Scarlet Runner



  Lily Ennis

  Scarlet Runner

  A Novel

  For Wayne Kennedy

  Scarlet Runner

  By Lily Ennis

  Copyright 2014 Lily Ennis

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Creator: Tugboat Design

  Editor: Geoff Page

  About the Author

  Lily Ennis lives in Thames, NZ, with her husband, four ginger cats, one Siamese cat and an elderly sulphur crested cockatoo.

  You can find Lily at her blog lilyennis.wordpress.com

  Chapter One

  Archie stepped off the train cradling baby Thomas in his arms. Little Fanny clung to his coat. The damp cold hadn’t been wholly unexpected but now Archie shivered as he looked about him. Everything was grey and black; a stark contrast to the red and blue surroundings he was used to. The train belched its dirty steam into the bleak winter air and the folk waiting on the platform retreated from the gloom inside their dowdy suits.

  Suddenly Archie’s name rang out and his brother Joe shuffled through the bustle of people to greet him. It was nearly three and a half years since Joe had left Archie in Ballarat to come to the goldfields in Waihi and already he’d lost his sun-kissed complexion. Archie was relieved to see him: it had been a long journey with two little children to look after.

  Sybil and the children joined Joe and Sybil relieved Archie of the baby while Beth, Elsie and Darcy clung to her skirts shyly considering Fanny who by now had taken hold of her father’s hand.

  Joe guided Archie towards the waiting horse and cart. ‘It’s good to see you again Archie,’ he said. ‘I can’t say I haven’t missed you. I’m sorry for your troubles.’

  Archie clenched his teeth. It helped him deal with the pain of losing Ann. Since Thomas was born there wasn’t a day, an hour, a minute that went by when he didn’t think of her; her blazing hazel eyes outshone only by the radiance of her long blonde hair. She’d kept her hair long through all her pregnancies. Archie’s solace was that Ann was with their babies that hadn’t survived, Charlie and Margaret.

  It’s been a struggle,’ Archie replied. He nodded towards the children. A wee girl needs a mother.’ He paused. ‘And Thomas.’

  They loaded the suitcases onto the cart and climbed aboard. Darcy, Elsie and Beth stared at Archie and the children. Archie wondered what they saw. The girls, at three and four respectively probably didn’t remember their uncle but Darcy at eight did. The girls wore huge ribbons in their hair to match their dresses and Darcy wore a flat cloth cap and a well cut tweed suit. Archie noticed his nieces paid more attention to Fanny than himself and she was a little over-awed so nestled closer into Archie’s side.

  Joe and Sybil sat on the little wooden seat at the front of the cart and baby Thomas was wide-eyed in Sybil’s arms, disturbed at the unfamiliar face cooing over him. Joe flicked the reins and the cart jolted.

  As they travelled the packed earth road into town Archie recognized the housing of a mining town; the miner’s cottage. But they weren’t lined up cheek by jowl like in the larger towns he’d known. They were well spaced and often interspersed with single or even double bay villas.

  The children already were overcoming their initial shyness and were keen to point out places of interest. As Joe veered to one side of the road Darcy explained.

  ‘The rake’s coming,’ he announced excitedly. He stood to get a good look at the ore-filled carts as they rolled out of town behind a steam engine. ‘It’s going to the crushers at Waikino.’

  ‘Thirty eight, thirty nine, forty!’ said Darcy as the ore trucks rattled by. The driver blew his whistle incessantly, for at eighty tons there was no stopping as it gathered pace down the gentle incline of Seddon Street.

  ‘Is that right?’ said Archie. ‘Has it come from your mine Joe?’

  Joe relaxed his grip on the reins. ‘Aye it has,’ he replied.

  Archie cast a keen eye over the procession. The pale rock was stacked high in each bucket but none bounced out with the rough ride. It was too valuable to be treated with nonchalance, for the gold, often too small to be seen, was locked inside the ore, tight inside the quartz veins.

  As soon as the road was clear they continued a little way along the main street before turning downhill towards Union Street. Sybil had found Archie a miner’s cottage to rent and spent a good deal of time making a home out of it for him.

