The Letter

By Christine Gardner

When her grandmother dies, Gabby discovers an old letter concealed in a secret compartment in the roll-top desk made four generations earlier. The secrets it reveals belong to an even earlier generation—the first members of Gabby's family to cross the ocean from Britain to Australia, over 150 years ago.
In 1855 Sarah and Mary are alone on The Colchester, after their parents are both killed by the deadly disease on-board. The family left their home in Wales in an attempt to find a better life in the colonies but with both parents dead the sisters are devastated, with no idea what to do next.
Sarah also becomes ill and, worried about passing her illness to Mary, encourages her to spend the days away from the stuffy cabin, in the fresh air on deck. Befriended by a gentleman, Mary finds herself swept up in a hopeless cycle of shame and lies, with no way out. When the girls arrive in Melbourne they have little hope of finding suitable work and make a drastic decision which could lead either to fortune or disaster.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christine Gardner
• Release date: Sep 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201564681

Christine Gardner

Christine has had a fascination for history most of her life. When the youngest of her five sons started school Christine went back to school as well. After several years at TAFE, studying both visual arts and writing, she went to university and eventually graduated with a BA in History/Philosophy of Religion, with Honours. She's written all kinds of books since then, most with at least some history included.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE.

Bendigo 2015

AS I PULLED UP TO THE house I saw Jake’s four wheel drive parked in the driveway; he was leaning on the bonnet and waved as I pulled up behind him. He looked uncomfortably neat, his dark brown curls flattened into submission and his shirt and jeans well-fitting and seemingly uncreased from the two hour drive. He’d changed; he was no longer my best mate and perhaps it was me that was uncomfortable, not my little brother; my curls were black and always messy and although I did look okay in the mirror when I left home I’d long given up hope I’d ever arrive anywhere looking that way.

Hey sis! How are you?

I hugged him as always, even though I was annoyed that he hadn’t turned up to the funeral. Now it was time to hand out the spoils he was here, with his new wife, Sonia. She was sitting on the edge of Pa’s favourite old chair on the verandah and when she smiled her condescending smile at me I nodded. Immaculate as always she looked completely out of place; she was platinum blond now I noticed, after going through various shades to hide her natural mouse brown, and her thin but shapely figure was shown off ever so subtly in a pretty floral blouse tucked in to her snug fitting bootleg jeans. She was going to be sorely disappointed if she thought there’d be anything of value here—the only value at Nanna and Pa’s was sentimental. I knew there was no cash under mattresses, nor any family jewellery apart from Nanna’s wedding ring, which Mum already had. The house would be worth something of course, even though Pa had built it himself and it was in the ‘wrong’ part of town.

It was also on what was now a busy main road but at least it was on the right side—the high side, which, coupled with the size of the garden, gave it a kind of grandness it really didn’t deserve. It was a weatherboard house and had always been a kind of creamy colour, in my memory at any rate; Pa had painted it every few years as long as he was able, but the last couple of paint jobs had been done by, first of all, my dad, then Jake and me. It was in need of a fresh coat again, I realised, and I wished I’d noticed sooner and done that, at least, for my Nan.

Nanna and Pa had been a big part of my life, always. Mum had worked periodically, mostly at the hotel not far from our house, and when Dad, a sales rep, was out on the road she would drop Jake and me at Nanna’s and often we’d end up staying the night. Pa was a lot of fun—always playing games with us and making us laugh, while Nanna was the one who had to calm us down and get us to bed. She was also the one who read us stories and came in during the night if we had nightmares. Then she would sing to us—nonsense songs I still remember, like:

‘There was an old man named Michael Finnegan.

He grew whiskers on his chin-agin.

The wind came along and blew them in again.

Poor old Michael Finnegan, begin again.’

It didn’t take long before we were singing along with her and had soon forgotten all about our bad dreams.

I suppose you do have the key? Sonia asked as I stepped up on to the verandah.

Morning Sonia, I said, ignoring her question as I put the key in the door.

