Storm Clouds

By Dawn Pitts

Storm Clouds is the fourth book in a series of historical fiction and continues to follow the lives of the descendants of Levi and Isabelle Everett and their sons, who arrived on Cockburn Sound in the spring of 1833. The family line is continued through Kitty Whittiker (nee Everett) with references to the Mark Everett family as well as their friends Samuel and Millie Murphy’s descendants.
Ambrose and Charlotte Whittiker, their friends Charles and Connie Murphy together with their children move into this novel and continue the saga of these two families; from the beginning of the Great Depression to September 1939 and the commencement of the Second World War.
This novel continues to follow their lives as they adjust to the fear of war created by the continual news of persecution and hardship coming out of Europe. The complexities of life as many men lost their jobs and become ‘swagmen’ or commit suicide because of the hopelessness perceived of their situation in life.
The perseverance of mankind under difficult situation where only faith in God, gives them courage to move forward through the ‘Storm Clouds’ of life as family and friends support each other content with what they possess and a willingness to share with strangers, who become friends for life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dawn Pitts
• Release date: Aug 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370097678

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

STORM CLOUDS

By Dawn Pitts

STORM CLOUDS

Copyright © 2009

ISBN 9781370097678

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.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

Chapter nineteen

Chapter twenty

Chapter twenty-one

Chapter twenty-two

Chapter twenty-three

Epilogue

About Dawn Pitts

Other books by Dawn Pitts

PROLOGUE

Eleanor Roberts and Winton Andrews sat in the cool of the south-facing verandah on the property known as ‘Chadora’, near the town of Dwellingup in West Australia in the year of 2004. It was here where previous generations had spent many happy hours watching their children grow and play in the backyard overlooking the orchard.

A large trunk of old newspapers and letters rested between them and various items in chronological order, lay on a large wooden table. They were examining articles of interest bridging the years of 1926 to 1932 in the lives of their ancestors of the Everett and Whittiker family from whom Eleanor was a descendant, and also the Samuel Murphy family, from whom Winton was a descendent.

I’m so glad I inherited this property with all its history. My great-grandmother was wise to keep records in her letters and diaries for her descendants and store them all in metal trunks, Eleanor whispered.

I don’t know if that is correct in all respect, as many letters were hidden beneath the kitchen lino. We’d not have found them if the white ants hadn’t damaged some of the flooring. However, what we found is valuable, Winton declared, thinking of all of the information to hand.

Levi and Isabelle Everett and their sons Benjamin and Mark, arrived on the shore of Cockburn Sound with Millie Harwood, the children’s maid, in the spring of 1833.

On landing, Isabelle took ill while Millie was caring for the boys on the beach, unaware that her mistress had fainted from the shock of realizing she was expecting their third child. Only when the family name of Everett was called, did she realise she must return to her mistress where there was a man, Samuel Murphy, a whaler of Irish/American descent who was attending to her mistress’s needs as she lay on the sand.

Samuel’s kindness cemented the beginning of a life-long friendship leading to the purchase of adjoining land by the Everett and Murphy families in the Darling Range, and the marriage between Millie and himself.

Sadly Isabelle died a few days after Katherine (Kitty) was born, and at a later time, Levi Everett married Abigail Varley, Isabelle’s cousin, and together they raised the children, adding a daughter and three sons.

As the children became adults and formed the next generation Mark and his wife, Emily, took up land in Chadora and began to develop it as they raised their children, who in turn married and moved on with their lives maintaining their connection with the Murphy family.

In the early 1900s, with the laying of the railway lines, more settlements developed as they snaked their way through the forest inviting many families to remain in and around each small town. Then all greeted the new century and together faced the horrors of the First World War, and the hardship experienced by all Australian’s during the Great Depression of the 1930s.

It is now time to move forward and journey with the descendants of these families through this book, titled Storm Clouds, with the information from the old tin trunk of memories, written with the copybook script taught to all children during the years of 1932 -1939.

