Bridge Across The Years

By Dawn Pitts

Book three of the series of historical fiction begins in 1910 and follows the lives of the families in the small towns of Yarloop and Dwellingup as they watch the newly formed nation of Australia being drawn into a war that tears families and towns apart bringing out the best and the worst of human nature.
Doctor Ambrose Whittiker, a descendant of the first settlers, who landed on Cockburn Sound in 1833, takes his wife, Sarah and son, Ambrose junior (AJ) from Fremantle, to live in Dwellingup a small settlement on the edge of the Darling Range to care for the families moving into the forest working in the mills that have developed to cut timber for export all over the world.
The horror of Gallipoli and the trenches of France is lightened by the romance of Jack Cummings and Sister Josephine Smith, a nurse, while continuing the experiences of life in a small mill town filled with the hopes and dreams of young men and women.
This novel follows the next generation of this family saga as young AJ matures to the man his father would have been proud of had he not met with an accident. AJ meets Charlotte Jones and together, they, with other family members, take the reader into the drama and conflict that touches all those in an era of unrest, forming a Bridge Across The Years.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dawn Pitts
• Release date: Jul 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370902903

Dawn Pitts

My writing career began in 1999 when I was led to write a children's book. A few years earlier I was working as a Library Assistant in a high school and soon discovered that a number of young teenagers had reading difficulties and that there was no suitable material for them to read. This was the seed that grew a few years later when I was walking regularly in an effort to lose weight when I heard a voice tell me to write a children's book. My reaction was, "No way. I'm not good at that sort of thing and where would I start." Feeling smug I continued home and tried to put the idea out of my mind. A few days later the Reader's Digest arrived in the letterbox and in it was a course for Writing for Children. I almost died."Over the next six months I completed the course and then had the confidence to join a local writing group. Since then I've have had success entering both local and national competitions. I now teach classes as a volunteer and enjoy passing the knowledge on to other authors.I have three adult children and five adult grandchildren.

Book preview

BRIDGE ACROSS THE YEARS

By Dawn Pitts

BRIDGE ACROSS THE YEARS

Copyright © 2009

ISBN 9781370902903

Published by Dawn Pitts at Smashwords

This book is copyright and apart from any fair dealing for criticism or review under the copyright act no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Introduction

Chapter1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Epilogue

About Dawn Pitts

Other books by Dawn Pitts

Connect with Dawn Pitts

Tribute To Pioneers

(Early Settlement of Western Australia)

Australia was settled by people, who had dreams to fulfil. Men women and children who, through sheer stubbornness and hard work tamed and developed the land. They too, like today’s folk on the land, fought against flood, drought and raging bushfires. This series of books depicts the fight that two pioneer families made to tame their land. Fictional characters are entwined with the historical facts of the time in which the books are set.

INTRODUCTION

It was the year 2004, and the 4-wheel drive Nissan Patrol crawled over the rutted and eroded gravel track, pulling the loaded trailer. The old house was not much to look at; nevertheless, it was once a home filled with much love, happiness and family togetherness. The name ‘Clarissa’ hung lopsided from the warped and weathered timber of the gate. The house though, was still standing and oozed a certain charm that modern houses lack with their concrete-rendered walls, large glass windows, sterile white interiors and kitchen with stainless steel equipment.

Eleanor Roberts leapt from the Nissan and ran towards the house. She struggled to drag open the warped, broken-hinged gate that formed an obstacle to the entrance of the property she had inherited from her grandfather, and bounded up the low steps to the front door. There was no need to use the large tarnished key she held in her hand, as sightseers had broken the latch and some of the old items of furniture – the sideboard and brass candlesticks were noticeably missing. ‘This was considered to be ‘souvenir hunting’, when it is nothing less than burglary and theft, such is the way that our society has fallen into chaos, and this sort of thing should be dealt with through the courts,’ Eleanor thought.

Eleanor’s partner, Winton Andrews, had visited the land that Eleanor had inherited from her grandfather, with her parents several times and felt her excitement as he watched her struggle to open the gate wide enough for his entrance, before she ran off in the direction of the house.

