Farewell to Lancashire

by Anna Jacobs

  The woman inside looked up. Her hair was a tangled mass of grey hanging down her back, her face had been blank but at the sight of the lawyer, that changed to a look of hatred and she lunged at them.

  The nurse and doctor stepped between them and as Mrs Blake began to scream another woman came running.

  ‘Chains!’ the doctor called.

  She went away and came back with manacles. It took three of them to attach one to Isabel Blake’s ankle and then to the iron foot of the bed frame.

  She stopped screaming once they’d done that, but the way she glared at them was enough to make both men shiver and without a word they left the room. She hadn’t said a word, but her expression had been horrifying, so full of hatred.

  Downstairs they accepted refreshments and sat in silence.

  ‘There’s nothing we can do to help her,’ the doctor said quietly. ‘All we can do is keep her calm and clean – and as you can see, sometimes we can’t even do that. We do try to do her hair, but she throws such a fit of hysterics if we try to touch it that we merely wash it every week or two. I don’t know why she’s obsessed by hair. She seems afraid we’ll cut it all off. But with your permission, we shall cut it much shorter. It’ll be easier to keep her clean.’

  ‘Do whatever you think best. She looked very thin.’

  ‘As I wrote to you, she won’t eat.’ He hesitated. ‘We can force a little food into her, but not enough to maintain life in the long-term. I wanted you to see how she is. I pride myself on offering the most modern and humane treatment available to these poor creatures, but some of them ... Well, medical science knows of no way to help people like her.’

  On the way back, Featherworth said suddenly, ‘It’ll be a mercy if she dies.’

  Gerald Rainey nodded. He felt the sight of Isabel with that madness in her eyes would stay with him for a long time. ‘I’ll pray for her soul. Let me know if you hear any news.’

  As the carriage rolled through the countryside, the lawyer said suddenly, ‘What do you think of Harry Prebble, the fellow managing the shop?’

  ‘I don’t know him. He’s not a member of my congregation.’

  ‘There’s something I don’t quite like about him. I can’t work out what, because he’s always very civil, and he seems to be making a fair enough job of running the shop. Oh, I’m probably just imagining things. Think no more of it.’

  But Gerald told his wife and she said the same thing.

  ‘Mr Prebble is always very polite when he serves me, but ... I agree with Mr Featherworth. I really cannot like him.’

  ‘As long as he runs the shop properly, it’s not necessary to like him.’

  ‘Do you think the girls will come back?’

  ‘Surely they will?’

  Zachary watched Harry, who had been putting on airs since he’d been asked to manage the shop until the new owners could be found. It was very hard to put up with the other’s officious ways.

  When a message was delivered by one of the many lads hanging around in the streets these days, Harry read it then beckoned to Zachary. ‘The lawyer wants a word with you.’

  ‘Me? What about?’

  ‘I don’t know. But he wants to see you immediately, so you’d better put on your jacket and go.’

  As if he needed telling that! Zachary hung up his long apron and left. What did Mr Featherworth want with him? Surely they weren’t going to dismiss him? They needed extra help in the shop, not less, without Mr Blake. He sighed. He missed the kindly old man. He didn’t miss Mrs Blake, though. She’d always been strange, even before she went mad, and had treated that poor maid shockingly. Zachary hated to see anyone bullied.

  He was shown straight into the lawyer’s office.

  ‘Ah, Carr. Sit down, sit down.’

  ‘Is something wrong, Mr Featherworth?’

  ‘No, no. But I’m wondering if you could help me.’ He explained the situation.

  Zachary gaped at him. ‘You want me to go to Australia?’

  ‘Yes. I know it’s a long journey, but I need someone who recognises Mr Blake’s nieces and of course, they’ll need a man to escort them on the journey back. All your expenses will be paid, of course, and—’

  For a moment, Zachary considered it, then sighed and shook his head. ‘I’d like to go, I really would, sir, but I’m the sole support of my mother and sister. What would happen to them without my wages?’

