A Place of Birds

by Jane Jackson

  Watching her mother arrange tissue-wrapped items with meticulous care, Susanna suddenly understood. Free of restriction now that she was leaving, she slipped her arms around her mother’s waist and held her tightly.

  After a moment’s utter stillness Maria drew away, brisk and busy. ‘Come along now, time’s getting on.’

  After a visit to the apothecary and herbalist Susanna realised that she dare not rely solely on her memory for the ingredients and dosages of useful remedies. She needed books – specialist books – and knew of only one source.

  The morning was crisp. A forget-me-not sky arched above a sparkling sapphire sea, the only colour in a sepia-toned landscape. All trace of snow had gone. But the rutted roads were stiff with frost and ice glazed the puddles, squeaking as it cracked and shattered beneath hooves, wheels and heavy boots.

  As she entered his office he glanced up, surprise softening to cautious affability.

  ‘Good morning, this is an unexpected pleasure.’

  Outside the door her mouth had dried with apprehension at seeing him again. But now to her surprise confidence returned. She was approaching him as an equal. The knowledge was balm to her bruised heart.

  ‘I hope you’ll still think so when I tell you why I’ve come. I’m going away.’

  ‘Anywhere interesting?’

  ‘China, actually.’ Scolding herself for unseemly delight at having jolted him, she smiled. ‘That’s why I’m here. I hope you might be able to help me.’

  His brows climbed. ‘Me? How?’

  ‘I’m travelling with my two cousins to Shanghai. We are joining the China Inland Mission run by Mr Hudson Taylor.’

  ‘Really?’ His expression combined scepticism and surprise.

  ‘I haven’t suddenly discovered a religious vocation.’ She would not allow him to think her only alternative to him was God. ‘The knowledge I gained from assisting you in the dispensary –’ she was proud that her voice remained steady despite the sudden rush of painful memories, ‘– will be useful when we reach those parts of the country beyond the range of professional medical aid.’

  ‘I see. And what, exactly, do you want from me?’

  ‘Books, please. I already have one that lists traditional remedies for minor problems, like putting honey on a burn, and oil of cloves for toothache. But –’

  ‘What you need is a pharmacopaeia. A book that tells you which medicines are suitable for a particular illness, the quantities of each constituent, method of preparation, and appropriate dosages.’

  ‘Yes. I know it’s impertinent but –’ she pulled a wry face. ‘Who else could I ask?’

  Edward’s lips twitched. ‘Who indeed?’ Pushing his chair back he crossed to the bookcases covering almost the whole of one wall. ‘While I cannot pretend to understand your reasons for this venture, I do not doubt your courage.’ He did not look at her, continuing to scan the shelves. ‘I have not forgotten your assistance during Colin Treneer’s operation.’ He opened one of the glass doors. ‘So the least I can do is equip you with one or two useful books.’ He added drily, ‘If only for the sake of your Chinese patients.’

  At the door she offered her hand, the respect in his gaze giving her the courage to speak.

  ‘I’m very grateful, Edward. Not just for the books, though they will be invaluable, but for everything I learned here. The important lessons are often the hardest.’ The brief pressure of his fingers told her he recognised what she was saying, and what it had cost her.

  ‘I count it a privilege to have known you, Susanna. Goodbye. And good luck.’

  The day before they were due to leave, Maria invited Lucy and Meredith, Frances and Richard, and Richard’s parents to tea. Anticipating an ordeal it was even worse than she expected.

  ‘Sorry I’m late.’ Flushed and breathless she hung her cloak on the peg and quickly tucked escaping curls under her bonnet. ‘The time went so fast.’

  ‘Where were you?’ Maria lowered her voice, glancing at the drawing room door.

  Smoothing her skirt, Susanna faced her mother. ‘Up at Mongleath. I went to say goodbye to Will.’

  Maria turned away. ‘Wash your hands.’

  When Susanna entered a few minutes later the first person she saw was Meredith, purple-faced and animated, hopes and plans pouring in a torrent from saliva-flecked lips. Next to her, malevolent as ever, sat Mrs Webber.