CHAPTER ONE

I can’t believe that anyone, in this year of 1932, would kidnap a baby, Charlotte Whittiker lamented to her husband, Ambrose, as they sat sipping cold lemonade on the south-facing verandah of their home at Chadora. Yet, it appears kidnappers climbed through a nursery window and took the Lindbergh’s twenty-month-old son, and are demanding $50,000 dollars ransom, Charlotte added.

"I can’t comment on your statement, Charlotte, Ambrose told his wife. Perhaps it is because Charles Lindbergh, being the famous aviator he is, has a large amount of money. Perhaps it’s the Depression we’re experiencing. However, there’s no excuse to kidnap a child."

"I’m going to make a cup of tea. Perhaps it will calm me a little. I can’t imagine what his parents must be going through," Charlotte declared.

You stay there, Charlotte, I’ll get it for you; you need to rest being large with child.

Thank you, Ambrose, she replied, wiping away a tear.

We’re hungry, Mother, Benjamin stated as he, now eight-years-old, led the way across the backyard from the direction of the orchard, closely followed by his sister, Elizabeth, seven years, and five-year-old Alexander. The other children stood nodding their heads in agreement.

Before I sat down to rest I made you jam sandwiches and put them in the safe with a jug of milk. I knew you would be hungry when you returned from the orchard.

Thank you, Mother, they chorused, running to the kitchen.

Not so fast, children. Wash your hands first….

We will, Benjamin replied, changing direction towards the washhouse, closely followed by his siblings.

I can’t believe the children have returned from playing so soon; has one of them stubbed a toe or something? Ambrose asked, returning with the afternoon tea.

No, not this time. They are hungry! Charlotte replied.

The children joined their parents to eat their snack. Trees are dying, Father! Alexander said. Lots of them. Leaves are turning yellow, his small furrowed brow reflecting the fear he felt.

I see, Ambrose replied. But there is no need for alarm; it is now March and the season is changing to autumn from summer. Last year you were too small to go with the others to play in the orchard so this is the first time you have seen the green leaves of the fruit trees turn yellow, then red, and finally to brown. It happens every year so that the trees can have a rest during the cold winter months. In spring, they will shoot new leaves and flowers; we will then have apples, plums and peaches once again.

This is true, Alexander, his mother confirmed, smiling at him. Next year you can help me wash the fruit and make jam and preserves like I did last year, Charlotte explained.

Truly? the young boy queried before eating the remains of his sandwich and drinking the last of his milk.

Where is everybody? Charles Morgan’s booming voice greeted them as he rounded the corner of the house, closely followed by his wife Connie, and their children, Winifred, called Winnie, by everyone, and her younger brothers, Godfrey and Nelson.

The Whittiker children, refreshed after their snack, ran to greet the new arrivals and were soon playing hide and seek in the orchard, while the adults discussed world events.

Things are getting bad at the mill, Ambrose; Mr Crouch said the mill will close if the demand for timber slows anymore.

It’s that serious? Ambrose asked.

Yes. Some of the men in the city have committed suicide and that only follows the same action in America when the banks closed at the beginning of this Depression. As you know the Government is giving work to men for two days a week, but ‘sustenance’ as they call it doesn’t sustain a man and his family.

I see, was all Ambrose could say because he knew that if the mill closed he would be out of work along with the other men. That news hasn’t been told to us yet, but I expect Mr Crouch doesn’t want men to walk off the job either. What a terrible mess the world is in.

It is indeed, Charles agreed soberly. Mr Crouch told me he has been transferred to another mill south of Bunbury and will be replaced by an acquaintance of his, a Mr Tony Clifford. I’m not exempt from the worry of it either. I’ve heard of many an accountant going bush to eke out an existence of some kind, and leave their wives and families to manage as best they can…

Why that’s…that’s preposterous. How could a man do such a thing? Ambrose cut in as fear filled his heart. ‘If I lose my job the cow and chickens will keep us in milk and eggs but that’s about all,’ he thought, vowing he would not put Charlotte in that position. Wouldn’t a man in your line of work be safe? An accountant is an important position…the banks need you as do all businesses.

