by Lyn Denison
Asha had just walked down the stairs to join Vivienne for dinner when the front door opened. She stopped and turned as Peri entered, followed by a tall, fair-haired man.
The man said something Asha didn’t catch, and Peri laughed, the unexpected sound of her laughter making Asha still. The light in the foyer shone on Peri’s face, and Asha could only stare at her. Peri’s face glowed with amusement, making her look much younger than her twenty-eight years. She looked carefree, vibrant and so very attractive she took Asha’s breath away.
“If you don’t stop making me laugh, I’ll be far too exhausted to go out to dinner with you,” Peri warned, giving the man a playful shove.
“Can’t remember any sad stories, so you’re stuck with the plain old happy me,” replied the man.
Asha drew her gaze from Peri’s face to look at her companion. He was slightly taller than Peri, but the resemblance between the two was striking. This would have to be Peri’s brother.
“Is that you, Jackson?” Vivienne called from the dining room, and Jack Moyland’s smile widened.
“The one and only, Viv,” he called back. As he looked across the foyer he noticed Asha standing there.
Peri saw Asha at the same time as her brother did, but unlike her brother, Peri’s smile faded.
“Hello there,” Jack said easily.
“Oh. Asha. Hello. I didn’t see you there,” Peri said and moved forward with her brother, her expression closed. “This is my brother, Jack. Jack, meet Asha West.” She made the introductions with obvious reluctance.
Jack Moyland glanced sideways at his sister before shaking Asha’s hand. “You can’t be the genealogist Peri told me about. I had a picture of gray hair, a bun, glasses and an Olde Worlde air.”
A bubbly laugh escaped from Asha. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Oh, you are not disappointing, believe me. Quite the contrary.” Jack grinned wickedly. “I have the burning need to have my family history researched immediately.”
Asha laughed with him while Peri managed a chilly smile.
“Come on through to the dining room.” Vivienne’s voice had them moving down the hallway. “Good. I see you’ve met Asha,” Vivienne said after Jack had kissed her on the cheek. “Did Peri tell you Jack’s a lawyer?” she asked Asha, and Jack held up his hands in mock surrender.
“And none of those disparaging lawyer jokes apply to me, I assure you.”
Asha decided she liked Peri’s brother. “So lawyers just get bad press, do they?”
“Oh, they do. They surely do.”
“Just like all genealogists are gray-haired and wear glasses?”
Jack chuckled. “Touché. Shall we agree we’re both exceptions to the rules?”
“It’s a deal.” Asha glanced at Peri, and it was obvious she wasn’t as amused as her brother.
Peri checked her watch. “It’s getting late, Jack. Shouldn’t we be going?”
“I thought you wanted to change,” remarked her brother. “Although why you want to beats me. You look perfectly fine as you are.”
Asha’s gaze automatically ran over Peri, taking in her neat, dark, figure-hugging suit, her long legs, her high heels, and she decided she totally agreed with Jack. Peri looked perfectly stunning as she was.
Peri slid a glance at Asha and flushed. “Oh. Yes. I do want to change. I won’t be long.” She left them, and Asha looked back to find Jack Moyland’s eyes studying her, and she felt her face grow warm.
“I’m so pleased you’re taking Peri to dinner, Jack.” Vivienne broke in on Asha’s sudden confusion. “It does her good to get out. You’ll have to introduce her to some of your single young friends.”
Jack looked askance and held up his hands. “No way, Viv. I don’t want to be responsible again. I was the one who introduced her to Lance, remember? So my track record as a matchmaker is pretty ordinary.”
“Now, that can’t be helped. No one knew how badly Lance was going to behave.” Vivienne patted his arm. “But Peri does need to get out more, and I won’t worry about her if she’s with you.”
Jack turned to Asha with a beseeching expression. “I don’t suppose you have a brother who’s available, do you, Asha? To get me off the hook, so to speak.”
“I’ve got five brothers, actually.”
“Five?” he repeated incredulously.
