The Lost Sisters: A gritty saga about friendships, family and finding a place to call home

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  ‘Anything of no use to me you can take away,’ she informed the men now working in her house, ‘you can have whatever you want from that which is left over.’

  The men doffed their caps in thanks.

  *

  Abel returned from his meeting to a house full of new fixtures and fittings. Shaking his head wearily, he retired to his study for a little peace and quiet. Seeing his business papers piled on the top of a new desk and his old comfortable chair replaced by one that looked distinctly uncomfortable, Abel’s anger surged.

  Striding from the study, he yelled, ‘Hortense! What the bloody hell have you done with my desk and chair?’

  Hortense called back from the parlour, ‘they’re in the butler’s room, dear; I thought you could do with some new things.’

  ‘Butler?’ Abel shouted, looking around the parlour at the strange couches and chairs, ‘What bloody butler?’

  ‘Simmons… he starts tomorrow as well as our cook Mrs Jukes. She’s a widow and—’

  ‘I don’t give a bugger what she is!’ Abel snapped. ‘You have my old desk and chair put back in my study first thing tomorrow or else!’

  ‘What about the new ones?’ Hortense asked in all innocence.

  ‘Give them to the bloody butler!’ On the last, Abel turned and strode from the room.

  Hortense heard the bang of the front door as Abel yelled, ‘I’m off to the Club!’

  Abel had been so distraught about his old desk and chair, he hadn’t thought to check his treasure beneath the study floorboards.

  *

  Hortense ignored Abel’s request to replace his study furniture and the following morning busied herself showing Simmons and Mrs Jukes to their rooms as well as the butler’s pantry and kitchen.

  ‘You’re a little young to be a butler, aren’t you?’ Hortense asked as she took in the dark hair, brown eyes and rigid posture of the tall man.

  ‘Nature has been kind to me, ma’am, I’m older than I look,’ Simmons replied.

  Hortense harrumphed then explained haughtily, ‘I hope to be entertaining the higher echelon of society in the near future.’ Satisfied that both understood her intentions and instructions, she left them to unpack and settle in.

  Sitting in her luxurious surroundings in the parlour, Hortense congratulated herself on a job well done. However, her work was far from finished; she had an emerald to sell for the highest price she could get. She wondered whether to visit Mahula in Birmingham again. Perhaps it was time to put a cat amongst those particular pigeons… but how could she do that? What, other than personal satisfaction, could she gain from her action? She could confront Abel about his other family, but that could prove disastrous for her. Once he was aware she knew about his mistress and son, he might choose to divorce her and move in with them permanently. Then she’d find herself with no money and no way of acquiring any. With her husband and money gone, her prestige would soon follow. With a scowl, she decided to think on the matter a while longer. She would upset the family in Birmingham only when it served her purpose.

  *

  In the meantime, Abel strode into the Gentlemen’s Club in Squire’s Walk, giving the doorman a nod in passing. Sitting in his usual chair, he gave his thanks to the waiter who brought a glass of whisky to the table.

  Bloody woman! He brooded. Changing my study around. She’s a bloody menace! Something had to be done about her and the sooner the better. How could he be rid of her? Did he know of anyone who could help him dispose of her?

  Realising where his thoughts were taking him, Abel rubbed his hands over his eyes in an effort to push the thoughts away. Tipping the wink to the waiter for another drink, Abel settled himself in for the evening… maybe he would stay over. When the waiter delivered his second whisky, Abel placed a key on the tray. Nodding his understanding, the waiter moved off to instruct a maid to ready Abel’s bedroom, one of a select few above the Club’s bar room kept strictly for their members to spend the night rather than travel home in the dark. Yes, Abel would be staying the night at the Club.

  Chapter 9

  Orpha Buchanan had settled in nicely with the Toyes and worked hard learning the art of making chocolate. She often helped out in the shop and became a favourite of the customers, who warmed quickly to her good nature.

  It was at night when loneliness crept in; when Orpha missed her father. She wanted him to know that, on the whole, she was happy. She desperately wanted to see him, but she knew she would have to save some money for the journey back to Wednesbury. However, in order to save, she had to find a paying job. The Toyes were good to her, she pondered one night as she stared at the moon through her window. They fed her and taught her a trade and she liked them both immensely, but she needed to earn her own money.

