Jewel In the North Page 18

  “You’ll have your work cut out bringing that young woman into line, Charles.”

  Charles grinned. “But what fun it will be, Father.”

  Eighteen

  Edith walked quickly down the lane behind the shop. Hawker was a small town in comparison to Adelaide and Sydney and she especially noticed this in the early mornings when few others appeared to be afoot. She hated it: it gave her an eerie feeling and brought home just how far from most of the world she was living.

  Mr Hemming would not be in first thing. He had opened the shop for the afternoon after Mrs Wiltshire’s funeral the day before. Edith had helped all day with food and cleaning up, first at the church and then at the house, where dinner was provided for close friends. Now Hemming was to be given a few hours off and it was up to her to open.

  At least she’d had the chance to speak with Mr Charles on a couple of occasions. He had been very attentive and she found herself blushing under his gaze. Not because he looked at her; it was the thought of the book hidden under his bed.

  Edith had never been with a man, though there had been several close calls not of her choosing in the back rooms of her mother’s ale house in Sydney. Edith shuddered and tugged her jacket down over her waist. She had escaped that life and her sights were firmly set on a much better one.

  Her final encounter with Charles before she retired the previous night had left her restless. Mrs Nixon had been taken up with Laura, who kept waking and calling for her mother, and Edith had done the last of the dishes alone. He’d found her turning down the lamps and had offered to walk her home although it was hardly more than twenty steps from his back door to hers. Edith wasn’t sure if she’d imagined his hand brushing her cheek as he’d reached up to help her into her jacket. They’d walked side by side, then, at her door, he had hesitated and the light of the moon had illuminated his face. She’d seen on it the same desire that had emanated from the men who tried to grope her back home.

  Seeing that look from Charles had taken her by surprise, then given her some satisfaction. He had taken notice of her. She was more than just a shop assistant. Edith didn’t flatter herself that he wanted anything other than to bed her. That didn’t matter. He was at least interested in her as a woman. It was the first step and she would plan the next very carefully.

  She had spent a restless night pondering what to do about that interest. Finding herself awake early and unable to go back to sleep, she had risen, dressed and eaten a simple breakfast of bread and tea. Then with nothing to do at home she had decided to go to the shop. It was well before opening time but there were still boxes to pack for removal to the new shop. That’s if they were to go ahead. She had helped Mr Hemming clean up after the dust storm but little else had been done since Mrs Wiltshire’s passing.

  Sounds ahead of her in the lane made her pause. Who else was about this early? She clutched the collar of her shirt and pressed into the fence behind the Wiltshires’ shop. Living in the back room of the ale house and then travelling the long journey alone from Sydney to Adelaide, where her first accommodation was little better than the cess pit she’d left behind, she had learned to be always on her guard.

  The noise continued but came no closer, so she edged forward. There was a wagon in the lane ahead behind Garrat’s shop. She let out a breath. It was only Mr Garrat. She could see his bulky form hefting something onto the wagon, which was already piled with wooden crates. There were potatoes in one crate and onions in another. It was very early to be making deliveries, but what the Garrats did was of no concern to her. From what she gathered they were struggling to keep their business going.

  Edith let herself in the gate and put the key in the lock of the back door. Once more she paused and put her hand to her chest. The door was not locked. She pushed it open, just a little, and listened. There was a shuffle. Her heart was thudding. She looked behind her, wondering if she should go and get Mr Garrat. She was paused on the threshold when a figure stepped from the shop into the office towards her. Edith gasped.

  “Oh, it’s you, Edith.” Charles grinned. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She dropped the hand that had been at her mouth and took in her employer’s dishevelled hair and his rolled-up shirt sleeves. “Mr Charles. I didn’t know you would be here.”

  “I couldn’t sleep so I decided to begin work early.”

  He smiled at her and she felt warmth spread up her chest to her cheeks. She was not imagining the guile in his look.

  “I couldn’t leave all the work for you, Miss Ferguson. You have done so much for my family over the last week. I am most grateful.”

  He loomed over her, accompanied by the smell of perspiration and something spicy.

  Edith stood her ground and met his look. “I came in early because I knew there would be much to do.”

  “Did you indeed?” His eyebrows raised at her boldness.

  Edith put on her sweetest expression. “Is there something in particular you would like to me to start with, Mr Charles?”

  Charles groaned, put one hand on the wall behind her and leaned forward. The swiftness of his response startled her just for a moment.

  “Are you unwell, Mr Charles?” Edith feigned a concerned look. “Mr Garrat is just outside in the lane loading his wagon. Should I call him?”

  She watched the struggle of emotions on his face. He dropped his hand, stepped back and hung his head. “Please forgive my strange behaviour, Miss Ferguson. I am overwrought. What with losing my mother and the work needing to be done ready for the new shop opening I am quite overwhelmed.”

  “Please don’t trouble yourself, Mr Charles. Grief does terrible things to us.” Edith put on her saddest face. “I’ve lost both my parents. I know how it can affect you.”

  His head whipped up. “I’d forgotten you are quite alone.”

