Bound to Sarah

by Craig Brennan

  Annie looked up at her, with her hand shading the sun from her eyes but said nothing. She had met her type before and knew it was best to say nothing, but a hard kick to the thigh meant she could no longer ignore her.

  ‘Don’t bloody ignore me, girl, ‘cos I’ll ‘ave ye. D’ye ‘ear me?’ she said leaning right into Annie’s face.

  ‘An’ what’ll ye do, ‘cos if ye lay a finger on me, I’ll go straight to the matron an’ she’ll sort you out.’

  ‘Come on, Annie, let’s just move, for peace sake,’ said Sarah, trying to diffuse the situation and avoid trouble. She desperately wanted to keep her hair, what little of it had grown back. As they got up to move, the gang leader decided she was not quite finished with Annie, she could not let a new girl from the lower class get the better of her.

  ‘I ‘ope that child dies in ye belly, ye little slut.’

  Annie lost her control in an instant and grabbed the bully by the hair and started swinging her to and fro. They fought like wild cats before the matron, who had been secretly watching from a window, ran out through the gathering crowd to separate them.

  ‘I will not tolerate fighting in this confinement, especially from you, Margaret. What kind of girl are you to pick a fight with a woman who is with child? You will go down to the lower class immediately.’

  ‘No, ma’am, it weren’t me what started it, it was ‘er …’

  ‘Shut up, Margaret! I am not stupid, I have been watching you from the window. So don’t even try to make me out to be a fool.’

  Everybody was told to go about their business and Annie was to go and clean herself up and report to the matron in two hours’ time. Margaret was taken to be shaved and assigned duties in the lower class. Most of the convicts felt entirely satisfied that she had finally got what she deserved. Now forced to share the same bed space with those she had bullied, she would have to fight like the rest of them.

  Another month went by and Annie was taken into the maternity quarters, and Sarah was given the matron’s consent to accompany her. Annie’s labour lasted six hours, after which she gave birth to a still born daughter. The little mite had died some time during the birth. Annie was devastated and blamed herself, and as she stared at the empty cot, she made the decision to end it all. Sarah tried her best to console her and even the matron did what she could to help, but Annie refused to eat or drink for days on end. Sarah spent as much time as she could with her, though often she felt like she might as well be somewhere else. She was becoming exhausted herself and neglecting her duties and the matron had to step in and tell her that she could no longer spend so much time with Annie. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Flynn was totally unaware of the fact that he had just lost a daughter, and caused her mother to give up on life. Nothing was going to get in the way of him marrying his beloved Laura; his serious abuses of the convict women were merely a bit of horseplay, while she was still in England. He had recently found out that she was about to embark on the journey herself, as a free settler, along with her father. Flynn could not afford to leave any tracks, as he knew that Laura would not tolerate such behaviour if she ever found out, and he claimed to love her dearly in his own peculiar way.

  A little over two weeks after the birth, Annie started to rally slightly and went back to her duties. The lower class women showed some compassion for her and there seemed to be a slight improvement in the general morale – with one exception. Margaret had a score to settle, and she was not going to rest until it was settled. She would wait until she and Annie were alone, then taunt her about her loss and make callous comments such as.

  ‘I told ye that child’d die inside ye,’ or, ‘She would’ve been a little slag, just like ‘er mother.’ Annie was not strong enough to take such vile insults and would be found night after night sobbing. She didn’t tell a soul, but Sarah guessed something was going on between them, and had to watch helplessly as Annie was slowly drained of her vital resources, while Margaret seemed to absorb them and grow stronger.

  Time went by, but Annie could not seem to lift herself out of depression and Sarah again found herself trying to counsel her and keep Margaret at bay, and it seemed to work for a while. Then Sarah was given the chance to move up to the merit class, in which the women made and mended garments, and, more importantly, had a bed to themselves. She was given the opportunity because of her good behaviour and attitude to work. If she chose to refuse the place, she would not be first in line the next time round. Sarah could not afford to refuse the offer. In fact, she was thrilled about it, especially the thought of having her own bed, but she felt very guilty about leaving Annie behind in her precarious state, but she would only be upstairs, along the corridor, so she could still visit her. When she broke the news to Annie, she was pleased for Sarah and said she would not dream of trying to keep her in the lower rank.

  Sarah had never been so happy and relaxed since leaving England. She enjoyed the work and it kept her occupied. No more chapped fingers from constantly being in water, no more coping with foul smelling privies, bloody rags and filthy napkins. Then, one late afternoon, a few weeks later, as she was finishing off a garment, she noticed that there seemed to be a commotion across the courtyard. Probably the local male convicts on their regular visits to sow their wild oats, or maybe a gentleman looking for a maid, or potential wife. She carried on with her work until one of the girls came rushing upstairs on to the floor.

  ‘Annie Goodwin’s been found ‘angin’ in the linen room!’ she shouted. Sarah asked the girl to repeat what she had just said before running down to the linen room to find the matron standing aghast as two of the higher rankers were cutting poor Annie down from the rafters. It couldn’t be true. She had said she was feeling better that morning when they had last spoken and it was now only four thirty in the afternoon. What could have changed her mood so dramatically in such a short space of time? The answer came to her instantly ‘Margaret’.

