Farewell to Lancashire

by Anna Jacobs

  Reece felt a stir of interest, but shook his head. ‘I’ve no money to get to Australia, Mr Southerham. The fare must cost quite a lot.’ He did have a little money saved because he’d lived very frugally since his wife’s death, but he wasn’t going to admit to having it, or spend it all on the fare and leave himself penniless and dependent when he got there.

  ‘I’d pay for your passage, in return for which I’d ask you to work for me for two years, starting from when we leave England.’

  Reece frowned. It didn’t sound a good bargain to him. He’d still be poor at the end of those two years. And that would be two more years without Cassandra. No, it’d not do. ‘What about wages? If I can’t save money, I’ll get nowhere.’

  ‘I’d pay wages during those years as well, but I’m not concealing from you that it’d be hard work. I gather one has to clear the land before one can farm it, and since the climate is very different from here, I’m not sure exactly what conditions will be like. My cousin can be a bit vague at times and he’s not a farmer.’

  Nor are you, Reece thought. Like his cousins, he felt the Southerhams were just playing at farming. How would this man be if he had to get up early every single morning, rain or shine, to milk his cows? The only animals he really seemed to care about were horses. And how would Francis endure hard physical work for days and months and years? Reece wasn’t at all sure the other man had the stamina and willpower necessary for that. Indeed, there were days when Mr Southerham looked positively ill.

  As for Mrs Southerham, she was a very pleasant lady, who talked to everyone civilly, but her hands were soft and white and she didn’t know half of what his cousin Ginny did, for all she’d fed the hens and helped collect the eggs.

  He let the silence continue as he tried to think things through, then said slowly, ‘I suppose people still need food, wherever they live in the world. And animals won’t be all that different to care for. I’ve read about Australia. Which part of the country are you going to?’

  ‘The Swan River Colony in the west. It’s the smallest of the colonies by far, but my cousin writes that a man of sense who works hard can make a good life for himself there. I was thinking of going to Sydney, but having someone there already to show me how to go on, will be extremely useful. And anyway, I like my cousin. We always got on well.’

  ‘I’ll have to think about it.’

  ‘Yes. Of course.’

  ‘There’s a young woman I’m interested in here, you see.’

  ‘You could send for her once you were settled. Surely she can wait a year or two?’

  Reece didn’t like the cavalier way his companion dismissed Cassandra, so said sharply, ‘Is your wife going to wait for you here?’

  ‘No. But that’s a little different. We’re already married.’

  ‘As I said, I’ll have to think about it.’

  Francis nodded and stood up, reaching out for the horse’s reins. ‘We’ll speak again, then.’

  He rode away and when he turned round, saw Reece still standing there, kicking at a piece of turf, hands thrust into his pockets.

  Who was the woman Reece cared about? he wondered. Was she the sort to be an asset or a burden? Should he offer to pay her fare as well? No, he wasn’t made of money.

  To Cassandra’s relief, Mrs Southerham was at the sewing class the next day, but it took a sharp exchange of words between her and the Vicar before Cassandra was allowed to work with her again.

  ‘Was it bad yesterday?’ she asked, once they were alone in the cosy little room.

  Cassandra shrugged. ‘You know what they’re like.’

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry, but I shall only be here on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays from now on.’ Livia smiled conspiratorially. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but my husband and I are learning about farming. I’ve been trying to milk cows, but I’m not very good at it, I’m afraid. We’re emigrating to Australia next year and we mean to farm out there, so are learning as much as we can.’

  Cassandra tried to feel pleased for her, but couldn’t help saying, ‘I shall miss you. Not just because of the protection you offer me, but because I enjoy your company.’

  ‘I shall miss you, too. But we’d better start work now. I have some lists of families who’re in dire need of clothing for their children. We’ll begin to visit them from next week onwards.’

  ‘I thought the other churches were doing the visiting.’

  ‘The Vicar wants me to visit those who are members of his congregation.’