  Presently they drew up outside a small wooden bungalow. Archie took Fanny’s hand and gave it a squeeze. He at once thought of Ann. He’d been through this before; the children hadn’t been born and he and Ann took possession of their first home. It was slightly larger, sturdier and altogether prouder than this modest abode which sat squat on its site, even though it was elevated above the road. He sighed and silently remonstrated with himself. He must put on a positive show for the children, and for Joe. Ann wasn’t here now so it was no use wondering what she would think of it, but still he did.

  They all jumped down off the cart and the children excitedly ran through the picket fence up to the front verandah. Fanny, caught up in their excitement ran with them. Archie hauled the luggage to the roadside then hesitated. There was smoke coming from the chimney.

  Sybil walked ahead of Archie casually explaining the smoke as she went. ‘I found you a girl.’ She paused at the step to address the children. ‘This is Uncle Archie’s house now, so don’t touch anything.’

  Beth wasn’t about to be so constricted. ‘Can I show Fanny her room?’ she asked.

  At that moment the door opened and a young woman greeted Sybil with a demure nod of her head. She held the door open for the entourage.

  ‘Hello Mrs. Wright,’ she said.

  The children piled in, quickly disappearing as they rushed to show Fanny around. Sybil walked straight to the open fire where she stood with her back to it, still clutching baby Thomas. Archie and Joe dropped the suitcases on the floor.

  ‘This is it Archie,’ Joe announced. ‘It’s probably a bit smaller than you’re used to but…’ He bit his lip as he caught the look in Archie’s eye. ‘Mary’s made bread,’ he said.

  The smell of newly baked bread permeated through the house. For a moment the silence was uncomfortable. Only two letters had been exchanged between Archie and Joe since Ann died and neither knew how to broach the subject. Archie had tried to keep body and soul together but it had proved impossible to retain his job as mine manager and cope with the children. There had been no time to grieve properly and it wasn’t until the ship sailed from Australia that Archie allowed himself the luxury of his own personal grief that came with the loss of Ann.

  He was thankful for the children, although for a short time he was bitter with Thomas, blaming him for Ann’s never ending bleeding. Mercifully he soon saw Thomas for what he was: Ann’s gift to him.

  The children were a distraction on the journey, a welcome one. Strangers were quick to approach him and let baby Thomas grasp a finger. They ensured he stayed sensible and didn’t go on a bender, as he’d seen many single men do when life shot them a blow.

  Thomas murmured and looked around for his dad. Archie didn’t hesitate to approach but Sybil cut him off, cradling the baby in a rocking motion.

  ‘It’s all right Archie,’ she said. ‘I do have three of my own and one on the way.’ She shot a smile to Joe.

  ‘Oh,’ said Archie. He forced a smile. ‘You should have said Joe.’

  Joe coughed. ‘Yes, yes. It’s new news, Archie.’

  Archie approached Sybil and silently took Thomas who instantly stopped his crin
ging and smiled.

  ‘Nevertheless,’ Archie replied, ‘it deserves a drink, does it not?’

  Sybil and Joe exchanged glances.

  ‘The town is dry Archie,’ said Sybil.

  Joe gave Archie a meek look. Archie could see that Joe wanted to say something more about it but he also saw smugness in Sybil’s stance. He’d press Joe about it later.

  ‘As I said,’ Sybil began, ‘I found you a girl to help with the children. Her name is Mary and her father is the mine manager. She will see to the washing and all the meals, but she won’t be expected to dish up the evening meal, just prepare it. She will look after Fanny and Thomas during the day.’

  Archie was taken aback. The glimpse he’d got of Mary was of a mere slip of a girl; she hardly seemed old enough to take on looking after someone else’s children. He gently rocked Thomas in his arms.

  ‘Let’s be meeting her then,’ he said.

  Sybil went to fetch Mary and they returned with tea and hot bread. Mary put the tray on the table then backed away from it threading her loose hair behind her ears as she went. Archie waited for her to realize he was holding the baby when she would no doubt push herself onto him in that air of maternal superiority. But she did no such thing. She held herself proudly though, not as meekly as perhaps Sybil would have liked.

