Scatterheart

by Lili Wilkinson

  Hannah yawned. ‘Perhaps that was it…’

  Thomas smiled at her. ‘You look tired,’ he said. ‘Why don’t I read to you for a bit?’

  Hannah climbed up into an armchair – it seemed bigger than she remembered – and listened. Thomas sat by the fire, with a book in his lap. He told her the story of Scatterheart and the white bear, and the land that lay east o’ the sun and west o’ the moon. Hannah dozed in her chair, and Thomas kept scolding her.

  ‘If you don’t listen,’ he said, ‘you won’t know what to do next. You won’t be able to finish the jigsaw.’

  But try as she might, Hannah could not keep her eyes open.

  Hannah woke the next morning covered in sweat.

  She felt sick and dizzy and sore. She lay still for a moment, but her body was abruptly racked with a spasm, like someone was twisting her abdomen. When the spasm subsided, Hannah was left with a dull, nagging pain. It was as if someone had attached a weight to the flesh inside her belly, and that the weight was dragging her flesh downwards, slowly tearing it from her body. She felt a strange, trickling sensation between her legs, and sat up. She pulled back her blanket and looked down. Spreading from between her legs was a reddish-brown stain. Blood.

  A terrible fear took hold of her. What was happening? Was she dying? Had the gaol-fever come back?

  ‘Meg.’ Hannah leaned over and shook Long Meg, who rolled over and grumbled. Her cheeks wet with tears, Hannah shook Meg again.

  Long Meg opened her eyes.

  ‘You had better be dyin’, to wake me up,’ she said.

  Hannah bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears. ‘I don’t know, Meg. Something terrible’s happened.’

  Long Meg sat up. ‘Well, then?’

  Hannah swallowed. ‘Everything h-hurts, and I’m bleeding.’ She blushed, and pointed. ‘ Down there.’

  Long Meg looked at her seriously.

  ‘How old is you?’ asked Long Meg.

  ‘Fourteen,’ said Hannah. ‘Why? What does it mean? What’s happening?’

  Long Meg looked at her pale face and wide eyes, and laughed. Hannah began to panic. Here she was, perhaps dying, and all Meg could do was laugh? Was she mad?

  ‘Am I dying?’ asked Hannah.

  Long Meg nodded, still laughing. ‘Oh yes, dearie. You is definitely dyin’. You will be dead within about a minute. Dead as mutton.’

  ‘Don’t play games, Meg,’ said Hannah.

  Long Meg grinned. ‘You got your visit from Aunty Rose,’ she said. ‘You’re a mite young, but they says it comes earlier to those with money.’

  Hannah stared at her. ‘What?’

  Long Meg was still laughing, but it was a gentle laugh. ‘You is a woman, now,’ she said. ‘It happens every month. It means you can bear a child.’

  Hannah looked horrified. ‘You mean this is normal?’

  Long Meg nodded.

  ‘But it hurts!’

  Hannah was dumbfounded. This happened to everyone? Why had no one ever told her before? Did it happen to the women with parasols who walked through Hyde Park? Did they feel like this?

  ‘And it happens every month?’ she asked.

  Long Meg nodded again.

  ‘Here,’ she said, getting up. ‘I’ll show you what to do.’

  There was a trunk at the far end of the orlop deck that was filled with scraps of cotton. Meg showed Hannah how to tie the cotton between her legs to stop the blood from leaking onto her skirt.

  ‘Change it every day,’ said Meg.

  Hannah nodded. ‘What do I do with the old ones?’ she asked. ‘Do they get washed?’

  ‘Don’t wash ‘em in sea-water,’ said Long Meg.

  ‘Why not?’

  Long Meg winced. ‘The salt chafes,’ she said. ‘There ain’t enough fresh water to wash ’em, so we just keeps them until we get a new supply of water.’

  ‘Keep them where?’ said Hannah, suspecting that she wouldn’t like the answer.

  Long Meg went back over to her bed and lifted up the corner of her mattress. A sharp, heavy smell like rotting meat wafted out. Nausea rose in Hannah’s throat.

  Long Meg shrugged. ‘Welcome to the club.’

  Long Meg kept her promise of good behaviour for three days. She refused to see Dr Ullathorne to get a poultice or cream to put on her bruises and welts.