  The lawyer frowned at him and Zachary held his breath. If a solution could be found – oh, he prayed it would – he’d go like a shot.

  ‘Are they without work because of the Cotton Famine?’

  ‘No, sir. They didn’t work in the cotton mills. My mother looked after the house and my sister was too young to work. But my father died suddenly and though my sister’s seventeen now, there’s no regular work to be had for young women in the town, so I’ve been supporting them for a few years.’

  ‘Very commendable. I’m sure we can arrange to pay your wages to them. If we do that, will you go? I much prefer to send someone I know and trust.’

  ‘In that case, I’d be very happy to go.’

  ‘Excellent! I know I can trust you.’

  Zachary stopped outside the lawyer’s rooms, his head spinning. He wanted to run, shout for joy, tell the world, but contented himself with clapping his hands several times. He saw an old woman stop to stare at him and grinned at her. ‘I just had some good news.’

  She smiled at him and walked on.

  He set off, enjoying stretching his long legs. The sun peeped out from behind the clouds and though it was still cold, he felt warm with happiness.

  He got back to the shop all too soon. There were no customers, so Harry beckoned him into the back room.

  ‘Well? What did he want?’

  Zachary told him and wasn’t displeased to see Harry scowl. The two of them didn’t get on, never had, but Harry was good at ingratiating himself with people, so had been made senior, even though they were roughly the same age. And of course, Harry was good-looking, which made life easier for him, while Zachary knew his face was too bony to be considered attractive. Well, he couldn’t afford to court a young woman, not with his mother and sister to support, so that was of no importance.

  ‘Why did Featherworth choose you? Why did he not ask me?’

  ‘You’re managing the shop. Would you want to miss that opportunity?’

  Harry shrugged. ‘I’d have been happy to help those poor young women.’

  I’m sure you would, Zachary thought. You’ll be ingratiating yourself with the new owners before they’ve even crossed the threshold, you will. Aloud he said only, ‘He said he needed to send someone who would recognise Mr Blake’s nieces.’

  ‘You don’t know them all that well.’

  ‘I’ve seen them many a time. We live near their old house.’

  ‘I still think Featherworth should have found someone else. How am I to manage if no one else knows how to do the work here?’

  Zachary didn’t let Harry’s ill humour affect him. It had been a bleak few years since his father’s death, the responsibility for his family sitting heavily on his shoulders. Now, he was to have an adventure, learn something about the world, and still know that his mother and sister were all right.

  The thought of travelling to Australia excited him more than anything ever had in his life before.

  The Southerhams and their servants set off at four o’clock in the morning, in order to make it to the farm in one day. During the journey Cassandra barely spoke a word. To Pandora’s surprise, Mr Southerham maintained a cheerful conversation with his wife, discussing what they’d bought and the prices they’d paid, acting as if the three servants in the cart were not able to hear every word.

  Mrs Southerham showed more consideration and brought them into the conversation several times, telling them about the farm and what she and her husband hoped to achieve there. They’d decided to call it Westview, because it looked in that direction. A name should mean something, should
it not?

  Sometimes they got out and walked, in order to lighten the load for the horses, and they stopped twice to make a quick meal of bread and cold meat. Each time Reece lit a fire and brewed tea with an ease that surprised Pandora. Each time Cassandra avoided even looking at him.

  As the journey dragged on and they stopped yet again to rest the horses and stretch their legs, Mrs Southerham glanced at the sky. ‘It’s later than we’d hoped, so we won’t get home till after dark. I did tell you you’d be sleeping in a tent, didn’t I? Reece used to sleep there. It’s perfectly comfortable.’

  When Cassandra said nothing, Pandora turned to him. ‘Will we be taking your bedroom, Reece?’

  ‘No. I sleep at the neighbour’s house now. He’s old and needs help, and I’m leasing some land from him.’

  ‘What sort of land?’

