Beyond the Sunset

by Anna Jacobs

  6

  On the day after the wedding Pandora woke early, thankful to see daylight lightening the tent walls. She’d started awake several times during the night, wondering what some nearby noise was.

  After washing herself all over, she stood for a moment or two naked, feeling guilty at acting immodestly, but the air on her skin was so blessedly cool. Reluctantly she reached for her working clothes: drawers, one petticoat only, a cotton skirt, a camisole and a bodice from which she’d removed the sleeves in a vain attempt to keep cool. Over it all she tied a coarse twill pinafore, then lingered for a moment or two longer to stare at herself in the broken mirror Mrs Southerham had given them.

  Her skin was a light golden colour now, though still much paler than everyone else’s. She didn’t spend any more time than she had to in the sun because she still found the heat uncomfortable. Her hair was shiny again though – she put up one hand to touch it. It had been dull during the times they’d gone hungry after the cotton mills closed.

  Were people still starving in Outham? Was the Civil War still going on in America? They were cut off from the latest news here, because without a railway system newspapers took a long time to reach the country settlements. Mr Southerham grumbled about that quite often.

  If you went anywhere, you went on foot or by horse. Her employer had said he’d teach her to ride, if she liked. She’d remind him of that. If she could ride, maybe he’d let her go to visit Xanthe and Maia on her own occasionally. Surely she’d be safe with so few people around? And learning to ride would give her something different to do. It got so boring doing the same chores every day, with no one to talk to now, even. She’d never have chosen to be a maid. When she’d worked in the mill, it had been hard work, not particularly interesting, but she and her workmates had had fun as well, and her time off had been her own.

  She took the bowl of water outside and threw it on the small row of plants struggling to survive. It didn’t do to waste water here. It hadn’t rained once since they arrived in December.

  As she went to draw another bucket of clean water, she saw a few kangaroos hopping among the trees behind the house – females. Kevin said the male kangaroos could be dangerous, but the females were gentler. They seemed to go round in groups. She’d seen this lot before. The biggest one had a ragged ear.

  When the animals had moved away, she got the fire burning and made herself a pot of tea, drinking it from one of the half-pint enamel mugs everyone used, though the Southerhams always got out their china teacups in the afternoons – you have to keep up standards – which made extra work for their maid. She had to wash the tea service carefully afterwards, with a tea towel in the bottom of the tin washing-up bowl to prevent chipping the fine china.

  She swirled the dark liquid round her mug, watching the hollow in the centre, seeing how deep she could make it. There was no milk for the tea because the Southerhams didn’t want the trouble of keeping a cow, and there was no other way of getting milk here. Anyway, milk would sour too quickly in this heat. She didn’t add sugar, either, because she’d grown to like the bitter taste of unsweetened tea during the years when sugar was too expensive, years when they’d struggled to find one decent meal a day and a few pieces of dry bread the rest of the time if they were lucky. They’d had to reuse their tealeaves several times in those days, till finally the water was barely coloured, which was perhaps why she enjoyed strong tea now.

  Mrs Southerham came out on to the veranda of their tiny wooden dwelling, yawning and stretching, then walked across to join her at the table under its canvas awning. ‘Is there any tea left in that pot?’

  ‘Plenty.’ She started to stand up.

  ‘Sit down. I’ll get my own. I think the wedding went well, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Cassandra made a beautiful bride.’

  ‘Not as beautiful as you will be one day.’

  ‘I doubt I’ll find another man like Bill.’ He’d been the kindest man she’d ever met, and fun to be with.

  ‘Oh, I think you might find someone else. I was quite on the shelf myself and resigned to living and dying a spinster, when I met Francis. You’ll see. A girl as beautiful and intelligent as you is bound to attract interest.’

  Pandora didn’t argue. It wasn’t worth it. She didn’t want to marry someone from round here and spend the rest of her life stuck miles away from anywhere. She went to get out the flour and bicarbonate of soda and set to work to make the first batch of damper, pummelling it hard, wishing people wouldn’t keep harping on about her getting married.