  ‘Bastard,’ she said. She examined the wounds left by the barrel, groaning as the bruises met her mattress. ‘I’ll get him. Him and your pansy loverboy.’

  ‘James was only doing his job,’ said Hannah, who was curled up on her bed. She sighed. She’d been avoiding James. The wad of cotton tied between her legs felt as thick and bulky as an entire bolt of cloth, and she was sure that he’d notice it. The very thought was mortifying.

  Meg snorted. ‘His job, is it? Is it his job to torment and torture innocent women?’

  Hannah raised her eyebrows. ‘I’d hardly call you innocent, Meg.’

  ‘I may be as common as the barber’s chair where the whole parish sits to have their beards trimmed,’ said Meg. ‘But no one should treat other folks like that. Be they convict or captain.’

  Hannah thought about the pity on Captain Gartside’s face when he had seen Long Meg in the barrel. She sighed, and reached under her mattress for Thomas’s handkerchief. It was the only reminder she had left of her home.

  ‘I wonder how your sweetheart back home’d feel, seein’ you go all calf-eyed over your lieutenant.’

  Hannah put the handkerchief down. ‘It’s not like that,’ she said. ‘Thomas was just a friend.’

  Long Meg raised her eyebrows.

  ‘I mean it,’ said Hannah. ‘He was my tutor. He wanted to marry me after my father left. But there was never any chance of anything else happening between us. He wasn’t a gentleman.’

  She remembered the expression on Thomas’s face when she had refused his offer of marriage, and something inside her ached.

  ‘You really was rocked in a stone kitchen, wasn’t you?’ said Meg, shaking her head.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘You is paper-skulled. You is a ninny.’

  Hannah frowned. ‘I don’t really want to talk about it.’

  Long Meg ignored her. ‘You should see your face,’ she said. ‘When you holds that hanky. A fellow offered to save you from all this,’ she waved a hand around, ‘and you refused, because he don’t powder his nose or get his coats tailored for him?’

  ‘We were just too different. I’m a gentleman’s daughter.’

  Meg groaned. ‘Don’t I know it,’ she said. ‘But what you ain’t seein’, is that you can’t pick a gentleman by who his daddy was or how much blunt he carries. Gentleman is as gentleman does, and it sounds as if Mr Hanky was twice the gentleman that old Arthur Cheshire ever was.’

  ‘I don’t expect you to understand,’ said Hannah.

  ‘You noddy fool,’ said Long Meg. ‘Does you think that buttons the lieutenant is a gentleman? His blood ain’t no more blue than mine.’

  Hannah frowned. ‘James may not come from Quality,’ she said. ‘But that doesn’t mean he can’t be a gentleman.’

  She folded the handkerchief, and tucked it under her bed.

  A whistle sounded, and they made their way up on deck for breakfast. As they climbed the stairs, Dr Ullathorne came down, going to the orlop deck.

  He put out a hand and stopped Hannah. She looked up into his face, and bit her lip in fear. The greyish flesh that surrounded his nose was spreading to his cheeks, which seemed puckered and sunken.

  ‘Where is the child?’ he asked. ‘The crippled one. With the hideous face.’

  Long Meg made a rude noise. ‘That’s rich, coming from such a prime article.’

  The doctor ignored her. ‘Well?’ he said to Hannah.

  ‘I haven’t seen her,’ said Hannah.

  He made an exasperated noise and pushed past them. Meg stuck out her foot, and the doctor tripped over her ankle. He stumbled down several steps, and grabbed the hand rail, pulling him
self upright again.

  ‘Oops, sir,’ said Long Meg. ‘It can get awful slippery down here.’

  Dr Ullathorne turned to face her. Hannah winced as she saw his crumbling face twist into an expression of pure hatred.

  ‘You are nothing but a filthy whore,’ he said.

  Long Meg shrugged amiably. ‘You is the expert in whores, sir,’ she said. ‘Filthy or otherwise.’

  Dr Ullathorne climbed the few stairs between them.

  ‘You will hold your tongue,’ he said, quiet and dangerous.

  ‘Course,’ said Meg, ignoring him, ‘if they ain’t filthy before they meets you, they sure are once you’ve finished with ’em. You knows what they says,’ she said with a wink. ‘One night in the arms of Venus, a lifetime on mercury.’

  Dr Ullathorne grabbed Long Meg by the arm and pushed his rotting face in hers.

