Farewell to Lancashire

by Anna Jacobs

  ‘I hope so.’

  Her voice faltered for a moment. ‘And whatever happens, we shall make the best of it. It’s an adventure, after all.’

  Her voice was calm, but he heard how bitter his own voice was. Well, he felt bitter. ‘Don’t pretend. I tried to be practical about this, I really did. But I’m put to shame by my own manservant, who always knows a better way of doing something. Only he’s planning for the time he can set up his own farm. What will you and I do then?’

  ‘We’ll find another servant.’

  ‘We didn’t even take the two convicts we were assigned because we didn’t like the looks of them. We’re not very practical. My love, you should have found yourself a better husband.’

  ‘I’ve never wanted anyone but you, Francis.’

  She put her arms round him and they stood for a minute or two, close together, taking comfort from one another.

  He was right about their situation, she thought. Francis was a dreamer. Neither of them had expected things to be this difficult, though. Farms to her meant green fields dotted with sheep or cows, rows of green plants, not a landscape like this, coloured by the beiges, browns and faded greens of an Australian summer. She took hold of his hand. ‘Well, let’s start moving again.’

  Their neighbour was waiting on the veranda. He stood up and thanked them for coming, offering them seats, waiting till Livia had sat down before taking his own place, easing himself down into his chair like a man whose joints were painful.

  Then he explained what he wanted.

  As they walked back, Francis said thoughtfully, ‘Lynch was clearly a gentleman once.’

  ‘He’s a gentleman still, from his behaviour and speech.’

  ‘He’s an emancipist!’ His tone was scornful.

  She hated to hear people scorn one another. ‘Are we to spurn half the population of this colony because of their past?’

  ‘We needn’t spurn them, exactly, but I don’t care to have my wife meeting such people socially.’

  This attitude irritated her, but she knew she’d never change him. His family were of quite a high social status, compared to hers and he’d been bred with an innate sense of his own superiority to common persons.

  She could have been friends with Cassandra, whom Francis considered merely a maidservant. Yet that young woman had a fine brain and was more interesting to chat to than any of the ladies Livia had known back home. She’d hoped to find a freer society here, and it was in some ways, but men like her husband had brought their prejudices with them and were trying to recreate the same sort of society as the one they’d left. And ladies seemed as circumscribed in what they could do as ever. That never failed to irritate her.

  She wondered if they’d succeed with the farm. Seeing Reece, so capable and clever, comparing him to Francis, who flitted from one job to another without finishing any of them properly, she didn’t think they would, even if her husband’s health improved. Well, his family wouldn’t let them starve if the worst came to the worst.

  They walked in silence for a few moments, stopping by mutual agreement when their own house came in sight again.

  She’d been nerving herself to say something and what better time? ‘We’ll need to add another room or two before winter sets in, my love, or those boxes on the veranda will get wet. I know we agreed not to spend money unnecessarily, but ...’

  ‘We do need more space. I’ll turn my mind to it. I think the horses will do well enough in the bark shelter during the colder months. They don’t get frosts here, apparently. I’ll have to bring someone down from Perth to build extra rooms, I suppose.’

  ‘Did you notice that Mr Lynch’s house had rooms added on? Maybe Reece can find out from him how it was done. There may be someone nearby whom we can employ more cheaply.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Francis waved away a fly. ‘Strange business, that. Must be awful to grow old alone, to have no family left – or at least none who will associate with you. Lynch looked very frail, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. I felt sorry for him. Couldn’t we invite him to tea sometime? He must get very lonely. It’s Christmas in four days. We must mark that.’

  ‘Livia, we can’t take on every lame dog we find. And he is an ex-convict, may I remind you. He’s paying the price for committing a crime.’

  She sighed.

  ‘I’d take you up to Perth for the occasional trip, but we need to conserve what money we have, what with the building work. We already have one more mouth to feed than we’d planned, and when we do get our convicts – there must be some who do not look so villainous – there will be more still to feed.’