Asha grinned at his surprise. “Yes. Five,” she said. “Although the age difference might be a slight problem. Andrew, the eldest, is eight.”
“Is he as cute as his sister?”
Asha wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know about that. But he is pretty cute.”
“Peri told me your father is Sean West, and I seem to remember reading somewhere he’d remarried. I’m something of a fan of his. He was a great cricketer. He’s still involved in the game, isn’t he? On the coaching side.”
Asha nodded. “He’s on the Queensland Bulls’s coaching team, and he also does some junior coaching.” She turned as Peri reentered the room.
She was wearing dark slacks now and a silvery, shimmery blouse that hugged her breasts, and for earth-shattering seconds, Asha couldn’t take her eyes off her.
“And are your young brothers interested in the game?”
Jack’s words drew Asha’s reluctant attention and she nodded again. “Dad says Andrew and Brendan are naturals, so that pleases him no end. The others are a little young.”
“You look lovely, Peri,” Vivienne said and Asha slid another surreptitious glance at Peri before making herself study the pattern on the hand-embroidered tablecloth.
“Thanks, Viv. Shall we go?” Peri said to her brother.
Jack stood up. “Right. Nice to meet you, Asha. We must have a chat about cricket sometime.”
“Yes. Good to meet you, too, Jack. Have a nice night,” Asha added with as much conviction as she could muster, and she could only watch as Peri walked out the door.
After lunch the next day Asha picked up the phone and dialed her mother’s number. It rang a couple of times before Michelle murmured hello.
“Chelle. Hi! It’s Asha. I didn’t expect you to be home.”
Michelle laughed. “I got sick of delving into the social sciences, so I decided to catch up on some rest. I’ve had too many late nights. I’m starting to look like I’ve got bags on the bags under my eyes and I needed some beauty sleep.”
“Rubbish. You look fantastic.”
“So now you’ve got a video phone? That must be one rich family you’re working for.”
“I guess they are pretty well off, but they’re really nice, too.”
“That’ll make Mum feel better. You know, she really overreacted about you staying over there, didn’t you think? I mean, you are twenty-five.”
“You know how she worries.”
“She sure does. And she even cross-examined me because she forgot to ask you who the people you’re doing the research for are. It didn’t help that I couldn’t remember their names.”
“It’s Chaseley,” Asha filled her sister in. “Let me talk to her and I’ll set her mind at rest.”
“She’s gone down to visit her friend Meg from the choir, I think. Remember she broke her arm last week? Meg, I mean.”
“Oh. I just wanted to give her the phone number here. The number’s unlisted.”
“Sure. Let me just find a pen.”
Asha heard her sister rattling in the phone stand drawer.
“Okay. I’ll write it in the front of Mum’s phone directory. And what’s their name again?” she asked after she’d copied the number Asha gave her.
“Chaseley. Mrs. Vivienne Chaseley.”
“Got it. So how’s the research going?”
Asha told Michelle all about the photographs and certificates uncovered in the small family chest that was sitting on the desk in front of her. They chatted for a while, and when her sister rang off, Asha sat back in her chair and ran her hand lightly over the beautifully smooth wood of the box.
Apart from the wealth o
f information stored inside the chest, it was a beautiful piece. The tooled pattern on the lid featured the smooth petals of frangipani flowers, intricately carved by a master craftsman, and the hinges and catch on the box were genuinely antique.
Asha ran her fingers lightly over the polished wood. At some time the small chest may have been lined with felt or silk, but if it had, the material had long gone. The rim of the box was a little rough where the material may have been attached.
She made sure the clasp was closed and carefully lifted the box, turning it over onto its back so she could examine the bottom. Maybe the craftsman had carved his or the owner’s name or initials into the bottom of the box. She felt around, pausing when her fingers encountered a small indentation. What could it be? Asha could insert the tip of her little finger into the hole.
Rolling the box onto its lid, she switched on the desk lamp and drew it closer. There was definitely a small round hole, regular edges indicating it was put there on purpose rather than accidentally.