  ‘Oh, just some pastures on which I can run a few sheep later on, when I’ve cleared the land. There’s a shortage of timber here, so I can make a little money from selling the bigger trees I fell. It’s in the lease how much I can take each year. Kevin doesn’t want to lose the woods completely. Though he calls them “the bush”.’

  Cassandra still said nothing, but her sister knew she was listening intently.

  When at long last they drew up at the farm, Pandora tried to hide her amazement that people like their employers could be living in such a tiny house. And although there seemed to be quite a lot of land, it was mostly uncleared bush and Westview was even more isolated than she’d expected. They hadn’t passed another dwelling for a while, and then only the occasional farm, not a single proper village.

  The long purplish shadows cast on the other side of the trees by the setting sun made everything seem unreal. She looked back in the direction they’d come to see the sun about to slide beneath the horizon. Even as she watched, it stopped looking like a sphere, seeming to be sucked down by the black horizon below it.

  After that it went dark so quickly they had to finish unloading the food supplies by the light of two oil lanterns, which immediately attracted several large moths. Mrs Southerham showed them how to put the fresh food in a square box with mesh sides whose feet stood in cups of water to prevent ants getting into it.

  ‘There’s hardly any twilight at this latitude,’ Reece explained when Pandora commented on the fast onset of darkness. ‘I’ll just start a fire to heat the water, then perhaps you could help me move some of the things in the store tent, Mr Southerham to make more sleeping space for Pandora and Cassandra? Those boxes are too heavy for the women.’

  He spoke civilly to his employer, he always did, but it was his voice they heard giving directions from inside the tent. And it was he who had taken the lead after they got off the cart. Some words she’d read in a poem, Who’s master, who’s man? came into her mind and she wondered who had written them. Dean Swift, she remembered a moment or two later, pleased that she hadn’t forgotten everything from the old life. How she missed books and poetry! How she missed – everything!

  She realised her new mistress was speaking and tried to pay attention.

  ‘We’ll just have bread and ham tonight, I think,’ Mrs Southerham said. ‘And some fruit. We’ll eat it out here at the table. I’m looking forward to a cup of tea.’

  They stared in surprise at the huge tin mugs she was setting out and the enormous tin teapot.

  She pulled a wry face. ‘They aren’t very elegant, but one gets so thirsty here that ordinary cups and teapots are useless.’

  They helped her as best they could and were soon enjoying the simple meal.

  Reece and Cassandra took seats at opposite ends of the table and addressed not a word to each other. Pandora could have shaken them!

  Bed, the sisters found afterwards, was a blanket on canvas laid on the bare earth, with another to cover them and two more blankets stacked nearby.

  ‘I don’t have any other pillows,’ Mrs Southerham said. ‘I’m sorry. We must see if we can get some feathers from somewhere and make pillows. I’ve given you extra blankets because it gets quite cool here during the night.’ She hesitated. ‘Will you be all right? I’ve found you a candle and some safety matches, in case you have to get up in the night, but please take care if you have to make a light. If the bush catches fire, it can destroy everything in its path.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  When the two sisters were lying side by side in the darkness, looking at the shadows of branches cast by moonlight on the tent wall, Cassandra let out a long sigh.

  ‘Are you tired?’ Pandora asked.

  ‘Yes. Very.’ Silence then, ‘It was worse than I’d expected, being with Reece.’

  ‘You still love him, don’t you?’

  There was no answer. But Pandora didn’t need one. It was clear to everyone how much those two cared for one another.

  Reece walked slowly along in the moonlight to Kevin’s house. He was tired and soul-sick. Cassandra had barely spoken to him during their journey and yet he’d been aware of her every movement, even when he was driving and had his back to her.

  The connection between them was still there, always would be. He’d not felt this deep a love for his wife. But what would it take to change Cassandra’s mind about marrying him? There was something so firm and obstinate about the way she held herself, the way she kept her lips pressed tightly together, the way she avoided him.

  He saw a lantern shining on the veranda at Kevin’s and found the old man sitting outside smoking a pipe and waiting for him.