Father, where are you? Benjamin called, then, finding him talking to Charles said, Excuse me Father and Uncle Charles. There’s a man walking towards our house…I don’t know who he is, but he looks like a crook; his eyes are close together and he’s not very well dressed.

We’d best meet this fellow, Benjamin, his father told him. I’m sure there is an explanation for his visit. Would you care to join me, Charles?

I’m sure there is nothing to worry about, girls, Ambrose told them, as he and Charles ambled towards the stranger.

The short, dark-haired man staggered as he quickened his pace towards Ambrose and Charles. I’m Ambrose Whittiker, Ambrose greeted as he held out his hand in welcome.

I’m Charles, my wife and I are friends visiting...

Dear God in Heaven, Ambrose interjected as the stranger fell to his knees and his worn wide-brimmed hat and a sugar bag holding his few possessions dropped to the ground. Quick Charles, help me get him to his feet. The two men lifted the stranger to his feet and led him to a nearby log to rest.

Thank you. I’m Claude Wickham…

No need to explain, Claude. I’m sure after a hot cup of tea and some food, you will feel much improved, Ambrose said.

Best you rest for a while or the children may be frightened, if you stagger along as you are, Charles suggested.

Thank you; ever so grateful, Claude whispered. I feel a little stronger now, thank you. I saw a lad of about eight years run off and he appeared terrified at my appearance. I mean no harm to you or your family, Claude told them, after resting a while.

That young lad is my son Benjamin and he’s convinced you are a crook. I do apologise for his ignorance, Ambrose said.

No need for apologising; it’s the narrow eyes. I get blamed for all sorts of things and over the years have found it to be quite amusing at times. My clothes don’t help the lad’s imagination, either.

Even so, it will be a valuable lesson to him just the same. It will teach him not to judge people by their appearance, Ambrose replied with a smile, and offering Claude his hand, the men slowly walked towards the house.

Ladies! Claude greeted, tipping his hat.

Claude, allow me to introduce my wife and family, Ambrose said, as he led him towards Charlotte and the children, following with the introduction of Charles’ wife and family.

Pleased I’m sure, Claude replied.

We’ve just had a cup of tea. I’ll get you one; black or white? Charlotte asked him graciously.

Black and one sugar, thank you, Claude told Charlotte.

Allow me, Charlotte, Connie offered. You need to rest a while yet.

Thank you, Connie, Charlotte replied, then, turning to Claude asked. Tell me Claude what brings you to these parts?

I was told that one of the Wickham boys from Yarloop was out this way. We’re distantly related on my father’s side. However, when I made enquiries in Dwellingup, some 15 miles back, they suggested I try the mill site of Chadora. I planned to rest there and move on tomorrow, but I feel so tired.

It will take more than a cup of tea and a good meal to get you well enough to go anywhere, Claude, so you can stay here until you’re ready to move on in search of your family…

Oh, but I couldn’t impose on you…

Nonsense, declared Charlotte. Ambrose and Charles can carry the spare bed from the barn to the enclosed side verandah. When the baby’s born, the boys are going to sleep there and in the meantime you are welcome to use it.

What can I say? I’ve never found such kindness. Thank you, Claude replied, genuinely grateful for their hospitality.

The older children followed Ambrose and Charles as they walked towards the barn for the spare bed. Alexander started to go with them but stopped next to the stranger. Mister, our trees are dying, he told him, the concern showing on his face.

Are they Lad?

Mm, but father said it happens, for it’s nearly winter.

I see, Claude replied, looking at the child’s worried face. Now let me try and remember; did your father tell me your name is Alexander?

Alexander nodded his head in reply.

Are they fruit trees?

Suppose so. Mother says they are apples and I can’t remember.