  ‘I cannot understand anyone in their right mind wanting to leave Cornwall. Especially for somewhere foreign.’ Her sharp features were pinched with contempt and mistrust. ‘Heathens, the lot of them. Always have been, always will be. Still, it’s an ill wind, as they say.’ Looking past her husband who was slumped in a nearby chair, not quite drunk but clearly not sober, she fixed her beady gaze on Susanna. ‘At least this family will be spared any more embarrassment.’

  Reminding herself that the next day she would start putting several oceans between herself and Mrs Webber, Susanna moved to a chair beside Lucy as Agnes wheeled in the tea trolley. Meredith immediately craned her neck to see what cakes were being served. Plates and napkins were handed around. Richard was occupying the centre of the sofa. Frances had tucked herself neatly, and distantly, into a corner.

  ‘Susanna, a word?’ Inclining his plump body forward Richard beckoned her closer. ‘May I ask what contribution you are making to your cousins’ brave enterprise?’ As she opened her mouth to reply, he smirked. ‘Or are you perhaps thinking to find yourself a husband among the colonials? You might have more luck among men far from home.’ Men who are less fussy, more desperate, who will take anything, his manner implied.

  She looked at him calmly. ‘You might find this hard to accept, Richard, but I no longer have any desire to marry. From what I have observed, marriage is an arrangement ordered solely for the comfort and convenience of men.’

  ‘And why not? Since it is men who protect and provide for the family?’

  And what protection does a wife have from a bullying husband? Catching Frances’ stricken expression, Susanna stopped her retort just in time. This was her last evening at home. No matter what the provocation she must not cause her parents upset or embarrassment.

  ‘You’re just jealous,’ Richard sneered, ‘because Frances is married and you’re not.’

  ‘Believe me, Richard,’ Susanna looked him straight in the eye, ‘I wish my sister every possible happiness. But I would not ever want to be in her position.’

  Uncertainty flickered across his face and, for an instant, she glimpsed the child he had once been, unattractive, lonely, pathetic. But his self-doubt was swiftly smothered by his conviction of his own superiority.

  ‘You needn’t worry about that, miss.’ Mrs Webber’s tone was as tart as lemons. Invariably deaf to requests for help, her ability to overhear things that were none of her business was quite remarkable. ‘No man who cares for his reputation will ever look twice at you. Not until you change your ways and start behaving as a decent Quaker woman should.’

  Susanna glanced at Richard’s father. His body was present, but where was his mind?

  She returned her gaze to his wife. Where had that soul-corroding bitterness sprung from? Disappointment? Her own reaction startled her. She didn’t want to feel pity for this dried-up shell of a woman who never missed an opportunity to make life difficult for everyone around her.

  ‘You may be certain, Mrs Webber, that your example is one I shall never forget.’

  Chapter Twenty-two

  ‘No, leave that one.’

  Ignoring the imperious order, four stone-faced crewmen continued to transfer the trunks and other luggage from the jetty to the boat. Meredith shook her sister’s arm. ‘Lucy, tell them to put it down. I can’t possibly be without my medicines and drops. And I have other important things in that bag. Stop them.’

  ‘Don’t worry, We’ll sort it all out once we’re on board.’ Slipping an arm around her, Lucy spoke over her shoulder. ‘Will you excuse us, Uncle Samuel? I promise we’ll take good care of Susanna.
’ She turned to her sister. ‘Let’s go and find our cabin, shall we? Then we can tell the men which bags we want brought down.’

  Meredith stopped abruptly, looking askance at the gangplank. ‘No, I can’t possibly –’

  ‘It’s perfectly safe,’ Lucy reassured. ‘Look, there are even ropes on either side to hold on to.’

  ‘Really, Lucy, sometimes I wonder why I let you talk me into these things. I think perhaps it might be wiser to wait for a steamer.’

  ‘We would still have to use a gangplank to get on board,’ Lucy pointed out. ‘Besides, we’re here now. I’ll go first. See? It’s easy.’

  The sisters tiptoed gingerly across the gangplank leaving Susanna alone with her father.

  ‘I won’t come down to the docks,’ her mother had announced at breakfast.

  The lump in Susanna’s throat had made swallowing difficult. But she had forced down a few spoonfuls of porridge and half a cup of tea. She wanted them to remember that, on the day of parting, she had acquitted herself with dignity.

  Out in the hall her mother stood by, outwardly composed but white-knuckled, while Susanna fastened her thick cloak with awkward fingers. She felt shivery inside, excited and apprehensive. A new life awaited her. Yet cutting these last ties was more painful than she had expected.