  Watching the clouds pass across the moon, she wondered how to tell them she would have to look elsewhere for paid work.

  Orpha sighed into the quiet of the room as the moon emerged from its cloud cover. Would the Toyes be hurt by her moving on? Would they think her ungrateful for all their help? She didn’t think they were in a stable enough financial position to pay her a wage, and she wouldn’t dream of asking anyway.

  Long into the night, she considered her predicament. She simply could not bear to leave the people who had saved her from a life spent in the workhouse.

  Both Henry and his wife Hetty had come to look on Orpha as they would their own daughter; she brought light into their lives.

  Henry Toye asked one morning, ‘You want to come along with me to the sugar refinery, wench?’

  ‘Yes please!’ Orpha answered full of excitement. ‘As long as Hetty doesn’t mind.’

  ‘I managed afore you came, girl, I can manage one day without you,’ the woman’s smile said no slight was meant by her words.

  Trudging through the streets, Orpha asked, ‘Henry, why don’t you have your sugar delivered?’

  ‘They charge for delivery, my wench, and I don’t order enough to warrant that charge.’

  ‘What if you ordered more?’ Orpha went on.

  ‘Not sure we could use more… what do you think? Could we make more? Enough to request delivery? Could we sell it if we made more?’ Henry asked.

  ‘Goodness yes!’ Orpha exclaimed. She wondered if she could help them build up the business which would then provide an opportunity to earn a wage, and even if not, at least she could leave having repaid their hospitality in some way. So she determined to stay a while longer and see how things panned out.

  ‘Right then, I’ll tell you what, you conduct the deal today and see how it goes.’ Henry smiled.

  ‘Really?’ Orpha was aghast.

  ‘Really.’ Henry laughed.

  *

  ‘What’s this, Henry Toye, you having a young wench doing your dealings now?’ the manager of the refinery joked.

  ‘I am Mr Toye’s assistant and will be dealing with you in the future,’ Orpha said with far more confidence than she felt.

  ‘Now then Toye…’ The manager ignored Orpha as though she wasn’t even there.

  Orpha felt the little confidence she’d been feeling evaporate and she looked at Henry with pleading in her eyes. This was going to be a lot harder than she thought.

  ‘Give the girl a chance, hear her out,’ Henry said protectively.

  The manager clamped his mouth shut, leaning his elbows on the arms of his chair. His eyes met Orpha’s, giving her leave to continue.

  ‘Well, Mr Toye intends to double his order as of today and would appreciate that order being delivered to his shop,’ she said as she watched the manager for his reaction.

  ‘Well now, we only deliver bulk orders…and we charge for the privilege,’ the manager began as he looked Orpha directly in the eye.

  Again, she looked to Henry for help. He provided it by saying, ‘How’s about you waive the delivery charge as I’m increasing the order?’

  The manager blew through pursed lips. ‘Not sure I can do that, Henry; if others found out, they’d all want
the same courtesy.’

  ‘No one else need know. Besides, I’m sure the recommendations of your good business acumen will see more people seeking to order from your good self,’ Orpha pushed. Leaning back in her chair, Orpha folded her hands in her lap, trying to stem their shaking, and also in an effort to ignore the grin creeping across Henry Toye’s face.

  The manager’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water before he nodded once.

  ‘Thank you,’ Orpha said as she stood to leave.

  Henry and Orpha howled with laughter once outside the gates of the refinery. ‘Now for the dairy!’ he said.

  By the time they reached home, the dairy and flour mill also had agreed to deliver without charge to the shop, and Orpha had promised to sing their praises to all in exchange.

  Hetty listened as they related the tale over their evening meal. ‘Now we have to make more and sell more,’ she said quietly, ‘is it possible?’

  ‘Only one way to find out!’ Orpha said as she cleared the table of crockery.

  Chapter 10

  Having discussed the menu for the evening meal with Mrs Jukes, Hortense made her way to the train station. Boarding the train to Birmingham, the stolen emerald safe in her bag, she settled down for the journey.

