Tears from the Past

By Linda Arditto

England 1851; Queen Victoria is on the throne; the year of the ‘Great Exhibition’, and the building of Kings Cross Railway Station. ‘Big Ben’ hasn’t been constructed, and London is filled with poor, and destitute souls, living in the filth of the slums.
John Pitt is a twenty-six-year-old single man, living in Oxford, England, with his mother, and two sisters. He has graduated from the University with a degree in Natural Sciences. After travelling through Africa, he sets out to write a book about how man has evolved into what he believes to be superior intelligence.
When his grandfather’s pocket watch is discovered, it shows him a similarity between primitive man, and modern man, but John Pitt is searching for the truth, where ever it may lead him.
He accepts a wager from his publisher who doesn’t agree with his findings, and makes a trip to London. Circumstances force him to leave London before he can return to Oxford, and he finds himself on an unplanned journey to Australia. On his arrival, he disembarks in Victoria, the main hub of the gold rush.
He meets Piper Wilson, a merchant, who has made his fortune in the colony, and earns enough money to continue his research. Before leaving Melbourne, John Pitt tries to solve a murder; the mystery of the green button which he finds puzzling.
After contacting his family in Oxford, John’s mother sends him his grandfather’s watch, and he discovers, ‘Tears from the Past’.
Can he solve a riddle that’s plagued the colony for over 50 years? Can his intelligence and education ensure his survival? And will he eventually return to England, and his family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Arditto
• Release date: Jul 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370934294

Linda Arditto

I am a mystery woman. Older and therefore wiser I hope.

Book preview

TEARS FROM THE PAST

By

Linda Arditto

Copyright2013,2017LindaArditto

Cover by

Clover Digital Media

Editor

Sue Landsberg

Published by

Clover Digital Media

License Notes

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Author’s Notes

What is known as Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner in modern times, was called Breakfast, Dinner, and Supper during Victorian times.

A Costermonger, is a merchant that sells goods, and food from a stall.

A zabra, is a small sailing vessel.

A Lighterman, travelled in a boat, transported goods and people from ship to shore when ships were anchored in the harbour.

An Ort, is a small amount of food left on the side of a plate.

Button-holing: Attract the attention of, and detain someone in conversation, typically against their will.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Prologue

I’ll never forget that night, something had woken me and I’d ventured downstairs; it was after midnight, and I knew I was the only one in the house. Everyone had taken a carriage to London as the Great Exhibition began in a few days, and I would have the luxury of being on my own for a week. Mother had been very excited when she left, at the prospect of seeing Queen Victoria and Prince Albert at the Exhibition; a fleeting glance would satisfy her.

I’d decided to stay home; it would give me time to write more of my book undisturbed, and I was so far behind with my writing, this would be a welcome break from my family.

Mr. Carter, from the publishing house of ‘Carter and Wren’, had promised me publication at a discounted price; his offer was very generous, and I knew he’d taken a liking to me when we first met at ‘The Crossroads Inn’. My theories on ‘early man’, and the research I’d done on the subject, had fascinated him; this is when he’d made me the offer.

If you write a book about what you’ve discovered, well, I’ll publish it for you at a shilling a copy, he’d said.

A shilling a copy was a very good price, and I’d managed to save a tidy sum over the last few years. My bank account now held four hundred and forty-five pounds, and I wasn’t about to miss this opportunity.

As I reached the bottom of the staircase, I looked around as far as the light from my candle would allow. Nothing looked out of place, and I could hear no sounds; maybe it had been my imagination; Mother would often tell me I had a vivid one. As I turned to go back upstairs, and to my bed once more, the light from my candle passed across a small table at the foot of the stairs. I only glimpsed down for a moment, but noticed my Grandfathers’ pocket watch sat there. Mother always kept it locked away in a safe in the library, but there it was; laying on the table in plain view.

I picked it up and smiled, remembering my Grandfather who died when I was seven years old. He’d had a huge white beard and moustache, and I always thought he looked like St Nicholas; I remembered his jovial laugh every time I asked if I could sit on his lap. He would tell me stories of his travels; Africa, the Americas, and even the Arctic. I suppose it was because of those stories, I became interested in seeing first-hand how people in other lands differed from us.

I sat on a step and placed the candlestick down beside me. Holding the watch in both hands, I couldn’t see the dial, and remembered my Mother telling me it was a full hunter. I didn’t know what that meant as a child until she pushed a button on the top, and the case opened, revealing a beautiful face with Roman numerals, and blue hands. I did the same to see that dial once more.

As it opened, I noticed a few cracks in the face; I had no recollection of them being there before, but in that instant, my eyes failed me. I was losing focus, and the room started to spin at such a rate, I thought I was going to faint away.

My eyes started to slowly open, and for a moment I thought it had all been a dream, until I became aware of my surroundings. I was outside; the sun was shining as I picked myself up off the ground. I looked around; I could see nothing but desert with a few tufts of spiky grass here and there, and great columns of rock stretching up to the sky. What was this place? I wondered; but I didn’t have to wait long to find out. I felt a small earthquake under my feet, and a roaring sound getting louder. Looking around, I could see dust in the air, and realised it was dozens of large animals heading my way. I needed to find cover before I became trampled in the desert.