It had been several weeks since her parents and partner had visited, bringing materials and equipment for the necessary renovation. Today was Eleanor’s first sighting of ‘Clarissa’. Since her childhood, she had been told of its appearance and contents and had loved the house with a deep, heartfelt passion that overflowed with tears of joy. Now she was there! She built on the empathy for this property, instilled in her by her grandfather as he told her of his life here with his parents Ambrose and Sarah and his love for Charlotte and their life on this very farm she now owned. It had been a hard life for Charlotte for it was void of the many luxuries that today’s society took for granted. As Eleanor gazed about her she murmured, Oh, Clarissa, it is so good to be with you at last. We have bought timber for the kitchen floor as well as your damaged weatherboards. New guttering for you too. I can hardly believe that you are mine, and we can stay the whole weekend! Won’t it be exciting to wake in the morning to the sounds of the magpies high in the trees and hear them warble their ‘song of awakening’?

While Eleanor busied herself lighting the wood-fired stove and preparing soup for their midday meal, Winton walked around the house analysing his plan of action for his day’s work. The aroma of freshly made coffee and simmering soup drew him into the warm kitchen. He rubbed his hands to restore the flow of blood, as the timber he had been handling was wet and cold from the frosty morning air. Hey, Honey, that smells wicked, he called as he entered the house, and then, as he joined her in the kitchen, took her in his arms and swung her around to the thump, thump beat of the rock band that emanated from the CD player standing on the wooden top of the jarrah timbered sink cupboard. Over the years someone had covered it with linoleum that had been torn and Eleanor, feeling energetic, had peeled it off and scrubbed the years of dirt away to reveal a rich-grained timber top. The CD player looked out of place encased in a stark silver-grey coloured plastic skin placed on furniture belonging to another era.

Encouraged by her achievement, Eleanor attacked the kitchen floor with gusto and peeled back the old lino that covered the damaged floorboards, and as dust rose about her she rushed into the fresh air where Winton was preparing timber to replace the damaged weatherboards. Again he swung her around until her feet left the ground and their laughter filled the air. That’s enough frivolity, there’s a heap of work to do, be off with you, woman, he joked, before he returned her gently to the ground, holding her for one more moment, delighting in the softness of her body and picturing in his mind her nakedness beneath.

Eleanor resumed her task, then, beneath the lino discovered a faded, long-forgotten letter. The ink handwriting was still legible and showed by the date that it was written in the 1920s. Hey! Winton, she called excitedly. Listen to this? But he did not respond, so she sat cross-legged on the floor and leant against the sink cupboard and read aloud the words that were written by her great-grandmother many years before.

Did you call me, Honey? Winton asked, as he walked across the dusty floor aware of the termite-damaged timbers. What’s this? Sitting down reading while I’m slaving away on Clarissa’s damaged wall. Eleanor gave no reply but simply handed him the letter she had been reading. Winton stood in a shaft of sunlight that shone through the bare, stained window. There’s a date here, Honey. There was silence as he peered at the faded ink mark. It’s the 25th August 1924, and a signature, too…it appears to be…Charlotte Whittiker.

Eleanor gasped and jumped to her feet, and as she joined him by the window she whispered, Are you sure? I can’t believe that I have found my great-grandmother’s personal letter or maybe her diary? The outside work was forgotten for a moment while they crawled around the floor, carefully lifting the worn lino in search of more letters.

Oh, Winton, how difficult life was for the early settlers. Ambrose and Sarah’s son was called AJ until Charlotte his wife insisted on Ambrose, about the time of their wedding. I remember grandfather telling me his father’s name was Theodore Ambrose or Ambrose junior, hence AJ, to save any confusion with his father, and this was so until his father’s death, after which he reverted to Ambrose. My grandfather was a great old man, and I loved him dearly. When I was young he would take my cousins and I fishing. He never tired of untangling our fishing lines. I was heartbroken when he passed away in 1996. It was he, who told me about Clarissa and of his great love for her and the freedom he and his sibling had roaming the forest as children. Grandfather told me that it was during the summer of 1940, when his friend and timber faller, Joshua Farland, was killed riding his motorbike at great speed to warn his parents Ambrose and Charlotte that a forest fire was heading towards Clarissa. The tinder-dry grasses and strong winds fuelled the fire. It was after Joshua’s death that Benjamin as a lad of fifteen supported his father as a faller.

After the events of the day, Winton was sitting in the lounge stroking Eleanor’s long auburn hair while she lay with her head in his lap watching the flames dance in the fireplace. What a day it has been, she whispered and followed it with a sigh of contentment. The letters found beneath the lino, combined with the contents of an old tin trunk that had lain untouched for decades beneath the old stored timber and broken furniture was before them. The ‘treasure’ of old newspapers and letters that dated back to the beginning of the settlement had been examined and was no longer strewn across the floor, but back in the ornate trunk for future perusal!

