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

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  Joan and Hilda Spence set to in the kitchen area, both glad of the work. Jobs were scarce everywhere and they worked in the hope they might be taken on as cleaners by Orpha. However, the girl had other ideas, and when they stopped for tea – Hilda having managed to get the range working – she explained her idea to them all. ‘If you ladies help with the chocolate making, we can pay a small wage; Lottie has agreed to be the saleswoman in the shop.’ Delighted at this turn of events, cups clinked in the now sparkling clean kitchen of ‘The Choc’s Box’.

  The sisters were totally unaware that Hortense had booked herself into a hotel in the same town they now had their shop, and was busy hatching a plan to rid herself of her first born daughter.

  Chapter 31

  Abel excused himself while Jago ran out to the stables. Walking quickly to his study, Abel went directly to the floorboards knowing instantly something was amiss, for the rug was not properly aligned. Checking the hiding place, he gasped as he realised all of the emeralds were missing. Rushing back to the parlour, he yelled at the sergeant, ‘My treasure has been stolen!’ It stood to reason Hortense had taken them before she left. As he explained about the emeralds, he watched as the constable added this latest information to the file he carried with him.

  Jago drove the others in the carriage and after a lengthy meeting with the Wednesbury police about the thieving arsonist, the case was given priority in this jurisdiction also. Everyone was now on the lookout for the woman known as Hortense Buchanan.

  Being driven to the railway station, the sergeant, the constable and Abel Buchanan caught the train to Birmingham while Jago returned to Buchanan House. Abel hadn’t seen his son for a couple of days and he was still living in the hotel. ‘I will keep you updated,’ the policeman said as he left Abel at New Street Station.

  Going to the office in Burlington Passage, Abel met with Zachariah and they exchanged news. He agreed hiring a couple of nightwatchmen was an excellent idea. Suddenly he said, ‘Zach son, why don’t you come and live with me at Buchanan House? We could commute to the office by train!’

  ‘That would make perfect sense, Father,’ Zachariah answered, excited about the idea.

  Collecting Zachariah’s things from the hotel next door and telling Seth Walker to join them, they all set off to fetch their horses from the smithy.

  Arriving at Buchanan House, Zachariah was introduced to Mrs Jukes the cook, Simmons the butler and Alice Danby the maid. The staff were shocked at the revelation that Abel had a son… by another woman, but they all warmed to the man immediately and anyone was better than their previous mistress. A dewy-eyed Alice was sent to make up a room for the handsome young man with the sparkling green eyes.

  *

  Overnight, the threatened snowfall had descended and Orpha wrapped up warmly against the cold the following morning. Trudging through the thick snow, her skirt hem was wet almost in an instant and she felt the cold wetness seep through to her woollen stockings. She noticed how grimy windows held a latticework of frost and the snow had piled up on dirty doorsteps. Passing people in the street, she saw many had no outdoor clothes to speak of. Too poor to buy coats, she guessed their money, what little they had, would be spent on food.

  Orpha felt sorry in her heart for the men standing the ‘bread line’, their shoulders hunched and chins shoved deep into mufflers. She heard their feet stamping and saw them blow on their cold hands. She shivered as she wondered how many of the stick-thin figures would manage to survive until the spring came round again.

  Walking on, she brought her mind back to the reason for being out in the cold herself. She had decided to visit the bank manager to seek his advice on pertinent matters such as informing their clients of the new address.

  The meeting went well with the manager, who said, ‘The bank would be happy to pass on this information on your behalf; a courtesy afforded to our valued customers.’ His eyes sparkled at the thought that Orpha might bring new business to his bank by way of her own customers; the box of chocolates given over sweetening the deal.

  Having left the bank, Orpha trudged round to Oxford Street to open the shop, having no idea she was being followed. There was more cleaning to be done yet and Lottie would be arriving soon with her daughters to begin whitewashing the walls.