  ‘Will I be allowed to go with you?’

  ‘You will if I say so.’

  Cassandra had a think about it, then said reluctantly, ‘I’m not sure it’d be wise. It’ll make the other ladies even angrier.’

  Livia shrugged. ‘One can’t always be wise. But if you’d rather not come, I can find someone else.’

  And suddenly Cassandra couldn’t resist the idea of getting away from this place. Maybe it wasn’t wise but it seemed to get harder each day to put up with the unfair treatment. They were picking on her more than her sisters, she couldn’t understand why, but all of them were finding it difficult to keep quiet.

  ‘I’d love to come with you.’

  5

  On Sunday afternoon Reece turned up at the Blakes’ house earlier than usual. ‘I heard about your father. How is he?’

  ‘Not well. Do come in out of that rain. It’s not stopped all morning.’ Cassandra led the way into the front room and gestured to a seat.

  ‘Is he in a state to receive visitors?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Her father was still disoriented and weak, unable to speak. They had to do everything for him, which was embarrassing. But she was sure there was a spark of the old intelligence and life in his eyes still, so she stubbornly continued to read and talk to him.

  She watched Reece sit staring down at his clasped hands, then sigh and look up at her. ‘I’m thinking of going to Australia. Mr Southerham has offered to sponsor me and will pay my fare if I agree to work for him for two years. It’s easier to rent or buy land there, it seems. Maybe I can get a smallholding if I work hard.’

  She tried to hide her dismay. If he went, she’d lose both him and Mrs Southerham. But it wouldn’t be fair to try to hold him back, not with the lack of hope here in Lancashire. With a huge effort she managed to respond calmly, ‘It sounds like a good opportunity for you.’

  ‘Yes. There’s no sign of cotton coming into the country in any quantity in the near future and anyway, I don’t think I could bear to go back inside a mill after working out of doors.’

  She’d heard him say that before, felt the same, if truth be told. She tried to say something but could only think how much she’d miss him and struggle to hold back her tears.

  ‘I’d have asked you to come with me, but we’re leaving quite soon and—’

  She finished for him. ‘I couldn’t leave my father.’

  ‘I’ll write to you if that’s all right?’

  She nodded, unable to speak for the lump in her throat.

  He took hold of her hand. ‘Cassandra ... if things work out well for me ... if you’re still unattached ... perhaps you could join me there one day?’

  ‘Go to Australia?’

  He nodded, then flushed. ‘I meant, you’d come out to marry me. You know how I feel about you.’ He smiled at her, still clasping her hand tightly. ‘And I think you feel the same.’

  She didn’t try to pretend, not with him. ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘So later on, unless you meet someone else – and I’d not blame you if you did – would you come out and join me there if I send you the money for the fare?’

  The idea was exciting but there were other problems too. Everything seemed against her and this man whom she’d grown so fond of so quickly. ‘If I went so far away, I might never see my sisters again.’

  ‘I know. That’s why I hesitated to ask you. I know how close you all are. And I don’t think it’d be fair to tie you down with ...’ he hesitated, then ended up, ‘promi
ses.’

  ‘Couldn’t you ... find work in some other part of England?’

  ‘I think this is a better opportunity and I know no one outside Lancashire, so it might as well be Australia. I’m told there are more opportunities for ordinary men out there. Besides, like you, I’ve always wanted to see the world.’

  ‘I’ve never expected to, though.’

  ‘No. Life rarely gives us quite exactly what we want, does it?’ He kept hold of her hand and put the other arm round her shoulders. ‘I can’t have you if I stay here, and I can’t have you for a long time if I go. But I do want you, Cassandra love. And there is a chance that I can make a life for us in Australia – the only chance for our mutual happiness I can see.’

  She looked down at their linked hands and forced the words out. ‘You should definitely go, Reece. Don’t miss this chance. But do write to me ... and think about me sometimes. And if it’s possible ... well, I can’t see so far ahead at the moment ... but if I can, I’ll come out to join you.’