  As she straightened up from putting the tins of dough into the oven, she stared down the track that led up to the farm. She often caught herself doing this and sometimes her imagination conjured up an image of a man striding up that track and taking her away from this place, away from Australia and back to Lancashire.

  How foolish she was! You didn’t get knights in shining armour coming to rescue you in these modern times. She was trapped here in Australia. But one day she’d escape, even if it was only to go and live in Perth.

  The following week, when Hallie and her mother went to market, a lad with a cap pulled down over his face and a muffler round his neck came running round a corner and bumped right into her mother, knocking her over.

  Someone called ‘Hoy!’ but the lad ran away.

  Hallie bent over her mother, who was gasping for breath. A man from a nearby stall came to help Mrs Carr stand up. But she couldn’t seem to catch her breath for a few moments.

  Someone else brought a stool and when Mrs Carr did manage to get up she was glad to sit down on it.

  ‘He seemed to – jab me in my stomach and – I couldn’t catch my breath.’

  Hallie knew then that this was what Harry had meant. He’d done it. Hurt her mother but made people think it was an accident.

  ‘Careless young devil!’ the man who’d helped them said. ‘If I knew who that lad was I’d be round to tell his parents.’ He raised his voice. ‘Anyone know who he was?’

  Heads were shaken. Most people had already gone back to their shopping.

  All the way home Hallie worried about what Harry was going to want from her next week. The thought of kissing him made her feel sick.

  But if she didn’t, he might hurt her mother again.

  Should she tell someone?

  She didn’t dare. She knew about the Prebbles. Everyone did. If you upset them, they got their own back on you.

  In early March it rained, heavy drops that dried before they could wet the ground properly. But even that was something so unusual that Pandora went to stand outside, her head tilted up to enjoy the feeling of cool moisture on her face.

  Cassandra, sheltering under the awning over the table, laughed at her antics. Pandora laughed back, dancing round, arms spread out. The Southerhams had gone for a ride, so they were alone, for once, and could relax – though there were always jobs to be done.

  Reece also stopped to smile at Pandora’s antics. He was working on the Southerhams’ hut, because Livia had at last persuaded her husband to enlarge their dwelling by enclosing part of the veranda before the winter rains really set in. He was using bits and pieces of packing cases, as well as the huge strips of bark you could get from some trees. They would get some glass for windows next time they were in Perth.

  To her disappointment the spatter of rain soon stopped and the brassy sun took over again.

  ‘I wonder what winter’s really like,’ she said as they all three stopped for a mid-morning snack. ‘I don’t call that pitter-patter rain.’

  ‘In winter it beats down so hard, it bounces up again from the ground,’ Reece said. ‘And it’ll come straight towards us from the sea.’ He gestured across the sloping land to the horizon. ‘We don’t get much rain from an easterly direction.’

  Cassandra got out the mugs. ‘I’m worried about you alone in that tent. What if it blows away?’

  Pandora shrugged. ‘If it does, I’ll seek refuge in the house, or with you, perha
ps.’

  ‘At the very least I’ll build a bed frame and erect a bark and pole shelter over the tent before the rains really set in,’ Reece promised. ‘I can’t build proper living quarters without money to buy sawn wood, though.’

  ‘Will Mr Southerham let you take the time to do that?’

  ‘I’ll insist. He can’t expect you to sleep in a soaked tent that may blow away any minute. Even the horses have better shelters than you do.’

  Francis and Livia were riding along a track they’d found in the bush when the rain started to fall. They had no idea who had made this path or where it led, but it was clearly man-made, though not recently used. He’d got Reece to clear away the regrowth and then Francis had walked along it to make sure the track was safe for the horses.

  After a while the path turned downhill towards the main Albany road, which they could follow to the entrance to their own property and then come back up the hill.

