Farewell to Lancashire

by Anna Jacobs

  ‘You lied to us about Western Australia!’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know damned well what I mean.’

  Paul shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets and kicked out at a black beetle creeping past, missing it but sending it scurrying into a crevice. ‘This colony will be a thriving place one day, I’m sure.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t thriving now! I don’t even call this a city. How many people are there in Western Australia?’

  Silence, then, ‘About 15,000 if you include the convicts.’

  ‘Dear God! Less than a tenth of the population of Manchester.’

  ‘The colony will grow, and you and I with it. The convicts have made a big difference to the place, more than doubled the population. I don’t know why they didn’t send convicts to the west from the start, as they did to Sydney.’

  ‘They’ve stopped sending out convicts to the other parts of Australia now, so it can’t be that much of a good thing. From what I’ve learned talking to others, this colony in the west seems to be behind the times in every way. And there are as many convicts as free settlers, if what that man was saying was correct! Don’t you worry about the danger such men may represent?’

  ‘Many of them are political prisoners, Irish, and quite respectable, though of course no one deals with them socially.’

  ‘You still haven’t said why you lied to me and dragged me out to this god-forsaken place. How can I make my way in the world here? The Swan River Colony doesn’t look or feel at all prosperous.’ He waited, then repeated impatiently, ‘Well, why did you do it?’

  ‘Charlotte was pining, but I don’t want to go back, don’t dare.’ Paul patted his chest. ‘I’ve felt so much better since I came here. That dreadful wheezing has stopped and I’m getting stronger all the time.’

  ‘So you brought my wife and me out for company, not caring whether it would be for our own good or not? You always were a selfish devil. I don’t know why I thought you’d have changed.’

  ‘You can make good money here if you work hard ... if you get allotted good land. And I’ve a friend who’ll advise you about that.’

  ‘You’d better be right about it, because unlike you, I can’t afford to go back now. I need a warmer climate for my health and besides, I’m not only a younger son with nothing to go back to, but I’ve upset my parents by insisting on coming here. My father gave me some money but says that’s it. He’ll not give me any more to waste, and I’m to consider that my inheritance.’ He breathed in deeply. ‘I’d have gone to Sydney or Canada but for you. Damn you, Paul!’

  Reece saw Francis turn round and walk inside without a word of farewell. The other man stood there, shoulders slumped, staring down at the ground with his hands in his trouser pockets. Then it began to rain again, a light spatter, which grew steadily heavier. Paul followed his cousin back inside.

  Reece stayed out on the veranda of the hut, watching in the intermittent moonlight as the slashing rain refilled the puddles. It wasn’t really cold, not like an English winter. But he felt a chill inside himself at what he’d heard. It wasn’t Francis alone who’d been fooled. Reece too would suffer for Paul Southerham’s selfishness.

  The shower only lasted a few minutes and he watched in mild surprise as the water drained away quickly through the sandy soil. How did you farm that sort of soil? he wondered. Mere sand couldn’t possibly be fertile enough to grow crops. It’d be like planting vegetables on a beach.

  Even after he’d returned to his hard, narrow bed, he lay awake for some time worrying about his own future. Clearly the information he’d found about Australia didn’t necessarily apply to this colony on the western side of the country.

  Surely there would be opportunities for a hard-working man to make a decent life for himself even here, though? People still needed feeding, after all.

  He’d find some way to succeed, he vowed grimly, if he had to work every hour of the day and half the night too. If he didn’t, he’d not deserve Cassandra’s love.

  But what he’d overheard meant he didn’t dare send for her straight away, not till he was certain he’d have a future to offer her.

  Men didn’t cry, but he could feel moisture on his cheeks.

  What a mess he’d made of things!

  Edwin died on a warm day in late August, having lived much longer than any of them had expected. It seemed afterwards as if he’d waited for them to come home from the sewing classes that day before he let go of life, because when he heard the front door open, he turned to Maia and said in a thread of a voice, ‘Good. Fetch your sisters to me.’

  She looked at him anxiously, but he was staring into space with a faint smile and didn’t appear distressed in any way, so she did as he’d asked.

  Only when the four of them were gathered around his bed did he seem to bring the room into focus again.

  ‘There you are. I was just telling your mother I was waiting to say goodbye to you before I joined her. Give me a kiss, my dears.’

  One by one they bent to kiss his cheek, each with eyes brimming with tears.

  ‘Such lovely daughters, aren’t they, Catherine?’ He looked up at the empty air beside him. ‘We can be proud of them.’

  And he was gone – so quickly, so quietly, it was a minute or two before they realised.

  They wept a little, then Cassandra pulled herself together. ‘We can’t stand here crying. We have things to do, must see him laid to rest properly.’

  ‘I hate to see him go to a pauper’s grave, no stone to mark his resting place,’ Pandora said.

  ‘We could ask our uncle for help,’ Xanthe suggested. ‘I’ll go and do it if you like. He always speaks kindly to us.’

  Cassandra frowned, wondering whether to use some of the money Mrs Southerham had given her to pay for a modest funeral. But that felt wrong, somehow, like stealing. It hadn’t been given to her for her father’s burial, but for her own use if she was ever in dire need, so she’d hidden it and resisted the temptation to dip into it. For some reason she didn’t understand, she hadn’t even told her sisters about it. ‘I’ll go with you.’