  ‘I couldn’t have left Cassandra on her own in a strange country. I just couldn’t.’

  ‘I know, and as long as those two can manage in the tent during the winter, it’ll be all right. The woman’s a worker and more than earns her daily bread, I’ll give her that. We can’t afford to build them a proper house, though, not this year. Perhaps Reece can make a bark shelter over the tent, something similar to what the horses have.’

  She didn’t argue. At least he’d agreed to extend their shack. She’d ask Reece’s advice about the maids’ quarters when Francis wasn’t there. She didn’t want them suffering from cold or a dripping tent during the winter.

  As the sisters continued with the washing, Cassandra said quietly, ‘You’re still homesick, aren’t you, Pandora?’

  ‘How did you know? I’ve never said anything.’

  ‘I know you better than most. You are homesick, aren’t you?’

  ‘A little. It’ll pass. What choice do I have but to stay here?’

  ‘You could go back to another part of England.’

  ‘On my own? Are you prepared to go back with me?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. I really like the warm weather here and the space. I didn’t think I would, but just look at it.’ She made a sweeping gesture towards the bush behind the house. ‘I like the unfamiliar trees and plants, the grey-green of the gum leaves, the fallen branches and leaves. It’s beautiful.’

  ‘Do you really think so? I don’t. It gives me the shivers. No neighbours for miles, except an old man. And people talk about bush fires. What would we do if one came through here?’

  Cassandra patted her arm with one wet hand and waited. If you gave her time, didn’t question too hard, Pandora usually told you her thoughts.

  ‘It’s Lancashire I miss, not England. It’s – home. But even if we wanted to go back, how could we afford the fares back for four of us?’ She bit back further words and tried to speak calmly. ‘There’s no use dwelling on it, love. I’m sure I’ll settle down now we’ve somewhere to live and work.’

  ‘We’ll be living in a tent. That will never feel like a home.’ Cassandra looked towards the house. ‘And their house isn’t much better, is it? I’m amazed to see people of their class living in such a – a shed. Here, catch hold.’

  They each took an end of a sheet and twisted it till they’d got as much of the water out as they could, then slung it over one of the ropes, using the new pegs to hold it in place.

  Reece stood up. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘I’d love one.’ Cassandra was annoyed with herself for answering so warmly. She’d vowed to speak coolly to him and had broken that vow within a couple of hours.

  ‘Give me ten minutes.’

  She turned back to the tub of rinsing water and dunked another sheet in it, not caring that she splashed her pinafore and skirt, since they dried almost instantly in hot weather like this. ‘I don’t see how we can starch anything.’

  ‘I don’t think we should even try. Anyway, Mrs Southerham didn’t buy any starch. She forgot quite a few things.’

  ‘She doesn’t understand what’s needed.’

  ‘It’ll have to be enough that the clothes and linen are clean.’ Pandora giggled. ‘There are rather a lot of underclothes to wash, aren’t there? They can’t have done any laundry for ages.’

  ‘They’re used to h
aving servants to do that. And they have so many clothes that it wasn’t urgent.’

  Reece hung the kettle over the fire and came across to join them. ‘Next time you’ve got some hot water, can I bring my own clothes across and give them a bit of a wash in the water that’s left?’

  She couldn’t ignore that question. ‘Why don’t you put them out with the other things? We’re washing our own clothes as well as theirs, so we might as well wash yours. Your job at the moment is to make us a lot of pegs.’

  His smile was so warm, she felt herself flushing and bent over the tub again. When she looked up, he was back at the cooking fire, which was set between neatly arranged stones. She watched him check the damper he’d mixed that morning and move the camp oven away from the hot embers. Taking the boiling kettle off its metal hook, he poured hot water into the big teapot, his movements so neat and precise, he was a pleasure to watch. He refilled the kettle and set it over the flames again.

  Sighing, she pulled the final sheet out of the water and with Pandora’s help got that rinsed. They put the next pile of dirty clothes to soak and went to join Reece at the table.

  ‘We’ll need some more hot water soon,’ Pandora said.