  ‘Rain!’ Livia held out one hand, palm upwards, enjoying the feel of the drops. ‘Oh dear, it’s stopping already. I’d have loved a proper shower.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  He was lost in thought today and she hesitated, then reined in her horse. ‘Let’s get off and walk along this part. The horses will follow us.’

  As they tramped along, she said what she’d been holding back for a while now, ‘What’s wrong, Francis? It’s no use pretending you’re well. I’ve noticed you slowing down, tiring more easily . . . coughing again. It isn’t—’ She broke off hating even to say the word.

  He stopped to stare down at the ground and kick away a small branch. ‘I do feel – more tired lately. And – I’m coughing up blood again. Not a lot, but a smear or two occasionally.’

  She stopped dead, one hand on his arm. ‘I’d heard you coughing, but you said it was just the dust. And it is dusty here.’

  ‘I’d been hoping I’d get better once we’d settled in.’

  ‘That’s what persuaded your father to let you come to Australia in the end, isn’t it? The doctors told him you had consumption.’

  He nodded.

  ‘You made light of it then, said it wasn’t bad, told me the doctor was sure things would get better in a warmer climate. Oh, Francis!’ Her throat closed with anguish and the last word came out muffled.

  He came to take her in his arms. ‘I didn’t want to worry you.’

  ‘We must go to Perth, find a doctor.’

  ‘I saw doctors in England. There’s nothing they can do about consumption that I’ve not done already, not really. I’ve come to a warm climate, changed to an outdoor life, and that hasn’t helped. Oh, my darling, don’t cry!’ He pulled her into his arms.

  She fought against tears but couldn’t hold them back, weeping on his shoulder. But she didn’t let herself weep for long. She had to keep her courage up, look after him, make his last years as happy as possible.

  He spoke against her hair, holding her close. ‘I shouldn’t have bought this land. It’s used up too much of our money. That’s why I didn’t want to make too many changes here, because everything I spend will mean less left for you . . . afterwards.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me. If we look after you, see that you get lots of rest, maybe there’s a chance that you’ll get better.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Anguish ran through her, sitting heavily in her chest because she understood then that he’d given up hope of recovering – which meant he must be feeling worse than he’d admitted.

  ‘My main worry is what will happen to you,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll have some money because I can sell the land again. Reece has made a lot of improvements, so this place should be worth more. Don’t waste time worrying about me, my darling. We have to think what can we do to make your life as happy as possible.’

  ‘Well, I’m enjoying living here more than in Lancashire, on the whole. I do enjoy the warmer climate. I’ve got you, some good horses, a place to ride, a veranda where I can sit and watch the sunsets. It’s not a bad way to go.’

  ‘That’s why you’ve been avoiding kissing me.’

  ‘Yes. Some people think it can be passed from one person to another. I ought to sleep on my own as well.’

  ‘No. I love sleeping together.’

  ‘I wake in the night sweating and uncomfortable.’ He put one finger on her lips. ‘No arguing. I shall be more comfortable sleeping on my own in the enclosed veranda.’

  It required a huge effort to smile at him and nod, but she managed it.

  As they rode back up the final stretch to their own land, she said abruptly, ‘We’d better tell Reece.’

  ‘I don’t want to tell anyone else.’

  ‘I’ve seen him looking at you, thinking you’re lazy. He needs to know what’s wrong so that he won’t ask too much of you.’

  ‘If he knows, Cassandra will, and Pandora too. They’ll watch me, stare.’

  ‘Let them. If you don’t tell Reece, I will.’

  He gave her one of his wry smiles. ‘You’re bullying me.’

  She nodded, finding the courage to return his smile steadily, when all she wanted to do was weep.

  ‘You tell them, then.’ He helped her to remount, pulled himself up on his own horse and let it walk along the track at its own speed. They didn’t speak much for the rest of the ride.

  That afternoon Livia said she didn’t want afternoon tea serving in the fancy cups. ‘Francis feels tired. He’s going to lie down. I’ll have a cup with you today.’

  Reece and Cassandra exchanged surprised glances.

