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- Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
This collection of stand-alone short stories is a treat for new readers and dedicated fans alike. In each of these 17 stories, an ordinary person takes on an extraordinary journey to a new life, discovering facets and strengths they never knew they possessed. Across a variety of time periods and settings, these stories capture Anna Jacobs' unique style and showcase her mastery of emotional tales. The collection includes: The Cotton Lass: Widow Sarah is struggling to make ends meet as England suffers from the cotton famine brought on by war in the United States. Will the opportunity to move to Australia provide a new life for her? Sunshine and Parrots: Penny has moved to Perth, Australia to be closer to her brother. She finds herself attracted to her handsome new neighbour, Matt, but will a series of misunderstandings keep them apart? Going Out in Style: Mrs Kelly is widely acknowledged as uncooperative and a trouble maker in her nursing home, but forms a bond with Raelene, a young woman doing community service at the home. Their friendship will transform them both.
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The Cotton Lass and Other Stories
ANNA JACOBS
Contents
About These Stories
I wrote these stories over about twenty-five years and many of them have been published in women’s magazines or in anthologies, sometimes in Australia, sometimes in the UK. Some have been read on Australian radio. A few of them haven’t been published before.
However, these are all, without exception, new and longer versions of the original tales, because with all publishers of short stories, you have to comply with their word count, which is usually around 1,500–2,000. I like to include more colour and details.
A few years ago I used some of my other short stories in a collection called Short and Sweet. Before I turned them loose on the world, I did the same thing, put a lot more work into them, making all of them longer – some of them much longer.
I also wrote a preamble to each story in which I shared with readers how I’d come to write them, what had inspired me in the first place. Readers emailed me to say they’d enjoyed that insight, so I’ve done it again.
I’ve been thinking about putting together a second collection of my shorts for a while, which just about uses up my supply. I’ve written far more novels than I have short stories.
Once again, I’ve given myself the pleasure of rewriting them and adding the details I had to cut out the first time to meet the publishers’ requirements. These form a more varied selection because they contain a couple of stories originally written under my Shannah Jay name. There are romances, modern tales, historical stories, suspense, fantasy and even a mock (and I hope humorous) fairy tale for adults.
I’d forgotten the exact details of the tales until I searched through my files and it was very interesting to revisit them. And polishing my work is my favourite job of all connected with writing, so I worked on this as my Christmas treat in 2017. Talk about a busman’s holiday!
Therefore these stories are new in the sense that they’ve all been polished until they’re as bright and shiny as I can make them, and some have more than doubled in size.
I do hope you enjoy them.
Anna
The Cotton Lass
Introduction
Starting in 2009, I wrote a series of novels set against the Lancashire Cotton Famine, when the civil war in America cut off the supply of cotton and the people of Lancashire starved for lack of work. No welfare state in those days, just charity. The novels were:
Freedom’s Land
Beyond the Sunset
Destiny’s Path
Because I’m from Lancashire myself, the history of that period, which was never so much as mentioned when we studied history at school, stayed with me. I’d read memoirs of people who’d gone through those terrible times, and of those who’d helped them. History is always more vivid to me if I can ‘hear the voice’ of someone who was there.
When a women’s magazine asked me to do a serial I suggested the same background and they were happy about that, because they too hadn’t heard of the Cotton Famine and they thought their readers would enjoy something different. They knew they could rely on me to provide a happy ending to my tale, because I always do. I have the choice and I can’t bear to leave my characters unhappy; they’re so real to me.
But as usual I had to be very careful to stick to the magazine’s required word count for each episode because it had to fit in with their page extent. And of course there was so much more I could show, both about the characters’ feelings and the details of their lives, not to mention the historical background.
So here you have the expanded story, offering you all that I’d have liked to include the first time round. I loved going through the tale and meeting Sarah and Ellis again.
The Cotton Lass
1 1863, Lancashire
Sarah Boswick had been hungry for so long she couldn’t remember her last full meal. She stood quietly in the queue, not feeling lively enough to chat, not expecting more from the soup kitchen at the church than a bowl of thin soup and a chunk of stale bread. It would be her only food that day.
None of the mill workers had realised that the war between the states in America would affect Lancashire so badly, cutting off supplies of cotton and therefore putting people out of work. Sarah’s husband had been delighted to think of all the slaves being freed. He’d been such an idealist, poor Daniel. He’d died a year ago, weakened by lack of food, and she still missed him.
