A Greater World (10 page)

Elizabeth pulled away to speak again.

'Father was hoping I'd ignore his invitation to Australia - and I would have done... had not ... had not something terrible happened. I'd no idea I was walking into a trap. Jack Kidd believes he's bought me like a piece of meat. Help me, Peggy.'

'Hush, dear. No point in tears. It won't do any good. I wish I could help, my lovely - but there's nothing I can do. You'll have to make the best of it.'

'No woman should be expected to marry a man she doesn't love.'

'Love?' Peggy sighed. 'That doesn't last long. They're all the same really, men – farting, belching and snoring and taking up most of the bed. Sleep, food and their conjugals - that's all they want. A wife's just there to wash, cook, clean and service his needs in bed. Never mind her own needs! Yes there may be many men more handsome than Jack Kidd, but there's few as well off - and believe me Elizabeth - you won't see what he looks like when the light's out!' She laughed bitterly. 'We women have a lot to put up with, young lady and the sooner you realise that the better. At least you'll never have to worry where your next crust of bread's coming from. The first two years I was married I never knew from one day to the next if I was going to be able to put a meal on the table. Love doesn't help when you're hungry. By the time my Fred was making decent money we'd forgotten our romantic notions. You settle into a steady old pattern. Get used to each other. Put up with the shortcomings – there's children to keep you busy and to care for. Jack Kidd may not be the man you dreamed of, but then the man you dreamed of wouldn't be that for long either. If you've no expectations, you'll never be disappointed.'

Elizabeth rubbed her eyes with her handkerchief, then saw it was the rough-spun confection that Michael Winterbourne had given her the previous afternoon. She breathed through the coarse cotton trying to recapture the scent of him - a mix of hay and warm tweed and the outdoors.

Her stomach lurched. It was already nearly noon and it would take her a good half hour to get to the meeting place. He may never want to see her again when he knew her story, but she had to take the risk.

She jumped up, grabbed her coat and bade an astonished Mrs Little goodbye.

'Where are you off to in such a hurry?'

'I promised to meet someone I met on the voyage. I'm late.'

'I hope you're not thinking of doing anything foolish my love?' But Elizabeth was already out of the door and running along the street.

As soon as she left the Littles and retraced the steps she had taken the previous day, she ran into the crowds. She had never seen so many people. They were all heading the way she was and she was swept along in their midst. She began to panic as the pace slowed right down as the volume of people increased, merging on the same spot from all directions. She tried to turn back and find an alternative route, but the people kept on coming, pushing forward excitedly, many carrying flags and bags of confetti. When she tried to push her way back, a man elbowed her in the ribs and she stumbled and fell. Someone yanked her to her feet but in the crush she couldn't see who had helped her. The noise was getting louder, cheering and singing. She turned to a woman and asked her, 'Is someone getting married?' The woman looked at Elizabeth as if she'd lost her mind, shook her head and turned away without answering. Over the heads of the crowd in front she saw a large building, with a portico and clock tower, the façade of the building hung with enormous flags – the Union Jack and the flag of Australia. She turned to another person and asked 'Where's everyone going? What's happening?'

This time a man answered her. 'To see the Digger Prince. Where've you been hiding darling? Up on the planet Mars?'

'The Digger Prince?'

'The future king himself.' The man assumed a hammy English accent: 'His Royal Highness, Edward, Prince of Wales. Look there he is – up there on the platform. The fella waving his hat at us.'

She pushed herself onto her tiptoes but the crowd was so dense she couldn't make out the figure of the Prince. She turned back to the man. 'How do I get through? I need to go down to the Harbour, past the Circular Quay.'

The man laughed. 'Not yet you won't. You'll have to wait your turn and follow the crowd. We all want to get a glimpse or even have a touch.'

'But I don't. Please. I don't want to see the Prince. I just want to get past.'

The people around her started mumbling in disapproval. The man spoke again. 'Did you hear her? She doesn't want to see the Prince! Her a pommie and all. Bloody unpatriotic I call it. You should be ashamed of yourself.'

Almost screaming in frustration, Elizabeth had to concede defeat and shuffle along with the masses in the slow, steady advance towards the Town Hall.

Chapter Seven - Separated

Michael sat on the stone seat overlooking the harbour. The beauty and brightness before him contrasted with his own downcast spirits. The sun shone down through the trees and the water in the Harbour was deepest azure. In the branches of a eucalyptus tree a parrot flashed white against the dark of the leaves and screeched. He looked at his watch again. Where was she?

Yesterday, he had felt for the first time in his life that someone understood him. She sensed his feelings without the need for words, shared his loneliness and seemed to suffer from her own inner demons. He had seen the sadness in her eyes. He longed to comfort her.

But she had not come. She must have thought better of it. He wished he hadn't kissed her. It was too soon. She must have thought him presumptuous, a chancer. She was from another world. There had been something about being here in Australia that had led him to forget the class barriers that in England would have prevented them from so much as having a conversation, let alone sharing an embrace. Yet the memory of her lips against his, the warmth of them as she gave herself over to the kiss, belied his doubts. She had wanted him as much as he had her. He knew it to be true. But she was not here. What did that say?