  She lowered her gaze. It might not have been exactly true but it may as well have been. Her father had been some man her mother had bedded and never seen again, and she used the term “mother” lightly when she thought of the woman who had raised her. Edith’s life had been a misery until she had escaped and taken a coach to Adelaide. When she had last seen her mother she had been drinking herself to death; perhaps she already had. Edith preferred to think so.

  “That must be very difficult. Is there no other relative you can turn to?”

  She shook her head.

  Charles frowned. “I know it’s not polite to ask your age but you appear so young to have no family to support you.”

  “I am eighteen.” Edith drew herself up. “Quite capable of looking after myself.”

  “Of course, I didn’t mean to imply —”

  Edith let her face soften. “Please don’t concern yourself, Mr Charles.” She moved ahead of him towards the shop. “Now let us tackle some of these jobs before it’s time to open the doors.” Edith resisted looking over her shoulder but she couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his footsteps following her. It was a dangerous game she was playing but one that would reward her with a fine prize if she happened to win.

  Charles stepped outside into the small backyard behind the shop and took a long deep breath. Georgina had left very early that morning and he had been up to see her on her way. She had even allowed him to kiss her cheek.

  The softness of her skin under his lips and the sweet scent of her violet cologne had driven him wild with desire. He’d come in to the shop as soon as she was out of sight. He had planned to work off his frustration and then Edith had arrived.

  He swore under his breath. He had moved too fast with her. If he was to groom her for his bed he would need to be more careful. Finding out she was alone with no-one to turn to had been a useful piece of information. He hoped it would mean she could be more easily influenced by him. Working alongside her he’d been able to think of nothing else and he’d had to find an excuse to come outside for a moment.

  He crossed to the gate and looked in the direction of Garrat’s. The lane was empty now but E
dith had said Garrat was loading a wagon. When he’d questioned her on it she had insisted it wasn’t the usual small cart that he used for his grocery deliveries. Garrat could have been doing anything with the wagon but Charles was curious. A couple of his customers had mentioned Garrat visiting their farms. They were further out of town than the older man usually went with his cart. He’d better not be trying to encroach on the Wiltshires’ delivery round.

  Footsteps sounded behind him and he spun to see his father approaching.

  “Hello, Father. It seems none of us could sleep this morning.”

  Henry stopped and looked him up and down. “You have the appearance of a labourer.”

  Charles grinned at his father’s neat suit and high collar. Even on the hottest day he dressed so formally. “That’s what I’ve been this morning. I have shifted a lot of the boxes into the new shop.”

  “Yes, the new shop.” Henry’s face fell. “Your mother will not be here to see it.”

  “I am sure she’s watching over it though.” Charles did his best to sound reverent. He needed Henry to be at his best again. Business in the current climate was difficult. Luckily their interests went beyond the shop, but it would take the two of them to manage it all.

  “Tell me, why have you made these changes here at the back?” Henry waved his hand towards the high rafters that now began to span the space between the back of the old shop and the back of the new. “You told me you wanted a verandah, not a shed.”

  “The structure was damaged by the storm. I had to deal with it …” Charles didn’t want to upset his father more but they had to get on with things. “It was the day after Mother died. I didn’t want to bother you but what had been started had been partly dislodged by the storm. It was not safe, and a decision had to be made.” He looked up at the construction that would eventually be roofed with tin, high over his head. “I decided it would be better to have a structure we could also bring the wagons under. It gives us a place to load and unload for both shops undercover.”

  “And the cost?”

  “I had to make some adjustments but I am sure you will be happy. When you feel ready we can go over it.”

  “I have no appointments this morning. Make some tea and we will discuss it in my office.” Henry moved ahead to the door then he turned back. “And please clean up and replace your necktie at least before you join me.”

  “Of course.” Charles watched his father take one more look around and then enter the premises. The old man had aged visibly this last week. There was extra grey in his hair and his face was permanently creased. Charles knew he needed his father’s help and business knowledge but he had to prepare himself for one day taking over. In the meantime, he knew the extra loan he’d managed to extract from the bank, simply awaiting his father’s signature, would be easily repaid. Besides money for the new roof, he had got enough to purchase a third team and wagon.

  During the week he’d received more good news. Becker had decided he was going to return and he wanted Charles’s help to get to the land where he believed there were diamonds. From what Becker had told him back in Melbourne, Charles was sure he’d been talking about the high country on Smith’s Ridge. It was very helpful that the land in question could be easily accessed from Prosser’s Run. There might be a drought but that didn’t deter him. It only provided opportunities. The Wiltshires would soon be back in the black. Charles turned to follow his father inside, whistling as he walked.

  Nineteen

  Piercing squeals filled the air as Joseph led William into the cool of the kitchen. He was amazed at the sight of his two youngest daughters chasing each other around the table, their faces and clothes dotted with flour, while their mother sat at one end of the large kitchen table feeding Matthew.

  “What’s this?” he bellowed. He was tired from being in the saddle all day and the sound of their squeals hurt his ears. They stopped at his voice. Matthew slid from his mother’s lap and toddled towards Joseph.