The line of women shuffled forward and someone poked Sarah to make her move with them.
When a gentleman with silver hair stopped nearby, Sarah didn’t at first realise he was speaking to her.
Mrs Foster, one of the lady supervisors, said sharply, ‘You, Boswick! Step out of the line and answer the gentleman. He’s spoken to you twice already. Where are your manners?’
Sarah moved quickly, not allowing herself the luxury of resenting the scolding, because it didn’t pay to cross the supervisors – not if you wanted to eat here regularly. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid my thoughts were miles away.’
‘It’s partly my fault. I should have waited to be introduced to you before I spoke. I’m Simon Marville, from the town of Swindon in the south, and I’m here because my church has raised some money for the relief fund here.’
She tried to pay attention, in spite of the smell of food nearby. Sometimes gentlemen or ladies came to the north to stare at the poor starving cotton operatives. It was annoying to be treated like a wild animal on display, and it did little good that she could see. There would still be no work for those in Lancashire after the visitors had gone back to their comfortable lives.
‘Could we talk for a few minutes, Miss Boswick?’
‘Mrs. I’m a widow.’ Sarah couldn’t help looking towards the food and as she did, her stomach growled.
‘Have you eaten today?’ he asked, still in that same gentle tone.
‘No, sir. The only food I’ll eat today is what’s offered here at the soup kitchen.’ She saw Mrs Foster looking at her and added quickly, ‘For which I’m very grateful to these kind ladies.’
He turned to the supervisor. ‘Do you think we could have some food brought for this poor woman, ma’am? It’ll be hard for her to concentrate on what I’m saying if she hasn’t eaten anything yet.’
‘Of course. If you sit down over there, I’ll bring some across for you both.’
‘None for me, thank you. Save it for those who need it so desperately.’ He led the way to the table indicated and pulled out a chair for Sarah.
At least this visitor was treating her courteously, she thought as she sat down.
He took his own seat and was about to speak again, when Mrs Foster came across with a big bowl of soup and two pieces of bread.
Sarah’s mouth watered at the sight of the larger bowl and extra bread. Clearly the lady patronesses were out to impress. She waited till Mrs Foster had gone away and looked at him, wondering whether to start eating.
He waved one hand as if giving her permission and she could hold back no longer. She didn’t gobble down the food, because that would make her ill, but chewed slowly, spooning up soup in between each dry mouthful of bread. As she finished the first slice, she looked round and whispered, ‘Would you mind if I put this other piece of bread in my pocket, sir? I have a neighbour whose child isn’t thriving.’
‘No, of course not. Though you look as if you need it yourself. You’re very thin.’
‘I’m managing but it’s harder on the little ones.’
When she’d finished eating, he asked, ‘How long have you been short of food?’
‘Since my husband died last year – well, before that even.’
‘May I ask what happened to him?’
‘Daniel came down with a fever and hadn’t the strength to resist it. He was very low in spirits, which didn’t help, because he took it badly not to be able to earn a living.’
‘That must have been hard for you.’
Mr Marville’s expression was so genuinely sympathetic, Sarah felt tears rise in her eyes. She could cope with anything except genuine sympathy about her loss, so stuffed the bread quickly into her pocket and tried to change the subject. ‘What do you wish to talk about, sir?’
‘You, my dear. I’d like to find out more about your life.’
That puzzled her. What had the ladies been telling him?
‘I’ve been charged with helping select a group of cotton lasses to go to Australia, where there is plenty of work for those willing to become maidservants. The supervisor has suggested you. What do you think of the idea?’
She gaped at him. ‘Go to Australia? Me?’
‘Yes. Do you know where Australia is?’
‘On the other side of the world, sir. I saw it on the globe at school. But I don’t know much else about it. I’ll have to see if there’s a book about it in the library.’ It had saved her sanity, the new free library had. If you could lose yourself in a book, you could forget the gnawing hunger for a while.
‘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 come because there’s nothing for me here now.’ Only Daniel’s grave, and beside him in the coffin a tiny baby who had only lived for one day. At least he had known his mother’s kiss.
‘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 for that and I’ll look after them carefully, I promise.’
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 the poor box at 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?’