  ‘Saw the lights in the distance and knew you’d got back.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How did it go in Perth?’

  ‘I had a few shocks and—’ His voice faltered and he suddenly found himself sitting on the rough bench, telling Kevin the whole sorry story, as if the old man was a second father to him. Second father! He’d hardly had a first one, because his own had died when he was still a lad. And if his cheeks were wet when he’d finished, there was no one to see that except a wise old man who accepted everything calmly, even his own failing body.

  ‘Give her time,’ Kevin said in the end. ‘It’s a great healer. The poor lass must have been hurt badly, first by those brutes and then by you. You did wrong to walk away from her, but I don’t need to tell you that, lad, do I? She’ll be needing peace and quiet to find herself again before she can think about you.’

  ‘Do you think I stand a chance?’

  ‘Who knows? If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. Fate has a way of twisting our lives as it wants, not as we’d prefer. I’d like to meet her, though.’

  ‘I’ll invite her and her sister to tea on Sunday.’

  ‘No, I’ll invite them. You just take the note I write. And give it to the sister, not her.’

  They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes then a yawn caught Reece by surprise. ‘It’s late. I’d better be getting to bed.’

  ‘I wonder if you’ll do me a favour tomorrow? I’m asking you now because you’ll be long gone when I wake up.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Will you be giving the letter you’ll find on the table to Mr Southerham first thing tomorrow morning? I’ve a small favour to ask of him.’

  Reece hesitated.

  ‘I know he’ll not want anything to do with an ex-convict, but I don’t think he’ll refuse a dying man’s wish.’

  ‘Dying? You’ve some time left yet, surely?’

  ‘I hope so, but I’m getting steadily weaker. I’m grateful to have your company at this time, lad. I didn’t want to die on my own.’

  Reece reached out to clasp his hand for a moment.

  ‘You need to get yourself to bed. You’ve a hard day’s work before you, I’m sure. That employer of yours is a fool. ’Tis you who’re running things, from what you say.’

  ‘Don’t tell him that! If he takes charge nothing will get done properly.’

  Kevin chuckled and Reece was still smiling as he sought his bed. Poor Francis. A nice fellow, but such a dre
amer. He’d never make a success of the farm on his own, and Reece didn’t intend to give up his own life to support the Southerhams. He was fretting already to finish his time as their servant.

  21

  The following morning Francis read the letter Reece had brought him from Kevin with some surprise, then showed it to his wife.

  ‘We can’t refuse a dying man’s wish,’ Livia said. ‘Let’s walk across there now, before it gets hot. It’s ages since I’ve really stretched my legs. We can’t see the house from here, but there’s a path marked already where Reece walks to and fro. I’ll just tell Cassandra where we’re going.’

  They’re good workers, those girls, he thought, watching her speak to their new maids, who were conducting a washday under difficult circumstances. Every bucket of water had to be carried from the well. The tin washtub sat on an outdoor bench Reece had made and the two young women were rubbing away vigorously, chatting quietly as they worked.

  Francis turned to study Reece, who was also watching the maids, or rather, watching Cassandra. He’d strung a line for the finished clothes and was now whittling rough pegs from narrow branches, using the dry, fallen wood. We didn’t even remember such mundane articles when we packed for our great adventure, Francis thought with a wry smile at his own inadequacies.

  ‘Leave the other tent till we get back,’ he called to his servant. ‘It’ll be easier to erect with two of us.’

  A nod was his only answer.

  Together Francis and his wife followed the faint path across the gentle slope on which both properties stood. They stopped from time to time to look at something, a lizard sunning itself on a rock, some pink and grey galahs screeching in the trees, a line of ants busily carrying debris away.

  He kicked a piece of dead wood as if it was a ball and splinters flew everywhere. ‘It’s very different here, isn’t it? Not what I expected. It’s not a fit way of life for a lady. I’ve been a poor husband to you.’

  ‘We’re here now. And we agreed before we left: no regrets. You’re bound to get better in a warmer climate.’