  Once again they went to the shop, entering it openly and waiting till their uncle had finished serving a customer before they moved forward.

  ‘I’ll see to these young ladies,’ he told the shorter of the two young men who served there and was hovering nearby, staring avidly at Pandora. Joseph raised his voice so that everyone in the shop could hear. ‘Good evening, my dear nieces, how can I help you?’ But his smile faded as they came closer and he saw their reddened eyes.

  ‘Father died today,’ Cassandra said. ‘I thought you’d like to know.’

  Joseph closed his eyes for a minute, pain on his face, then said, ‘Come through to the back.’ Opening the flap in the counter, he ushered them into the same storeroom as before.

  With a quick gesture of the head he dismissed the lad who was weighing out sugar and putting it into neat cones of blue paper.

  When the door had closed, Joseph asked, ‘How did it happen?’

  ‘Very peacefully.’ Cassandra explained, then hesitated as she tried to find the words to ask the favour they needed.

  He didn’t wait for her to ask, but said immediately, ‘I’ll pay for the funeral, of course. That’s what you came to ask, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’ll be my pleasure to do this last thing for him. I couldn’t bear Edwin to lie in an unmarked pauper’s grave. I’ll just get my hat and then we’ll go round to Studdard’s.’

  ‘Dad wouldn’t expect such an expensive funeral!’ Cassandra exclaimed. Studdard’s dealt with the better class of people, not operatives’ families.

  ‘No, but it’ll please me to send my brother off in comfort. And I shall, of course, pay for a headstone. You must decide what you want written on it.’

  They walked through the streets, one on each arm of their uncle, ignoring the surprised glances they got.

  From the window above the shop,
Isabel watched them go, clenched fists resting on the windowsill. She’d seen them come into the shop, because she watched all the comings and goings in the street below. Furious that those creatures would dare to come here again, she’d crept down the stairs to listen to what they were saying.

  It was the signal she’d been waiting for. Time to take action.

  She rejoiced to think that the old fool was dead, clasping her hands together and twirling round in joy. She ran lightly down the stairs to tell Dot to make her a pot of tea and send up some cake, because she was suddenly hungry. Still filled with joy, she twirled round again as she reached the bottom of the stairs, nearly bumping into the shop lad, who had come out of the packing room and was staring at her in amazement. ‘Get out of my sight, you fool!’ she snapped and gave him a shove. When he tripped over a box and fell, she kicked him a couple of times and laughed as he scrambled away.

  She walked slowly back up to their quarters, forgetting the pot of tea, thinking how best to get rid of those creatures, drive them right out of the town. She had to tread carefully, though, didn’t want Joseph telling the doctor any more lies about her.

  It was her husband who had run mad, not her. Fancy a leading shopkeeper associating with females who were not only paupers but immoral. She remembered the churchyard, how the oldest one had pressed herself against a man like the wanton she was. No doubt the others were as bad.

  Isabel knew she had a duty to her dear parents to make sure Joseph did nothing to bring shame to their name. She was the only surviving Horton, after all. And the shop should still be called Horton’s Emporium. He’d had no right to change its name, no right at all.

  She’d change it back once she was in charge. She’d change a lot of things. She wasn’t sure how she’d manage to gain control, but she’d find a way.

  She’d go and talk to the man and woman who’d helped her before. Rough creatures, but useful.

  The four sisters dyed their clothes black so that they could be turned out as decently as possible to farewell their father. But their shabby clothes looked even shabbier after they’d been dyed.

  On the evening before the funeral there was a knock on the front door.

  Pandora went to open it and found the taller assistant from her uncle’s shop, together with the young lad. Both had large bundles in their hands.

  ‘Miss Blake?’ the older one asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘These are for you and your sisters.’

  ‘But we didn’t order anything. We can’t afford—’

  ‘They’re from your uncle. And I’m sorry about your father.’ He thrust his bundle into her arms. His companion deposited the other one on the floor inside the door.

  ‘Good night, miss.’

  She watched them stroll down the street, chatting to one another. The taller man had a kind face. She’d noticed him before when she went to the shop. With a sigh, she shut the door and hurried into the kitchen.

  When they opened the parcels, they found skirts, bodices and jackets in black, together with simple black bonnets, each with wide black ribbons.

  Maia found an envelope and opened it. ‘Please accept these from me.’ It was signed by their uncle.

  In spite of their grief, they were thrilled with the clothes, which were plain enough, without the wide skirts necessary for crinolines, but better than anything they’d ever owned before.

  ‘I wonder if she knows about these,’ Xanthe said, craning her neck in an effort to see how she looked in the broken piece of mirror which was all they had left to check their appearance in.

  ‘I hope she doesn’t.’ Cassandra shuddered and felt suddenly apprehensive. Her aunt would be furious, she was sure. And she wondered what people would say about them wearing such fine clothing. She dreaded to think what the ladies who organised the relief work would think.

  Then she put up her chin defiantly. It didn’t matter what people said. This was to honour their father.