  ‘I’ve put some on to boil. I’ll draw a fresh bucket of water after we’ve had our tea. We need more buckets and washing equipment.’

  ‘Are we allowed to stop work like this?’ Cassandra asked. ‘At the mill there were always set hours of work.’

  He smiled at her. ‘We all work hard. They can’t grudge us a cup of tea, and we know better than anyone when we need a rest. Anyway, it’s so hard to find maids, they’ll know to treat you both well. I think it’s shameful not paying you any wages, Cassandra.’

  Which showed, she thought, that he’d not missed anything. She shrugged. ‘I’m just glad to have somewhere to stay until – afterwards.’

  He was stirring his tea, round and round, avoiding her eyes as he asked, ‘When exactly is the baby due?’

  ‘May.’

  ‘There isn’t a doctor near here. They’re very short of doctors in this colony. But if we can get to know the people who have farms nearby, maybe we’ll find a woman who can help you with the birth.’

  She stared at him in shock. He was talking as if he was involved in the situation.

  ‘I’ll ask around for you,’ he said softly. ‘I see more people than they do. There’s a shop an hour’s drive away that Kevin told me about. I did the shopping for them there once and found the owners very helpful. From the looks of it, I’ll have to go there again soon. Mrs Southerham is more practical than her husband, but not a lot. The things she bought in Perth were mostly for herself, not household necessities.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Cassandra drained her cup quickly and got back to work. It was too easy to get intimate with Reece, far too easy. They’d always been able to chat to one another comfortably, right from their very first meeting.

  And if Pandora said one word about the situation, hinted at anything ... she’d ... she didn’t know what she’d do. But to her relief, her sister said nothing.

  When their employers came back, Mrs Southerham praised what they’d done, then sighed. ‘I’m not a very good cook, but I’m even worse at washing, so I’ll make the meals today. We need another batch of damper and that I can manage, thanks to Reece’s teaching. Francis kills a kangaroo whenever we need fresh meat.’ She smiled across at the man sitting by the table, whittling. ‘I think you’re going to have to make a lot of pegs, Reece. There’s so much washing.’

  Cassandra watched Mr Southerham sit down at the table and take out his pocket knife.

  ‘Perhaps I can help you with the pegs?’

  But he proved useless at whittling and soon got tired of trying, so went off to kill another kangaroo.

  The only things Mr Southerham seemed able to do, Cassandra thought, were care for the horses and shoot. She saw Reece watching his employer with a resigned expression on his face, then he turned, caught her watching him and winked.

  She bent over the washing again, but soon her back began to ache. How was she going to manage such heavy work in the final month or two? The bump wasn’t very big yet but the child had quickened, become a real person in her mind. She kept wondering whether it was a girl or a boy, what it would look like, if it would be clever – if it would be cruel like its father.

  She stood up to stretch her back, pressing one hand to where it was aching from bending over the washtub. She was conscious of Reece watching her, conscious of him every single minute they were together. She’d known this would happen if they lived at such close quarters.

  But when the child made her look ugly and clumsy, he’d feel differently, she was sure. He’d not be able to bear the sight of her then.

  Xanthe and Maia took it in turns to ride next to Conn on the cart. He’d had to bring his mother with him to Perth because there was no one to care for her back at his homestead. It must have been hard for a man to do the things Mrs Largan needed help with.

  After an hour, he scowled at Xanthe and said, ‘You two had better call me Conn. I’m not fond of being called Mr Largan.’

  ‘We can’t do that if you’re our employer,’ she protested.

  ‘You can if I tell you to.’

  ‘Why don’t you like being called “Mr Largan”?’

  ‘It sounds like my father and brother, and I’m not fond of either of them.’

  Xanthe turned to exchange surprised glances with her sister at this strange comment and saw Mrs Largan looking at her son sadly, as if she understood exactly why he was saying that.

  What had happened to break up the family? What had he done to get himself transported? Were his father and brother dead? They must be or his mother wouldn’t be here in Australia with him.