How wonderful it was they kept their old newspapers and letters dating back to the beginning of the settlement in the Peel region, Eleanor whispered, and again felt a connection to her great-grandmother, for not only had she inherited her hair colouring but her personality and fortitude as well.

In the year 1920 when Ambrose (AJ) Whittiker was not much more than a lad, he walked deep into the forest. The sunlight filtered through the thick canopy above him to form dappled areas of shade on the forest floor, highlighting the sheen on the wax flowers with their purple hue, the yellow cowslips and cheeky brown-faced donkey orchids as they swayed gently in the light breeze. The long, stately, white spider orchids’ petals hung limply, moving slightly as he spoke of his dreams and hopes for the future and of his great love for Charlotte and his parents, Ambrose and Sarah Whittiker. He placed his strong arms around the tallest tree in the forest and wept tears of sadness. You are magnificent. The choked words came from deep in his throat as his tears rolled onto the bark of one of the magnificent specimen’s of jarrah trees that had stood in the forest for hundreds of years. His heartbeat was in unison with his thoughts of the sap, the life-blood of the tree, moving through the cellular tubes that were invisible to the naked eye, but nevertheless, continually pumping the food and nutrients to all its living tissues that ran vertically through its tall trunk. Ambrose was a timberman, and knew this tree contained beautiful timber that would serve the purpose he had in mind for it, and its beauty and versatility would be preserved forever more.

THE FAMILIES OF LEVI EVERETT

AND SAMUEL MURPHY.

In The Beginning 1883 to 1868

Levi Everett strode across the shimmering sand that glistened in the early morning sunlight. His wife Isabelle stood near their trunks and after watching Levi enquire about the landing of the furnishings and her precious piano, she turned her gaze to the furled sails of the ship that had bought them safely to Cockburn Sound. The ship rocked to-and-fro on the gentle swell and Isabelle’s stomach churned to its rhythm. When will this sickness end? She wondered, then the realisation that she could be expecting their third child took hold of her mind; the vapours overcame her and she sunk to the soft sand.

Her maid and the boys’ nanny, Millie Harwood, had taken Benjamin and Mark to the seashore to play and was startled to hear a loud voice calling her master’s name. She grabbed the children by the hand and dragged them to where Isabelle lay prostrate on the sand near the large trunk.

A stranger, Samuel Murphy, a retired American whaler, hurried to find Levi Everett. While Millie cared for her mistress, the boys hid behind the trunk fearful of their mother’s condition.

This incident formed the beginning of a life-long friendship that lead the two families of Murphy and Everett to a farming property near Pinjarra where Levi and Samuel, purchased land adjacent to each other.

Levi Everett had the finances, and Samuel Murphy had the knowledge and experience he’d learned during his years as a whaler, and the skills given to him by an old Aboriginal, who shared his catch of fish or meat with Samuel, who also showed kindness to the natives.

Some months later, tragedy struck the new settlers when, a few days after giving birth to a daughter, Katherine (Kitty) Rose, Isabelle died the day before they crossed the river that formed the boundary to the Everett farm.

Back in England Isabelle’s cousins Guinevere and Abigail Varley, were orphaned when their parents’ coach rolled over killing them both. The family property was sold to pay their father’s debt and the remaining money was given to the girls to start their new life in Australia. They were put in the care of a chaperone for the journey to Fremantle. While in Cape Town, Guinevere and her newfound friend were raped and they decide to go into the ‘oldest profession’ in the world by providing a service for only the ‘better class of society’. Abigail assists Doctor Cain while she waits for her cousin and Levi to take her to their land.

Samuel and Millie marry 30th June 1834 and Levi and Abigail marry on 20th November 1834 and both marriages take place at Fremantle.

As the years move on, Isabelle and Levi’s son, Benjamin, marries Millie and Samuel’s daughter, Elizabeth. Benjamin and Elizabeth have no children of their own but are a loving aunty and uncle to all the children around them, both their European descendants, and also to the local Aboriginal children around them.

Isabelle and Levi’s second son, Mark marries Iluka, an Aboriginal woman and she and the unborn child die when a ticket-of-leave convict attacks her and fling her small body onto the ground killing her instantly. Mark shoots the attacker and kills him and this leads to Mark’s arrest and a term in prison.

