by Meg Buchanan
But, he knew something that Charlotte’s men might not. He’d missed catching the passenger steamer at the terminal at Queen’s wharf before and had caught the freight one when it loaded timber further along.
He pointed past the silos and warehouses. “We need to get there.”
Sophie nodded and pulled her mother’s coat tighter around her body, ready to follow him without question now.
When they had gone past several warehouses, they stopped. Courtney looked behind them. No one was following.
“Have we lost them?”
He nodded. “It seems so, come on.”
It took half an hour to move through the maze of buildings surrounding the wharf. They reached the timber yard and there was the freight steamer just starting to load up and the captain was open to an extra payment to say he’d never seen them if he was ever asked.
Chapter 16
THE STEAMER CHUGGED slow and uninspired through the night. Courtney sat with Sophie on the deck behind the small cabin with only a canvas canopy above them. At least the cabin and the timber stacked on the deck sheltered them from most of the wind.
It had never been a luxurious way to travel. When he’d caught the steamer before, if there were other passengers, they were usually men returning to work in the bush, or the mines. He’d just lie on the deck and sleep.
Tonight, they were the only passengers. Sophie slept against his shoulder wrapped in her coat. After a while, she slipped lower, tucked her legs up and slept with her head in his lap.
He stroked her hair. It was freezing. He shivered. Sophie tried to turn over then settled back to sleep. It was going to be a long night. They wouldn’t reach Paeroa until morning and then he needed to get a room for Sophie until he decided what to do with her. And he needed to let William know what he was doing.
His mother had given up worrying if he didn’t get home when she was expecting him, but William preferred that he turned up to work when he said he would.
Just on dawn, they reached the wharf at Puke, climbed off the steamer, and clambered onto the jetty. Sophie stared around at the river, the jumble of warehouses and the stockyard. This wharf was where freight was loaded and unloaded, not where the passengers got off the passenger steamer. That was Wharf Street, not far from the office, but this was what happened when you took the freight boat.
Now what?
A bullock wagon lumbered up to the steamer. Courtney moved Sophie out of the way and watched the captain of the steamer and driver of the bullock wagon start to unload the timber from the deck onto the wagon.
He and Sophie could just travel back into town with the timber. He knew the driver, one of John Willis’s men. If they got off at the start of town they could use the backstreets like they did in Auckland. Then he’d get a room at the Criterion until they had a plan. That was still the best option.
“Stay here,” he said to Sophie and went over to the men.
He greeted the driver of the wagon. “Mr Arnold.”
“Mr Samuels,” said Arnold. “You and the young lady are out and about early.”
“Just come from Auckland, can we get a ride into town?”
“Might be a while,” said Arnold scratching his chin and looking at the stack of timber still on the deck.
“I’ll help you load. Payment for the ride.”
Arnold looked at the evening suit, on its third day.
“You are hardly dressed for loading timber, Mr Samuels.”
“Anything that will help get me out these clothes faster.” He’d change into the spare set of clothes and use shaving gear at the office once Sophie was hidden.
Arnold laughed. “Ah to be young again. Tell the young lady to pull up a log. We’ll get the wagon loaded and you out of this wind as quickly as we can.
Courtney helped with the unloading, and they rode into town early enough for the streets to still be almost deserted.
At the Criterion, the housekeeper took him and Sophie up the stairs to their room, unlocked the door and gave him the key.
He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a half-crown. “We aren’t here, never have been,” he said as he handed the money over. Apart from this woman, only a porter and the man at the desk saw them arrive. The staff would be discrete. They knew him and had kept quiet for him before.
The woman dropped the coin into her pocket. “Never seen you or the young lady in my life. Is there anything else, Mr Samuels?”
“Do you want breakfast?” he asked Sophie.
Sophie shook her head.
He turned back to the housekeeper. “Perhaps later.”
“Let me know,” said the woman.
After she’d left, he went to the fireplace and added a log to the sullen fire then tried to inspire it into a blaze. Sophie sat on the end of the bed looking exhausted. He needed to go to the office now and maybe let his mother know where he was. He’d disappeared for three days before but probably couldn’t get away with any longer than that.
He stood up and caught a glimpse of himself in the wardrobe mirror. He looked as rough as he felt but once he’d shaved and changed, he’d be fine.
Sophie sat quietly watching him. She’d be safe. Even if Charlotte’s men were going hotel to hotel making enquiries, they shouldn’t find her here. That was if she did as she was told.
“I want you to stay in this room until I get back,” he said to her. “I have to go and do something.”
“Where are you going?”
“The office, I need to sort some things out.”
She tucked up her legs, wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees. “Why can’t I come?”
“Because Charlotte could have men looking for you in Paeroa.”
“They might find you.”
He went over to her and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be fine. Be a good girl. Stay in the room.”
“Yes, sir!” Sophie sketched a salute. “How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Be good, stay in the room, keep warm, get some sleep. I’ll arrange to have food brought up later.”