  Orpha immediately lit the range and, as it burned, the heat began to warm the kitchen. Lighting the fire in the living area made the whole place look and feel homely. Readying the cups for hot tea she knew the women would need when they arrived, she moved back into the shop area and looked around her, envisaging its look once the boxes of confectionery were in place. Stepping towards the mullioned windows, she turned and stared at the space that would hold her chocolates, the place where customers would stand with their mouths watering. Orpha was lost in her vision of the shop when it was finished, so much so in fact, she was unaware her shop was under surveillance from further along the street.

  *

  Peg had loaded the cart with pots, pans and utensils to be taken to the shop, cursing the snow as she did so. Dragging the cart through the snow-covered streets, she smiled to herself; today was the day Ezzie and Edna would be visiting them. Brightening, she thought about her wedding in the spring, it wouldn’t be too long before she became Mrs Peg Lucas. Dragging the cart to Oxford Street, her head down against the driving wind, she didn’t notice the woman hovering in a doorway on the other side of the street.

  Parking the cart outside the shop, Peg opened the door and Orpha came out to help relieve the cart of its cargo. The two girls laughed and chatted as they worked until the cart was empty and they disappeared inside closing the door behind them.

  *

  Hortense left early in order to make her way to the cottage but as she walked through the town she caught sight of a raven haired girl. It was Orpha! Hardly able to believe her eyes she followed the girl. Hiding in a doorway she had gasped her disbelief as she saw the two sisters. So, they were both alive, and what’s more they had found each other! What were the odds of that happening? How had it come about? Hortense Buchanan stared at the building that now held both of her daughters. The look of shock left her features, being replaced by one of pure evil. The old saying of two birds with one stone popped into her mind as she walked stiffly away.

  Sitting in the warm teashop, Hortense wondered again how the girls had come to find each other. Some might say it was inevitable, others might say was it was impossible – either way, they had managed it. The likeness between the two was striking; surely they must be aware by now that they were related in some way. Jealousy reared its ugly head again as Hortense pictured the girls in her mind. They were beauties, there was no denying it, and she snorted her hatred of them into her teacup. She could see nothing of herself in those girls. Mousy hair and brown eyes she’d always known she was plain, but next to her daughters she would be seen as positively ugly! Hortense felt the sting of jealousy bite again which then began to turn to anger. Bloody girls! She thought. Bloody family!

  It looked like they were intending to open a shop, that much was evident, and she wondered what they would be selling. Pots and pans had been unloaded from the cart – could it be cheap household items? Well, whatever it was, if Hortense had anything to do with it that shop would never see its opening day!

  Feeling warmer, she made her way back to skulk in the doorway where she had previously hidden from view. She needed to be sure the girls were still there. As she sheltered in the doorway, she saw an older woman emerge and begin to clean the windows. They had help it would seem. Hearing voices, she pushed herself further into the doorway watching as a young man and an older woman passed by across the road. As they walked into the shop, Hortense thought the whole scenario was becoming ridiculously complicated. Turning on her heel, she marched indignantly across the town back to her hotel. This needed thinking about in more detail. She had to make her plans carefully.

  In her room, she considered how to be rid of the girls. She also had to find and dispose
of her husband and his son. Once she had achieved all this she would go after Jago Morton, the stable lad who had brought her to living in a hotel room.

  *

  Joan and Hilda Spence had carried the tins of whitewash into the shop and began scrubbing out the scullery. Edna set to cooking the food she had brought with her from the boat as Ezzie slapped the whitewash on the walls in the shop. Orpha and Peg went back to the cottage with the cart to transport the last of the things they would need. The shop was coming together in remarkably quick time and Orpha was ecstatic on her return to see the signwriter hanging the sign over the shop with a picture, exactly like their boxes, at the side of the name ‘The Choc’s Box’. Beneath, in beautiful lettering, read, ‘Proprietors, Orpha Buchanan & Peg Lucas’. Orpha had pre-empted the wedding when ordering the sign, she did not want the added expense of having it changed in the spring. Everyone stood outside watching the signwriter do his work; all oblivious to the cold in their excitement.

