Beyond the Sunset

by Anna Jacobs

  ‘We’ll take it easy today,’ Bert said. ‘Y’ve not been on a horse much, have you?’

  ‘No, not much and not for months.’

  ‘Shows. But y’ve not got a bad seat for a beginner.’

  By mid-afternoon, Zachary was in great pain, wondering how to manage for much longer.

  Bert reined his animal in and the others followed suit. ‘I reckon we’d better stop for the night. You’ve had enough, Zachary.’

  ‘Is there an inn near here?’

  Bert laughed. ‘No. We’ll see if we can find a farm to sell us feed for the horses and let us sleep in a barn.’

  ‘Are they likely to do that?’

  ‘Don’t know what it’s like in England, but people don’t turn away travellers here, even if they’ve not got a bed to offer them.’

  With that Zachary had to be content. He prayed they’d find somewhere soon. He couldn’t face getting on that horse again.

  And tomorrow, Bert said, they’d be close to where the Southerhams now lived, might even find the farm.

  10

  Zachary woke in the dim light of early dawn on Monday morning, feeling painfully stiff from riding. A night sleeping on a prickly, rustling pile of hay hadn’t helped much, either. He stood up, stifling a groan, trying not to wake the others.

  But when he looked round, they were both gone and their blankets too. He listened, heard a voice and followed the sound to where Bert and Leo were tending the horses. Bert was whistling softly and Leo was talking to the horse he’d been riding the day before.

  ‘There you are,’ Bert said. ‘I was just coming to wake you.’ He grinned. ‘Stiff?’

  Zachary nodded.

  ‘It’ll wear off.’

  They ate a hasty breakfast, provided by their hostess and paid for with more of Mr Featherworth’s money, then set off again.

  Zachary sighed as he forced himself to mount the horse and subject his aching body to more jolting around.

  He hoped they’d find this Westview Farm quite soon.

  Ralph summoned Prebble to see him. ‘Mr Featherworth and I have decided that the vacant position at the shop would be better filled by an older man who’s out of work than some youngster. Why you had to dismiss that other man, I can’t think.’

  ‘A mill worker! We need someone who’s good at arithmetic and can write a legible hand.’ Harry tried not to scowl. He’d dismissed the temporary shopman appointed soon after Zachary left so that his cousin could come and work there. He definitely didn’t want someone chosen by Mr Dawson spying on him.

  ‘I’m aware of that. We’re not thinking about the operatives, though many of them can read and write as well as you or I.’ He ignored the younger man’s scornful expression. ‘We’re thinking of men who’ve been in positions of authority in the mills, overlookers or charge hands. I’ve found four who will be coming here for an interview tomorrow.’

  He let the silence drag on for a while, seeing the outrage on Prebble’s face, before adding casually, ‘I thought you might like to join me in questioning them.’

  ‘I can’t recommend someone unsuitable.’

  ‘You don’t know that until you’ve met them. One might be just what we need.’

  ‘How did you find them?’

  ‘Mr Featherworth asked some of the mill owners and they recommended men who had been overlookers before these troubles came upon us.’ This wasn’t quite true because it was Marshall Worth who had suggested the names. The other three men would be paid to irritate Harry at the interviews and Marshall had vouched for their ability to keep the true situation to themselves. Like him, they’d jumped at a chance to earn a little extra money.

  ‘When are they coming?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning. I saw no reason to wait once I had the names. I know you’re short-handed again.’

  Still suspicious, Prebble agreed to join him the following day.

  As had been planned the men acted in a surly uncooperative manner when speaking to Prebble.

  ‘You need to do mental arithmetic,’ he said in a condescending tone. ‘See if you can do these sums in your heads?’

  Two of the men made such big errors that Ralph looked warningly at them but Prebble didn’t seem to realise that they were leading him on.

  The other one tossed back an answer and turned to Ralph. ‘Do I need to answer this snirpy little chap? He’s treating me like a child. I could do sums like that when I were seven year old.’

  ‘Just do what he asks you.’

  The man proceeded to toss answers back immediately each question had been asked, and each time he was correct.