‘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. They 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 more than some.’
‘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. No one gave away pretty clothing. But she couldn’t afford to care and at least she’d be warmly clad. She’d been so cold during the winter.
For the first time in months, she slipped into the church on the way home and gave genuine thanks to her Maker for reaching out to help her.
2
Ellis Doyle stood by the rails, his back to Ireland, staring out across the water towards England. He didn’t really want to go to Australia, but after his wife died, it seemed the only place far enough away to escape the anger of his employer, who was a mean, 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 that would get the expense of her and her children off the parish.
Colereigh’s wife had been kinder than him and had protested that Doyle might not want to marry her, but her husband had just laughed and said the fellow would 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 two sons raised by such as her. He and Shona had made such plans for their boys, saved their money so carefully. As he saw the wooden coffin he’d made himself lowered into the ground, he’d sworn to see that he’d somehow make his poor wife’s dreams come true.
He watched the 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 to 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?
Ellis had heard good things about Australia. A man had come all the way back from there to the next village to take his family out there to live. Ellis had spent hours talking to him.
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 emigrants’ hostel consisted of large rooms full of bunk beds, with whole families housed in one. After they’d eaten, he put the boys to bed, warning them sternly that if they moved away from their bunks, he’d tan their hides.
In the middle of the night he woke with a start to find Kevin standing beside him, tugging at 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 ship’s doctor.’ He knew they were all three healthy, so he didn’t fear failing the medical – well, not much. But they couldn’t leave the hostel till they passed their medical on board. 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.
3
Passage was booked for the group of sixty female paupers from Lancashire on a ship called the Tartar. Sarah hated being labelled a pauper, but it was just one more indignity among many. They were sent to the emigrants’ hostel, which was crowded with people waiting to board the ship.
They would have to undergo a medical examination and she hoped that wouldn’t be too thorough. Her underwear wasn’t ragged or dirty, but it was an older woman’s sensible flannel clothing, washed till 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 hesitated when she saw a young woman from their group beckoning to her from the corner where there were four bunks, before crossing to join her and her two companions. They looked better fed than most and all proved to be sisters.
‘I’m Sarah,’ she said to the one nearest.
‘Pandora Blake. These are my sisters Maia and Xanthe.’
Maia was weeping silently and steadily, 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. Sarah was told that she’d passed, then sent to wait in the yard.
Some lads were there, waiting for their parents, and since two of them got into a fight, she took it upon herself to separate them.
‘What will your mothers say if you tear your clothes?’ she scolded. ‘You want to look your best when you go on board ship.’
‘Mammy died,’ the older boy muttered. ‘And Da’s taking us to Australia but I don’t want to go.’
‘I do,’ the younger boy said.
‘Well, I don’t! It ain’t fair. I haven’t got any friends in Australia.’
A man came across to join them. ‘I hope the boys weren’t giving you any trouble?’
‘No, but they were bickering and needed settling down.’
He turned to glare at them. ‘Did I not tell you to behave yourselves?’
They scuffed their feet and stared at the ground.
The man sighed then turned back to Sarah. ‘Thank you for your help, ma’am. I’m Ellis Doyle, and these are my sons, Rory and Kevin.’
‘Sarah Boswick.’
Just then there was a disturbance by the gate. As he turned to see who it was, his face turned pale. ‘Dear God, the master’s sent his bailiff after us.’
Sarah looked at him quickly, unable to believe he’d commit a crime. ‘What did you do?’
‘Left the estate after my wife died instead of marrying a woman the landowner chose.’
Sarah saw the desperation on his face. She knew how arrogant some employers could be and her heart went out to him. ‘You could pretend I’m your wife. He won’t have any use for you then.’
He stared at her, then nodded. ‘Are you sure?’ At her nod, he said, ‘Thank you.’
‘Put your arm round my shoulders and look affectionate. Rory, in this game I’m your new mother. Come and stand next to me.’
‘I want to go back,’ Kevin said.
‘And have Mary Riley for your mother?’
Kevin hesitated then went to his father’s side.
By the time the supervisor got to them, they were standing as a family group.
‘This is Doyle,’ the bailiff said. ‘He’s running away from the woman he promised to marry. Mr Colereigh wants him back.’
Sarah said boldly, ‘Well, he can’t marry anyone else. He’s married to me now.’