He thought of the lads from Manchester and how they'd jeered at his pretensions towards Elizabeth. Hadn't they said she was out of his class? And the obnoxious Mrs Briars had made it clear that a man like him was unworthy to clean the shoes of the likes of her and Elizabeth. She must have been caught up in the moment yesterday, grief for her father getting the better of her judgement. In the cold light of day she must have realised he wasn't good enough for her. And how could she want a man who had killed his own brother?

He waited on the rocky seat they had occupied the previous day, until the sun sank and the huge sleeping bats that had been hanging motionless from the trees around him, awoke and started their swirling flights, ghoulish silhouettes against the darkening sky.

He walked through the dusk, to Woolloomooloo and into the bar next door to his lodgings, where he asked for a beer.

'Middy or schooner?' asked the woman behind the counter.

Michael shook his head, puzzled.

'Fresh off the boat?' She explained the difference between the measures and served him a schooner from one of the many beer taps all identically labelled Tooth's Draught.

He gulped the cold liquid down and asked for a second. The bar was empty, save for the woman who was serving and an old man at the far end of the counter. The woman, presumably the proprietor's wife, showed no interest in conversation, serving Michael's second glass wordlessly, before returning to polishing glasses.

He looked around. The pub was more like a public toilet than a drinking establishment. The walls were covered in white tiles and the floor was covered in sawdust.

He turned back to the woman. 'You know where I can get work?'

Without looking up she replied, her voice bored. 'What kinda work, mate?'

'Anything on the land or with animals.'

'Sheep or cattle?'

'Either.'

'Talk to Big Billy Carter. He's only in town one more day but he's hiring hands. Has a sheep farm up at Fairtown.'

'How'll I know him?'

'You'll know him. Built like a brick wall and more than six foot tall. Everyone knows Billy'

He asked for another beer. The woman poured it then looked at him.

'You from England mate?"

'Arrived yesterday. On the Historic.'

'So you don't know about the Six o'clock Swill?'

'I don't.' He didn't particularly want to either.

'It's the law. No drinks served after six o'clock. Better get them in now mate, as in a few minutes it'll be pandemonium and you won't have a Buckley's chance of getting another – they'll be ten deep at the bar. Moment the whistle blows at the dock they all pile in here. You won't believe how fast they get 'em down their necks.'

The prospect of the onrush to come was not an appealing one, but more to appease her than anything, he agreed to line up another pint. As she predicted, the place filled up rapidly and Michael's solitary corner was invaded, as the crowd pushed into all the available space. The noise was deafening and the woman behind the bar was joined by her husband and daughter and the trio kept up a virtuoso performance of high speed pint pulling.

He was about to move through the room to seek out Billy Carter, but the words of the group around him filtered into his consciousness and he listened with growing interest. There were three or four men, about his age and one of them had just returned from a mining town, where he had earned substantial sums of money.

'I tell you mates, I never had it so good. They just can't get the stuff out the ground fast enough and they're willing to pay a fortune if you don't mind going underground. They're so desperate for workers they're even bringing in Chinamen to do the jobs.'

'You don't say?'

'No word of a lie. I'm quids in. Reckon in another six months I'll have enough to buy a place for myself and I can say goodbye to the mines and be my own boss on my own land.'

'Isn't it a bit lonesome up in the mountains?

'No, mate. McDonald Falls is a bonzer town. There's a railway, a new fancy hotel, stores, plenty of bars and plenty of women.' He gave an earthy laugh, which was echoed by his cohorts.

'What they mining up there? Coal or what?'

'Everything, mate. Gold. There's coal and bauxite and there's copper. Rocks are just full of the stuff. I tell you it's like digging money right out of the ground.'

Michael had heard enough. Thoughts of becoming a sheep-hand abandoned, he pushed his way into the group and addressed the young man at the centre.

'Where's this place and how do I get there?'

'McDonald Falls. 'Eighty miles or so from Sydney. They're laying on transport for workers. A wagon leaves tomorrow from Circular Quay at sun-up. Just show up and they'll find a place for you I reckon. You'll need a couple of quid for the fare.'

He appraised Michael coolly, then stretched out his hand towards him. 'Name's Burton - Fred Burton.'

'Michael Winterbourne.'

'Welcome aboard, mate! There's just time for your shout before six.'

Every day for a week, Elizabeth returned to the green sward where she'd met Michael, but he was never there. Everywhere she went throughout the city she was mocked by the flags and bunting hanging from buildings and lampposts to welcome the Prince of Wales. She cursed her stupidity in failing to notice the flags the previous day, at being so wrapped up in herself that the world and its events passed her by unremarked. Now she came to think of it, she remembered that Peggy had commented on the Royal visit over breakfast, but she hadn't been listening properly.

She asked why Michael's feelings towards her were so shallow-rooted that her failure to turn up on time had been enough to kill them? He must have heard of the Prince's visit so why hadn't he put two and two together? She'd had no means of contacting him, didn't know where he was lodging, so why hadn't he come back the following day? Or the day after that? Just as she was doing.