  ‘The cab is loaded.’ Samuel came in through the front door. ‘Are you ready, Susanna?’

  ‘Goodbye, dear.’ Maria’s voice was strained. ‘May God protect you.’

  Embracing her mother Susanna closed her eyes, storing up memories: the scent of her skin, the soft pressure of her bosom, the sudden tightening of her arms before she stepped back. Then Susanna said goodbye to Norah, Agnes, and Biddy. Outside, twisting his cap in large raw-boned hands, the groom ducked his head awkwardly as he wished her good luck.

  ‘Thank you, Bryce. And thank you for all you did for William and me.’

  Her father cleared his throat, jerking her out of her memories and back to the present. ‘Time you were on board. You mustn’t keep the captain waiting.’

  Realising any move must come from her she stepped forward bridging the distance between them and gave him a quick fierce hug. ‘Goodbye, Father. ‘I’m so sorry I couldn’t be –’. All the things you wanted.

  ‘Yes, well,’ he coughed again, jaw rigid, eyes moist. ‘You – er – you might write to us now and then. Your mother will want to know how you are.’

  She gulped. She would not cry. ‘Of course I will.’

  ‘That’s all right then.’ He took out his pocket watch. ‘I must go. Early appointment. I – ah –’ his composure cracked. ‘God bless you, child.’ Turning, he walked swiftly down the jetty towards the Yard.

  ‘Goodbye, Father.’ He wouldn’t hear her, but she said it anyway. And watched through a haze of tears until the distorted, shimmering figure disappeared.

  ‘When you’re quite ready, Miss Elliot.’

  Lowell Hawke’s shout made her jump. She looked up quickly but he was already moving out of sight. The air was sharp, tangy with salt and seaweed. A stiff breeze moulded her skirts to her legs and like a gentle hand on her back pushed her towards the schooner. The ship rode high on the choppy water, tugging against plaited mooring ropes thicker than a man’s wrist as if anxious to be free. Two men wearing the rough stained clothes of dock labourers waited by the huge mooring bollards.

  Self-conscious, she stumbled quickly up the gangplank, which was immediately pulled in after her. The cluttered deck was a scene of frenzied activity.

  ‘Let go for’ard,’ the order was shouted down. Susanna glanced at the four seamen hauling rhythmically on ropes speeding the gaff – from which the huge fore-and-aft sail hung – smoothly up the towering foremast.

  ‘Let go aft.’ Catching the wind, the schooner surged away from the jetty and out into the wide harbour mouth.

  Helped by a boy of about twelve, another seaman was stowing loose-meshed sacks of potatoes, swedes, carrots, and cabbages in the jolly boat lashed on chocks on top of the hatch above the main hold. Shallow wooden trays containing apples, oranges, half-gallon loaves of bread, large square tins, and brown paper packages, were stacked on the deck.

  She looked round uncertain of where to go, bewildered by all the noise: bellowed orders, the creaking windlass, flapping canvas cracking as sails were sheeted in. Feet pounded the deck, men grunted with effort, gulls screamed and underlying it all was the hiss and slap of waves against the hull.

  ‘This way, Miss.’ A stocky man with a dour expression jerked his head towards the stern. The hinged top of the companionway was folded back and the double doors hooked open. Openwork brass stairs spiralled down. Susanna looked up to thank him but he was already hurrying away. Descending carefully she heard Meredith’s voice, clearly shocked. ‘Oh no. No, there must be some mistake.’

  Lowell’s reply was edged with impatience. ‘I did warn you. Now you must excuse me, I’m needed on deck.’

  ‘But this isn’t at all – I mean – how do you expect us –? What are we to do?’ Meredith demanded.

  As Susanna reached the foot of the stairs, a cramped space containing three doors, the half-open one in front of her was yanked wide. Framed in the opening, Lowell looked back over his shoulder.

  ‘Work it out between yourselves. But decide quickly. I want that luggage off the deck before we clear St Anthony light.’ He turned, almost colliding with her as she flattened herself against the bulkhead. With a brief frowning nod he swung himself up the stairs, his solid figure momentarily blocking out the light.

