Forgotten Places

by Johanna Craven

  Harris stared, his eyes on her like she was a stranger. Outside the window, Violet made the doll dance on her knees. Grace looked away hurriedly. Perhaps New Norfolk was where she belonged, washing away this ghost girl in a flood of icy water.

  Harris turned to Alexander. “Get out. You may have fooled my wife into thinking you’re a decent man but I have no such illusions.”

  “She’s not your wife.”

  Harris raised the gun.

  Alexander smiled crookedly. “I’m just a wild animal you got to shoot, aren’t I?”

  “You expect anything less than to be shot like an animal after the things you’ve done? You don’t deserve to be treated like a human.”

  “Grace treats me like a human.”

  “Grace is delusional. But she’ll soon see you for the beast you are.”

  Alexander’s eyes shifted. “Tell him he’s wrong. Tell him, Grace.”

  “Don’t shoot him, James,” she said huskily. “He’s leaving. He’s going to get on that ship and leave before it’s too late. Ain’t that right, Alexander?”

  Harris stood with the gun poised. “Against her better judgement, Grace seems to care for you greatly. Out of respect for her, I’m not going to shoot you like I ought to. But you leave my house this instant. Get on that ship and leave our lives.”

  “Grace?” said Alexander. “Is this what you want?”

  “Give me the knife,” she said. Alexander hesitated, then pressed it into her palm. She turned to Harris. “And the gun.”

  He didn’t move.

  “Please James. You told me you weren’t going to shoot him.” She held out her hand. Harris clenched his jaw, then passed her the pistol. “Thank you.” She placed the weapons on the table. Nudged the pile of clothes towards Alexander. “Tidy yourself.”

  Alexander opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. He slid off his coat and eased himself into the clean shirt, stifling a grunt of pain. He looped the neck cloth awkwardly with one hand. Grace stepped forward and tied it carefully at his throat. She took Harris’s gold threaded waistcoat from the table and slid it over Alexander’s shoulders. Buttoned it down his chest. She smelled brandy on his breath. The bush on his skin. She could feel Harris’s eyes burning into the back of her. She picked up the scissors and trimmed Alexander’s beard until it lay close against his chin. The scissors squeaked and clicked noisily in the silence. Black hair fluttered to the floor. Grace slid the gloves into the pocket of the clean greatcoat, along with a flask of brandy from the side table. She handed the coat to Alexander.

  “You got to leave us now,” she said. “Please.” She stepped back, feeling Harris’s hand circle her upper arm. Alexander hesitated. Then slowly, without a word, he turned and began to walk towards the door. Grace stared at him until he disappeared.

  Harris stood silent for a moment. He began to pace, his boots clicking across the floorboards.

  Grace leant her hot forehead against the window. She felt a deep ache for the loss of Alexander, for the loss of Harris that would surely come. She closed and opened her eyes, willing Violet to disappear. There she stayed on the grass beside the chopping block, blanketing the doll in leaves. Grace looked away.

  Silence hung between them.

  “I always considered my girls very lucky to have you as a mother,” Harris said finally. “I always believed they could do no better than to be raised by you. This defiance you have, this determination, I always thought it a positive trait. But I suppose we can see now where your loyalties lie.” His voice began to rise. “For you to harbour that monster while my daughter slept upstairs!” He swung a wild arm across the table and sent a vase crashing to the floor.

  Grace said nothing. How could she find any miserable justification?

  Harris rubbed his eyes and looked back out the window. “Where’s Nora?”

  “Nora?”

  He opened the window and shouted into the garden. That look on his face, Grace had seen it before. Seen that panic, that desperation, the day she’d come back from the sideshow. With the police and without Violet.

  Rosie lay abandoned beside the chopping block, the leaves scattered by the swirling wind.

  “She was right there,” he said. “Playing with Violet’s doll.”

  XXXI

  “Where is it?” the girl demanded.

  “What?”

  “The wooden doll of Violet. You said I could have it if I came with you and didn’t make noise.”

  Dalton hesitated. He looked up as Grace approached, her yellow dress bright against the shadowy forest. She shoved aside the hungry undergrowth.