Millie and Samuel’s son, Daniel, yearns for the sea, and hopes to join a whaling ship and it is at this time that he is joined by Mark for the journey to Albany and they work their way south from Mandurah to Bunbury where they board a ship for the voyage to Albany. It is during this time that Daniel and Mark meet, Jacqueline Seymour and her cousin, Emily Fitzpatrick, who are travelling to Adelaide to visit relations and expect to return to Albany within a few months.

It is two years before they return to WA and by that time Daniel was at sea working on a whaling ship and Mark is working on a farm at Kojonup. The young men leave letters at the coachhouse in the hope the women will return and purchase a ticket to Fremantle or Perth.

They finally do meet again and meet other members of Abigail and Levi’s children and grandchildren for Christmas and New Year in 1867.

A double marriage takes place at Pinjarra on 1st March 1868, between Daniel Murphy and Jacqueline Seymour and, Mark Everett and Emily Fitzpatrick.

On reading about this event in the gazette, Samuel, who is now an old man, smiles, sighs contentedly and goes to meet his maker. The shock of his death is too much for Levi’s weak heart and he also leaves this world and joins his friend in the sleep of peace until their Lord returns.

Second Book covers the years from 1869 – 1900.

Mark and Emily Everett journey to their property at Chadora to find that a lightning strike has started a fire. They fight the fire together but as night descended the terrified cow charges from the shelter of the creek and knocks Emily to the ground. She calls to Mark, but he doesn’t hear her above the roar of the wind. He finds her unconscious, but not before the fire has crept across the dry grass and set her clothing alight.

During the months ahead they work side by side and it is not until Mark is injured that he realised that they need to employ a man to assist him with the clearing of the land. It is at this time that Emily realised she was expecting their first child.

They travel to Pinjarra stopping at Carmel and Adam Ridge’s coachhouse where Carmel tells of the danger of riding her horse side-saddle and offers her own stockman’s saddle to use until they return with the wagon they are planning on buying, and hopefully to find some man that will assist them.

They meet Aubrey Bannister, a new immigrant from England who is penniless, but has the determination to move forward and overcome his sadness at the death of his mother and then followed her advice to go to Australia and start a new life.

When Mark’s horse became lame near the Queens Hotel on the banks of the Murray River, he leads him into the grounds of the hotel where he briefly met Aubrey Bannister, who deftly removed the stone wedged under the horse shoe. This enabled Mark to continue the journey to his sister Rosemary’s home where she lived with her husband Alexander Whittiker and her mother Abigail. Alexander told him about a surrey that Doctor Bedingfeld had for sale and it was decided that early the following afternoon they would inspect it. Riding their horses out to his property, Creaton Farm, they were pleased to find him home and the surrey available for inspection. As the need was great, Mark was relieved to find it was everything he hoped it would be. After discussing the price he purchased it, harnessed the horses to the shafts and drove it home to Pinjarra where their wives were waiting anxiously.

With the surrey purchased the next important item was a man to assist Mark on the property. A new man in town had roused the curiosity of the people living in Pinjarra and soon his plight for work was known. It was this news that encouraged Mark to pay the young man a visit and after talking with him he agreed to join Mark and Emily on the farm. It was the same man who had removed the stone from Mark’s horse’s hoof.

Their journey home was interrupted by a sudden storm that swept in across the coastal plain. The thunder and lightning caused Emily’s horse Queenie to bolt and in her fear she tripped over a fallen log and broke her leg. Mark had no choice but to destroy her. The realisation as to what happened at the sound of a gunshot, caused Emily to jump from the surrey and in doing so, caught her gown on the scroll work of the surrey and fell to the ground leaving her in an immodest position. Aubrey quickly came to her aid and cared for her until Mark returned.

On another journey home from Pinjarra, Mark and Emily together with Aubrey and the young lass they had hired to assist Emily, Hope Dempsey, arrive at the coachhouse where they found Carmel extremely ill. Hope offers to help care for Carmel, during this time, with the understanding that she will join them on the farm when Carmel recovers.

Aubrey fell hopelessly in love with Hope on his first meeting and eventually they marry and raise their family in a cottage alongside Mark and Emily.

Their lives are followed from one drama to the next until the children are adults and begin their lives.

BRIDGE ACROSS THE YEARS. 1910 – 1926

CHAPTER ONE

Sarah gazed with love-filled eyes at her husband as he played with their son, Theodore Ambrose Whittiker. They called him Ambrose junior, or AJ for short, an active ten-year-old, who was interested in music and played the piano with a ‘flare’ beyond his years. ‘If only Ambrose’ patients could see him now,’ Sarah thought, ‘instead of the serious, yet caring doctor he had become to his world of work?’