It smelled musty inside and I noticed the expression on my sister-in-law’s face. Don’t the windows open? she said and Jake immediately went around opening all the lounge-room and kitchen windows. Sonia rewarded him with a slight smile and strolled through the house, poking and prodding at Nanna and Pa’s life.

She picked up each of Nanna’s ornaments from the mantelpiece: a porcelain ballerina Pa had given her when Mum was born, a rearing horse Jake had given her for Christmas when he was ten, from precious cash he’d saved out of his pocket money, a papier-mâché figurine of a witch’s head Mum had made at school and an admittedly rather ugly but treasured vase I’d made at school myself. I still remembered how proud I’d been, at eleven, giving it to her and how thrilled she’d been; I fought back tears as Sonia sniffed and carelessly replaced each item on the old mantelpiece. Don’t imagine there’s anything much here really, she said.

I shook my head. No, they didn’t go in for possessions much—just their home.

She looked around the room, at the old fashioned furniture and the heavy drapes, and I imagined how it must look through her eyes. To me it was my second home—that old couch was where I’d nodded off to sleep on so many nights I refused to go to bed—always soft and comfortable, and now worthless. I doubted even the Salvos would want it. Or much else. It was all shabby—not shabby chic, just plain shabby. Nanna always said, of everything there, it would ‘see her out’.

I’ll never understand how you let her stay here for so long, Sonia said. Why she wasn’t in a nice retirement home somewhere; she could have had a bit of luxury in her final years. Some of those places now are really nice—modern.

Jake and I both shook our heads and smiled at one another. Not Nan, he said. Luxury for Nan was having her own place. We did suggest a few options after Pa died but she was always adamant. She wouldn’t leave until she was carried out in a box, she reckoned.

Sonia sniffed again. Well, she got what she wanted then, didn’t she? She looked bored. Is there anything in particular you wanted to show us, Gabby?

I looked at Jake. I thought you might like something—I don’t know—a memory? I glanced at the horse on the mantelpiece and he nodded.

I will take that. He grinned as he picked it up. Not a chip on it. He looked at his wife. I’ll keep it out of sight, darl.

Poor Jake, I thought. They were the most unlikely couple and I often felt sorry for him and yet I’d seen them occasionally when they thought they were alone and there was clearly a spark between them. I wasn’t one to talk anyway; all of my relationships had been with obviously unsuitable men but then at least I hadn’t actually married any of them. Not yet! I had come painfully close once but if I’d learnt anything at all from that experience it was to listen to what my friends said and to use my brain a little more and my heart a little less. Not to mention other parts of my anatomy.

Well, I’ll be outside having a ciggy if you want me, Jake. Sonia nodded to me and went out the front door.

Jake and I wandered through the memories, some shared and some not, that each room brought to us. We were both lost in the past and Sonia’s voice brought us both back to the present.

Have you finished yet? She gave a little laugh. Found any hidden treasure?

Lots, I said and smiled at Jake, who smiled back and shook his head. No, love. Nothing.

Let’s head off then, shall we?

Oh, aren’t you staying for lunch? I asked. You’ll have to see Mum.

Oh no, we need to get back to Melbourne; we’re going out to dinner tonight, Sonia said.

You can call in and see Mum first, I said and Jake nodded.

Of course. He looked at Sonia. We won’t stay for lunch but we will drop in.

I nodded grimly. It was better than nothing. All right then. I’ll see you there. I just want to have one more look around; we need to decide what needs doing and what’s worth spending money on.

Sonia snorted. Surely nothing! If anyone does buy it they’ll bulldoze it. The land would be worth more without the house.

Maybe just sell it as is, sis? By the time we do all that needs doing we might stand to lose more than we gain. If anyone does want the house they’ll probably want to do their own reno anyway.

Nanna’s will had stipulated that Mum and I had first option on anything inside the house but the property itself was to be left equally to the three of us. Mum had no surviving siblings; there’d been two little boys who both died from some disease or other when they were tiny. I nodded, slowly. Jake was right, I knew. Nanna wouldn’t want me to let sentiment get in the way; none of us would want the house for ourselves so it was pointless wasting time and money doing it up. And yet . . .