  Congratulated by one and all, the signwriter left and they all trooped inside to toast the business with hot cups of tea. After lunch of boiled potatoes, cabbage and lamb stew, Ezzie fixed the tinkling bell above the door as the girls arranged their utensils in the kitchen.

  A little while later the bell tinkled and Edna yelled from the kitchen, ‘Ezzie, we know that bell works, so leave the bloody thing alone!’ Amid raucous laughter they heard an unfamiliar voice call out. Rushing into the shop area, Orpha apologised to the man who was delivering their till. Smiling widely, he set it on the countertop before doffing his cap and leaving the building, a box of chocolates tucked under his arm. Everyone was surprised, not knowing Orpha had ordered it, and scuttled in to have a go at working the new till. Pressing down the appropriate keys, the price tags popped up in the window at the top of the big black contraption. Turning the large handle on the side, the money drawer flew open. With a shove, it shot back into place.

  Whilst ingredients were being stored; boxes stacked; pots, pans and utensils put in their places, Orpha left to visit the newspaper office. Front page news was centred on the first suffrage bill which had been defeated in Parliament. Orpha hoped that paying for an advertisement for their shop for three months would bring its own rewards. They were all set to begin work on the confectionery as she returned. As the daylight began to fade, Orpha suggested they start bright and early the next morning. Locking the shop, Orpha said as they all trudged homeward, ‘I will have extra keys made for you, Peg, as well as you, Lottie.’ They all tramped home happy with the work they had achieved. They might just be open for Christmas after all.

  *

  Hortense waited near the cottage for the girls to return. Standing behind a building on the corner where Raby Street and All Saints Road converged, she rubbed her gloved hands together to warm them. The temperature was dropping with the coming of night and she stamped her feet to beat off the cold. Not having a plan as such, she watched for the girls coming down the street. She could burst into the cottage and… No, there were two of them and they were younger than her. She could burn down the cottage with them both inside. That seemed a better idea. She still had the daily newspaper in her bag, but this time she had no lamp oil. Shaking her head at her own lack of forethought, Hortense peeped around the edge of the building. There was still no sign of the girls. Could they have gone somewhere else before deciding to come home? Maybe they were off with their friends. Hortense snorted into the darkness just as she heard voices. Risking another peek round the building, she saw them. Her daughters were walking towards her arm in arm. The jealousy in her was combatted in part by her excitement at knowing she was finally going to be rid of them once and for all.

  Watching from her hiding place, Hortense saw the girls disappear round the back of the cottage and after a moment a light shone out through the window. Checking the coast was clear, she hitched up her skirt and ran across to stand in the lea side of the small house. Voices carried on the still air and then laughter sounded.

  Enjoy, Hortense thought, you won’t be laughing much longer!

  Taking the newspaper out of her bag, she folded a sheet and slipped it into the gap beneath the back door. Another joined it and another, then she waited. Once they were in bed, she would light the newspaper and would ensure it was burning well before she made her escape.

  Standing in the cold for over an hour, she cursed silently. She wished they would go to bed so she could get out of the cold night air. Her fingers could barely move and she couldn’t feel her toes, but it would be worth the discomfort when she saw the cottage begin to burn. Deciding she could wait no longer, she fumbled with the box of matches, dropping a few onto the snow. Finally managing to strike a match, she shielded the flame with her other hand and touched it to the edge of the newspaper beneath the door. A slight breeze blew the match out and with a sigh she struck another. This time the paper caught and began to burn slowly. Watching the flame consume the paper, she could only pray it would continue its journey into the cottage. With a bit of luck there would be a curtain hanging by the door to help keep out the cold, a practice used in many old houses. Striding away from the building, Hortense smiled into the darkness. Tomorrow she would know whether the fire had taken the cottage and the girls with it, or whether the paper had gone out before doing its work. She hoped it would be the former.

  *

  Orpha woke with a dry throat and an acrid smell filling her nose. Instantly she rose and shook Peg awake.