”
When he got to the office, William was there, so he wouldn’t have to go up the mountain looking for him. William looked up as he walked through the door. “Jesus, when did you last sleep?” he asked.
He thought back. “Sunday night, for a few hours.”
“Did you get Sophie to her mother?”
Courtney went into the back room. “Sort of.”
William followed him. “What happened?”
“Her mother didn’t want to have anything to do with her. She wanted her to go back to the club.”
“Nice woman.”
“Yes.” He shrugged into a clean shirt.
“So, you’ve put her on a ship bound for Sydney?”
“Not yet.” He ran his hands through his hair, it had been a long three days. Sophie hadn’t mentioned she still wanted to go to Sydney, and he couldn’t force her. Anyway, from what he had seen of Sophie in the last few days that would take more energy than he had left.
“Where is she then?”
“I stashed her at the Criterion.”
“You brought her here?”
Courtney nodded.
“What’s happened to her mother?” asked William.
“Hopefully Charlotte has made good on her threat and the mother is taking Sophie’s place at the club.” He did up his shirt buttons while talking. “She might learn a few new tricks next Saturday night.” He shoved his feet into the legs of the trousers, stood and gave a little hop to get them up.
“Can an old bitch learn new tricks?”
“She’s not that old, about our age, and I could see where Sophie got her looks from. She’ll make Charlotte some decent money.” He buttoned up.
William folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Are you staying at the Cri too?”
“Yes. Can’t leave Sophie there on her own for too long.” He found the
shaving gear. “I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do with her though.” He lathered up. “Has anyone been around looking for me?”
William shook his head. “Charlotte probably doesn’t think you’d head for home.”
“That’s what I was hoping.” He wiped the last of the shaving foam off his cheeks. “Where’s my mother’s trap?”
“Eugene brought it back.” One thing he didn’t have to solve.
William straightened up. “Everyone is headed up to the claim today. John and I have got everything ready to start the new tunnel.”
“They’ve all turned up?” Where were those work boots?
“They will.”
“Where does everyone think, I am?”
“In Thames, talking to the Lands Department about the new surveys.”
“How long am I meant to be there this time?”
“Those discussions can take days.”
“Thanks.” Courtney found the boots, sat down, shoved his feet in, tied up the laces. “Do you need me today?” He yawned.
“Will you be much use?”
Could he get through a day on no sleep? Probably could do it if he just sat at his desk, but he might have trouble helping on a mine site. “Not a lot.”
William wandered out to the office. Courtney followed. “We can manage without you. Get some sleep, it makes thinking easier. See you up on the mountain when you’ve solved the pretty little problem you’ve got stashed at the Cri.”
Wearily, Courtney climbed the stairs to their room. What he would find? Sophie had been on her own for an hour with only her thoughts to keep her company and the hope he’d come back. He tried the handle and the door was locked. Good. He knocked lightly on the cracked paint.
“Sophie?” And heard a patter of feet on boards.
The key turned in the lock and Sophie flung the door open. “Oh Courtney, I was starting to wonder if you would return.” She was still in her mother’s coat and the Sophie dress as if she’d just sat and waited for him. But, she was safe. Charlotte hadn’t traced her here.
He shuffled her back into the room, shut the door behind them, checked the fire. It was barely going and the room was cold.
Sophie sat on the bed, legs tucked up, and watched him put some kindling on the embers. “I’ve been thinking,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to go to Sydney. I want to stay here with you.”
That wasn’t going to happen. He put a log on the fire. The flames caught. Before he could think how to respond, he heard a knock on the door, and the housekeeper came in with two bowls of stew, cutlery, napkins, and some bread on a tray. Not what he’d usually have for breakfast, but he did ask her to bring them something hot to eat.
“This should warm you and your wife up, Mr Samuels,” she said putting the tray on the small table by the window.
Globs of fat floated on the top and the meat, carrots and cabbage seemed a little sparse, but it smelled good. He thanked the woman and she went out, shutting the door behind her.
“Did you hear what I said, Courtney?” Sophie asked.
“I did, and you can’t.” He didn’t want to give her hope and then drive her away. That’s the way it always went with him and females, and he liked her too much to risk hurting her. “Charlotte will be looking for you. Besides if you stayed with me you’d be ruined, nobody would believe you’re my sister.” Nobody in his family looked like she did with her black hair and dark expressive eyes.
Sophie jerked back the way people do when they’ve just been told something that astonishes them. Then, she tucked her chin in, looked down at the floor, and laughed. “Sister?”
He ignored her. He felt an overwhelming need to protect and care for her and he’d miss her when she was gone but she should start her real life again. She’d adapt.
She stood up from the bed, looking very young and dressed inappropriately, but with an expression on her face that was pure adult and knowing, “I’m already ruined, you ruined me,” she said as she came over and slipped her arms around his waist.