The telephone fractured the moment with its demanding harshness. Ambrose pushed back his chair, as he took AJ’s checkers from the board in front of him. Got you my lad, he said, grinning cheekily, tussling his son’s auburn hair, then, taking a few steps, removed the listening device from the wall and stepped forward to speak into the mouthpiece that hung to its wooden box.

Doctor Whittiker, he said, then listened, nodding his head and calmly giving his instructions. I’ll be right over, he concluded returning the earpiece to the wall holder.

We’ll have a rematch AJ, Ambrose said as he moved from the phone. You almost won that game of checkers, son, and I had to work to beat you. Well done! he congratulated as he moved towards Sarah standing in the hallway holding his jacket.

Thank you, my dear, Ambrose said giving a sigh, as he slid his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. How many times have you done this I wonder? he asked, kissing her warm lips, before he bent his tall body forward to retrieve his black medical bag from the hallway cupboard. I’ll be a few hours at the least, Sarah darling, he whispered, don’t wait up for me…there’s been an accident.

He never did disclose many details, but of recent days more and more accidents involved the combination of a car and a frightened horse. Yet as he cranked the motor over on his T-model Ford, he was relieved that he had this small luxury. It was a far cry from the need to saddle the horse and then ride off into the darkness of a raging storm that blew in from the Indian Ocean across the town of Fremantle.

He seated himself behind the wheel and reversed from the front yard and turned into High Street and headed towards the hospital.

He strode into the casualty room of the hospital, a small room barely twelve-feet square where each wall was lined with cupboards leaving minimum room around the lone table that stood on tall legs to accommodate his height.

You’ve managed to get yourself into a spot of trouble, young man, he said as he skilfully removed the bloodstained dressing.

His name is Abel Bartlett, Doctor," the stern-faced Sister Mort replied.

Thank you, Sister Mort, he said softly as he examined the wound.

The sister cut me trousers, doctor, and they were me best ones, the young man complained.

So I see, Mr Bartlett, Ambrose replied. I have a supply of clothes to replace those I ask my staff to cut from a patient…." Abel winced in pain as Ambrose examined his leg.

She didn’t ask, Doctor, she just done it. I tried to stop her but she told me to hush up!

Did she now? I’d have been mighty upset with Sister Mort if she had done otherwise for I’ve given those instructions to all my staff, he paused for a moment grinning at Abel, and then continued. It saves my patients a lot of pain by not having to move them about removing clothing for me to examine a wound.

Me mother will not see it that way. They were me brother Frank’s first and she wanted me to look after them so me little brother, Willy, could wear them next year. They are only for going out ya see?

I do indeed Mr Bartlett, but as I explained to you I will fix you up with a new pair…maybe not new but in good condition for you. So now relax and let me fix you up, Ambrose told him gently. Sister, he added. We’ll need to take him to the operating room right away. It’s a nasty break young Abel has.

It was a few hours before Ambrose walked from the operating room pleased that his operating skills had saved Abel’s leg. Now to find his mother, Ambrose muttered as he hurried to the sisters’ office to find the records containing Abel’s personal details. Bartlett – Abel. Sixteen-years-old. He read and as he continued with the chart he smiled at Sister Mort’s added note. Mrs Bartlett has been notified of her son’s accident. What a godsend Miss Beth Mort is to me. She never misses a thing and is always a step ahead of me, he whispered hurrying to the patients’ waiting room that was the enclosed verandah that ran the length of the small wing of the hospital where he worked.

Seeing the lone woman sitting, wringing a damp handkerchief between her work-worn fingers, he felt her pain. What would I feel like if it were AJ I’d just operated on, he wondered. Mrs Bartlett, he asked, looking at her tear-stained cheeks.

Yes? the small plump woman replied, coming to her feet.

Your young lad was very brave while I examined his leg and he has been into the operating room to have a nasty wound stitched up after I put his leg back in the correct position, I put a plaster of paris cast on it to keep the bone in the correct place for it to heal. He’ll be in the hospital for several weeks, but should be home with you almost as good as new. He could be stuck with a bad limp…

A limp is naught, Mrs Bartlett replied with relief. When he can, I’ll expect him to help me in the orchard and garden. Since his father’s death from the diphtheria sickness last year, the boys and I are on our own. She paused and dabbed her eyes then continued. "Only the orchard and