  “Nora!” she cried. “Get here now!” She snatched the girl’s wrist and glared at Dalton. “Stay away from her!”

  “She came to me.”

  “Like hell she did.”

  “I had to see you.”

  “Christ, Alexander, the police are on their way here. Don’t you understand that?”

  “I can’t go without you.”

  “Well you’d best find a way. You ain’t a dead man no more. I’ve caused you nothing but trouble. You’re far better off without me.”

  “No.” He clutched at her collar. “You brought me back to life. I’m so grateful you found me. I thought I’d survived, but all I was doing was waiting to die.” She was laced into an embroidered gown, her hair swept back neatly. Where was his Grace with muddy toes and smoked meat in her fist?

  He yanked out the comb holding up her hair, trying to bring her back to him. Hair fluttered around her cheeks. He could see the faint scar on her chin, could feel her heart thudding beneath his fingers.

  Her, with her messy curls and tartan cloak, she’d reminded him there was a scrap of humanity left inside him. Reminded him that even though he’d done things no one dared speak of, there was a part of him that was still a man. How could he give her up?

  “You woke me,” he said. “Without you, I’d still be lying in that hut grunting at the shadows.”

  “I tied the noose for you, Alexander! How do you think the marines found those bodies? Because I told them where to dig! I may have brought you back to life, but I did it in the worst possible way!”

  “So you’ll stay in this Godforsaken prison and let him lock you up? Never see London again?” He shook the money pouch in front of her face. “A way home, Grace. Today.” She closed her eyes.

  Yes, my Grace. A way home.

  Distant voices. Movement in the bush. She turned suddenly.

  “Christ,” she hissed. “Harris will find us here. He has the gun. You got to leave, Alexander. This second. Get on that ship before it’s too late.”

  She began to march through the bush, clutching Nora’s hand. Dalton lurched after her and pulled her back to him. “Did you ever ask yourself why Violet left when she did?”

  Grace let out her breath. Squeezed her eyes closed. “She left because I was ready.” Her voice caught in her throat.

  “She left because you were free of him!” Dalton hissed. “Because it was just you and I out there and the rest of the world fell away. You know I’ll never judge you for what you did. But he’ll wake every morning and look at your face and remember how you let his daughter drown.”

  Grace’s eyes flashed. “Damn you to hell.” Her glance fell suddenly to the clearing. A glassy, vacant expression passed across her face. Dalton felt a smile in the corner of his lips.

  Well now…

  “You still see her.”

  “No.” A tremble in her voice. “No. She’s dead.”

  He followed Grace’s line of sight. “Where is she? What is she doing?”

  “Nothing. She ain’t doing anything.” She blinked back tears. He stood close to her.

  “I see them too. The dead. In my hut. In the forest. I see Bodenham, who I used for my own survival. And I see Greenhill, the one who made us do it. They’re a reminder of what we’ve done. I tried to take it away for you, but I know now that was foolish. It will always be inside you. Harris will never understa
nd. But I do. We need each other, my Grace.”

  She glanced over her shoulder as the voices grew louder.

  “Nora!” Harris was calling. “Nora, where are you my love?” And: “Show yourself Dalton, you dog.”

  He grabbed Grace’s chin and turned her to face him. “You want to spend your life rotting amongst the lunatics? Have your senses washed away under those water pipes?”

  A warning shot exploded into the sky. Grace clamped a hand over Nora’s mouth. She glanced at Dalton. “Harris has the carriage ready. If we take it, we can get to the docks in time. But we got to go now.”

  *

  Sullivan’s Cove was bustling. Coaches crowded Davey Street and streams of passengers hauled trunks and duffel bags towards the docks. The sky had darkened. Black clouds drooped over the harbour.

  “Leave the carriage here,” said Grace. “We’ve got to hurry.”

  She slid from the coach and lifted Nora out after her. Alexander climbed down from the box seat. In Harris’s clothing, he could almost pass for a gentleman. Grace felt underdressed beside him in her dirt-streaked dress; her hair unpinned, no bonnet or cloak. She touched his elbow. “How do you feel?”