  He pulled her closer and kissed her, first gently, then hungrily. She gave herself up to these kisses, needing his touch just as much as he seemed to need hers. She’d not realised before how strong the need for a man’s touch could be, or how much she wanted to caress and kiss him back – had lived too much inside her head, perhaps.

  When he broke away, they were both breathing heavily.

  He let go of her and she had a sudden urge to pull him towards her, but she didn’t. As long as her father needed her, as long as her sisters needed her, she must stay, even if it broke her heart. ‘When – shall you go?’

  ‘Not for a month or two yet. I don’t know whether that makes it easier or harder.’

  She felt the same.

  When he’d left, she sat on alone in the front room until Pandora came to find her. She was beyond tears, beyond anything except thoughts of him and mindless wordless protests at what fate was doing to them.

  ‘Oh, there you are. Are you all right, Cassandra? You look – sad.’

  She couldn’t give them something further to worry about, and anyway, losing Reece was her pain. They had another one to share. ‘I was just thinking about Dad.’

  ‘He’s a little better today, don’t you think?’

  ‘Perhaps. But he’s not going to be able to work again, is he? We have to make plans. I’ve been doing the sums and we simply can’t afford to rent this house now.’

  ‘You think we should move?’

  ‘That or take in lodgers. More people are sharing houses now to reduce the costs.’

  ‘Let’s take in lodgers then.’

  ‘If we do, we’ll have to harden our hearts. We can only accept people who can afford to pay for their rooms.’

  Cassandra repeated this warning to the other two that evening.

  They spread the word that they were letting rooms in their house, which was larger than most houses in the terraces, and within the day, several people came to ask if they could move in.

  Cassandra questioned them with Pandora in attendance. They didn’t dare let soft-hearted Maia do it, or she’d have given the rooms to people who had no money to pay the rent, and Xanthe was so impulsive you were never quite sure what she’d do.

  They’d worked out that they could let two rooms. The large room at the front of the house on the ground floor was taken first by a man who had worked with her father. He brought with him his wife, son and daughter-in-law, plus a newborn baby. All were to fit into the one room and share the kitchen facilities.

  But Cassandra knew Harry Grant would be more likely to pay rent than others she spoke to, because he hadn’t waited till his money ran out to find somewhere cheaper, and he and his son were both working at stone-breaking.

  She told her father what they were doing and he managed a tiny nod. He was so frail now, and so accepting of what had happened, it seemed to her as if the fighting spirit had been knocked out of him by the seizure, as if he was only waiting to die and take the burden of caring for him off their shoulders.

  Only she didn’t want to lose him. He’d been more than a father to her, he’d been her best friend ... until she met Reece.

  They also found tenants for the largest bedroom, the one at the front that she and Pandora had shared, letting it to an older couple with two lads of fifteen and seventeen. Again, the men were fit enough to break stones. That made such a difference.

  They’d had to move their father into the smallest bedroom and even so, it was a squash to fit four of them into the middle bedroom.

  Their Minister’s wife organised a roster of people to sit with Edwin or read to him so that all four of them could go to the sewing classes and earn their sixpences. Mrs Rainey was good at organising practical help. Mr Rainey also came to visit Edwin once or twice a week, sitting with him, chatting quietly, offering up a prayer.

  Reece still came on Sundays, sitting with Edwin now that he was a little better, talking gently about the week’s happenings at the farm or the book he’d been reading. Cassandra joined them upstairs for part of the visit, at least, but it made her sad that Reece no longer made an effort to hold any private conversation with her.

  He looked at her, though, devouring her with his eyes. She wasn’t fooling herself about that. His looks betrayed what he was feeling, though he held back the words.

  She kept telling herself he was right to go. Well, he was in practical terms. She was sure of that. But anything could happen on a voyage to the other side of the world. And who knew how long it would be before they met again – if ever?

