Alley Urchin (8 page)

Chapter Three

It was a wonderful balmy day, with the sun playing hide-and-seek amongst the clouds, and the gentle breezes blowing in off the sea to cool the land and bring with them the promise of rain.

Four whole weeks had passed and January had given way to February since the awful night when father had disowned his only son, and that son had fled the area without trace, almost as though he had disappeared from the face of the earth. At first light after the violation of Emma, when Roland Thomas had come down to the porch, there had been no sign of the perpetrator. When the funeral procession had taken Mrs Thomas along the High Street to the churchyard, there had been no sign of her son: not during the service, nor at the graveside afterwards. There was much talk of it for many days following, with people curious to know what had taken place. They declared their sympathies to the grieving husband and he, in turn, quietly thanked them. They expressed their horror and regret at what had transpired between him and his only son, and he nodded gratefully, but made no comment. They fidgeted nervously with their black neck-ties and meticulously adjusted their prim little bonnets; then, feeling somewhat perplexed and frustrated, they went on their way. Roland Thomas was a private man, they knew, and they respected him for it. All the same, that son of his must have committed an evil deed for such a man as the trader to be so unforgiving! But now, with his wife gone, his son gone, and two female convicts residing on the premises, the circumstances at the Thomas store left much to be desired. There was talk that he intended taking on a young lad to help him in the store, and what with the upright and prim Rita Hughes having taken on the role as housekeeper there, they supposed it was respectable enough. What was more, Roland Thomas, a strong, fine figure of a man at fifty-nine years old, was not past taking himself a new wife, no indeed! Who could be more suitable than the blacksmith’s daughter, they wondered.

Emma could hardly believe her ears. ‘
Marry
you!’ she exclaimed, an expression of incredulity on her face as she looked at Roland Thomas through astonished grey eyes. ‘Do you know what you’re saying, Mr Thomas?’ Surely she had misheard, Emma thought. Only ten minutes before, she had been busily attending to her duties in the store, feeling grateful to be back at her work, and exchanging pleasantries with the customers. Now, here she was, summoned to the upstairs sitting-room and seated on the stiff horsehair couch opposite Mr Thomas, who was perched somewhat precariously on the edge of a tall ladder-back chair, his homely face wreathed with anxiety as he waited for her answer. But he dared not wait, for he saw the answer written plainly all over Emma’s countenance, so, taking his courage into his hands, he leaned forward in the chair to fix her all the more with his dark, troubled gaze. ‘Think on it, Emma,’ he urged, ‘don’t reject me out of hand . . . not until I’ve been through the advantages of such a union between the two of us.’

He then went on to explain how he had thought long and hard about the proposition, and how after each painstaking deliberation he had come to the very same conclusion. ‘It can only benefit both of us, Emma . . . for my part, there are two main considerations. The first is that, when my time comes and I’m called to take place alongside my Violet, that no-good son o’ mine won’t be able to get his hands on this ’ere business! The second gives me even greater pleasure: not only will the business come into
your
capable and deserving hands, Emma – the good Lord knows how hard you’ve worked to make it flourish these past seven years – but I reckon with your energy and clever business head, you’ll take the Thomas name far higher than I ever could! You’ve got youth on your side, girlie . . . and that special inner drive to succeed. Oh, and there’s so much more opportunity now, to expand and prosper in
all
directions; you must see that . . . Why, you yourself pointed out the openings in the pearl-shell trade, and we’ve got the profits to prove it! And look how you’ve badgered me about the benefits to be got from coastal trade. You can do it, Emma . . . with me alongside you, and our name over that doorway . . . we can branch out in whatever direction you like!’