  Sybil made introductions and finally Mary complimented Archie on Thomas. ‘He is a beautiful boy, Mr. Wright. He has the look of you about him.’

  Archie flushed but Mary didn’t seem to notice. ‘You must call me Archie.’

  Mary stepped back from the baby and straightened her dress. ‘Oh no, Mr. Wright,’ she said. ‘I could not. You are my employer.’

  ‘Then I will call you Miss Bell,’ Archie replied.

  Sybil came to the rescue. ‘Perhaps that is best. Miss Bell’s father will be your manager Archie.’

  She turned to Mary. ‘Mr. Wright is a mine manager himself. Joseph managed to find him a position as an engine driver until something more suitable presents itself.’

  Joe calmly cast his eyes around the room letting Sybil’s words wash over him. He didn’t want Mary to feel any more uncomfortable by looking as smug as his wife. She was just so proud of him; that was all. As an accountant he’d been able to provide for Sybil and the children no less than she expected, and that was quite a lot. They’d made a good home here since leaving Ballarat in 1907. Joe enjoyed working for the Waihi Gold Company and as far as Sybil was concerned, he as good as ran it. Joe had only had a quiet word with the stationary engine driver about securing Archie a job. He didn’t want his brother working down the mine itself; that would be more than a step backwards. But work was plentiful. Archie could have got himself that job the minute he stepped off the train.

  ‘I’ve prepared a mutton stew for your tea,’ said Mary addressing Archie. ‘If that’s all for now, I’ll leave you and the children to settle in and come back first thing in the morning.’

  Sybil started to reply but Archie cut her off. ‘That will be all, Miss Bell. Thank you.’

  * * *

  By late afternoon Archie finally saw his family off with Joe promising that he would be along tomorrow morning. He sighed. In the ten days it had taken to get from Ballarat it felt like the first time he could relax in silence; in fact it was the first time he’d stopped moving. There were no jostling dusty carts, dirty steam engines, rolling seas and creaking rigging. He wasn’t going to miss the calls to board or other people’s children running around the deck or up and down carriages.

  It had grown quite dark inside the cottage. He lit some candles and checked on Thomas who was asleep in a cot. Fanny came out of her room clutching a rag doll to her chest and sucking her thumb.

  Archie’s heart melted. He wished Ann was here to sweep his little girl into her arms and sit her down in the chair next to the coal range. That was where Fanny would watch Ann prepare the family’s meals. Fanny was too young to be helpful and Ann indulged the little girl, letting her lick the wooden spoon and the mixing bowl. There had been lots of mother daughter talk about the coming baby and at three Fanny understood that she had to help her mother look after it.

  Archie struggled to make sense of Ann’s death for Fanny. The girl asked endless questions which made Archie face it pragmatically. The last two weeks had taken all of Archie’s resolve. Fanny and Thomas needed feeding, bathing, changing, putting to bed, keeping an eye on. He hadn’t let his guard down.

  ‘What is it sweetie?’ Archie asked Fanny.

  She ran to her father and Archie crouched to hear her distressed whisper. ‘I don’t like it here.’

  Archie understood. The contrast from Ballarat was startling; the colour of the sky grey instead of blue, the smell of the earth damp not dusty. And then there was the house; modest and dark, and now that they were alone it seemed colder.

  There was a distant sound of a muffled explosion. Archie smiled as he drew Fanny into him. ‘Hear that honey? That’s the mine working – just like back home. Whenever you hear that sound you know that Daddy’s right there with you. Just like before.

  Fanny was mute and wide-eyed, a little comforted by the familiar sounds of the mine.

  ‘And now,’ Archie continued. ‘Miss Bell will look after you and Thomas while Daddy works at the mine.’ He gulped. ‘Just like mummy used to.’

  Fanny nodded, still sucking her thumb.

  ‘Miss Bell will need your help with Thomas,’ said Archie. ‘She doesn’t know what Thomas likes does she?’