When she finally accepted he wasn't going to return, she continued her walks along the harbour, immune to the gentle warmth of the autumn sunshine and the beauty of the harbour, with boats dotted over its deep blue surface.

The passage of the time brought another worry. She had not had a period since two weeks before leaving Trevelyan House, more than two months ago. Although her slight figure still showed no signs of a pregnancy, she could not ignore the constant tiredness and occasional nausea. With dread, she acknowledged the possibility that she was expecting her brother-in-law's child. The thought was repugnant.

Marrying Kidd paled into insignificance against the prospect of bearing Charles Dawson's child. Each morning she woke with hope mixed with fear, but the hope was dashed and the fear gained more ground. She wasn't sure if the spells of nausea were due to the pregnancy or her feelings about it. There could be nothing more that life could throw at her. Then she remembered that pregnancy was not a one-off event, but something she would have to live with every day for the rest of her life: a constant living reminder of the worst night of her life.

She began staying in her room, pleading tiredness. Molly brought food up to her. The child noticed her pallor and increasing withdrawal and told her mother. Peggy, who had been avoiding Elizabeth out of guilt at her inability to ease her plight, climbed the stairs and confronted her guest.

'Molly's worried about you. She says you're looking pale and she's absolutely right. Come on now. Pull yourself together girl. Moping all day long isn't going to make it better. There's worse things can happen to a woman than marrying a wealthy, old man.'

She started to chuckle, then saw the distress in Elizabeth's eyes. She gathered her into her arms and sat beside her on the bed rocking her.

'There, there, my honey. What's the matter? You frightened of Jack Kidd? Frightened about marriage to him? Are you nervous about leaving the city? I know you're far from home and with no family. Is that it? Tell me what's wrong.'

Elizabeth's words were almost a whisper. 'I think I'm going to have a baby.'

'Oh my good God! I knew there was more to it. You poor little thing! How long's it been?'

'Over 8 weeks.'

'Since the last time you've been with a man?'

'There was only one time. He forced himself on me.' She stiffened and drew away from Peggy. The look of horror on the older woman's face angered her.

'Yes I was raped.' She almost spat out the words.

'Who did it to you, lovely?'

'It doesn't matter who did it. It's enough that it happened. If I'm expecting a child I need to know. As well as being late, I feel sick all the time and seem to be drained of energy. And my breasts feel tender.' She almost choked on the words.

'Yes I reckon you're in the family way.'

'I can't possibly have this baby, Peggy! You have to help me.'

'Help you?'

'Yes help me to get rid of it.'

'I can't do that, my love. It's against the law and I know nothing about such things.'

'You must know. Surely? Please help me. I can't have it. I just can't. Tell me what I need to do. Where I can go?'

'I don't think it's a good idea, Elizabeth. Not for a lovely girl like you. It's not nice what they'd have to do to you. And it's risky.'

'I don't care about the risk. I've nothing to lose. If I can't get rid of this baby I'll kill myself. I've nothing to live for anyway.'

'Don't talk like that dear. Please.'

'My father did it, so I can do it too.'

'Stop that talk now. I know you don't mean it. You're far too sensible for that.'

Elizabeth lowered her head.

After a few minutes, the older woman spoke again. 'Mrs Reynolds two doors down might be able to help. I'll have a word. If she can, you'll have to go there on your own. I have a reputation to think of. And I'll not have her in this house. I'll try and catch her at the fish market tomorrow and if she's willing, you can go to her place and she'll sort you out. It'll cost, mind.'

'I have some money.'

'You sure about this, girl? It's not pleasant.'

Elizabeth nodded.

'Very well, leave it with me.'

Good as her word, Mrs Little made the necessary arrangements and Elizabeth found herself at the back door of one of the permanently curtained houses further down the street. The door was opened by a boy of about seven, who said nothing to her but shouted over his shoulder, 'Ma. For you.'

She went in. It was a small, scruffy kitchen, smelling of fried fish and overcooked vegetables. Two ginger cats were asleep under the large deal table that dominated the room. Mrs Reynolds, a scrawny woman who looked as though she needed a good meal, looked Elizabeth up and down.

'Quite the lady eh?'

'Mrs Reynolds?'

'Frank! Clear the table. Look sharp about it.'

Ignoring Elizabeth, she went to a cupboard and began to rummage around inside, gathering together equipment. Elizabeth stood there, a feeling of mounting horror sweeping over her as she saw the length of tubing and the collection of metal instruments, all of which the woman pulled out of a canvass holdall. The boy grabbed the dirty plates and breadboard off the table and dumped them in the sink on top of an pile of unwashed dishes, then with the side of his hand, flicked the breadcrumbs onto the floor, where the cats sniffed them disdainfully.

Mrs Reynolds turned to her. 'I need the cash up front. Did your friend tell you there's no refund if it doesn't work. But then it always works – one way or another. If anything goes wrong or you get ill and call a doctor you don't tell him about me. Clear?'

Elizabeth nodded. 'Where are you going to do it?'

'Here. Take your skirt, underwear and stockings off, and get on the table on your back, knees up and apart.' She turned to the little boy 'Hop it, Frank. Tell the girls I'm on a job and no one's to come in here till I'm done.'