I see. Are the leaves yellow and orange and falling to the ground, Alexander?

Yes. Father says not to worry; leaves will grow back later, Alexander answered, reflecting a tone of doubt.

I see. Claude allowed Alexander to see his concern. Your father is right. At this time of year many kinds of trees lose their leaves and rest during the winter months. When spring arrives, flower buds show first and then the new leaves begin to grow. I don’t know how it happens; I just know that is the way God made things to be. Don’t go worrying about things you don’t understand, Alexander. As we grow we learn more about the world around us.

I’ll try, Mister, Alexander answered shyly.

Would you like to help Aunty Connie with the tray of biscuits, Alexander? I don’t want you to annoy Mr Wickham with lots of questions while he is staying with us. Do you understand? Charlotte called.

Yes, Mother. I’ll be good, he answered, and ran off to help Connie. I’ll open the door for you Aunty Connie, Claude and Charlotte heard him say as he reached the verandah.

Well, that’s done, Ambrose told Charlotte as he and Charles rejoined her at the table. We carried over a cupboard as well…even made the bed for you Claude. Not as good as the women do, but it will be comfortable. Benjamin suggested we put water in the copper and heat it up so you can have a nice hot bath. How does that sound?"

A bath! Goodness me; it’s been weeks since I’ve had the luxury.

In the interim, I’ll show you your room and then the bathroom, where you can enjoy your bath," Ambrose told Claude.

An hour later, in the privacy of the room where Claude was, Ambrose coughed, a little embarrassed. I’m not sure how to say this, Claude, but as I tell the children, it is best to spit it out and deal with the results later. In the cupboard, there, he said, pointing to the furniture partway down the wall of the room, are some clean, though not new clothes. They have been repaired and from memory they should be about your size…oh, dear, that is if you would like them.

Like them! Good grief, Ambrose, I’d love them. I’m ashamed of my attire…it’s not what I’m usually dressed like. I abhor shabbiness and…I’m overcome by your kindness. If the copper could use more fuel, I’ve a few old clothes that are only fit for the fire…

Let’s say, a boil in the copper may improve their appearance before they are destroyed. It’s amazing what Charlotte can do in weaving her magic on old garments. A sign of the Depression I’m afraid, but as the Good Book, says, all things come to pass.

Mm, the Good Book is full of advice and encouragement, Claude agreed.

I’ll leave you to your ablutions, then, Ambrose said, pleased with the response he’d received from Claude Wickham.

On joining the others in the kitchen, Ambrose found Charles helping Connie prepare the evening meal. While Charlotte bathed Connie’s children from a dish on the kitchen table, Benjamin, Elizabeth, and Alexander, were filling the woodbox and collecting the kindling wood for the morning.

Stop messing around Elizabeth, you know father wants the wood packed in, not chucked in! I’m starving and if it’s not filled properly we’ll all be getting another wheelbarrow full. Father may push the barrow up to the house, but we have to fill it.

The barrow filled yet? Ambrose called from the verandah. And Alexander have you filled the bucket with kindling?

Almost, Father, they chorused. Finally the chores were completed and both families helped put the final touches to the table as the condiments were placed in its centre.

A tap on the door drew their attention to the ‘stranger’ standing before them in his change of clothes, Mr Wickham, Benjamin declared, as he slowly walked towards him. Taking his large rough hand in his small smooth one, Benjamin led him along the back verandah. Father said I was to ‘just spit it out’, he whispered in a small voice. I’m sorry for saying you are a crook ’cause your eyes are close together, when I didn’t know you at all. It was a hurtful thing to say and I’m really sorry… he choked on the words as a tear rolled down his flushed cheek.

Yes, it was indeed, Benjamin, but fully understandable as you were frightened at the sight of a beggar staggering along the track towards you. Let me tell you something and it will be a secret between us for a while. I really am a hard-working man, down on my luck. I’m a butcher and had my business in a town that was destroyed last summer by fire. It was a sad time for me as my boy, Thomas, died in that fire. He was about your age…that’s why I can understand how you felt about me…do you think we can be friends?