‘There hasn’t been time.’
‘We bought a special licence,’ she blurted out hastily.
‘I’d not have come back, even if I hadn’t married Sarah,’ Doyle said. ‘And there’s no law that says I have to.’
The bailiff leant forward. ‘What if the master said you’d stolen some money? You don’t have enough for a special licence.’
‘You never said anything about stolen money,’ the supervisor said, looking suspiciously from the bailiff to Doyle.
‘It was my money that bought the special licence,’ Sarah said. ‘It took every penny I had.’
Doyle put his arm round her and pulled her close. ‘Even if you forced me to go back, I couldn’t marry Mary Riley now, could I?’
Everything hung in the balance for a moment or two, then the bailiff stepped back. ‘I’d not marry her, either. It’d be better if I tell him I couldn’t find you. Don’t ever come back, though.’
They watched him walk away, then Sarah realised Ellis Doyle was still holding her close. She didn’t dare move till both the bailiff and the supervisor were out of sight. And she didn’t want to move, either. Ah, but she’d missed the feel of a man’s strong arm round her shoulders.
Ellis sighed and took his arm away. ‘Your quick thinking saved us. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.’
‘He didn’t ask to see the marriage lines. He could have proved us wrong.’
‘No. He’s not a bad fellow, but he’s caught in a trap, too, if he wants to keep his job and home.’
Rory tugged at her skirt. ‘Are you our new mother? We haven’t got a mother now.’
‘No. We were just pretending. But I can be your friend.’ Her eyes sought Ellis’s for permission and he nodded.
4
As they stood there, Ellis cleared his throat. ‘Um, I probably need to go and see the supervisor and explain to him that we aren’t really married. Will you keep an eye on these two rascals?’
‘I’m happy to do that.’
But the supervisor had come back into the yard. He walked across to them, determination on his face. ‘I want the truth now. Are you two married or not?’
‘No, we’re not married,’ Ellis said in his lilting Irish voice.
‘Well, you’ll need to get married if you want to travel as a family.’ The supervisor studied the children. ‘Looks to me as if these two need a mother.’
Sarah could feel her cheeks burning because she’d had a sudden fervent wish that she was married again. She was so tired of being alone, fending for herself.
The supervisor looked at Sarah with some disapproval. ‘We don’t allow any hanky-panky on board the ship, missus. They’re very strict about that sort of thing.’
‘It’s not hanky-panky to be courting someone,’ Ellis told him. ‘Not that I’ve ever heard, anyway. And that’s what we’re doing, courting.’ He put the arm back round her shoulders.
Sarah didn’t know where to look.
The supervisor’s voice softened. ‘Oh, it’s like that, is it? Well, I’ll have to report this, but no one can stop you talking to one another on deck.’
He walked away and Ellis looked apologetically at Sarah. ‘I’m sorry. I had to say something.’
‘I’m really grateful. But … we’ll have to meet and talk to one another or they’ll be suspicious.’
‘I know. I hope you don’t mind.’
But he didn’t look at her as he said that, not the way a man looks at a woman he desires. That lack of real interest would soon become obvious to everyone, she was sure.
And there would be other women on the ship who were nicely dressed, who would attract and keep the attention of a man like him. Such a nice-looking man he was.
She sighed and told herself not to be stupid. But she wasn’t used to being ignored. She’d been told many times she was a fine-looking woman. Other men had wanted to court her, not just Daniel.
She wasn’t fine-looking now, wouldn’t have been even if she had been dressed nicely and looked better. Haggard was the best way of describing her these days.
Perhaps one day she’d attract a man again, even if not this one. She’d like to marry, have children, get a normal life.
In the meantime, she had an adventure to enjoy, a journey by ship to undertake and new friends to talk to.
The Blake sisters were well read and always had something interesting to say. She envied them their education. They must have read many more books than she had to know so much. She hoped there would be books on the ship.
5
Sarah was glad when it was time to board the ship, but sorry to find herself lodged with another group of single women, widows like herself, instead of the Blake sisters. The big cabin had a long narrow table down the middle and cubicles down the sides, each sleeping four in two pairs of hard, narrow bunks. They were placed in messes of eight people and the leader had to deal with the food for the group.