  Prebble breathed deeply and asked some more difficult questions.

  Marshall spoke more calmly, but he too answered even the hardest ones instantly.

  It was clear that such skill did not please their young interviewer.

  When they’d finished and the men were waiting outside, Ralph looked questioningly at his fellow interviewer. ‘Well? What do you think?’

  ‘None of them are suitable. They won’t know how to treat the sort of people we serve.’

  ‘Mr Featherworth is determined one of these men shall have the job.’

  Prebble sighed. ‘Then we’ll have to give one a try. But I must reserve the right to dismiss the man if he’s not suitable.’

  ‘That right belongs to Mr Featherworth, I’m afraid.’

  ‘But I’m the manager.’

  ‘Temporary manager. And if you upset Mr Featherworth in his act of philanthropy, he won’t look favourably on you gaining the job permanently, believe me.’

  Prebble gave him a dirty look that said he suspected a spy was being planted.

  ‘So which one shall we choose?’ This was a gamble but Ralph hoped it would pay off.

  ‘Worth is the least unsuitable.’

  ‘Not Freeman?’

  Prebble shuddered. ‘Definitely not.’

  ‘I had thought Freeman the most intelligent.’

  ‘I cannot agree. And he was downright impertinent to me.’

  Ralph had enjoyed that and had had great trouble in keeping his face straight. ‘Well . . . you have to work with him so I shall let you have your way in this and appoint Worth. But we’ll review the matter after a week or so because I’m not at all sure about him. I still incline to Freeman. Let’s bring Worth in and tell him, then you can take him back to the shop with you.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Why not? He’ll be eager to start work straight away because he needs the money. And of course, you’ll provide him with a dinner as you do the other workers.’

  Prebble threw his hands up. ‘On your head be it. If he upsets the customers . . .’

  ‘I doubt any of those men would ever put a job at risk,’ Ralph said quietly. ‘You know what it’s like for them. Have you no compassion?’

  ‘My job is to manage the emporium and make money for the owners, not run a charity.’

  Ralph got up to ask Marshall to come in, thinking that he disliked Prebble more each time he had to deal with him.

  As the two men walked briskly back to the shop, Prebble said curtly, ‘You’re only on trial, Worth. See that you work hard.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll do that, sir, never fear.’ Marshall disliked all Prebbles on principle and hated calling this runt ‘sir’ but was determined to keep this job, the first he’d had in over a year, not to mention helping out his friend Ralph Dawson.

  Marshall’s wife had wept for joy when he told her in strictest confidence what was happening. His children would eat much better from now on, because you got food more cheaply when you worked in a grocery store, Mr Dawson had explained. And if there was anything suspicious going on at the emporium, Marshall would find out. He’d not let Ralph down.

  At the shop Prebble found him a long apron and gave him the lowliest job there was, weighing out sugar and tea. Marshall finished the task as quickly and carefully as he could.

  The shop lad gaped as he passed. ‘You’ve not finished already?’


  ‘Yes. What do I do next?’

  ‘Better ask Mr Prebble.’

  Prebble too seemed surprised that he’d finished so quickly, but offered no praise. Indeed, he seemed angry when he weighed a couple of the packets and found them accurately measured.

  That was the moment when Marshall decided Mr Dawson’s suspicions must have some foundation. Why else would a manager be upset when a man worked extra hard and did exactly as he’d been instructed?

  In the late morning Pandora hauled the dripping wooden bucket out of the well and rested it on the rough stone wall, panting with the effort. She often wished she had one of the modern galvanised metal buckets they’d used in Outham, which were so much lighter.

  She wasn’t in a hurry to lug the bucket back to the cooking area, so stayed where she was for a few moments. She’d been working hard since early that morning, first doing the washing for Mrs Southerham with her sister, then continuing alone because Reece said Cassandra had had enough and needed a rest.

  Her sister had obeyed him so meekly, Pandora knew he was right. In the last few days Cassandra had begun to look very uncomfortable and move more slowly.