Running across their path, I threw myself on the ground clear of the large clawed feet that passed close to my head. A moment later they were gone, and I found myself face down, choking in dust.

I didn’t want to get up, or look up, and just lay there gasping for air, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Before I could look around to see who had placed it there, the hand jerked me to my feet. Wiping the dust from my eyes, and shaking it from my hair, I felt amazed to see six men. These were no ordinary men, as I’d never seen the likes of them before. Long-haired and bearded, they were wearing nothing more than animal skins sparsely covering their bodies.

They stared at me, and started speaking to one another in a language I was not familiar with; before signalling me to follow them. We walked to one of the great columns, where I could see a hole cut in the side; this is where they entered. I followed them in, and to my amazement found myself in a cosy area where a fire burned in the centre of the room. I call it a room for lack of a better word; I suppose it was nothing more than a cave.

There were women in there, and a few children; I felt awkward; the women wore nothing on the top half of their bodies. I’d seen bare-breasted women in Africa during my travels, and the same feeling of embarrassment overcame me once more.

One of the women smiled at me, but before I could return this welcome gesture, a man struck her down with his fist. I felt upset, and stepped between them before he could strike her again. She had done nothing wrong, and I felt his manner was unjustified.

As she stood up behind me, he reached around and grabbed her hair; pulling her past me and flung her into the corner of the room. I felt angry, and he could see the expression on my face.

He struck his chest several times with his left fist, and yelled at me in his native tongue; while leaning towards me in a threatening manner. I looked around the cave; no one showed concern and went about their business. Another of the men handed me a crude knife, it had started as a stone of some sort, and had been chiselled away to create a sharp blade. The top was bound in leather as a makeshift handle; I’d seen something similar, once again in Africa. He stopped yelling and also picked up a knife, the same as I held in my hand. I started to believe this was a duel for the woman who sat huddled in the corner, and I admit wishing at that moment my set of pistols were here with me.

My heart started beating uncontrollably, thumping in my chest as if it wanted to separate itself from me and flee.

He leapt forward, and it's then I realised the knife was in my right-hand but in my left, was my Grandfathers’ pocket watch; I’d been holding onto it all this time. I dropped the knife and grabbed his wrist, preventing him from ending my life there and then. We scuffled around, and at one point I thought it would all end when we almost tumbled into the fire. We both lost our footing and fell to the ground…I heard him exhale, deep and long, before I noticed he wasn’t moving. His knife had entered through his stomach, and he laid there…dead.

I got to my feet; looking around at the faces in the room I noticed no one seemed to care. Two men picked up his body and removed him from the cave, before I followed them outside. The desert stretched beyond the horizon, and I saw animals grazing on the tufts of grass in the distance; animals like I’d never seen before. It’s then I realised I was looking at dinosaurs!

I examined my Grandfathers’ pocket watch, opening the cover, I hoped it hadn’t been damaged; when once again my vision failed me. My head was spinning.

I opened my eyes to find myself seated at the desk in the library of my home; I had returned to familiar surroundings. Dawn crept into the room, as the shadows from the furniture moved slowly across the floor. I placed the pocket watch on the desk after closing the case, and removed some paper from the drawer. Taking the pen and dipping it in the inkwell, I knew my book would take another direction, as I began to write…

The History of Man

By John Pitt

1

I had written over one hundred pages before my family returned from London, and I felt pleased with the work I’d managed to get done. It had been a struggle writing from this new perspective, and I’d often wondered how my Grandfathers’ watch had spirited me away; I took this as an omen. Maybe there had been a purpose of my visit to the distant past, something guiding me to reveal the truth about our beginnings. I thought no more about it as my family entered the house.

Under normal circumstances, my Mother and sisters would never be permitted to roam around the City of London unescorted, but my Mother was no ordinary woman. She was born in London, and as I had learned over the years, my Mother’s strength and determination held her in good stead. She had been a teacher of small children at a London school, and had met my father there. He was not a teacher, but a writer of educational literature, and they had met when he visited the school to deliver some new workbooks he’d developed.

It was a welcome sight to see my family again; by my Mother’s expression and manner, it was clear to me she had been able to see Queen Victoria and Prince Albert at the Exhibition. Her excitement was obvious, and I knew she would be like this for a long time to come. A woman as a reigning monarch was something that had delighted her for the past fourteen years, especially since men had dominated the throne since the reign of Queen Anne.

My father had frowned at her attitude when he was alive, but Mother had made her opinions more obvious to everyone since my father’s passing just six years ago. He had learned over the years that his wife was a very strong woman, and stuck to her beliefs, making them public from time to time. My father hadn’t been a stupid man, and had allowed her more freedom that most women received. He had stated in his will an allowance of two hundred pounds a year for her, and one hundred pounds a year for each of my sisters until they marry. My allowance had been extremely generous in the form of three hundred and fifty pounds a year, even though I was financially responsible for the upkeep of the household.