After they left I took one more walkthrough. I remembered Pa’s desk, which was buried under a heap of old clothes in the spare room. I wasn’t sure if the clothes had been put aside for the op shop or if they were to be mended or what, but Nanna was never exactly tidy. I piled them onto the spare bed and looked the desk over. Pa’s father had made it and it had been given to Nanna and Pa when they were first married; it was hardly a work of art but the history behind it made it valuable to me. To think my great grandfather had made it so long ago and it still survived so long after his death. And it was practical enough, with four drawers each side and a roll top to hide everything away, always a handy option for those of us who missed out on the tidy gene. I could use it for my laptop and with a bit of polish I thought it would come up pretty well. I opened the top drawer and it was jammed full of cards, some of them handmade by Jake and me. I rummaged through them and as I pushed my hand underneath the pile something pricked me and I swore, pulling it quickly away.

There was a spot of blood on the palm of my hand and it started dribbling down my arm as I held it up, so I went to the bathroom and found a bandage to stick on it, then closed all the windows and locked the house up. Not that there was anything worth stealing but I didn’t want vandals destroying the place. Whatever I’d injured my hand on could wait until I got the desk home; probably there was a loose needle or something in there from Nanna’s mending.

I stopped at the bottle shop on the way to Mum’s; neither of us was much of a drinker but she’d been very quiet and sad since Nanna’s funeral and I had an idea that a trip down memory lane with the help of a few bourbons might help. When I pulled up at her house I wasn’t surprised to see that Jake and Sonia had already left, if they’d called in at all. I hung my bag over my shoulder and tucked the large bottle of dry ginger and the bourbon in the crook of my arm so I could open the door.

I was surprised to hear Mum talking and a bit put out—I’d actually talked myself into the idea of having a boozy day with my mum and really didn’t want any of her grumpy old friends along.

When I realised it was Jake I was astonished. What are you doing here? Where’s Sonia?

He grinned. She went home. I’ll get the train in the morning. Wanted to spend some time with Mum. And you.

But . . . what on earth did she say? What about your dinner?

"Oh, that was more her friends—a regular thing. She’s not an ogre you know, sis. She just doesn’t really get . . ."

People?

Families. He smiled. So, we’re having a boozy afternoon, are we sis?

Clearly that was as much as he was going to say; we’d all thought the marriage had been awfully sudden, if not completely unsuitable, and assumed there was a baby on the way. Jake was one of those now-rare men who would always put his family first; he’d always wanted a home like Nanna and Pa and our parents had had. Our dad had died not long after Pa, in a car accident, and Jake had stepped up straight away in both households, trying to replace both Dad and Pa—mowing lawns, replacing light globes and so on.

He’d excelled at pretty much everything he’d done, both at school and at uni, but there was little opportunity for him to follow his dreams in Bendigo. When he was offered the ideal job in Melbourne it didn’t take much persuasion for him to leave, although I know he worried about Mum. Not long after his move he’d met Sonia.

What have you got there then? he asked.

I put the bottles on the kitchen table. Bourbon.

What a good idea.

I have to cook some lunch, Mum said.

No you don’t, Jake said firmly. I’ll ring for some pizza later. Or now if you like?

That sounds lovely. A bit later, unless you’re hungry, Gabby?

I shook my head and smiled. It had been such a long time since we’d sat around this table together. I grabbed some chips from the pantry and tipped them into an empty fruit bowl.

There’s some peanuts somewhere . . . Mum stood up and I told her to sit down. Rummaging through the pantry I found mixed nuts and some savoury biscuits and emptied both packs into the bowl in the middle of the table. Hardly an inspiring lunch but at least we weren’t quite drinking on empty stomachs.

Sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral, Mum, Jake said as he poured drinks for us all.

I suppose you were busy at work.