Why they chose Sarah as leader, she couldn’t work out. She didn’t want to be singled out in any way, just wanted to build up her health.
When they went up on deck, the matron kept a careful eye on the single women. That amused Sarah. Did they think any of the single men would want women who looked like starvelings?
She didn’t see the Doyles the first time, but later the sea was choppy and a lot of people stayed below, so there was more room to walk above decks.
While his father was chatting to another man, little Rory came running towards her, smiling, and she found herself sitting there, talking to him, telling him stories, as her mother used to do with her.
Kevin stood to one side, pretending not to listen.
Ellis came across to join them, speaking politely about the weather, not staying long. She wished he had. Time was going to hang heavy on their hands for the three months or so the voyage would take.
To her delight they organised classes to help pass the time. She joined groups for reading and sewing, went to the regular weekly concert. She’d have joined the choir, but she was a poor singer, and her attempts made people wince.
She noticed that Ellis was in the choir and found the boys coming to sit with her during the concerts. Afterwards Ellis would always hurry them away.
No pretence of courting. Well, he’d never pretended it was real, had he? He probably found her repulsive with her scrawny body and horrible old clothes.
Only once did they have a real conversation.
‘What did you do in Ireland, Mr Doyle?’ she asked.
‘I was a stable hand. I’m good with horses. But I’ll do anything to make a good life for my lads in Australia.’ He hesitated, then added thoughtfully, ‘It must be hard, going there on your own.’
‘Yes, but I have a job waiting, as a maid.’
‘Will you like that?’
‘I’ll like eating regularly and being paid. And whatever it’s like, it’ll give me a start.’
‘I don’t have a job waiting. But I’m hopeful. People always need help with horses, don’t you think?’
‘Oh, yes.’
Sarah did more listening than talking at the classes, because some of the women attending were obviously above her in station. Not that it made them better at sewing or reading aloud. Definitely not.
The Blake sisters were the best readers. She could have sat and listened to them all day.
Ellis was a member of the reading group, but when he was asked to take his turn, he read so haltingly and looked so embarrassed, he wasn’t asked again. The teacher was tactful like that.
A very short woman called Miss Roswell was the best sewer. It was soon obvious that she didn’t really need sewing lessons, just wanted the company. She soon began helping the teacher, who could get a bit impatient if people were clumsy in their work.
When the teacher claimed exhaustion and gave up running the class, Miss Roswell took over, which was all to the good.
One day she asked Sarah to stay behind. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m being too personal, but I know what it’s been like for the people of Lancashire. I can see that your clothes were made for other women, and I wondered if you’d like me to help you alter them?’
Sarah felt ashamed, but she wasn’t going to miss an opportunity like that. ‘I’d love it. Would you have time?’
‘I have all too much time on my hands at the moment.’ She sighed. ‘You’d be doing me a favour.’
So, gradually, Sarah’s hand-me-downs were transformed into well-fitting and even stylish clothes. Oh, that made her feel so much better.
But out of perversity, she didn’t wear the new ones, even though Miss Roswell had hinted that Ellis kept looking at her when he thought no one would notice.
Sarah knew that her face had become rosier, could see for herself that she was getting her shape back.
But if she had to have nice clothes for him to want her, then he wasn’t worth it.
Ellis joined the reading group to while away the long hours of doing nothing. He sent his lads to another class for children, relieved that they wouldn’t see how poor he was at reading. Well, when had he ever had the chance for a proper education?
He saw Mrs Boswick in the class, but when he made a mess of his reading and heard how well she could read, he felt too ashamed to do anything but sit at the back and try to escape everyone’s notice.
He was glad to see her looking better, though, filling out a little, getting nice rosy cheeks. She must have been short of food for a long time. She wasn’t the only woman whose appearance had changed since they set off. Quite a few of them had blossomed. But they didn’t interest him. She did. He couldn’t understand why.
After the second reading group meeting, the teacher asked him to stay behind.
‘Would you like me to give you some extra help with the reading, Mr Doyle?’
Ellis didn’t know what to say, other than, ‘Why would you do that, Mr Paine?’
‘Because it’ll help to pass the time and because reading is such a joy to me that I like to share it with others.’
‘Oh. Well. If you don’t mind, I’d be grateful. I never got the chance for much schooling.’
‘You can come to my cabin for the lessons. We can be private there.’