  ‘Say that again, and I will open your carcass and put your liver in a jar.’ Flecks of his black saliva spattered Long Meg’s face, but she just chuckled.

  ‘You don’ fritten me,’ she said. ‘ Sir.’

  The doctor gave Meg a shove, and she went sprawling backwards up the staircase.

  ‘A spell in the rigging should sort you out,’ said Dr Ullathorne, hauling Meg to her feet and up the remaining stairs to the upper deck.

  Hannah followed them. He gestured to two midshipmen standing by the midmast, who came and lifted Long Meg up under the armpits. She was hoisted up onto the latticework of ropes that hung on one side of the ship, and her arms and legs were tied in place.

  ‘You will stay there until you apologise,’ said Dr Ullathorne, and marched off.

  Meg began to sing lustily.

  ‘Ye good folks of the “Ram” attend to my ditty,

  It is of a bold doctor that dwells in this city

  Though poxy and grey yet still it appear

  He is a famous old doctor for pleasing the fair.’

  She stayed up there throughout the day, as the other women sewed and scrubbed and picked oakum. She stopped singing after an hour, and started calling out insults to the sailors and officers. But she would not apologise.

  Dinner came and went, and James came down to the orlop deck to find Hannah.

  ‘It’s starting to rain,’ he said. ‘Perhaps we could go into my cabin.’

  James saw her doubtful look and smiled. ‘I promise you will be safe with me,’ he said. ‘My cabin is dry, warm and private.’

  One of the convict women whistled at James, and Hannah nodded hastily. It didn’t matter where his money came from. After all, her own father had hardly been a model for gentlemanly behaviour.

  James led Hannah up the stairs, and past the sailors’ hammocks and the cable tiers to the fore of the ship. Hannah listened carefully to see if she could hear Long Meg up on the rigging above her, but she could hear nothing.

  ‘Are they just going to leave her out there?’ she asked James. They went down a narrow wooden corridor, past a number of closed wooden doors. One was open, and Hannah saw three men bent over great white sheets of canvas, patching a sail.

  ‘She needs to be taught a lesson,’ said James. ‘Otherwise she’ll never settle down and behave.’

  ‘But she’ll catch her death out there!’

  ‘Nonsense. People like her – they’re like animals. Like insects. They could survive anything.’ James unlocked a door with a small brass key, and ushered Hannah inside.

  The room was cosy, with a cheery lamp swinging from the ceiling. A neatly made bed took up most of the space, along with a wooden nightstand with a porcelain basin and mirror. There was a chest of drawers on which was placed a hairbrush and comb, and an assortment of little glass pots and bottles that reminded Hannah of her father’s dresser back in London.

  Opposite the chest of drawers was a little desk and chair. The desk contained an assortment of papers, inks and a quill. Above it was a shelf containing a single leatherbound book. Hannah gave a soft squeak and went over to run her fingers along the spine.

  ‘Don’t,’ said James. ‘It wouldn’t interest you.’

  Hannah peered at the title, embossed in gold on the spine. ‘I haven’t read a book for so long.’

  James took her gently by the shoulders and pressed her into the chair.

  ‘It’s not a novel. It’s the officers training manual, not appropriate for young female eyes.’

  Hannah nodded. Her father didn’t like it when she read either. She looked around again. There was a little round window above the bed, framed with a red curtain.

  ‘It must be hard,’ she said, ‘not having a manservant.’

  ‘It certainly is,’ he said with a smile. ‘Dressing, eating, remembering to get someone to press my shirts – everything is harder. There’s no butler to introduce my visitors. No maid to turn down my sheets. I can’t wait to get out of here and back to London.’

  There was an uncomfortable pause. Hannah suddenly very aware that she was alone with a man. In his bedroom. She had never really been alone with a man before, except for Thomas Behr. And he didn’t count. Hannah swallowed nervously. James just looked at her. Hannah looked down at her hands folded in her lap.

  ‘What did you mean, “people like her”?’ she said suddenly.

  James looked blank.

  ‘When you were talking about Long Meg. You said “people like her”.’

  James shrugged. ‘They’re animals. Criminals. They’ll do anything for the glint of a coin. They don’t care about anyone but themselves. People like her would sell their own child for a bottle of gin.’

  Hannah felt very cold. ‘Is that what you think of me? Do you think I would sell my family for a bottle of gin? Am I an animal too?’