He looked at me. To be honest I just couldn’t face it. It’s pathetic, I know, but the thought of watching Nanna put in the ground like . . . He wiped his eyes and shook his head. I’m an idiot; I should have been thinking of you, Mum, not myself. He reached out for her hand and she patted his in return.

We each grieve in our own way, love. She smiled. "I hope you make my funeral though."

I’ll hunt him down and drag him along! I said. I should have guessed the reason behind Jake’s absence from the funeral had been not just one of convenience and I felt bad for doubting him. I knew how much he’d loved Nanna and how soft-hearted he was; I was very glad he’d stayed to chat.

Did you find anything you want to keep, love? Mum asked me and I nodded.

Just the old desk if you don’t want it. I thought I might be able to polish it up a bit and make some use of it.

Oh good. I’ve no use for it but I did hope to keep it in the family. It’s been around so long now it’d be a shame to chuck it out. And no-one outside the family would want it.

Might be worth a fortune, Jake said, but with a grin.

Well you can have it when I cark it then, bro.

Oh no you don’t! I don’t want to be responsible for the family inheritance; you know how unreliable I am. I’d probably lose it. Anyway you’ll have half a dozen kids to fight over your worldly goods then.

"Ha! More likely to have half a dozen cats. Maybe I’ll leave all my considerable wealth to your kids."

Okay. I can live with that. He grinned and I leant across the table and ruffled his hair.

That’s better, I said and Mum smiled and nodded.

It is.

CHAPTER TWO

The Colchester 1855

SARAH AND MARY NATHANIEL stood side by side, leaning against the ship’s railing. It had been an hour or so since they’d said their last goodbyes to their father, who was somewhere back there in the ocean. Mary was wondering if his body had settled on to the ocean floor or was still floating; she hoped he hadn’t been eaten by sharks, but then maybe that was better than just rotting away. Sarah was the older, more sensible sister, and she was thinking about their future; it was all up to her now. She had to look after Mary, who was too pretty for her own good and far too young and foolish, at sixteen, to look after herself. Sarah was eighteen and not pretty like Mary, but certainly not unattractive; with her black hair and dark brown eyes she was at least a very handsome young woman.

They should have been buried together, Mary said, her tears flowing again.

Sarah put one arm around her, clinging tightly to the railing with her other hand. I know. They’ll have found each other though. Their spirits will be together by now.

Mary looked up. Are you sure?

Of course, Sarah lied. It doesn’t matter what happens to the body. You know how they loved each other. Dad will have found Mam by now.

Their mother had died ten days earlier from the typhus that ran rampant throughout the ship. The South Seas were rougher than anyone had imagined and most of the passengers were forced to stay below deck in their crowded and foul smelling quarters. Many, especially those in steerage, became ill with fever and headaches. The conditions were appalling and while some, like Lillian and John Nathaniel, made huge efforts to keep themselves and their children clean, others, particularly those affected by sea sickness, simply gave up. Their bodies were riddled with lice and ticks and the children were dying in pain and confusion while their parents looked on in despair and wondered why they’d left their homes for this floating hell.

Lillian was unable to watch the children in agony, the parents helpless. Although she could do nothing to save them she did her very best to comfort the dying children and their bewildered parents. Unlike most of her fellow passengers Lillian, the daughter of a Methodist preacher, was able to read and she had a few precious books in her luggage which she read to the children. She also mopped the sweat from their burning foreheads and consoled their parents as best she could when the children died, holding the mothers close as they sobbed. She comforted many before she succumbed to the illness herself, leaving her daughters without a mother and her husband without a wife.