  Leaving the train at New Street Station in Birmingham, she walked through Stephenson’s Passage onto Corporation Street. Checking her whereabouts, she saw Martineau Street to her right and a little further up was Lower Priory. Striding out along Corporation Street, Hortense came to the place she was looking for: Abyssinian Gold Jewellery Company.

  Immediately Hortense walked into the luxurious building, a salesman came to her. ‘Welcome to Abyssinian Gold Jewellery Company, madam. Please, take a seat and tell me how I may help you.’

  Hortense sank into a deeply upholstered chair and took the envelope from her bag, handing it to the man sat opposite her. Tipping the content onto his palm, the man’s eyes lit up with admiration. Nudging the emerald gently with his little finger, he saw darts of light shoot over the gem’s emerald cut.

  ‘Ahhh,’ he said almost sensually as he reached into his pocket for his small magnifying glass. Looking at the gem from every angle, he asked, ‘Colombian?’

  Hortense nodded out of ignorance but giving the impression she was knowledgeable about gems, as she watched him inspect the jewel before he spoke again.

  ‘Yes, I thought so. Only the very best emeralds are mined in Colombia. This stone has been cut into what is known as the emerald cut… rectangular with the corners trimmed off, then further into a step cut… the rectangular facets are each cut one on top of the other, and expertly too, if I may say. It is fairly clear, with few inclusions, and being of the darkest green, I suspect it will be worth rather a lot, madam,’ Looking at the stone once more, he said on a sigh, ‘This gem is perfect!’

  Hortense nodded once more before saying, ‘I wish to sell it.’

  The man’s eyes shot to hers, his magnifying glass still over one eye making it look twice the size of the other. ‘I see,’ he said, looking back to the gem sitting on his palm. ‘Well, firstly I have to weigh it and then I can give you my price.’

  Hortense followed the man to the counter where he took a weighing scale and placed the emerald on the top. Using tiny specially made weights, he said with surprise, ‘1.08 Carats!’ Lifting a book from beside the scales, he ran his finger down a column of figures. He eyed the woman as he lay the book back on the counter. ‘Madam, this emerald is worth £500!’

  Nodding again, Hortense kept her elation well hidden.

  ‘Are you sure you wish to sell it?’ the man asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Hortense said, ‘I am.’

  Disappearing into the back room, the man was gone only a few moments before returning and placing a banker’s draft on the counter, he was sporting a huge grin.

  Hortense placed the paper in her bag.

  The man picked up the new-fangled telephone and rang the bank, informing them that Mrs Buchanan would be arriving to cash the banker’s draft.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  Shaking her hand, the man said, ‘No madam, thank you!’

  Leaving the building, Hortense visited the bank to cash the order before she strode back towards Birmingham New Street Station, feeling immensely pleased with herself, the £500 tucked safely in her bag.

  *

  Mrs Jukes was a widow of ten years, her husband having passed from pneumonia during a severe winter. She had applied at the Servants’ Registry Office in Scotland Passage, and the owner Sarah Benton had recommended the position with Hortense Buchanan. Simmons, the Butler, had come from the same office it seemed.

  As the two now sat in the kitchen of Buchanan House, they chatted about people they knew, of places they had previously worked at, and their present employers.

  ‘Well, it’s a nice house and my bedroom is pleasant albeit small,’ Mrs Jukes said.

  ‘Hmmm,’ the butler eyed the cook over his teacup.

  ‘Now then, Simmons, don’t you go looking down your nose at me! We have to work together after all.’

  ‘Quite so, Mrs Jukes, you have my apologies.’

  Nodding her acceptance, she glanced around the kitchen. ‘This place could do with a good clean,’ she said haughtily and they both smirked.

  ‘What do you make of the mistress?’ Simmons asked.

  ‘Mistress!’ Mrs Jukes harrumphed. ‘Married into money did that one! I tell you now, Simmons, I’ll be watching my back with her and I suggest you do the same!’

  ‘I agree with you, Mrs Jukes,’ the butler said thoughtfully.