But what was he going to do with his boys? They were so lively, they needed someone to keep an eye on them. He didn’t want them falling overboard.
After some thought, he asked Mrs Boswick if she’d mind keeping an eye on them, because she seemed to enjoy their company. He was too embarrassed to explain why, but she didn’t ask, just said in her usual quiet way, ‘I’d enjoy that. We can play games or I can read to them.’
Rory in particular seemed very attached to her. He was such a loving child. Ellis wasn’t sure whether that fondness for her was a good or bad thing and it might grow stronger if the lad spent more time with her. After all, they might never see her again after they arrived in Australia and Rory had already lost one person he loved.
But learning to read better was so very important that Ellis took the risk. He didn’t want Sarah, or anyone else looking down on him in his new life.
6
The men talked quite a lot, sharing what they’d heard about life in Australia, mentioning their hopes for a better life. A few really seemed to know what it was like, because they had relatives there. And one man had lived there for a while and was going back, complete with a new wife. People hung on Martin’s every word.
‘Couldn’t you find a wife there?’ one man teased.
‘No, I couldn’t. There are ten men to every woman in the part we’re going to. So I went home and let my aunt find me a wife. And she did very well by me. A fine, sensible woman, my wife is.’
‘Do you think being sensible matters most in a wife?’ Ellis asked.
Martin looked at him as if he was utterly stupid. ‘Of course it does. Women are much more practical about life, including marriage, than most people give them credit for.’
That gave Ellis a lot to think about. He hadn’t intended to marry again. But it hadn’t taken him long before he began to think of Sarah when he wasn’t with her and he knew where that could lead. Only she made him feel so comfortable and well, he enjoyed talking to her.
But if there were ten men to every woman, she’d have other suitors, a lot of other suitors, once they arrived. She could choose someone better than him, someone who could read and write fluently, who didn’t sing like a hoarse crow, who didn’t already have a family.
And even if he asked her, she might say no, make him feel about ten years old, as she’d done to one man who tried to get fresh with her.
But … he did like her.
So he had to be sensible about this and do it quickly, before someone else got in before him. He chose a moment when he could get her on his own, determined to ask her straight out. ‘I’ve been thinking—’ He couldn’t get the words he’d rehearsed out. They sounded stilted.
‘Thinking what?’
‘Thinking we should … get married.’ He couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes. If she looked at him he’d shrivel up and die.
Her voice was cool. ‘Why should we do that?’
He summoned up the main argument, the one he thought would appeal to a woman most. ‘Because the boys need a mother and I need a wife. It’s the most sensible thing to do.’
‘Is that all?’
Words stuck in his throat. ‘Isn’t it enough?’
She shook her head. ‘No, it’s not enough. You didn’t say you cared for me.’
Someone came along just then and he turned to look over the rail, screwing up his courage. When he turned back to say of course he cared for her, Sarah had gone.
Ellis tried several times after that to catch Sarah on her own, but she seemed to be avoiding him. Maybe that was her way of saying no.
He didn’t know what to do next. He couldn’t sleep at night for thinking of her.
Then he heard two of the other men joking about a bet they’d made, as to which could get Sarah to marry him. Pete and Jim had also listened to Martin, it seemed.
He got up one day determined to have it out with her, if he had to shout out his feelings for the whole ship to hear.
After breakfast he saw her at the other end of the deck and hurried along. This was it. He’d do it.
But he saw that Pete was on his knees in front of her and he knew what that meant. He’d have turned away, but she looked across at him. It seemed to him that she was pleading with him, that she was trying to pull her hand away from Pete’s.
Something snapped inside him and Ellis ran across the last few yards of deck, pushing between Sarah and Pete. ‘Don’t do it! Don’t marry him. He won’t love you half as much as I do. I can’t bear it if you marry him.’
‘Hoy, you! I got here first.’ Pete tried to pull him away.
He shoved Pete aside, but the man came barrelling back.
Sarah stepped between them. ‘Go away, Peter Millton!’ she yelled. ‘Or you’ll spoil it for me.’
She turned back to Ellis.
He smiled, his anxiety past now. Confidence surged up. ‘I love you, Sarah Boswick. I can’t think of anything else but how much I love you. That’s much more important than being sensible. Will you marry me?’