My Mother and two sisters sat on the sofa when they entered the parlour. They were all a chatter and I couldn’t distinguish what they were saying, although they seemed to understand one another. Even though I was the head of the house, I didn’t interfere with their opinions; during my travels, I’d discovered tribes in Africa where woman ruled the family and the villages successfully, so I could never understand why so much was different in the civilised world. I found my Mother and sisters to be intelligent, and their opinions were always welcome to me.

Wasn’t her dress beautiful mama? my sister Kathryn asked.

I had no doubt in my mind, that this had already been discussed on several occasions since the day they’d seen Queen Victoria.

Yes, my dear, Mother replied with a smile.

Any dress Her Majesty wore would be beautiful, I added, trying to take part in their female conversation.

My youngest sister Phoebe started to giggle; she was only eleven years old, and this had been the biggest outing that had kept her away from home so long. Kathryn had spent seven years away from our home at an exclusive girl’s school in Brighton, and had returned last year after reaching the age of eighteen.

John! my Mother said abruptly. We are not referring to Queen Victoria, but Mrs. Haslington. She invited us to high tea in the Crystal Palace after we met her in the gardens, my Mother added, with a voice of annoyance.

I decided to take my leave and return to my work, leaving them to reminisce once again about everything that had happened over the past week. Phoebe followed me into the hallway.

Where are you going, Jo? she asked.

When Phoebe first started to speak as a young child, she could never say the word ‘John’, and had shortened it to only half the name; it had stuck with her ever since.

Back to writing my book, I replied, as I walked into the library.

Don’t you want to hear about London? Phoebe asked, as she followed me to my desk.

I’ll hear about everything tonight at supper, I replied, knowing all the time she wanted to be the one to tell me the stories.

Usually, Phoebe’s details of events were greatly exaggerated, which I must admit, made them more interesting.

There was a big brown bear, Jo, she said, as her eyes opened wide. A man had it on a chain, and it walked around beside him on its back legs; it must have been twenty feet high when it stood up straight!

I started to smile at her wonderful description, even though I knew twenty feet was too tall, even for a bear. My smile disappeared as I felt sadness for the animal, captivity and the way they were treated was something I was opposed to; they belonged in the wild with others of their kind.

We’ll talk later, I said to Phoebe. Can you tell mama I’d like to see her? I asked.

Alright, I’ll go tell her, but you will let me tell you some special stories later, won’t you Jo? she added.

Yes, I replied with a smile.

It was only a few minutes later when my Mother entered the library, and I stopped writing; placing my pen on the desk. Taking the watch from my waistcoat pocket, I placed it on the desk for her to see. She glanced at it, and raised her head to look at me.

How did you get that out of the safe? she asked. The key is always with me.

I didn’t feel the need to explain what had happened when they were away, and said, It isn’t important mama, but do you have the key to Grandfathers’ watch so I can wind it?

It had been working well when I took the unplanned trip to the past, but it had now stopped.

My Mother walked across the room mumbling something I didn’t hear, but I knew she wasn’t pleased. From a pocket in her dress, she removed a key that was attached to a long thin chain, and opened the safe. I heard the door creak open, and she bent down to a drawer at the bottom. I heard the drawer open and close before my Mother stood up, and walked back to the desk.

I don’t think the watch works anymore, but you can try it, she said, as she handed me the key.

I took it from her hand and opened the back of the watch; to my great amazement the key didn’t fit, it was too small.

You’ve given me the wrong key, mama, I said, handing it back to her.

She looked at the key which now sat on the palm of her hand, before looking back at me.

This is the only watch key there is in the safe. It was your Grandfathers, she said.

I handed my Mother the pocket watch, it was clear to me that she thought I had not used the key in the correct manner, and I gave her the opportunity to try it herself.

I’ve always admired a woman’s persistence when carrying out an impossible task. The female species constantly try every possibility before giving up.

I wasn’t concerned about this, and decided to go to the jewellers and buy a correctly fitting key, promising my Mother I’d be home in time for supper. Standing up, I placed the watch back in my pocket and headed for the front door. Supper wasn’t until six; so there was plenty of time for me to call at the jewellers, and then proceed to ‘The Crossroads Inn’ for a pint of ale before returning home.

I signalled for a Hansom cab as soon as I stepped out of the front door, and it didn’t take long to reach ‘Hollsworth and Sons’, the finest jewellers on the High Street. After paying my fare, I entered Hollsworths, and waited my turn for attention. Two gentlemen were being served ahead of me, they appeared to be buying pocket watch cases, and I noticed one showed an interest in a silver tipped cane. As I watched them, I reached the conclusion they’d arrived in the country recently by steamer. Their accents told me they were French, and I presumed the carriage that stood outside was theirs; either by purchase or hire. I waited patiently, there was no hurry as far as I knew, and before long the two gentlemen concluded their business and left the store.

An elderly gentleman approached me, I assumed he was Mr. Hollsworth himself by his manner and dress; I handed him my card.

What may I do to assist you Mr. Pitt? he asked, looking at the card as we moved further into the store.

I removed the watch from my pocket and opened the