John was a miner and when he’d heard rumours of the goldfields in Australia, he spent many grim and dreary days wishing it was his own hole in the ground he was working and that it was gold he was digging for rather than dirty coal to make other men rich. It was nothing but a dream at first, but when other men he knew left their homes in Wales for that hopeless dream he began to consider that just maybe it was an actual possibility—that he could take his family on a ship to the other side of the world where the sky was blue and the sun shone bright; where men were free to dig up the ground and find riches there. He knew it was a huge risk of course; he expected the trip would be rough and uncomfortable for all of them, but he did not expect it to end the way it did; he could never have imagined in his worst nightmares his wife’s horrific and painful death followed by his own on that ship. He could never have envisaged his pain and bewilderment, nor would he ever have dreamt of leaving his daughters to finish the journey and start their new life in a strange country alone and knowing no-one.

But alone they were now, two young women, on their way to a wild land full of strange creatures and no-one to greet them when they arrived.

Do you think we can get a ship back home? Mary echoed Sarah’s own thoughts.

I don’t know. I think we should see what we find over there first. As much as she’d like to be home in Wales among friends and family, the thought of starting that long trip across the ocean again, now they were close to their destination, frightened Sarah almost as much as landing in this new country alone. And she longed for ground beneath her feet. Australia might not be like the green hills and valleys they’d left so far behind them, but any ground must surely be better than the constantly rolling waves. Maybe we can find jobs in Melbourne.

Mary was dubious. As governesses? We could be miles apart!

Sarah nodded. Servants then? You could be a lady’s maid and I could work in the kitchen.

A lady’s maid! I wouldn’t have any idea what to do!

Of course you would. You’re good with hairstyles and you know how to dress. It’s hardly London; I think any woman out here who didn’t bring her own maid would be hard pressed to find anyone with real experience.

Mary screwed up her face. Being ordered around by some toff doesn’t really suit me.

Does starving suit you better?

S’pose not. She was sullen then and both girls looked back across the waves as the sun set.

Mary looked at Sarah, wanting to lighten the mood, which she knew was her fault; Sarah was just trying to be practical and without Mam around they would have to depend on one another. She put her hand on Sarah’s arm and her heart sank when she felt the heat of her sister’s skin. Sarah?

Sarah turned to face her and Mary saw the truth in her eyes. Sarah . . . not you too. She shook her head. You can’t leave me too.

Sarah took both Mary’s hands in hers. I’m not going anywhere. I’m young and strong, but it’s best if you stay away from me for a few days—stay out here during the day. We can’t have you getting sick too.

No. I’m going to look after you. I’ll not leave you.

Please Mary. You can come and give me water and check on me now and then but I want you to stay away as much as possible—up here in the fresh air. Please—for Mam and Dad and me—for all of us—stay safe and make it to the new life they dreamt of. Be a lady’s maid—be anything you want to be. Have a family—our family—do it for all of us.

Tears ran down Mary’s face but she nodded. You must get better though, Sarah. I’ll need you to help me with all my babies.

Sarah smiled and squeezed Mary’s hands. I’m sure you will. Help me down the steps. They went to their tiny cabin, which was at least a step up from steerage, where the healthy and dying lay side by side. Mary helped Sarah into her nightclothes and made sure she was comfortable and had a jug of water within reach. Their mam’s books were beside her as well and she said she’d read for a while.

Just try to sleep if you can though. Mam said the best thing is plenty of rest.

I know, so you go and let me rest. She closed her eyes and Mary thought how much like her mother she looked and wondered how she hadn’t noticed how frail she had become over the last weeks. Sarah had taken on all their mam’s responsibilities and now it was Mary’s turn.

SARAH WAS A GOOD PATIENT; she stayed in bed and slept, eating very little but drinking plenty of water, and Mary was a surprisingly good nurse. One afternoon she read aloud from her mam’s book of poems by William Wordsworth and both girls were especially moved by the last verse of ‘I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud’:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Sarah smiled and held out her hand. It felt clammy and hot and Mary wiped her brow with the damp cloth on the bedside table.

I’m going to have a sleep now. You go and get some fresh air.

Mary sighed but she knew there was no point in arguing. Every day she spent hours on deck, mostly standing at the rails on her own, lost in her thoughts. Sometimes one of the few other passengers who braved the constant storms would attempt conversation but Mary, usually a very