  Millie rose and quickly readjusted her shirt at the sight of William behind him. “They are just letting off some energy.”

  “William!” Beth and Ruth chorused and ran to their brother.

  Joseph winced at the high pitch of their call. “Perhaps they need some outside time.”

  “It’s very hot.” She dismissed his comment and moved towards the stove. “Binda and Jundala left after you this morning so with Timothy and Eliza away it’s only us for the evening meal. Would you like some tea or a cold drink?”

  “We’ll have tea in a while. The worst of the heat is gone.”

  “I’m so glad you came to us for Christmas.” Millie gave William a wobbly smile. “We all miss you very much.”

  “It has been good to be here.” William smiled back at her and patted his stomach. “The food was remarkable as usual.”

  “I’ve packed some leftovers for you to take back to Smith’s Ridge.”

  “You shouldn’t have, Millie. You’ve got a big enough family here to feed.”

  Joseph moved closer. “You’re wasting your breath, son.”

  Millie placed a kiss on her husband’s cheek. Her dark eyes still shone even though he knew she was tired from weeks of preparation for their Christmas festivities. “We have plenty to share, don’t we, Joseph?”

  “You are always able to conjure it up, my love, even in these tough times.”

  “We are much luckier than many of those poor families trying to live on the plains.” Millie smoothed the white tablecloth and straightened the candelabra that was set in the middle of the large table. “So much to be thankful for.” Her gaze shifted to her children, who were scrambling around the adults’ legs.

  “Why don’t we all go down to the outside room?” William suggested.

  “Yes, yes.” The girls squealed and hopped up and down. Matthew echoed their cries.

  The children took one of William’s hands each and pulled him towards the door. Matthew’s strong little arms wrapped around Joseph’s legs; he scooped up his son, who immediately clasped his father’s cheeks with his chubby hands. Joseph felt a wave of contentment. He was so fortunate to have seven healthy children, but Matthew was a particular delight to him. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Outside it is.” Joseph looked over the little boy’s head to Millie, who was watching her daughters disappear through the door.

  “Don’t go far,” she called after them.

  “They will be safe with William and me, Millie.” Joseph winked at her. “Don’t fuss.”

  She sighed and he was pleased to see her shoulders relax. Ever since they had heard some children of mixed parentage had been taken by the Protector of Aborigines and placed in a mission, Millie had become extremely fearful for her children. No matter how much Joseph tried to reassure her, she kept a constant watchful eye on them and would not take them in to Hawker.

  “There’s still some Christmas punch.” Millie smiled. “Shall I bring that out with some bread and meat? We can all eat early with the children.”

  “Sounds like a good idea, my love. I’ll tell Father.”

  “No.” Millie shook her head. “All the festivities have tired him. He’s only just gone off to have a rest. I’ll call him when I come.”

  Joseph left her to the food preparation and, carrying his youngest son, he followed after his oldest. Once more he felt a wave of pride sweep over him. In spite of the drought he felt truly blessed.

  William, Joseph and Robert had been out all day, checking the nearest waterholes, where there was nothing but dust. William had wanted to have a look around, as he hadn’t been back to Wildu Creek since shearing in September. Thomas had said he’d stay home — Joseph suspected it was the energetic children who had worn him down rather than the Christmas festivities. No doubt Thomas preferred his cottage. It was much more peaceful there.

  Joseph and William settled under the remaining gum tree overlooking the dry bed of Wildu Creek. So many family occasions had been celebrated out there in what his mother had
called her outside room, although they hadn’t used the area much of late. The old wooden furniture his father had made was still there, with the exception of the table. The last few years had taken their toll. The gums had lost branches and finally one had come down during a big dust storm, crushing the table as it fell. The trunk had fallen down the bank and it was there the girls climbed while Joseph bounced Matthew on his knee.

  Joseph sat back in his chair and looked across at William. Hegarty had returned to Smith’s Ridge after Christmas but William had stayed on after being implored by his younger siblings to spend longer with them. Even though they’d been together they’d had little time for talk alone. He knew how miserable William was over Georgina Prosser’s rejection, and Joseph had some news on that front — though he didn’t know where to begin in telling it.

  “How are your cattle?” he said instead.

  “Little better than your sheep looked today. I don’t know when or if I’ll be able to supply beef to the export company again.”

  “No point in worrying about that now. We just have to hang on. The drought can’t last forever.” Thomas would have smiled had he been there, hearing his words repeated. “How are the waterholes looking?”

  “We will soon be down to just the two in the rugged hill country. We can get cattle into the lower one but not the top hole.”

  “Binda and Millie’s family still rely on that.”

  “I know, Father.” William’s face was grim. “I could barrel out some of the water but it would only be a temporary measure. The cattle would soon need more … Anyway there’s more to it than stock needing water.”

  Joseph frowned and let a struggling Matthew slip from his arms to toddle after his sisters. “Ruth. Beth. Watch out for your brother.” He watched as Beth lifted the little boy to her hip, then he turned back to William. “What is it? Do you need to move some cattle to Wildu Creek?”

  “You’ve got your own stock to water.”