Oh, Mr Wickham, I’d like that. I’m starving, can we eat now?

What a good idea, Benjamin, what a good idea, Claude repeated, smiling with a heartfelt smile for the first time in months.

Ah, another delicious meal, Ambrose, Charles said, wiping his hands on the tea towel as he hung it on the cup hook, near the wood-fired stove.

You’re most welcome and thank you for your help, Charlotte responded to her friends. Shall we see you all tomorrow after you’ve finished work?

Certainly, Charles responded. I’ll come and tell you what the work situation is like. He smiled wistfully as he took Charlotte by the shoulders and kissed her cheek.

Until tomorrow, Charlotte, Connie confirmed, and calling the children around them they bid farewell, and waved goodbye. They walked through the back gate and followed the path that led to the boarding house where they were staying.

If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll attend to the children, Charlotte said, smiling at the men relaxing in the lounge room.

What an eventful day it has been, Ambrose stated as he warmed his hands in front of the open fire.

It has indeed, Claude agreed. I don’t know how to thank you for all you have done, Ambrose. What a charming family and friends you have. You are so blessed…so blessed, he repeated, with a sadness that cut to the heart.

I’ve heard there is a family by the name of Wickham in the town of Williams, but until it can be confirmed you are welcome to stay here, Ambrose told him.

Thank you. Before tea, young Benjamin and I had a little talk. He is a good lad…he apologised to me for his initial feelings. I told him that I was down on my luck, and that during the bush fires last summer I lost my butchering business, and my son, to the fire. My wife died giving birth to our stillborn daughter. Thanks to you and your family and friends, I feel that I’m a person of worth once more. A bath, clean clothes… he spread his hands; lost for words.

Don’t mention it. Who knows how we will fare during this Depression. I’m lucky for I own this property and we can almost cater to our needs…almost…if it wasn’t for the trusty 12 gauge shotgun to keep us in meat, I don’t know what we’d do. As you can see, Charlotte is with child and the fear of my experiencing the same situation as you, is never far from my mind. They sat in companionable silence until Charlotte joined them carrying a tray laden with a fresh pot of tea, a jug of milk, and cups and saucers.

The children are worn out. All that running with Connie and Charles’ brood, I guess, she told them with happiness. Connie and Charles are adding to their family a little later, like us. Charles says that it must be catching, she concluded.

Charles is generally jovial, but today the concerns of the work situation appear to hang heavily on his shoulders, Ambrose stated, showing concern for his friend’s predicament.

I can understand that, Claude told them. It has been tragic for some families and men have left their wives or even committed suicide, because of their fear of the unknown surrounding them.

How terrible, Charlotte whispered, shuddering at the thought.

I’ve tried various types of work; however, going underground in a mine was beyond me…the blackness, confined space and the fear of a cave-in, kept me moving from one town to another. I heard the mill at Yarloop was taking on men, but when I arrived I was told to try elsewhere for work. I milked cows on Frank Everett’s farm, and it was he who suggested I try out this way…a familiar local name did help. He told me his parents were descendants of the original settlers…I find life can be rough, but those pioneers had to bring everything out from ‘the old country’ as they called it. They have my undying admiration for courage…at least I had shops and hope of work where I lived. Hope is more than I had this morning, I must confess.

Did young Frank mention us?

No, Charlotte, he didn’t. Do you know him?

We’re cousins, or at least Peter, Frank’s father and Ambrose are cousins. We don’t see them often now but it was once a tradition for all to gather for Christmas dinner. Times change, our families grow and somehow over the years families simply drift apart.

Sadly, this is so. However, I will do my best to keep in touch with my newfound friends; I’m indebted to you for life. This morning I didn’t think I’d see the sun go down, now I feel a new man and it’s all thanks to you, Claude stated.

"As we’ve been chatting for over an hour,