Romantic Association - Truly, Madly, Deeply

‘A ship going to the Swan River Colony will be leaving in two weeks. How long will it take you to decide whether to go?’

She looked round and laughed, though it came out more like a croak. ‘I don’t need any time at all, sir. If there’s work there, I’ll be happy to go because there’s nothing for me here, not now.’ Only Daniel’s grave, and beside him in the coffin a tiny baby who had not lived even one day.

‘How long will you need to get ready, pack your things?’

She looked down at herself and grimaced. ‘I have very little beyond the clothes on my back. I regret that. I’d keep myself cleaner if I could.’

‘A complete set of clothes can be supplied.’

‘I’d be very grateful.’

He hesitated and asked again, ‘Are you quite sure?’

She wasn’t sure of anything but to do something was surely better than doing nothing. ‘I shan’t change my mind, sir.’

‘Then you may as well travel south with me when I return. I’m sure Mrs Foster will provide you with clothes for the journey and we have other clothes in my church.’

‘Thank you.’ Poor box clothes. She knew what those were like but beggars couldn’t afford vanity.

‘Do you have any family here, anyone you should consult?’

‘No, sir. I’m an orphan.’ She’d only had Daniel. At the moment she was sharing a room with five other young women to save money. The others would be jealous of this chance she’d been given, so the sooner she could leave the better.

When Mr Marville had gone, she took her platter to the clearing up table and went to thank Mrs Foster for recommending her.

The other woman nodded then reached for a small, cloth-wrapped bundle. ‘You’ll need better food to face such a long journey. There’s more bread here and a boiled egg. Eat it all yourself.’ She held on to the cloth. ‘Promise you’ll not give this to anyone else like that bread in your pocket.’

She blushed in embarrassment. ‘I promise. Um, could I ask why you recommended me?’

‘Because you’re still trying to help others, sharing what little food you have. You deserve this chance.’

‘Thank you.’ Tears welled in Sarah’s eyes at these unexpected words of kindness.

‘Come back at four o’clock and we’ll go through the clothing in the church poor box to see what else we can find for you.’

She’d look a mess, Sarah thought, but at least she’d be decently clad. And warm. She’d been so cold during the winter.

Ellis Doyle stood by the rails, his back to Ireland, staring out across the water towards England. He and his wife had planned to go to Australia, and now it seemed the only place far enough away to escape the anger of his employer, an arrogant, spiteful man.

After the funeral he’d overheard Mr Colereigh gloating to his wife that Doyle would make a fine new husband for Mary Riley and get the expense of her and her children off the parish –well, he’d better marry her if he wanted to keep his job.

Mary was a slovenly woman with a nasty temper and three whining children of her own. Ellis wasn’t having his sons raised by such as her, nor did he want her in his bed.

He and Shona had made such plans for their boys and saved their money so carefully. As he saw her splintered wooden coffin lowered into the ground, he’d sworn that somehow he’d still make her dreams come true.

Ellis had heard good things about Australia. A man had come back to the next village to take his family out there to live. Ellis had spent hours talking to him.

He watched the massive buildings of Liverpool show on the horizon in the chill grey light of dawn, then went to wake Kevin and Rory, who were huddled together on a hard wooden bench below decks. ‘We’re nearly there and it’s light already. Come and look at Liverpool, boys.’

He helped seven-year-old Rory straighten his clothes, and checked nine-year-old Kevin, annoyed that however hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the lads looking as neat as his wife had.

He wondered what Mr Colereigh would say when he found that Ellis had run away while the master was visiting friends. Would he come after them? Surely even he wouldn’t go so far to get his own back?

By the time they arrived in Southampton, after a long rail journey from Liverpool, the boys were bickering and complaining. Ellis was exhausted but didn’t dare take his eyes off his sons.

The emigrant hostel consisted of large rooms full of bunk beds: families and single women were housed in one, single men in another. After they’d eaten, he put the boys to bed, warning them sternly that if they moved away from their bunks without his permission, they’d be in big trouble.

In the middle of the night he woke with a start to find Kevin standing beside him, tugging his sleeve.

‘I need to go, Da. You said not to go on our own.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

They used the necessary, then Rory said, ‘I don’t like it here, Da.’

‘It’s just a place to stay till we go on the ship.’

‘There’s nowhere to play.’

‘There’s a yard outside. They’ll let you out tomorrow after we’ve seen the doctor.’ He knew they were all three healthy, so didn’t fear failing the medical –well, not much. But they couldn’t leave the hostel now until they went on the ship. The supervisor had been very clear about that.

Ellis didn’t care. He didn’t want to go anywhere in England. All he wanted was to make a new start in Australia.

Passage was booked for the group of sixty female paupers from Lancashire on a ship called the Tartar . Sarah hated being called a pauper but it was just one indignity among many. They were sent to the emigrants’ hostel, which was crowded with people waiting to board the ship.

She was dreading the medical examination. Her new underwear wasn’t ragged or dirty but it was an older woman’s sensible flannel clothing, washed until it was grey and matted. She should be glad of it but with better food, vanity had returned. She hated to see her gaunt face and dull hair in the mirror. She looked years older than her age.

Most of the other women were haggard and some didn’t look respectable. A few even had the cropped hair of women coming out of prison.

Sarah saw a young woman from their group beckoning to her from the corner where there were four bunks. She hesitated but soon went across to join the woman and her two companions. They looked better fed than most and proved to be sisters.

‘I’m Sarah,’ she said to the one nearest.

‘I’m Pandora Blake. These are my sisters: Maia and Xanthe.’

Maia was weeping, mopping up the tears with a handkerchief, then having to use it again.

From what she overheard during the next few hours, Sarah realised the sisters had been forced to go to Australia by an aunt and were leaving behind a much loved older sister, for whose life they feared.

‘I have no one,’ she said when they asked about her family.

But she had hope now, shining brightly in her heart.

The medical examination took place the next morning: quick but still embarrassing. Then Sarah was sent to wait in the yard.

Some lads were there waiting for their father, and when two of them got into a fight, she took it upon herself to separate them.

‘What will your mother say if you tear your clothes?’ she scolded. ‘You want to look your best when you board the ship.’

‘The Mammy died,’ the older boy muttered. ‘And Da’s taking us to Australia. I don’t want to go.’

‘I do,’ the younger boy said

‘Well, I don’t! I won’t have any friends in Australia.’

A man came across to join them. ‘I hope my boys weren’t giving you any trouble?’