  James looked slightly irritated. ‘Of course not. You’re not like them and you know it.’ He took her hand and smiled. His hands were soft and strong. ‘You are beautiful and accomplished and well-born. You are a gentleman’s daughter. You’re nothing like them.’

  Hannah was silent for a long while. She thought of what Meg had said about James’s father making his fortune by selling buttons.

  ‘Hannah,’ said James quietly. ‘I’m sorry if I offended you. You know you’re nothing like them.’

  Hannah nodded slowly. ‘I do. All this–’ she looked around. ‘All this is just … temporary.’

  He was still holding her hand. Hannah could feel how calloused and rough her hands were against his. His fingernails were curved, white crescent moons. Hers were brown and ragged.

  ‘Hannah?’ James was still staring at her.

  She stood up, dropping James’s hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s late. I should go.’

  Meg’s bed lay empty. Molly watched silently as Hannah crawled into her own bed. Hannah closed her eyes, but was too unsettled to sleep. She heard the shuffling of feet, and opened her eyes. Tabby stood at the foot of her bunk, her black eyes glittering.

  ‘A fair bride is soon buskt,’ she said. ‘And a short horse is soon wispt.’

  fifteen

  Scatterheart didn’t thank the glass-woman, but took the silver acorn and travelled on, until she reached another cliff. A child made of wax sat on a patch of grass, tossing a golden acorn into the air and catching it. Scatterheart asked her if she knew how to find her father’s house.

  ***

  Hannah woke to the sound of groaning. At first, she thought that it was Long Meg, relieved from her spell in the rigging. But Meg’s bed was empty.

  Hannah sat up, looking around. The groaning was low and monotonous. It was Sally, the pregnant woman from Newgate. She had been confined to her bed with seasickness since their departure, and had been sick and quiet and sallow. But now her belly was swollen so large it seemed she might burst, and she groaned and whimpered. Clear liquid soaked into her bedding.

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’ asked Hannah.

  Cathy looked at her. ‘Her time is come.’

  ‘She’s having her baby? Now?’

  Cathy nodded. Hannah climb
ed out of her bunk.

  ‘I’ll go and get Dr Ullathorne,’ she said.

  One of the other convict women hissed at her. ‘Nay,’ she said. ‘This is women’s business. Just leave her be.’

  Sally cried out in pain, and Hannah bit her lip, and climbed to the upper deck to check on Long Meg.

  Hopping Giles, supervised by the doctor was cutting her down as Hannah arrived. The black-bearded sailor worked slowly, being careful not to cut Meg with his knife. But one of the ropes snapped, and Meg fell down onto the deck with a heavy thump, and lay there, unmoving. Her wrists and ankles were bruised and swollen where the ropes had cut into them.

  ‘Is she all right?’ Hannah asked Hopping Giles.

  ‘Take her to the brig,’ said Dr Ullathorne, ignoring Hannah.

  Giles glanced at Hannah, and she saw sadness in his eyes. He lifted Meg gently, and limped away with her.

  ‘Is there something I can do for you?’ asked Dr Ullathorne.

  ‘Meg…’ stammered Hannah. ‘Don’t you think she might need some help? You – you are the ship’s surgeon…’

  Dr Ullathorne smiled coldly. ‘I am here to look after the welfare of the crew and passengers. Your friend is not sick.’

  ‘But she fainted … and her wrists…’

  ‘If I were you, I should go down below before you share her fate.’

  ‘One of the women … she … she’s having her baby. She needs help.’

  Dr Ullathorne spat. ‘Do you think I care if some convict brat lives or dies?’

  Hannah backed away, and went downstairs.

  She felt jittery and nervous, listening to Sally’s cries. She reached under her mattress and felt for Thomas’s handkerchief. It would bring her comfort.

  It wasn’t there.

  Hannah climbed off her bed and lifted up the whole straw mattress. It was nowhere to be seen.

  Sally screamed, and the other women crowded around her.

  Hannah heard a high, reedy voice singing softly.

  ‘ Little Bo Peep has lost some sheep, and cannot do aught to find ’ em.’

  Hannah was quickly filled with a white-hot anger. She sprang forward and pounced on Molly, who was crouching underneath a bunk. They both went sprawling to the floor. Molly squealing.

  ‘Give it back,’ hissed Hannah.