  The funeral of Edwin Blake caused a lot of talk, not only because it was done in such style, but because the people who had known and respected him attended en masse. Some were in ragged clothing, some in decent garb. His former employer was there as well as his former workmates. No one could remember such a turn-out for a mere operative.

  The Minister at his chapel delivered a touching eulogy. He spoke of Edwin’s high intelligence and love of all things Greek. He finished with a few words in Greek, his voice breaking on the final phrase.

  Others stood up in the church to say how Edwin had helped them, how highly they’d thought of him.

  Sitting at the front with his nieces, Joseph listened in amazement. How well liked his brother had been! How many people he’d helped in his modest way! Shame filled Joseph that he’d stayed estranged for so many years and his determination to look after his nieces grew stronger by the minute.

  Isabel didn’t attend the funeral, of course. He’d have stopped her if she’d tried, but she didn’t. She dressed in her brightest colours that day, hummed cheerful tunes as he got ready, and kept saying what a lovely morning it was and how glad she was to be alive.

  He made no comment. She’d find out what he intended soon enough.

  After the funeral, he saw his nieces home and when they got there, he accepted an invitation to share a cup of tea with them.

  ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Cassandra said. ‘We’re still thinking about that.’

  ‘I have a cottage on the north side of the park, a very comfortable dwelling. I wondered if you’d like to live there. I’d not charge you rent and I’d help you with the food.’ When they said nothing, he added, ‘I promised your father I’d look after you and I know that would set his mind at rest. I really want to do something to help you, make your lives easier.’

  ‘What about your wife?’ Cassandra asked. ‘Won’t that upset her even more?’

  He shrugged. ‘Everything upsets her these days. I’m quite sure she’s insane, but I can’t prove it because she’s very cunning. Beware of her, accept nothing from her hands. Even I keep my bedroom door locked at night.’

  They looked at him in shock, then Maia went across to kiss him on the cheek. ‘You look so sad sometimes, Uncle Joseph. But you’ve got us now. We’ll be happy to live in your cottage and see you as often as we can.’

  One by one they went to kiss him.

  He could feel their kisses on his cheeks as he walked home, wished he’d had a child of his own to love. But would any child of his wife’s have been lovable? He doubted it, so perhaps it was for the best that their baby hadn’t survived. The Lord worked in mysterious ways.

  Of course Isabel was waiting for him at home, foot tapping, cheeks flying red signals of anger. ‘Is he got rid of now?’

  ‘We’ve buried my brother, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘Good riddance. Perhaps now you can attend to the shop and pay me some attention. You’ve been neglecting me lately.’

  He was upset enough to tell her the truth. ‘I wish I need never see you again!’

  She froze then her face seemed to set in even grimmer lines. ‘I’ll make you sorry you said that.’

  ‘I can’t be sorrier than I am now. And by the way, the girls are moving into Brook Cottage in a few days’ time.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I shan’t be charging them rent and I’ll help them in any way I can from now on. You’re wrong about them, so wrong. They’re fine, decent young women.’

  She threw back her head and laughed, on and on, till the shrill sound drove him down to the shop.

  He passed Dot on the stairs and stopped her to say, ‘I’d wait before going up, if I were you.’

  She nodded and went back down again.

  It seemed as if the sound of Isabel’s laughter echoed around him for days, because she seemed very happy about something, he had no idea what. And she was talking to herself more and more. He’d never seen her as bad as this before and he knew Dot had no
ticed her mistress’s increasing strangeness too.

  Even the people working for him in the shop had noticed that something was very wrong, he could tell. But she’d not given them incontrovertible proof that she was mad. She was too cunning for that. She still went to tea with her friends and invited them to tea with her, behaving perfectly normally then.

  He didn’t think he could go on like this for much longer.

  In early September, a group of solemn gentlemen came to Outham, calling on the Vicar, who summoned the clerics of the other denominations to a meeting in the church hall.

  What was said there was kept a secret, but it sent the Vicar’s wife whispering to her friend Isabel, who stared at her in delight.

  ‘Would you help me?’ she begged. ‘My dearest Sylvia, would you help me take advantage of this opportunity to get rid of those creatures? I feel so weighed down by the humiliation of seeing them flaunting themselves around the town. I’m constantly worrying what they’ll do next. And now Joseph is going to move them into our cottage near the park. Can you believe that? They’ll be spreading their poison among decent people.’

  ‘Near the park? Why, they’ll be just round the corner from us if they live there! Creatures like that! You can certainly count on my help. I’ll make sure my husband does whatever is necessary to get rid of them. It’ll take a week or two to arrange, though.’

  ‘That’s all right. There are things I need to do first to persuade them to leave.’

  When the Vicar’s wife had left, Isabel sat and thought for a while, then put on her bonnet. She walked out through the shop, saying airily as she passed her husband, ‘I need some fresh air.’

  Joseph didn’t protest, even though it looked like rain. He watched her leave, a little worried by the smug smile that curved her lips slightly, the air of suppressed triumph that hung about her. Something had changed since this morning, he could tell.

  What was she plotting now? He’d have to keep a careful watch on her, for his nieces’ sake.