  His cheeks were pale beneath his beard. “Tomorrow I’ll wake and see something other than this cursed outpost of the world.” He smiled faintly. “I’ve never felt better.”

  “There’s a flask of brandy in your pocket,” said Grace. “It’ll ease the pain. But you got to wait til we’re on the ship. You got to have your wits about you til then. You can’t hold the stuff no more. Do you have the money?”

  Alexander nodded.

  “Go. Three tickets. I’ll get the luggage.” She hauled the trunk Jessie had packed out of the carriage. It thumped noisily against the cobbles. She gripped its handle with one hand and Nora with the other. Began to walk toward the checkpoint. The wind swirled and whipped her hair against her cheeks.

  “Nanny Grace? What are we doing?”

  She forced a smile. “We’re having a great adventure, mopsy.” She glanced edgily over her shoulder. No sign of Harris. How long until he found the carriage gone? Enough time for the ship to cast off her moorings and slide through the heads?

  Alexander handed their tickets to the guard. Out before them stretched the rocky outcrop of Hunter Island where the ships lay at anchor. On the right of the island sat a dark wooded whaling vessel with try pots lined up across the deck. On the left, the bustling migrant ship Enchantress. And behind, fifteen thousand miles of ocean that would sweep them back to England.

  Grace stepped onto the stone causeway that wove through the shallows towards the island. Water licked at the edge of the walkway, washing over her boots with each swell. She’d walked this narrow path, hemmed by sea, almost a year ago. Traipsing into Hobart Town with Harris and Nora. She’d been disoriented and scared. Now she saw things with clarity. Her fear replaced by determination.

  They reached the tiny island and walked up the gangway of the migrant ship. The sailor at the gunwale heaved Grace’s trunk onto the deck. People swarmed; sailors in white slops, passengers with bags slung across their shoulders. Laughter and nervous chatter. Shouted instructions to the crew.

  Grace glanced sideways at Alexander. When had he last been among so many people? His shoulders were hunched, eyes at his feet. She touched his arm in a gesture of solidarity.

  They were herded down a narrow staircase into the steerage passage. Men to the left. Women and children to the right.

  “Go,” Grace told Alexander. “Before Harris comes looking.” Passengers pushed past them, chatting, laughing. “We’ll find each other once we’re at sea.”

  Alexander nodded. He turned and walked slowly down the passage.

  “Nanny Grace?” Nora tugged her hand. “Are we going back to England?”

  Grace’s throat tightened. “No, mopsy. But Alexander is.” She ushered Nora towards the staircase. “Quick now. We got to get off the ship.” A woman with two children in her arms shoved past her. All these people would soon see London. They’d go to church at Saint Mary’s. Buy fruit from Leadenhall. Walk down Maiden Lane and see the blue house filled with a new family. Grace felt an ache of longing. She pushed it away. She needed to look forward. Escape the past.

  “Grace?”

  She turned in dread at the sound of Alexander’s voice.

  “What are you doing?”

  She stepped off the staircase. “I’m sorry,” she coughed. “It was the only way.”

  Alexander’s eyes darkened. “He’s going to send you back to the asylum. He’s going to put you under those water pipes until you scream.”

  “Perhaps. But perhaps that’s what I need. I don’t want to spend my life seeing the dead.” She touched Alexander’s cheek. “I’m sorry I lied to you. But you got the chance to start again. You got to take it.”

  He gave a faint nod. His fingers found hers and she squeezed gently. His hand moved up to her wrist. And then he was pushing her backwards, backwards until her spine was hard against the bulkhead. He forced an arm across her chest.

  She tried to pull away. “Alexander, let go of me.”

  His grip tightened. Grace glanced over his shoulder. The passage was bustling. Cry out and men would come running. But so would the marines.

  “Harris will have found the carriage gone,” she hissed. “He knows about this voyage. He’s going to come for Nora. And he’s going to bring the police. You’ve got to let us go.”

  “I can’t.” His fingers clenched her wrist and she swallowed a cry of pain. “Without you there’s just emptiness and death. But you keep those dead men away.”