  ‘Fire! Peg, I smell fire!’ she screamed at her sister. Grabbing their clothes and boots, they bolted down the stairs.

  ‘It’s coming from the kitchen!’ Orpha coughed at the smoke burning her lungs.

  ‘How will we get out?’ Peg yelled.

  ‘Come on, out the front door… NOW!’

  The front door, not having been used in a long time was stuck. The girls coughed as they heaved together.

  ‘It won’t open!’ Peg gasped.

  ‘It has to, we have to get out! Come on, pull again!’ Orpha shouted.

  Peg let out a strangled cry as the fire licked the walls and crawled along the old wooden floorboards, an errant flame catching at her nightdress. The cotton began to burn slowly.

  With a sudden crack the door sprang open. Grabbing Peg’s arm, Orpha dragged the girl behind her and both shot out of the front door and into the freezing night. Orpha threw her sister to the ground and rolled her in the snow to snuff out the flaming nightgown. They shoved their cold feet into their boots and dragged their clothes on over the top of their nightdresses. Having moved well away from the burning building, they held tight to each other as they watched their home engulfed by flame.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Peg gasped as the windows blew out with the heat. ‘Orpha… how? We’re always so careful with the fire! How did this happen?’

  Orpha shook her head but in her heart she knew exactly how it had happened.

  They stood in the snow, clinging to each other, and Peg sobbed her heart out as she watched her home burn. Everything she owned had gone up in flames.

  Orpha shivered more from fear than cold; the heat of the cottage being razed to the ground was fierce and she dragged Peg further away from the intense glare. We could have died in there! She shuddered in horror as she realised what a terrible death that would have been.

  Dragging a sobbing Peg behind her, Orpha felt in her coat pocket. It was still there, thank goodness, the key to the shop still lay snugly where she had placed it. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘we’ll go to the shop, at least we can have a fire there.’

  Peg burst into fresh tears as Orpha realised her faux pas. Giving the girl a hug, they stepped double time towards Oxford Street.

  Entering the shop, after a cold, quiet walk, Orpha locked the door behind her. Peg lit the fire in the living room as Orpha lit the range. A hot cup of tea was called for and then in the morning they would visit the police station.

  Discussing the incident by firelight, Orpha said, ‘I am almost certain our mother had
a hand in this somewhere, although proving it is an entirely different matter. After we report it to the police we can return to what is left of the cottage to see if anything is salvageable.’

  ‘Oh Orpha… it’s gone! My home, all my things… gone!’

  Hugging her sobbing sister, Orpha replied, ‘I know, but at least we have each other and we’re still alive!’

  Chapter 32

  Simmons watched the cook set out the cups for their mid-morning tea. ‘It’s odd, don’t you think…’ Beulah Jukes said as she fetched the cake from the pantry, ‘that the master had a son in Birmingham?’

  ‘No,’ Simmons replied, watching her movements, ‘I think it’s no wonder, knowing what we do about the mistress.’

  Beulah nodded as Alice came through the back door followed by the two stable lads. Sitting around the scrubbed wooden table, Beulah took up again, ‘We was just sayin’ about Mr Zachariah, and us having no knowledge of him until the both of you come here with the master.’ She looked at Seth as she spoke.

  ‘We never knew anything about you lot either,’ the boy answered.

  ‘Seth,’ Simmons interjected, ‘where is Mr Zachariah’s mother?’

  ‘She’s dead,’ the boy lowered his eyes, ‘she was killed some months ago.’

  ‘Killed!’ Beulah gasped. ‘Did they find the bugger who did it?’

  Seth shook his head, his tear filled eyes lifting to meet the cook’s. ‘No. She was a lovely lady… she was killed out on the heath… police reckoned she was run over by a cart. She died of her terrible injuries.’

  Jago’s eyes immediately shot to Simmons whose slight frown and imperceptible head shake told him to keep his tongue between his teeth.

  ‘Our sympathies,’ Simmons said, ‘so they never found the person responsible?’ He watched the boy shake his head. Simmons’ head rocked slowly up and down.