As he talked, his dark eyes alive with enthusiasm, Emma was caught up in his mood of excitement. He was right. All he was saying made a good deal of sense, her every instinct told her so. With overland transport difficulties and more settlers arriving all the time, there was a fortune to be made from taking the goods by sea, investing in good, sturdy seagoing vessels and building up a thriving trade along the coast. The openings were there, and the benefits would be most handsome, she knew. What a challenge that would be! What an exciting and demanding challenge! But on her own it would prove to be a very difficult, if not impossible, task, because of the stigma of being a convict and because she was a woman, women being denied a place in the man’s world of business. Yet Emma knew that she
could
do it, given the opportunity. Mr Thomas was right. She’d work her fingers to the bone and raise the Thomas Trading Business to such a height that its reputation and importance would be carried from one end of Australia to the other and, in time, across the oceans to England and the rest of the world! There was no doubt in Emma’s mind that one day this vast land of Australia would be a great and important country, when it would play an even more important part in international trading. Indeed, it was already beginning to happen, and all the signs were there that Australia was coming into its own. The convict ships had stopped coming some two years ago; there was now partial self-government, and only recently a privately-owned telegraph link with Perth had been installed. Already plans were underway to construct a network of overland telegraph lines which would link not only major cities and ports, but countries far and wide. Railways were also being constructed. It was an exciting time, Emma realised, a time of innovation, growth and expansion of a kind unparalleled before. Oh! What she would give to be a real part of it!

But could she betray herself by agreeing to marry a man old enough to be her father? Could she live such a lie, when there would never be any other man in her heart but Marlow Tanner? No, she thought not.

Once more, Emma prepared to give Roland Thomas his answer. And once again, sensing that she was about to turn him down, he bade her wait a moment longer. ‘Hear me out, Emma,’ he pleaded. And she did, waiting most attentively, while he outlined how, on the very day of their marriage, he would sign an official contract stating that, from that day forwards, Emma was his full partner, and that, on the day of his demise
everything
he owned, lock, stock and barrel, would become her property, and hers alone, to do with as she wished, because he knew in his heart that he could not leave his affairs in better hands than hers.

Emma could have pointed out that he had a son, and that son must surely be included in any such agreement. But she said nothing, for she knew that, as far as Roland Thomas was concerned, he had no son, and that even to mention his name would infuriate and antagonise her employer. Besides which, the very name of that creature on her lips would taste so foul that she would feel tainted ever after! Only now, after weeks of agonising, had she made herself put that terrible night behind her, when he had invaded her body while she lay ill and helpless.

For a long time afterwards, she was unsure as to where the boundaries of her nightmares ended, and where they had become stark, horrifying reality. When Nelly revealed the awful truth, in as gentle a manner as possible, Emma had felt physically sick, but more than that, she had felt dirty and degraded. There had been murder in her heart, such bitterness that coloured her every sleeping and waking thought, until she could see no pleasure in anything. All those things she loved were as nothing to her. The delightful things of nature and God’s creation . . . the turquoise ocean, the brightly coloured birds and even the daily tasks of the work she pleasured in, meant nothing. She had grown morose and withdrawn for a time, and was not moved by Nelly’s pleas, nor by her love and stalwart friendship, so vile and unclean did she feel.

After a while though, some deeper instincts within her persuaded Emma that it was not
she
who was vile and unclean, it was the monster who had forced himself on her. So, with Nelly’s unswerving determination to show Emma her own worth, each day had grown a little easier to accept. Also, the fact that only she, Mr Thomas and Nelly knew of the deed Foster had committed against her that night lessened Emma’s shame.

In spite of Emma’s Christian upbringing she could not find it in her heart ever to forgive Roland Thomas’s son. So now when the older man spoke of his revulsion for the ‘dog he had sired’, and explained how he would never know a moment’s peace if everything he had worked for should come to a sorry end in the grasping hands of such a no-good, Emma understood. And she was glad that it was so.

‘There’s something else, Emma,’ Mr Thomas told her now. ‘If you and I were married, the authorities would declare you a
free
woman! Oh, think of it, Emma . . . you would be free, in command, and one day you’d inherit everything! You’d have freedom, money, and power! Say yes, Emma! You
must
say yes!’ His voice was trembling and he reached out to lay his hand over Emma’s small, work-worn fingers. ‘You and me, Emma . . . not man and wife in the true sense, for I suspect your heart belongs to this “Marlow” you cried for when you were close to death, and . . . I would never want another woman after my Violet. No!
Partners,
Emma! Business partners, and an agreement that would be good for both of us. Say yes, Emma.
Please!’

But Emma could not say yes so easily. Yet in the face of such a strong and sensible argument, neither could she now say no without first giving it a deal more thought.