  They drove along gently, and she could see how Conn tried to choose the smoothest part of the track and kept to a slow pace so as not to give his mother pain. He was also thoughtful for the horses’ comfort, not pushing them too hard, letting them rest.

  When they stopped, she and Maia helped his mother. They also slept on the floor in her room at the rough and ready inn where they spent the night.

  Xanthe was itching to discuss the situation with her twin, but they were never alone, not because they were under strict supervision, but because Mrs Largan needed their help in everything she did, poor woman.

  ‘The journey to Perth exhausted her,’ Conn said abruptly as he and Xanthe got the cart ready for his mother, spreading out the quilts on which she sat or sometimes lay down.

  ‘Travelling isn’t easy here, is it? It seems so strange and old-fashioned not to have railways.’

  ‘The whole place seems strange to me,’ he said, talking to himself as much as her. ‘And yet there’s something about it. Look how clear and sparkling the air is.’ He gestured with one hand. ‘Back home in Ireland, it’d be raining or misty.’

  ‘It would in Lancashire, too. I like the sun.’

  When he’d carried his mother out to the cart, Maia said, ‘I think it’d be better if I travelled in the back. I’m better at looking after people than my sister is.’

  He cocked one eyebrow at Xanthe. ‘So you’ll be the housemaid?’

  She shrugged. ‘Yes. I’ll do my best. I know how to keep a small house clean, but I’ve never served the gentry before.’

  ‘I wouldn’t call myself gentry now.’

  He sounded so bitter, she didn’t even try to reply.

  They drove along without speaking for about half an hour, then, as if he could stand the silence no longer, he asked abruptly, ‘Why did you come here?’

  She debated briefly then decided on the truth. She hated lying to people. ‘Our aunt forced us to.’

  ‘You don’t seem like the sort of girls to be easily forced into things. You’ve both got an independent air to you.’

  She smiled. ‘Lancashire manners, someone said to me on the ship – only she didn’t mean it as a compliment.’

  ‘So how did your
aunt force you?’

  ‘She had our eldest sister kidnapped and threatened to harm her if we didn’t leave.’ When he said nothing, she added, ‘It sounds strange, but that’s the simple truth.’

  ‘I’ve learned that relatives can be far more cruel than strangers,’ he said abruptly. ‘And anyway, I believe you. You’ve got a very expressive face. It’d betray you if you tried to tell lies.’

  ‘Dad used to say that. Oh, I do miss him! He died just before we left. Is your father dead?’

  ‘No.’

  He looked so grim she didn’t ask the next obvious question, which was why his mother was here if her husband was still alive.

  In the late afternoon of the second day’s travel, they turned off the main highway a short distance past a wooden shack which he said was a shop. They were now on little more than a track. Here, Conn slowed right down, but even so the jolting was painful for his mother and her face was chalky white.

  The house was only a mile or so along this road. A big wooden sign said Galway House. She was surprised at how large the place was.

  An elderly man came limping out to greet them and stroke the horses’ heads, murmuring to the animals in Gaelic.

  ‘These are Maia and Xanthe, who are going to look after my mother and the house,’ Conn said. ‘This is Sean, who looks after the stock. He does speak English, though he prefers not to.’ He picked up his mother, carrying her as if she weighed nothing. As they exchanged fond glances, he said softly, ‘Home to stay this time.’

  She patted his cheek, just once, and the sight of their love brought tears to Xanthe’s eyes.

  ‘Someone open that door, please.’

  Xanthe hurried ahead to do this while Maia gathered up Mrs Largan’s quilts.

  ‘Last door on the left. Turn down the bed,’ he ordered as he entered the house.

  Not taking time to look round, Xanthe ran ahead and found herself in a comfortable bedroom which looked out on to a veranda at the rear. She turned down the covers, finding a soft feather mattress below them.

  As he laid his mother on the bed, she sighed in relief and lay back on the pillows.

  ‘I think if I had to make that journey again, Conn darlin’, it’d kill me.’