  The rain had held off, fortunately, but from the look of the clouds, it’d soon start again. She’d suggested waiting until another day to do the washing, but Mr Southerham’s fancy shirts were all dirty and since he insisted on changing his clothes every evening, they had to be done. How she was to get everything dry today, she didn’t know. The Southerhams didn’t even have a mangle so the clothes remained sodden and dripping after washing, however much you tried to wring them out.

  It annoyed her the way they insisted on the necessity to ‘maintain standards’ as if they still lived in England and had plenty of servants, not caring about the extra work that caused her.

  With a sigh she reached out to unhook the bucket from the well rope but drew her hands back as she heard the sound of horses’ hooves in the distance. Swinging round, she stared down the rough track that led to the farm and saw some distant figures coming up the slope. It was so unusual for someone to visit Westview that she left the bucket and ran to find her employers, calling, ‘Someone’s coming along the road. Someone’s coming.’

  Livia came out of the shack and shaded her eyes with her hands as she too stared down the hill. Francis stepped out from the bark-covered shelter that served as stables to his precious horses and Reece appeared from behind the house, where he was doing some repairs.

  Three men on horseback leading two loaded packhorses were moving slowly up the track. They all looked weary.

  ‘No one I know,’ Mr Southerham said. ‘Do you recognise any of them, my dear?’

  ‘No. Perhaps they’re pedlars.’

  As the men came closer one of the figures began to seem familiar. Pandora waited a moment to be sure, then called, ‘I can’t believe it. I’m sure it’s him. Yes, it is! He’s changed a lot, though, looks stronger and more . . .’ She hesitated. She had been going to say ‘in charge of himself’ but that might sound strange. Instead she took a few steps forward and waited as the visitors came up the slope.

  The man she recognised rode forward to her, ignoring the Southerhams, and dismounted with a smile. ‘Miss Pandora Blake. It is you, isn’t it? I remember meeting you once or twice.’

  ‘Yes. You brought us some food and I saw you in my uncle’s shop. I can’t remember your name, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Zachary Carr. And I still work in the shop, though not for your uncle now, of course.’

  Pandora froze as a horrible thought occurred to her. ‘Our aunt hasn’t sent you after us, has she? What does she want now? She’s driven us away from Outham. Isn’t that enough?’ Her heart began to pound and a shiver of fear after what had been done to Cassandra ran down her spine.

  ‘No, no. It’s all right. Your aunt is dead.’

  Pandora was so relieved she felt shaky and clutched his arm without thinking what she was doing. ‘Thank goodness! Oh, thank goodness!’ She didn’t care if it was wrong to wish someone dead. Her aunt had been a wicked woman and had deserved to die if anyone ever did.

  She realised she was still holding on to Mr Carr and stepped back with a blush. ‘Sorry.’

  The second man dismounted and came forward. ‘The horses need water, Zachary. They’re thirsty. Where’s the water, please, miss?’

  She realised from his expression and the way he spoke that he was one of those simple souls who stay like children all their lives.

  Francis had joined them by this time, but was sizing up the visitors’ horses rather than the visitors themselves. ‘These are tired old nags. They should be put out to pasture, not dragged round the country. Could you find no better to ride?’

  Bert bristled. ‘No, we damned well couldn’t. They’ve got us here, haven’t they?’

  ‘Only just, by the looks of them.’ Francis turned back to Leo. ‘The well is down here and we have a horse trough nearby that your animals can use. I’ll show you.’

  Leo thrust the reins of his horse and of the packhorse he’d been leading into Francis’s hand and came for Zachary’s mount, leading it away without a backward glance, his whole attention focused on the animals’ needs.

  The third man touched his hat to the ladies then led his own horse and the second packhorse in the direction of water.

  Pandora had been trying to make sense of it and failing. ‘If our aunt is dead, then why are you here?’

  ‘The lawyer sent me to find you and your sisters.’ Zachary looked round, as if expecting to see them.

  ‘They don’t live here.’

  ‘Oh. I wanted to tell you all the news at the same time.’

  ‘Cassandra, my oldest sister, lives on the next farm, but the twins are over an hour away. We couldn’t find jobs any closer to one another.’

  ‘Could we send for Miss Blake, do you think?’