There was an element of truth in that, but it made no difference. “You’re still not staying with me.” He stared at the fire, then pushed the log to the back with his boot, hoping the flames would draw better.
He turned in her arms, held her chin up and made her look at him. “Forget the club,” he advised. “Go to Sydney, live with your aunt, have fun, fall in love, get married. If you don’t tell your husband what happened, he will never know.”
“Truly?” she asked as if he was an expert in all things relating to the loss of virginity and the deception of husbands.
He nodded. “Truly, it’s been done many times before.”
She looked disappointed at his advice and let him go, then wandered back to the bed and sat down again. “You could marry me.”
Not a thought he’d had, and not one he was planning on considering. He’d never marry. He liked his life the way it was. His mother kept house for him, Millicent met his other needs, and he had friends for companionship. Besides, his best friend was married to the only woman he’d ever considered marrying.
The flames leapt into action and warmth trickled like the edge of the tide across the room. Sophie looked striking in the firelight, eyes dark, cheeks touched with colour. But, as lovely as she was, as perfect as the love making had been, adding a child bride to his life would be difficult to adjust to. “No, I couldn’t,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Because we hardly know each other.”
“We ‘know’ each other quite well,” said Sophie smiling. So, she could play on the meaning of that word too.
“That isn’t what I meant.”
She walked across the room and sat at the table where the bowls of stew were waiting. “Are we staying here tonight?” she asked.
Courtney nodded. “Yes, I think that’s the best.”
Sophie examined the spoon of stew she was holding, then put it back in the plate. “And are you going to get all righteous and sleep in the armchair? Are you going to pretend you were just saving me from Charlotte and since then you’ve been comforting me?”
He watched her stir the stew with her fingers now. “Yes.” He was too tired for this. Charlotte could have found him a companion who was a little less perceptive and articulate.
She pulled out a stalk of cabbage, put it on the side of the plate then licked her fingers. “You aren’t going to share my bed?”
“No. Charlotte forced us together, and now you’re free. Wherever you want to go, I’ll take you, but once you’re there, I’ll leave.” He knew he was being cruel, but he wanted to make it very clear, he planned on going back to his real life too.
She stirred slowly with her spoon and watched the brown waves slide up the side of the bowl. He ate his stew and then cleaned the plate with the bread. Was she planning on finishing hers?
“Do you want that?” he asked.
“No, you can have it.” He swapped the plates around.
She stood and wandered towards the fireplace, he was certain she knew how she looked with the firelight behind her, her body a dark silhouette framed by her dress.
He swapped her spoon for his and then scooped up a small piece of meat from the plate and watched as Sophie lifted her arms, arched her back and stretched like a cat drinking in the warmth of the fire.
“I don’t think you made love to me just because Charlotte forced you to,” she said.
Too astute for her own good, he knew how he felt after they made love, knew how much he needed to stay with her. But he’d get over it. So, would she.
He watched as she ran her fingers through her hair and let it settle onto her shoulders again. She’d learned a lot about acting seductive in the last few days.
But he liked his life the way it was, he didn’t need a wife, and she was too young to be one. “Why would you think that?” he asked.
“You were kind to me, you gave me your coat, and you told me I was lovely and perfect. Even when Charlotte wasn�
��t there, you were nice to me.”
“I’m a nice person.”
“I doubt that,” said Sophie disdainfully. “Listen to yourself now.”
“Thank you.” He ate a spoonful of her stew. Perhaps she needed to hit out at someone after all that had happened to her, sold by her father, imprisoned and threatened by Charlotte, forced into accepting him into her bed, and betrayed by her mother. “Was there another reason?”
Sophie nodded. “When we made love at the club the last time, we both knew Charlotte was with Eugene, and as for making love to me at the hotel in Thames, you can have no excuse. You wanted to, and it was beautiful.”
“It was, I told you it gets better with practice.”
Sophie looked exasperated. “No, that wasn’t the reason; it was beautiful because you love me.”
“Of course, I love you,” he said between mouthfuls. “You gave me your stew.” He’d spent a lifetime avoiding conversations like this one and knew how to handle them; turn them into a joke. He pushed the chair back and waited to see how she would react to that.
Sophie paused. “So, it meant nothing?”
“I’m afraid not.”
She left the fire and walked over to him, stood close, tipped her head to one side and stared at him. He looked up and his eyes held hers.
Then she took him by surprise, lifted her skirts to her knees, hooked her foot over his legs, and sat on his lap, facing him, skirts bunched between them, one stockinged foot each side of his socks, the table pressing the small of her back, wedging her close.
Where would she have learned that? He answered his own question, she’d lived in the whorehouse for a week and she was observant. Her eyes continued to hold his as she took the spoon from his hand, then held his hand against her breast.
He felt an instant response, a wanting. “No Sophie,” he said. “This has to stop.”
“No,” said Sophie.
“What do you mean, ‘No’?”
“I know you don’t want to stop.” She wiggled in a little closer.
