry, ladies.’ She would miss them, and the pigs, and the cool darkness of the granary where she’d tended Matty’s injuries after his fight with Stephen, and they’d shared their first kiss. Her chest grew tight and her eyes burned with tears. Where was he? What was he doing? Were the guards on the hulk treating him kindly? She doubted it.
She stood for a while at the gate into the orchards and fields, gazing at the familiar view. She didn’t know what to do or where to go, but eventually, she decided to make her way towards Rochester. If she couldn’t be with him, she could be nearby.
She set out from Overshill and walked through the night making her way towards the coast. At dawn, she rested in the woods at the side of the road, drank water from a stream and ate half the bread and butter, before she carried on.
When a man rode towards her, she crossed the road to avoid him.
‘Where are you going, ducky?’ he called out to her.
She pulled her hood up to hide her face. It was no one’s business, and she hardly knew where she was heading herself.
‘If you’re after some work, they’re looking for fruit pickers at Whetstone Farm,’ he said kindly. ‘It’s two miles from here. Turn left at the next crossroads and the farm is on the right past the oast house.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘I’ll be on my way then.’ He kicked his horse into a trot. ‘Good day, ma’am.’
She headed to the farm that he’d mentioned. There was no work. The farmer already had enough labourers to bring in the harvest, but he took pity on her and sent her along to his neighbour, who was pleased to take on an extra pair of hands.
For five days she toiled in the fields alongside strangers, gathering in the wheat in the burning sun, and sleeping rough in the shelter of a hedge. Her feet grew hot and blistered, but she had food and a few coins to keep her going while she walked on towards the Medway, determined to find Matty.
The Retribution lay on her belly in the mud. The prison ship, a Spanish vessel, looked as though she’d been blackened by fire. Her timbers were dull and dirty, and some were broken. There were huts on her top deck for the guards and the only way to reach her was to cross the murky water by jolly boat.
There was a group of convicts in brown shirts, trousers, boots and double irons, loading a sailing barge on the quay. She moved closer, looking for Matty among the hundreds of men, but she didn’t find him until the next day when she spotted him in a gang that was waiting for the jolly boat to return them to the hulk for the night. The overseer was yelling at one of the other prisoners who was limping and slowing the rest down. Matty shouted something and received a whack from the overseer’s stick in return.
‘Matty, my love,’ she shouted, running towards them. ‘Matty!’
By the time she reached the water’s edge, he’d been dragged onto the jolly boat, and it had set out across the water. The overseer bellowed at the prisoners and the oars clunked in the rowlocks, the sound fading along with Catherine’s hopes of attracting Matty’s attention.
Her heart sank. She chastised herself for imagining that she could
turn up, find him and steal him away on a ship to a place where they could make a new life together.
She stared at the boat which was slowly retreating into the desolate landscape. She hardly noticed the rat that ran across her foot and scuttled along a tarred rope to a nearby barge. What should she do next? Where should she go? Should she try her luck in London, or return to what she knew?
She walked along the turnpike road, stopping in Chatham to eat and drink at the Bear and Staff in the high street, choosing a table in the darkest corner she could find, afraid that she would be accosted by one of the men within the establishment. She’d picked on the inn because there appeared to be several young women present, but it wasn’t until she was part-way through her fish and pea broth that she realised they were whores, drinking gin and plying their trade. She wasn’t sure what to do once she’d finished her meal: take a room or move on? She peered through the grimy window where the lanterns outside barely pierced the darkness. Where would she sleep tonight?
She settled on taking a room for a shilling that she could hardly afford, but it was better than putting herself at the mercy of the naval men and pickpockets who were roaming the streets. In the morning, she rose early and spent the next few hours walking on through the villages of Rainham, Newington, Sittingbourne and Teynham. At about four o’clock in the afternoon, she was close to Ospringe when an elderly woman, a higgler with a basket filled with sprigs of heather, confronted her. Her eyes were glazed white like marble.
Catherine moved aside, not wishing to speak, but the woman caught her across the legs with her walking stick.
‘What’s a pretty young lady like you doing alone on this road? What beautiful hair and skin you have.’ She touched the end of her stick to Catherine’s belly. ‘I see. You are with child.’ A smile spread across her wizened face. ‘You look as if you could do with a square meal, my lovely, and I think I can help you.’
‘I don’t want your help, thank you.’
‘You could easily be a lady of breeding, fallen down in her luck.’
‘I’m nothing of the kind,’ Catherine said, feeling weak at the thought of food. She was torn. She was starving, yet she felt a strong sense of unease about the old woman’s motive for offering to assist her. She bore an air of malevolence as though she was out to do harm.