Roland Thomas sensed her slight hesitation, and his hopes were raised. ‘All right, Emma,’ he conceded, ‘I won’t ask for your answer right away. But . . . I beg you not to keep me waiting too long for your decision.’

‘I won’t,’ she promised. There the matter was laid to rest for the time being.

‘’E’s asked yer ter marry ’im, ain’t he, gal?’ Nelly and Emma had finished their long day’s work and were presently making for the beach, where they might sit awhile and discuss matters close to their hearts. ‘I
knew
it!’ exclaimed Nelly with big, round eyes, her voice breaking into a giggle. ‘I saw it comin’ a bleedin’ mile away, ever since he asked yer up ter the parlour the day afore yesterday.’ Here she gave a little skip and playfully nudged the smiling Emma. ‘G’orn!’ she laughed. ‘He
did,
didn’t he, eh? What a dark horse you are, Emma gal!’ Of a sudden, she grabbed Emma by the arm and pulled her to a halt. ‘Hey, bugger me!’ she said, as the full consequences struck her. ‘T’ain’t such a bad idea at that, is it, eh? When the old bugger pops orf . . . well, you’ll come into everything, won’t yer? Cor, just think of it, Emma darlin’ . . . the Thomas Trading Business’ll be yours, and yer won’t be a convict no more either. Why! Yer could even go back ter
England!’
At this Nelly began trembling as she cast her mind back to that fateful dark morning when they were taken from the cell in an English gaol and bundled into a rickety cage atop a flat-waggon.

Emma was also remembering. ‘Yes, Nelly,’ she said in a strangely quiet voice, ‘it could be the means of me going back to England . . . if I wanted to. ‘And oh, yes, she
did
want to! It was that one thought above all others that had kept her going these past years. Back to England! How her heart rose at the prospect! But nothing was ever as black and white as it looked. To her mind, there were two alternatives offered to her. One, she could refuse Mr Thomas’s generous offer, and that would mean serving out her sentence, after which it could take many long and laborious years before she accrued enough money to take her back to England – there was always the possibility that her plans to return might never be realised, and that was too much to bear. On the other hand, if she were to accept the offer of marriage, there must surely come a day, as Mr Thomas had forecast and as Nelly had rightfully pointed out, when she would be a woman of significance hereabouts, a woman of property and prosperity, with the means to go wherever in the world she chose.

There were two desperate needs inside Emma, two deep and driving ambitions that would not let her be. She had so many ideas and plans with regard to exploiting the numerous business opportunities which beckoned those with the determination and courage to go after them. However, she was also driven by the desire to go back to her homeland, where she had many enemies to root out and scores to settle. Above all, she would never rest until she had found Marlow, for there was much to explain, and forgiveness to be sought.

‘Oh, Emma . . . if yer do marry Mr Thomas, yer won’t go back ter England and leave me, will yer? Don’t do that ter me, Emma darlin’ . . . ’cause what would I do without yer, eh?’ There were tears in Nelly’s voice as she looked at Emma with fearful brown eyes. ‘Yer wouldn’t desert yer old friend, would yer?’ she asked, and Emma’s heart went out to her. ‘I ain’t going another step till yer tell me yer won’t clear off ter England and leave me!’ Nelly vowed, putting on a brave front, yet betraying her nervousness by the manner in which she had drawn her long skirt up and was twisting it round and round her fingers.

‘Come on,’ Emma smiled at her reassuringly and, taking hold of Nelly’s arm, she started walking at a smarter pace until they covered the entire length of the tunnel, which had been cut through the limestone cliffs by a whaling company, for speedier access from the landing beach to the warehouses inland.

Emerging from the relative gloom of the tunnel and coming out on to the sandy beach, Emma sat down on a small boulder and patted another alongside. ‘Come and sit beside me, Nelly,’ she said. When Nelly had done so, she brought her quiet grey eyes to rest on her friend’s anxious face, saying, ‘I haven’t told you before, about Mr Thomas’s offer, because I haven’t yet made up my mind. When he first asked me my instinct was to say no right off. And, I’m still of the same mind. So you see, Nelly . . . you’re working yourself up into a state for nothing.’