Asha frowned. Why would the box have a hole in the bottom? She hadn’t noticed it when she’d looked inside the box. She carefully inserted the blunt end of her pencil and found the hole was about an inch and a half deep. She righted the box, opened the lid again and checked the bottom of the inside of the box. Nothing.
Then she remembered a gift her father and stepmother had given her for her seventh or eighth birthday. It was a music box. You wound a key in the base and tinkling music played. Had this been a music box at some stage? Surely it was too big?
Looking in the top drawer of the desk, she found a ruler and measured the inside and outside dimensions of the box. There was a discrepancy of a couple of inches. It must have been a music box, she thought excitedly, and the mechanism might still be beneath the false bottom.
Perhaps if she pushed her pencil through the hole in the bottom she could prize the false bottom from the sides of the box. She lifted the box over onto its lid again, but this time the pencil barely went into the hole. Something must be obstructing it. If the music playing mechanism had come loose, surely it would rattle?
Asha lifted the box off the desk, and then gingerly gave it a shake. No, there was nothing metallic rattling inside the box. Her arms protested at the weight of the box, and she set it on its side. Whatever was in the false bottom had moved back again, and this time her pencil went right into the cavity.
Half an hour later, after careful tapping and manipulation the false bottom of the box popped out. Asha set the box right side up and excitedly opened the lid and removed the now loosened false bottom. The exposed cavity didn’t hold a music cylinder, but it did contain a couple of old photographs, papers and two leather-bound books.
With a thrill of excitement, Asha slipped on her cotton gloves and looked at one of the photos. It was a cabinet photo, about four and a half inches by six and a half inches, making it larger than the more common carte-de-visite, and it was mounted on fairly thick card that was showing signs of deterioration caused by the acid in the paper. Even though it was faded and the edges damaged, Asha could see the faces of what appeared to be a wedding group. The bride and groom stood stiffly center stage. Around them stood a younger girl, a smaller boy, two young men and an older man. On the back of the photo was the name and address of the photographers in Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Someone had written in ink, now faded, “Elm Street, Benwell. Our Mary’s marriage to Enoch Bolam. 1867.”
Excitement grabbed at Asha again. She knew from the research she’d done so far that Richard Chaseley was from Northumberland. Was this his family? She peered at the young men in the photo. She was almost sure the taller one was Richard Chaseley. She compared it to the portrait of Richard and his family taken in Brisbane in 1885. Yes, the taller young man was definitely Richard Chaseley. If he was born in 1850, then he was seventeen years old in the faded photograph.
She picked up the other photo. Another wedding shot, this time of just the bride and groom, the fashions and condition of the photo indicating it had been taken later than the other one. The photographers this time were in Charters Towers, Queensland, and on the back of the photo, in what appeared to be the same handwriting, was written, “Margaret and Georgie. 29 September 1896.”
Georgie Chaseley. This must be Richard’s younger brother who had sailed with him for the colonies. Asha picked up her magnifying glass and peered at the other older photo again, but she couldn’t be sure the other young man, or the boy, was George Chaseley.
Setting the photos aside, Asha unfolded the first piece of paper to find a marriage certificate for George Chaseley and Margaret Ann Gaines. George was a bachelor, aged 44 years, a storekeeper, son of Michael Chaseley, coal miner, and Mary Nolan. George’s birthplace was given as Sacriston, Durham, and he had been in Queensland for twenty-six years. Margaret was a widow, aged 30 years, daughter of Robert Leston, a miner, and Alice Jefferies. She was born in Portsmouth, Hampshire, and had been in Queensland for twenty years.
The second certificate was a death certificate for William John Gaines, aged 33 yrs. Cause of death was a broken neck. There was also a birth certificate for Margaret and William Gaines’s son, Robert, in 1892.
Asha then turned her attention to the books. There was no pattern on the cover of the first one, but the initials G. C. had been tooled on the second book. This book was slightly larger than the other one, and the flyleaf was inscribed with the same handwriting as the photographs. Georgie Chaseley. She put it aside and picked up the other, older book.