  ‘Well, I can’t possibly go in there,’ Meredith was adamant. ‘I’d die of suffocation. And as I shall need you with me, you can’t either. Susanna will understand. Ah, there you are,’ she beamed. ‘We were wondering where you had got to. I’m going to tell one of those men to bring our trunks down. Then we can unpack and get settled. Isn’t this an adventure? I have to admit the arrangements are not quite as expected, but we must simply rise above the situation. Come in. Come in. Lucy will explain.’

  As Meredith clanged up the brass stairs, Susanna looked around. About ten feet deep and at its widest point roughly eight feet across, the cabin narrowed towards the stern so the two padded bench seats formed a shallow V. In the apex at shoulder height a guarded shelf held navigation instruments, tide tables, papers, books and other sea-junk. Between the seats stood a large triangular-shaped table spread with charts on which lay dividers, a ruler, two pencils and a logbook. Above the backs of the padded seats the wood panelling was in two sections, the rearmost slightly recessed. Storage lockers? she hazarded.

  Set in the deckhead above the table were a reflecting compass and an open skylight that let in sunshine, fresh air, and the sounds of activity on deck. A brass oil lamp swung on four chains from a hook. And alongside the door through which she had entered, next to a bucket of coal a small black stove radiated welcome warmth. Lucy stood before it, nervously rubbing her palms together with a soft rasping sound. Her expression betrayed rare agitation.

  ‘You’d better tell me.’

  ‘The mate and second mate have generously vacated the two-berth cabin to the left of the stairs which they normally occupy. And the captain has relinquished his own sleeping quarters here in his day cabin.’

  Susanna looked round. ‘Where? I can’t see …’

  Lucy moved aside a thick dark curtain that had been partly hidden by the chimney pipe. Behind the curtain was a cubbyhole with just enough room for a bunk and a low narrow cupboard on top of which stood an enamel jug and basin. A prism set in the deckhead provided a glimmer of light. Thrusting the curtain into Susanna’s stunned grasp Lucy crouched to open the cupboard door. Inside was a bucket with a wooden lid.

  ‘Apparently Lowell had the mate put this in specially. It seems their normal arrangements are somewhat more … basic.’ As Lucy emerged Susanna dropped the curtain back in place, her heart thudding against her ribs. Her lips were so dry they stuck to her teeth. She had to run her tongue between them befo
re she could speak.

  ‘You mean I –?’ She gestured at the alcove.

  Lucy gave a brief, unhappy nod. ‘I’d take it myself, but Meredith –’

  ‘Yes, I heard.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, my dear. I never imagined –’ She braced her thin shoulders. ‘No, this won’t do. I have no right to ask it of you. ‘

  ‘What choice do we have? Apart from leaving the ship. And we can’t do that. Not now.’ Moistening her lips again Susanna made a valiant stab at nonchalance. ‘You warned me conditions in China would be difficult. I shall look on this as practice for what lies ahead. But if I’m in here and you’re next door, then where is Captain Hawke –?’ she glanced round as thumps and footsteps on the companionway stairs heralded the arrival of their trunks and boxes.

  ‘Lucy?’ Meredith’s call managed to blend demand and helplessness.

  ‘I’m coming.’ Lucy hurried out leaving Susanna to stare around the cluttered, functional, intensely masculine cabin. It smelled of sweet resinous wood, of coal and damp wool, and just the faintest whiff of the sulphur candles used for fumigation.

  ‘Captain says you’d best keep this under the bunk.’ The stocky seaman backed in with her trunk.

  ‘Thank you. There are some boxes, and a bag –’

  ‘Give us a chance,’ he snapped, bent double. ‘I only got one pair of ‘ands.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Susanna sprang to hold the curtain back out of his way. ‘I didn’t mean to –’

  Passing her with a surly glance he dragged in the rest of her luggage.

  ‘Thank you, that’s most kind.’

  He stumped out with an unintelligible grunt.

  Wondering why he was so cross, Susanna pushed the boxes against the bulkhead between the end of the seat and the curtain, and dropped her leather bag onto the bunk. Unpacking was out of the question. There was nowhere to put anything. After a moment’s hesitation she left the cabin. The door on the far side of the stairs stood ajar and she could hear Meredith, high-pitched and voluble.

  ‘How are we to find room for everything? I don’t want it to go down in the hold. We might never see it again. Look, if you move that one, Lucy –’