  Sarah told the matron what had been going on, but she said that there was no real evidence to prove that Margaret had driven Annie to suicide. She had never quite got over the loss of her child, which was probably the real cause. Sarah did not believe it and knew in her heart that it was Margaret that had sent her to the brink, and she was beside herself with anger and grief in equal measure. As for Margaret, she didn’t give a fig that she had caused someone so much pain and torment, that they could no longer cope with life. Because it was just a matter of months between Annie’s death and that of her still born child, a decision was made to dig up the child and rebury her along with her mother. So Annie was reunited with her daughter at last and they were buried in a plot just outside the prison walls.

  So it seemed that evidence of Flynn’s debauchery had been buried in the soil of the Cascades, where it would rot away in perpetuity. It was as though God himself had wiped the slate clean for Flynn, and even if he were to find out about it, his conscience would be clear. A man like Flynn did not share the common feelings of other men. In the event, Flynn never got to find out what had happened to Annie and their daughter, nor did he ever think to enquire as to her whereabouts, or whether she had given birth safely, or, indeed, if the child was alive. He simply went about his life in his usual fashion, without a thought for anybody else.

  Annie’s death had been a major blow to Sarah, and left her feeling numb for days, but she recovered surprisingly quickly by having to focus on her own survival. She settled back well into the middle class section, by keeping herself occupied with the work. It was monotonous and repetitive, but it allowed her time to think and therefore glide almost effortlessly through the days, whilst surrounded by other prisoners whose existence was blighted by their pent up bitterness and frustration. She was fast becoming a model prisoner, being given more responsibilities, which she took on without complaint. Her hair was growing nicely and she was very happy with it, although it would take years to reach its former length. Mixing was still a problem, but she had begun to enjoy her solitude, living off her memories. At time
s she would even laugh out loud to herself, as she dwelt on the fun times she had enjoyed and sometimes she would cry at how much she missed Pat and her darling son. Some of the other inmates whispered to each other that she was cracking up, but it was her way of surviving a cruel world. She may have been there in body, but her spirit was elsewhere.

  Almost three years on and yet another inspection day at the Female Factory, with soldiers and ex-convicts seeking potential wives, and free settlers, maids, or assistants. The women did their best to look presentable, all of them desperate to be rescued from their dismal confinement. Sarah did not know what she wanted anymore. She hated life at the factory but it did afford her a degree of security and she no longer trusted the outside world. She had lost so much that she didn’t expect anything good from life anymore. So at the line-up she kept her head down, trying to look inconspicuous. Watching the legs of the men passing in front of her, she could instantly pick out the ex-convicts, with their ragged trousers and worn down filthy boots.

  Nobody stopped to take a good look at her, but then to her disappointment, in front of her appeared a pair of gentleman’s legs, in fine pressed black trousers and shiny black shoes. His legs were assisted by a finely polished wooden walking stick, which he lifted from the ground and placed under her chin, lifting her head up. Sarah took a quick glance at the stick’s owner, as her head was forced into view, before casting her eyes back to the ground. He was an ageing gentleman of average build, with greying hair tucked under his top hat and very distinguished looking, with long broad side whiskers.

  ‘And what is your name, young lady?’ he asked politely.

  ‘Sarah, sir,’ she replied meekly.

  ‘And your surname?’

  ‘Roche, sir.’

  ‘Really? And where are you from, Sarah Roche?

  ‘Liverpool, sir.’

  He went on to ask her reason for being there and Sarah found herself telling him about her husband and how she had ended up following him over. The gentleman listened with great interest and apparent sympathy to her story.

  ‘Can you cook, Sarah?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she replied, still declining to make eye contact.

  ‘Sarah, you can look at me, you know. I don’t bite, I can assure you.’

  Sarah blushed, turning her cheeks a fine rose colour and she smiled a little as she gave him another quick glance.

  ‘That’s more like it, I would like to think that I am a t more interesting than the floor.’

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ she said, smiling shyly.

  ‘Now, Sarah, I am looking for someone to come and stay with me and basically cook, clean, wash up and make a good cup of tea. Would you be interested in that position?’

  Sarah could not help but feel drawn to this man’s gentle mature charm and found she was the envy of all the other girls, who had fought so hard to gain his attention. She would be a fool to turn him down. He waited patiently for her reply as she battled with herself to put her trust in his apparently sweet nature.

  ‘Yes, sir. I would, sir … very much,’ she replied, throwing away her doubt and taking a leap of faith that he would not do her any harm.

  The old gentleman seemed delighted, and the matron told him that Sarah was a very worthy candidate and he had chosen well. So she packed what few belongings she had and was soon on her way to her new home, not knowing what to expect from it, but feeling that it had to be better than the prison. She climbed into the carriage with her new master and as it rattled out of the main gates, she felt that a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. For almost three long years she had been stuck within the confines of that wretched place and she took in long deep breaths, as though the air itself was different outside its walls.