  Reece came forward. ‘Cassandra’s my wife now, so she’s Mrs Gregory. What do you want with her?’

  Zachary hesitated then looked back at Pandora as he explained. ‘You and your sisters have inherited the shop. It was yours even before your aunt died because your uncle didn’t leave it to her.’

  She looked so shocked he thought she was going to faint, so put an arm round her.

  As she leaned against him, she raised one trembling hand to her lips and murmured, ‘Then we can go back to England.’

  ‘Is that what you want to do?’

  ‘More than anything.’ Tears welled in her eyes.

  ‘Are you all right? Can I get you anything?’

  It took her a moment or two to pull herself together. He held her till he could see her eyes begin to focus properly and colour return to her cheeks.

  ‘I’m just – astonished. I never expected— Oh, we needn’t have come to Australia at all!’

  Frowning, Livia came forward and gestured to Zachary, who didn’t step back until he’d guided Pandora to one of the rough benches next to an outdoor table.

  When he took his arm away, she held on to the edge of the table as if she felt dizzy, but after taking a few deep breaths she looked up again and gave him a faint smile.

  ‘If I can just sit quietly for a minute or two, I’ll be all right. I can’t seem to take it in.’

  Livia took charge. ‘I’m Mrs Southerham. My husband and I own this farm. Shall we all sit down? I’m sure you gentlemen would like a cup of tea.’

  ‘That’d be most welcome, Mrs Southerham.’

  ‘I’ll go and fetch Cassandra,’ Reece said. ‘She should be here when you explain more fully, Mr Carr.’

  He didn’t wait for an answer but strode off along the bush path.

  Bert called from the water trough. ‘Are we staying long? Should we unsaddle the horses?’

  Zachary looked at his host and hostess. ‘Could we spend the night here, do you think? We can sleep in the stables.’

  ‘You can stay but I’m not sure where we’ll put you,’ Francis said.

  ‘If necessary
they can sleep on our veranda,’ Livia said. ‘There’s no inn nearby and it may rain again, so they’ll need shelter, Francis.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Zachary raised his voice to tell Leo and Bert to unsaddle, then sat down opposite Pandora, who still looked dumbfounded.

  He’d forgotten how beautiful the youngest Blake sister was and found it hard to take his eyes off her. Such lustrous dark hair, such beautiful eyes. Like a princess in a child’s story book, she was. But she had an air of sadness as well, which he didn’t remember from the other times he’d seen her. He wondered why she was unhappy.

  ‘I’ll get the kettle boiling.’ Livia walked across to the stove and slid the kettle on to the hottest part of the hob, then got some enamel mugs from the shelves that Reece had built next to it.

  Pandora made no effort to help her mistress. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she confessed to Zachary. ‘We’ve all been so afraid of having any contact with people back in Outham because of our aunt. We didn’t dare even write to our friends. When did she die? How?’

  ‘She died about three months after you left. She was rather strange already but she went quite mad when she heard you’d been left the shop. She had to be locked away, for her own and others’ protection, and after a while she simply refused to eat. They think she had her own husband killed, but since she’s dead, there’s no point pursuing that now.’

  ‘She killed our uncle? Oh, no! How terrible.’

  ‘I think so too. Mr Blake was a lovely man to work for and we missed him greatly at the shop.’

  After a few moments of silence Pandora said in a tone of wonderment, ‘We can go home then. We really can. I’ve been so homesick.’

  His eyes were steady and his gaze was direct. ‘For Lancashire?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. I ache to walk down the main streets of Outham, stroll in the park, hear Lancashire voices. It’s foolish, I know.’

  ‘Not foolish. Home means more to some people. I’m starting to miss Outham myself.’ He looked round. ‘It’s very different here.’

  ‘Then you’ll understand. My sisters love living here, but I just can’t settle.’ She gestured down the slope towards the horizon in the west. ‘Lancashire is somewhere over there, travel beyond the sunset and then turn north, Reece says. I look in that direction every night, wondering what my old friends are doing, whether the mills are still closed for lack of cotton, if there’s a mist drifting over the moors.’ Her voice broke on the final word and she shut her eyes for a moment, taking some deep breaths.