  She didn’t want him to go!

  She continued to hold her temper in check at the sewing classes, but it was particularly hard on the days when Mrs Southerham wasn’t there.

  And one thing troubled her greatly. Even at this time, her uncle didn’t come to see his brother. Surely he wanted to make his peace between them before Edwin died? Another sack of food was sent round to the house, but no message. He could at least have sent a kind message with it!

  She considered going to the shop and begging her uncle to come and see his brother, but was afraid he’d refuse and send her away. She didn’t dare do anything that might stop the food coming. It made such a difference.

  And anyway, a visit wouldn’t really mean anything unless her uncle came of his own accord.

  There was another reason she didn’t go. She didn’t want to encounter her aunt. She passed Isabel Blake in the street occasionally and the way the older woman looked at her, the hatred in her eyes, filled Cassandra with a nameless dread.

  She was quite sure that if her aunt could ever hurt her – or any of her family – she would do so.

  Livia walked along the street with Cassandra, looking at her list of people to visit. ‘I’m told there’s a family here with a new baby.’

  ‘Yes, the Wrights.’

  ‘You know them?’

  ‘My father does. They’re very proud people. I’m not sure they’ll accept charity, not even baby clothes, though they will occasionally accept a little food from their friends. Mr Wright was injured a while back and can’t work at breaking rocks.’

  Livia shook her head sadly. Lancashire folk were so independent compared to the poorer folk she’d grown up with in the south. There had already been a few cases in Outham of old people dying for lack of food rather than go into the union poorhouse. She’d had words with her mother-in-law about that, because Mrs Southerham refused to take even the smallest interest in the current problems or make a contribution towards helping the operatives.

  ‘This is their house.’ Cassandra knocked on the door and called out her name. ‘I’ve brought Mrs Southerham to visit you. She and I have been mending some old baby clothes that no one wants.’

  The room was almost bare, the only furniture left being a rickety old chair and a table made from battered planks. In the corner was a pile of sacks being used as a bed. On it lay a young woman, pale and too languid even to look up. In her arms was a sickly infant, whose head
she was stroking gently. It was fretting, its cries faint, as if it had no energy for more than a whimper.

  The father of the baby stared at them defiantly. ‘If you’ve come offering charity, you can—’

  Livia stepped forward. ‘Only a few clothes for the child, Mr Wright.’

  The mother spoke. ‘Please, John.’

  He turned to his wife. ‘Did we not agree? No charity?’

  ‘That was before the baby. I’ve changed my mind now. I want her to live.’ She began to weep, another thin, piteous sound. Like her child she didn’t seem to have the strength to cry properly.

  Cassandra went across to kneel by her, holding her hand and looking up at the young man. ‘John Wright, what are you thinking of, letting your wife clem like this? She needs food and so does the baby. Don’t you care that your child will die if it’s not looked after? That Annie can hardly lift her head and is like to die too?’

  He had tears in his eyes and Livia went to catch hold of his arm. ‘Please let us help you, Mr Wright. We’ve brought clothes for the baby, and we can come back with food and tickets for more. Surely there’s no shame to accepting the same help as your neighbours do?’

  ‘I’d accept it if I could work for it. But with this –’ he gestured to his foot, ‘– I can’t break stones like the others.’

  Cassandra swung round, her voice harsh, ‘So you’ve decided that three people must die because of your pride! That’s wrong, John.’

  ‘I’ll not go into the union.’

  ‘We don’t want them to separate us,’ Annie said. ‘They always do in that place.’

  ‘Then we’ll find another way to help you,’ Livia said. ‘But you must promise to accept what we offer. Please. I can’t bear to see you die when I can help.’

  There was silence, and it seemed to go on for a long time. He stared first at her then at his wife and child.

  Annie called from the bed. ‘John, John, do as she says. If this baby dies like the other, my heart will surely break and I’ll die too.’