  Having been shown around the house and her own quarters, Sarah could not believe her sudden change of fortune. She had her very own room with a chest of drawers, dressing table and mirror, as well as a jug and basin in which to wash herself. She felt like a queen. Never in all her born days had she had such luxury. Her stomach fluttered with excitement, though a niggling part of her warned that it may not last; the old gentleman may not like her, or the way she worked. Worse still, he may try to interfere with her, but she quickly rejected that thought, he seemed far too nice for that and she would work as hard as she could in order to please and impress him, determined not to suffer the fate of returning to that dismal place, which had imprisoned her for far too long.

  Sarah put herself at her master’s beck and call, continuously scrubbing floors in between cooking, washing and supplying him with endless cups of tea. Night after night she retired to her room exhausted, waking up early the next morning to do it all again without complaint. Her hard work did not go unnoticed by her master, who was very impressed by her eagerness to please. He also seemed intrigued by her and was anxious to know more about her, but he thought it best for her to settle into her duties and new surroundings before questioning her about herself. He did not want to appear intrusive and have her shy away; he was too considerate and well mannered for that.

  Then one afternoon, when the sun gleamed down, offering its warmth to all who would take it, the gentleman requested tea outside on the terrace. Sarah prepared the table for him and he hobbled out with his stick to take up a seat in the cool shade of the veranda. Looking out over the enclosure he surveyed the beautiful scenery. It was one of those blessed days when all seemed right with the world. He was also excited about his new venture, which would see his name printed on the labels of his own wine, to be sold and enjoyed by the people of the colony. The process had been painfully slow, but it had begun at last and he was bursting with enthusiasm. To the right of the house stood the stone outbuilding which was being set up as the wine distillery. At present it was little more than a hobby, but he had great plans for it. He had bought a large plot of land, but had only used a quarter of it so far for the vineyard, just to see if he could make it work, with only three employees coming in a few days a week to maintain the vines and prepare the barrels for the season. He planned to employ more people when the grapes were ripe enough for picking and maybe get Sarah to help out if need be.

  ‘Summerfield’s,’ he announced proudly. ‘It’s a good name for a first rate wine, don’t you think, Sarah?’

  Sarah poured his tea and nodded in agreement, then went back into the house to set about another needless chore, while the old man sat in pleasant contemplation. Some minutes later he called her back out to join him; he wanted to speak with her. This request made her feel quite nervous. Was he going to send her back to the factory? Was he not satisfied with the work she had done? Maybe he just didn’t like her. She braced herself for the worst as she took up her seat.

  ‘Now, young lady, I wanted to speak with …’

  ‘You’re not going to send me back there are you sir? Interrupted Sarah, she couldn’t hold it in.

  He looked at her, quite shocked by her sudden interruption.

  ‘No, no, don’t be silly, I’m very pleased with you, Sarah, which is more than I can say for some of the last girls I had. No, it’s quite the opposite, in fact. I want you to stay … I’ve enjoyed having you around. There are just a few things I need to discuss with you, my dear.’

  He took his cup of tea in his hand and took a few sips before replacing it in the saucer. His long pause only added to Sarah’s disquiet. It had still not sunk in that she was staying; she had been fully expecting something else.

  ‘Now firstly, you are working far too hard, Sarah. There is only me in the house and you scrub it like you were still in the factory. This environment is completely different, so you need to settle down a little and relax, my dear. I assure you that I am a considerate man and I will not send you back to that deplorable place, so long as you are respectful.’ He then insisted that she pour herself some tea.

  She ran to fetch another cup and then went back out on to the terrace, her tension pouring out of her like the tea from the pot. She sat back down again, feeling a little
happier. It had finally sunk in. She was staying and she was safe.

  ‘Secondly, Sarah, I am going to give you a clothing allowance.’ Sarah sat up at this, her curiosity aroused, much to her master’s pleasure. It was the first time he had seen her looking so agreeable. ‘I really cannot bear to see you in those rags a moment longer, Sarah.’

  This last comment left her feeling deflated, and she surveyed her ragged clothes in shame. The dress she had on was the convict issue that she had been given at the Female Factory. She had another two that had also been issued to her at the factory, but they too were well worn from repeated use by other women, all of whom had scrubbed floors, done endless washing and even dug gardens in them.

  ‘So, young lady,’ he continued, glancing at her out of the corner his eye. ‘I have decided that we will take a trip into Hobart town tomorrow and buy you some new attire.’ This got the reaction he was looking for and Sarah beamed from ear to ear – new clothes for the first time in years! Then a little cloud of doubt passed over her face. What was behind his generosity? The fact was, he had money to spend and his daughter was not around to spend it for him. He also knew that his daughter would not appreciate his generosity in the way that Sarah did, and it pleased him to see it. He had always liked to express his gratitude towards those whom he thought deserving.

  He went on to tell Sarah about how he had emigrated to Van Dieman’s Land with his daughter, his only child, after his wife had died. There was nothing left to stay in England for, as his daughter was engaged to an officer who was stationed in the new colony. So he accompanied her, but shortly after her marriage, her husband was transferred to Botany Bay. Unable to face another upheaval, he decided to stay where he was. He had since made a few journeys over to see her and she had made one visit to see him, but there was something about her new husband that he did not like. It was a matter of great regret that he no longer saw her as often as he would have liked.