  ‘Something’s wrong,’ he murmured to his wife as he emptied the dregs from the big teapot over the garden, then took it across to the stove for her to make another brew. ‘I wonder what it is.’

  ‘Maybe they’ve changed their minds about staying here. Mr Southerham still isn’t looking well.’

  When Livia joined the three of them at the table, she accepted her mug of tea and said abruptly, ‘I have something to tell you. It’s . . . important.’

  After she’d finished explaining, Reece spoke for the other two. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs Southerham. I must admit I’ve wondered. I can’t help noticing how quickly Mr Southerham tires now and how much thinner he’s become.’

  ‘We’ll help you in any way we can,’ Cassandra said gently.

  Livia nodded, her words coming out muffled with suppressed anguish. ‘Thank you.’ She got up, leaving her mug of tea untouched and went back into the shack.

  Reece sighed. ‘They should have told us sooner. I had a friend whose daughter died of consumption. The doctor was a forward-thinking man and told him a few precautions to take. From now on, we’re not sharing the same dishes and cups they use.’

  ‘We don’t use the same things most of the time anyway,’ Pandora said thoughtfully. ‘They have their fancy china, while we use the cheaper things. It’s just the tin mugs.’

  ‘We’ll mark theirs,’ Reece said. ‘It’s Livia I’m sorry for. How will she manage after he dies? A woman can’t do the heavy work on a farm, not that he does much of it but he does look after the horses.’

  ‘She’ll sell Westview. She’ll have to.’

  ‘And go where? She hasn’t got any friends in the colony.’

  ‘Maybe she’ll go back to England,’ Pandora said.

  ‘Her father died. She has no other close family.’ Cassandra sighed. ‘Life is hard for a woman on her own.’

  He stood up. ‘We’ll help them in any way we can, but it means I can’t stop working for them, even if I want to, because he’ll only grow weaker. I can’t leave them in the lurch. That’ll delay our own plans.’

  ‘He and Kevin are both failing. Who’ll be the third one?’ Pandora wondered.

  ‘It’s a foolish superstition that deaths come in threes,’ he said sternly. ‘I don’t like to hear people say it. It’s as if they’re wishing for someone to die. I’m going back to work now.’

  No one had wondered what would happen to her if the
Southerhams sold Westview, she thought as she rinsed out the mugs, then got angry with herself for being so selfish. Francis was dying. She wasn’t. And she had her sisters. They’d never let her want.

  Hallie dreaded Friday all the following week, because she’d have to deal with Harry Prebble somehow.

  She couldn’t eat her tea, felt so nauseous after forcing something down that she had to go out to the privy and be sick.

  When she got back to the kitchen she saw an envelope on the table.

  ‘Harry Prebble called with Zachary’s wages. He’s such a nice young man, isn’t he? Asked after you particularly.’

  Hallie didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry that she’d missed him. It had been accidental, but he’d blame her, she was sure. She’d make certain her mother didn’t get knocked over next week.

  But he’d think of some other way of getting at her, she was sure. She couldn’t get the memory of his expression out of her mind. He’d enjoyed taunting her, threatening her.

  Zachary sat on deck chatting to one of the other cabin passengers. He was amused that the man had sought his company, because at first on the voyage, the first class passengers had looked down their noses at those in the second-class cabins. But there were so few ordinary travellers in the ship, which was carrying mainly convicts and their warders, that boredom had set in for most people now. This had led to conversations that crossed all boundaries except those set around the convicts, who were closely watched and kept separate most of the time.

  He felt sorry for them, would hate to have his whole life ordered by someone else. And few of the convicts looked really wicked, but rather as if they’d had hard lives and were struggling to survive. One or two looked so ill that the slightest breeze might carry them off.

  ‘So you’ve already read that book?’ the man commented, sounding surprised.

  ‘Yes. I used to read a lot back home. The free libraries have been a boon to thinking folk. I could never have afforded to buy so many books. My sister’s the same, can’t get enough to read.’