  The ship groaned loudly. Shouted instructions to the crew filtered below deck.

  “You were willing to take the blame for Violet. You were willing to make such a great sacrifice for me. Why are you doing this now? After so much selflessness?”

  His lips were close to her ear. “Because selflessness brought me nothing but a bullet in the shoulder. It’s not human nature to be selfless. You know that. We can try, but deep down, there’s that animal need for self-preservation. That need to put ourselves first.”

  “Then put yourself first!” cried Grace. “Let me go and save your own bloody life!” The anchor groaned beneath her feet. A flurry of children raced back to the deck, trailed by their mothers.

  Grace’s breathing quickened. “Nora,” she said. “You got to get off the ship. Run. Tell them you got to get off.”

  Nora began to cry.

  “Go, Nora. Now.”

  She pulled Grace’s skirt. “I want you to come too.”

  Grace met Alexander’s eyes. She sucked in her breath and shoved against his injured shoulder. Alexander cried out, his arm falling from across her chest.

  “Run, Nora. I’m right behind you.” Grace looked back at Alexander. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She backed away from him and ran up the staircase. Heard footsteps behind her. She kept running. Alexander chased her up the stairs. Across the deck. Back onto the island. Grace stopped at the bottom of the gangway and collided with the whalers who were loading supplies onto their ship. She fell to her knees, gasping for breath.

  “I’m sorry,” said Alexander. “I can’t do this without you.” Sweat glistened on his forehead. The shoulder of his coat was black with blood.

  Grace climbed to her feet. “Hell,” she said. “You bloody fool.” She reached into his pocket and pulled out the flask of brandy. “Drink this. It will help the pain.” She held it to his lips, a hand behind his head stopping him from pulling away. A long drink. A big dose. She kept pouring it down his throat until he began to cough. She tossed aside the flask and gripped his arms. Began to walk, forcing him backwards. He stumbled dizzily.

  “Do you really want to look at me every day and know I was wishing I were somewhere else?” She stepped onto the gangway, guiding him carefully. “Wishing I were with another man?” One step. Two steps. She looked into his eyes. “Let me go. Be the good man I know you can be.” An
other step and his boots thudded onto the deck. He stumbled to his knees and gripped the gunwale. Grace knelt on the gangway and clutched his head in her hands. Tears slid down her face. “There’ll not a be a day I don’t think of you.” She held her lips against his bristly cheek. “Goodbye Alexander.”

  He looked up at her with cloudy eyes. Nodded slowly, defeatedly. “Goodbye, my Grace.”

  She turned and walked down the gangway, unable to look back. She grabbed Nora’s hand and hurried towards the wharf.

  And then the clattering of footsteps. Shouting voices. Marines poured onto the island and shoved Grace aside. Guns out, they charged up the gangway and onto the Enchantress.

  Grace’s legs gave way and she sunk to the ground, her dusty skirts pooling around her. Nora scrambled onto the wharf. Harris snatched her into his arms; clung to her in a desperate embrace. His face was lined and shadowed with weariness. He ran a hand through Nora’s tangled blonde hair. Kissed the side of her head once, twice, three times. He looked over his daughter’s shoulder at Grace.

  I’m sorry, said his eyes. And: what choice did I have?

  XXXII

  Grace packed her things. Took her earnings from Harris and hauled her rose-scented dresses to the Female Factory.

  “You got experience with children, then?” the overseer asked, leaning back in her chair and wiping beads of sweat from her forehead.

  Grace nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

  The overseer sniffed loudly. “You want to work in this hell hole, the job’s yours.” And like that, she became an attendant in the factory’s overflowing nursery.

  The building was hidden in a valley at the southern end of town. The women woke, worked and slept in the constant shadow of the mountain. The place was damp and grey. Immune to the approaching summer.

  Here, there was no Violet. She wouldn’t come to a place like this. Here, reality was clear and cold.

  Separated too early from their convict mothers, the babies were sickly, weak and needy. The hours were endless and exhausting, but kept Grace’s mind from dwelling on all it had lost. She felt needed, worthwhile, like she might do these wretched children some good and begin to atone for her mistakes.