Setting it carefully on the desk, Asha sat down to examine it. She slowly opened the cover. On the flyleaf, the paper blotched and browning, was written, “Georgie Chaseley, 1870.” Asha turned the page feeling excitement well inside her as she slowly and carefully began to read the neat, sloping script.
6th of September, 1870. This day begins the journal of Georgie Chaseley, aged eighteen years …
Chapter Four
6th of September, 1870. This day begins the journal of Georgie Chaseley, aged eighteen years, born in Sacriston, County Durham, and late of Benwell, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, now residing in Petrie Terrace, Brisbane, Australia.
My older brother, Richard, and I sailed from London aboard the ship,Star of the South. With all our family gone, we sold our worldly goods to pay for our train fare to London. Richard took a job with a coal merchant to keep us until the ship sailed. I assisted performing errands for a grocer.
We were neither of us sorry when our day of departure arrived to take us to our new land, for we found the city of London most crowded and unclean. We set sail and our journey was long.
It is not possible to describe the immensity and the changing colors of the oceans. I was convinced many times our ship remained still, for I thought we might never reach the far horizon. Other times the ship rolled about so much we could not remain upright, and many were so ill. One man’s leg was broke by a rolling water barrel, and we lost a poor sailor at sea when he was thrown from the mast to disappear beneath the tossing waves. Richard and I never could have thought to see such enormous waves, as tall as our ship and more. It was monstrous frightening. Many times we feared we would never lay eyes upon our new land.
One day of good and calm weather Richard and I saw dolphins playing in the waves. The sailors told us that was what the big fish were named. On another day we saw a huge fish we perceived to be a dolphin, but the sailors were quick to correct us that it was a shark. One of the crew told of a sailor unfortunate to fall overboard, and before his mates could haul him in, a shark had taken his legs. Richard and I were unsure regarding the truth of this tale, but we have heard similar stories since arriving in Queensland.
At night there were times we watched the sea shining. It was such a pretty sight. The Captain told us the cause was phosphorus, a substance I admit to knowing not at all.
I must relate that I so enjoyed the evenings Richard and I sat with some of the sailors spinning yarns that told about their times at sea and in foreign ports. I can say
I have never felt such freedom, and I enjoy it so. At such times I am much convinced Richard and I have made the best choice.
One of the seamen had lived for some years in the colony in the north, and he told many a tale of it. Not but three years past, gold was discovered in the north of Queensland, and diggers flock to the area. Another seaman said he had heard tell of a large nugget of gold named the Welcome Stranger, found in Victoria that weighed over 2,000 ounces. I became much excited about this, but Richard bade me not to think on it until we arrive at our destination and can acquire knowledge of such things for ourselves, which we have done.
One night the Captain learnt Richard and I the compass. He assures us it is very serviceable in the new land. If we should lose our way in the unsettled land, referred to as the bush, we can read a compass and find our course. Richard is set on having one when we reach our new home.
The sunrises, more especially as we neared the tropics, were a beauty to behold. I am not able to describe the colors, as I have not the words to do so.
During the voyage, there was sadness. Two small children and a woman died, the latter in childbirth, she leaving behind three other small children in the care of her bereaved husband. All who died were buried at sea, a solemn and lonely resting place in Davy Jones’ Locker and a sad sight. Thanks be to Providence, fortune shone upon my brother and me, for we kept good health. There were no outbreaks of the fearsome diseases we heard could befall us aboard the ships.
The heat below decks was intolerable and maked Richard and I feel so very weak. I began to think fondly of the snow, which used to cause us such a trial. This also caused me to think of those we have left behind us. Richard misses his friends from the mine, and I much miss my good sweet friend Jane Robson, who by this time will have wed our brotherin-law, Enoch Bolam, he being a widower since our Mary died.
The most worst times were when we were becalmed. This time seemed to give way to much mean-spiritedness among the passengers. To lift our spirits at such times Richard and I spoke of the reason for which we set out: To make a new life in a new land.