‘Of course I will, you fool. I’d have said yes last time but you never said a kind word to me with the proposal.’
He laughed and clapped her in his arms, kissing her soundly. It took him a while to realise that someone was tapping his shoulder. He swung round, ready to punch Pete if he had to.
But it was the matron of the women’s quarters. So he gave her a big hug, too. ‘She’s just agreed to marry me.’ Then he turned back to finish kissing his Sarah properly.
Give It a Try
Introduction
This story was inspired by our elder daughter’s wedding. There’s nothing like a real wedding for making you feel sentimental.
I should say up front that none of the characters is based on real people, either those at our lovely wedding, our daughter’s, or our friends’ and families’. Indeed, I’ve been happily married to my own hero for over fifty-five years now.
But I watch people everywhere I go and feel sad when some seem determined to be nasty to one another, and I rejoice when I see kindness and a sense of humour, because they’re two qualities that make those people so good to be with.
So I thought I’d allow my heroine, who’d had an unhappy first marriage, to find a delightful man the second time round.
I always enjoy creating people who can love one another. It gives me a warm fuzzy feeling.
This is just a short story, a single tale, and it had to be 1,500 words the first time. This time it’s about 2,400. I think it works better at this length.
Happy reading!
Give It a Try
Allie flew to Australia for the wedding, not without misgivings. She hadn’t gone back there for five years, though Holly had visited her in England. But you couldn’t miss your daughter’s wedding, even if that meant spending time in the same country as your ex.
She was determined not to show any weakness this time. Well, she’d give it her best try. Paul wasn’t going to walk all over her again.
She wept happy tears as Holly exchanged vows with Dez. He was neither tall nor handsome, but he had a smile ten miles wide. Allie had taken to him on sight. She even dared hope this marriage would last. Unlike hers.
At least the two of them hadn’t rushed into it. Their little son was proof of that.
At two, Charlie was their attendant, dressed in a miniature suit and bow tie. He stood quietly, holding the bridesmaid’s hand.
Once his parents started exchanging vows, Charlie grew bored and began to play with his buttonhole carnation. Pulling it carefully to pieces petal by petal kept him nice and quiet as the words were spoken.
As the guests moved slowly out of the church afterwards, Allie came face-to-face with her ex. She’d been dreading this, but had planned to stay calm and speak civilly if she was forced to talk to him. She had no intention of speaking to his much younger trophy wife.
Paul greeted her with, ‘England hasn’t improved you, Al. You’re looking as dowdy as ever. Why don’t you get some streaks in your hair and buy some new clothes, try for a more modern look?’ He turned sideways to smirk at his wife.
He’d deliberately spoken loudly enough for others to hear. Well, Allie had too much pride to answer back.
She realised suddenly that he’d dyed his hair. It had been going grey even before they split up. And he’d combed the hair over a bald patch. Unfortunately, the hair was lifting in a slight breeze, all in one piece as if stuck together with glue.
She suddenly had no trouble smiling. He must have tried to lacquer it into place. That sign of weakness made her feel much more confident about dealing with him.
He pulled his wife forward. ‘You’ve not met Cheryl.’
‘No, and I don’t want to.’ Allie tried to walk on.
He moved to block her way. ‘You always were a spiteful bitch! No wonder you’ve not found anyone else.’
The piece of hair lifted again, as if encouraging her to strike back. ‘Haven’t I? Are you quite sure of that?’
‘Who’d want you?’
‘That’d be telling.’ She held her head high and walked out of the church ahead of them.
The reception was in a nearby hotel, which had big, beautiful gardens. The meal seemed to go on for a long time, with too many speeches.
Afterwards the dancing started. The bridal waltz was first, with Holly and Dez leading it, then everyone else joining in, including little Charlie.
Later her new son-in-law asked Allie for a dance and so did his father. Kind of them. A really nice family.
Paul was doing some showy steps with his new wife. He danced with her and his daughter and no one else.
As the music changed, getting louder, Allie found a seat in the corner furthest from the band. The noise was getting to her, thumping through her veins. Still, the wedding had gone well. That was the main thing. She did hope Holly would be happy.
She was wondering how soon she could escape to her hotel when someone touched her arm lightly. She turned to see who it was. She recognised his face but couldn’t remember his name. Some cousin or other of the groom’s father, she thought.