  ‘Call me Beulah, it ain’t as though we’ll be strangers for long, living in the same house an’ all.’

  ‘Very good… Beulah,’ Simmons said quietly.

  ‘Did you hear the tale of the Buchanan girls?’ Beulah asked.

  ‘No, I missed that one,’ Simmons said with a grin, knowing how household staff loved to gossip.

  ‘Well…’ Beulah drew the word out as she settled her ample weight more comfortably on the kitchen chair. ‘It would seem that about eighteen years ago their baby girl was took off by the gypsies, although none were in the area.’ Simmons raised his eyebrows before the cook went on. ‘Ar, and then just a few months ago, their fourteen-year-old daughter went missing!’

  Simmons shook his head in disbelief. ‘Have either of them been found?’ He asked.

  ‘Would appear not,’ Beulah said before drawing her chin into her neck, her mouth forming a tight line.

  ‘How very sad,’ the Butler mumbled, putting his cup and saucer on the table.

  ‘Ar, the master almost went mad with grief, so I heard.’

  ‘And the mistress?’ Simmons asked.

  ‘Oh the mistress, she went out and bought new frocks!’ They both collapsed in a fit of laughter before the cook screwed up her mouth as she watched Simmons nod his head. It would seem they were both of the same opinion, their new mistress was a bit of a tyrant. In addition to watching their own backs, they agreed to watch each other’s.

  *

  In the meantime, the maid, a young girl by the name of Alice Danby, had arrived back and had introduced herself to the other staff. It had been Alice’s day off when the new staff arrived, and she had dared to stay overnight with her family in George Street, not far from the marketplace. Fortunately, Mrs Buchanan was out when she arrived and had left early so wouldn’t have realised Alice was not yet in the house. Alice had joined the family a few years earlier, her predecessor having stormed out in a fit of temper which Alice could well understand, her own relationship with the mistress could never be construed as a good one.

  ‘Blimey!’ Alice said. ‘The missis has been busy… all the furniture has been shifted and changed.’

  ‘Ar well,’ Beulah Jukes responded, ‘it ain’t nothing to do with you what the mistress does, so you mind your business.’

  ‘I know my place,’ Alice said in answer.

  ‘You mind you keep
it an’ all!’ Beulah retorted.

  ‘I’m a parlourmaid!’ Alice said with her nose in the air.

  ‘You’re a kitchen maid an’ all!’ Beulah said sharply. ‘So get the kettle on and let’s have no more lip from you.’

  Simmons shook his head; this setting of the pecking order of staff was probably going on in houses all over the district. It was necessary so everyone knew their place in the household.

  Right on cue, the little bell in the kitchen tinkled, and looking at Alice, Simmons said, ‘That’ll be the mistress wanting her afternoon tea.’

  Alice sighed as she set the tea tray ready to go upstairs to the ‘Dragon Lady’.

  *

  Hortense was in an excellent mood, and why not? She had a cook, maid and butler, as well as new furniture throughout the house. She was not hampered by children and… she was £500 better off!

  After breakfast in bed, Hortense set off to put the money from the sale of Abel’s emerald into her own account in the bank in Wednesbury. As she walked she revelled in the luxury of being the mistress of the staff in her employ.

  Lost in her thoughts, Hortense walked from the Holyhead Road into Dudley Street. As she passed the Shakespeare Inn, the door opened and she heard, ‘Ah, Mrs Eldon, so nice to see you again.’ Looking at the young man who spoke to her, Hortense sucked in a breath. It was Zachariah Buchanan. The boy was here in Wednesbury!

  ‘Oh Mr Buchanan! You gave me quite a start. I didn’t think to see you here in my home town.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ the boy went on, ‘I’m searching all the alehouses… I’m looking for my father.’

  ‘Lost him have you?’ Hortense gave a deprecating smile.

  With a little laugh, Zachariah nodded before adding conspiratorially, ‘Mother and father had somewhat of a disagreement and I’m afraid we haven’t seen him since.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Hortense saw her chance. ‘Could you describe him? Then maybe if I should see him I could tell him you were looking for him.’