  Fanny shook her head and nuzzled into Archie’s neck. ‘Will mummy know where we are?’

  ‘Of course sweetie,’ Archie replied. ‘Mummy is a star in heaven and she’s keeping an eye on you and Thomas and me.’

  * * *

  Archie woke to persistent knocking on the front door and the baby was crying. The room was cold and dark and for a minute he forgot where he was. He groaned as he realised then threw back the covers and dashed to answer the door. He was angry the caller had woken Thomas.

  Mary shivered as she stepped inside. ‘You haven’t got the fire going yet,’ she announced.

  Archie was affronted and embarrassed at being caught out. ‘Do you mind not banging so hard on the door, Miss Bell. You’ve woken the baby.’

  Mary walked straight on through to the kitchen. ‘The baby was crying before I knocked on the door Mr. Wright,’ she replied. ‘One would have thought the cry of your son would have woken you.’ She transferred some milk into a bottle. ‘I thought I was going to have to break the door down.’

  ‘What time is it?’ asked Archie.

  Mary tested the milk on her wrist then turned on her heel. ‘It’s gone past seven.’

  Archie watched her take the bottle in to Thomas. She seemed a different girl to yesterday but he was at once comforted with the thought that perhaps she was capable of keeping house after all.

  ‘Why don’t you light the fire,’ Mary called from the other room.

  Archie heard the baby stop crying followed by muffled conversation between Mary and Fanny. He did as he was told. He idly wondered what time Mary had to get up in order to be here so early, and who in her house lit the fire and made the breakfast. He was intrigued by her accent; he hadn’t noticed it yesterday. There was a pleasant lilt to her speech and the remnant of a roll on her tongue. It was an accent that told him she’d probably been in the new country since she was a girl, the Scots of home being almost foreign in her ear.

  He dressed ready for Joe then joined Fanny at breakfast for porridge. Mary handed Archie a small tin. ‘Your lunch,’ she stated simply.

  Archie tried not to show surprise but he smiled to himself. Sybil had chosen well. He could put his trust in this girl. It was however, news to him that he would be gone the entire day.

  Footsteps on the verandah announced Joe’s arrival. He knocked lightly then let himself in. ‘Only me,’ he called. Joe looked at the breakfast scene with approval. ‘Settling in Archie?’

  ‘D’ya have time for te
a?’ asked Archie refreshing his own cup.

  ‘No I don’t and neither do you. I’ve only got the morning off to see you settled and I told Gerald I’d have you there by eight. After that I’ll take you to the shafts to show you where you’ll work and then you’ll have to sign up to the union,’ Joe explained. ‘Then you’ll be all legal for tomorrow.’

  Archie put his lunch in his pocket and kissed Fanny on the cheek. ‘Daddy’s going to the mine now poppet,’ he said. ‘You be a good girl for Miss Bell.’

  * * *

  Archie wasn’t ready to go home yet, even though he had visions of Thomas crying for him. Besides, he hadn’t eaten his lunch and he daren’t go back with sandwiches still in his tin. Yesterday hadn’t provided much chance to get the measure of the town so, having met his new colleagues and got tomorrow sorted he wandered along the main street. He paused at a shop window. Roberts’ Pictures proudly displayed photographs of the scarred landscape of the goldfields as if they were portraits of royalty. Men posed for the camera with appropriate gravity for the record inside tunnels, with the pit ponies and stacked precariously on the poppet heads. There were few women. The pictures did nothing to lift Archie’s spirits and he walked on. The narrow timber buildings sat squat on their sites and an industrial pallor hung in the air. There was nothing taller than one storey save for the Rob Roy Hotel which loftily occupied a corner site. Archie sighed. It was criminal that he couldn’t wash down his sandwiches with a crisp ale or sit companionably in the bar quietly observing the characters of the town. Joe had reassured him that there was whisky to be had so long as the women didn’t find out.

  Sybil had stocked the small kitchen already and he assumed Mary would take care of replenishing it. He allowed himself to think of this morning. It was nice to have breakfast made for him and to have the children taken care of. He hadn’t realised how tired he was or how hard it had been coping on his own.