Cold blows the wind, p.21
Cold Blows the Wind, page 21
‘At a pinch, I can help through summer, but not winter.’
‘And until then we live on air?’
‘How much do you want?’
‘Three shillings a week.’
‘I’ll work something out.’
‘Work something out? Where have I heard that before?’
Harry picked up his hat and walked away. Ellen watched him go. For over two years, she had been certain he loved her, that she was the most important thing in his life. And it had all been lies. She turned back to the washhouse, wishing he had never come.
~
‘Ho, ho, listen to this.’ Dad flattened his paper on the table, his finger moving beneath the line of print as he read the court report of a man robbed by two young women who invited him home after they had talked him into treating them to drinks at a pub.
‘Pity they were caught.’ Mam laughed. ‘I bet the fool were forty and fat with a face covered by grog blossoms.’
‘Some men have no sense at all.’ Dad shook his head and went back to reading silently.
Ellen sat by the window, catching the last of the light, barely listening. She carefully darned the heel of an already well-darned stocking and wondered when she would be able to afford new stockings again.
‘Ellen.’ Mam broke into her miserable thoughts. ‘I hear you had a visitor this afternoon.’
Ellen glared at Alice.
‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘It were Mrs Ashwood next door,’ Mam said.
‘That old stickybeak!’ Ellen threw down her sewing. ‘Hiding behind the fence was she? Straining to hear every word?’
‘She asked if you and Mr Woods had made up, said you were very friendly.’
‘I should go in and tell the old busybody to mind her own business.’
‘Sit down, lass, people are people. You’d have done the same in her shoes.’
‘I wouldn’t have told her mother.’ She sat back down, picked up her darning, then threw it down again.
‘What happened?’
‘Harry bloody Woods wanted to explain.’ She stared at the floor, trying to control her face. ‘It makes no difference. He’s with his wife. I’m here with his children.’ She looked at her mother. ‘I asked him for maintenance for Jennie.’
‘And?’
‘He says he can’t afford it, maybe in summer.’
Her father looked up from his paper. ‘You need to do something about that. A man has a duty to support his children. Use the courts to our favour for once.’
Ellen frowned, not understanding.
‘Get an order for maintenance. Then he’ll have to pay.’
Perhaps she should try. It would be the end if he were forced to pay what he wouldn’t give willingly. She was a fool. Despite everything, part of her wanted him back, wanted things to be as they had been.
Jennie’s squeals and Billy’s laughter carried through the open door. Bessie was outside with them playing chasings, catching and tickling them. Ellen closed her eyes. No matter how sour things might become with Harry, she could not regret the relationship for what it had given her.
Chapter 38
It was the sort of day Ellen had loved at the Springs—blue skies, light, high cloud, not too cold. There would be visitors, but not so many that it interfered with the housework. Grandad and Grannie Woods would be sitting outside, puffing on their pipes, telling far-fetched tales to all who wanted to listen. Ellen missed them. She had loved them—she still did. They were a lot like her parents—people whose lives had been hard, but at heart they were kind and not quick to judge. They had cared for Ellen and for her children, Grannie treating Jennie and Billy like they were her own grandchildren.
The thought of what she had lost, of Harry and his lies, of his wife who could let him go and reclaim him as she wished, made her cranky. She marched along Macquarie Street, giving way to no one, storming past the group of men lounging outside the Denison Hotel as she turned into the lane.
‘Give us a smile, love,’ one of the younger men called.
‘Go to buggery,’ she shouted back.
They all laughed as she slammed through the front gate of her parents’ house. She kept her eyes on the house, avoided looking up. Wherever she looked in this blasted town, the mountain loomed. Even when it was covered by cloud, she knew it was there.
She opened the kitchen door. Mam was sitting on a chair at the door, watching Billy and Jennie playing in the backyard.
Ellen went over and stared out the door.
They were sitting at the bottom of the steps, Billy spinning the top she had bought him what seemed like a lifetime ago, before she had met Harry. Billy was almost an expert at getting it spinning now. Both were laughing, Jennie clapping when it tumbled onto its side.
Billy was such a good boy. He was three and a half and already protective of his little sister. He still asked for Harry, and it wrung Ellen’s heart. The boy loved Harry. He took his wooden whistle with him everywhere. He didn’t blow it but kept it like a charm, putting it under his pillow at night.
Mary Ann was over by the stove, making a pot of tea. She had called in, as she often did after work. She was starting to thicken around the waist—she was expecting a child about the same time as Ellen. Now called Mrs Budd, Mary Ann was living with Tom Budd near the end of Liverpool Street, not far from the wharves.
Ellen walked to the sideboard.
‘Did you do it?’ Mary Ann asked.
‘Yes.’ She frowned, pulling the pins from her hat and dumping it down on the sideboard. ‘I’m going to court next week.’ She felt so miserable. In two days, she would have married Harry—instead, she was suing him for maintenance.
‘That’ll show him,’ Mary Ann said.
The legs of the chair scraped across the floor as Ellen pulled it out from the table. ‘It’s not about showing him. It’s about him paying his share.’ Her shoulders sagged as she sat down. ‘I can’t go on living here.’
‘Ellen,’ Mam said, looking away from the children, ‘you can stay here as long as you need.’
‘It’s too crowded with all of us here and in August there will be another one.’ She gently stroked her rounded stomach. ‘And when George comes back ...’ she trailed off. He had been gone a year and no word from him.
Mary Ann placed a cup of tea in front of Ellen. ‘When George comes back, he’ll see to your Harry.’
Ellen flushed. ‘He’s not my Harry.’ She crossed her arms tightly across her bosom. He never had been hers, no matter what he said, no matter what she felt for him. He was his wife’s, always had been. All the wife had to do was snap her fingers and he followed her like a trained dog.
‘When will he hear?’ Mary Ann pulled out the chair opposite Ellen.
‘Tomorrow, I suppose, if he comes down to town. Otherwise, someone will have to go up to the Springs to tell him.’
‘Ah, well, a man must pay for his pleasures.’
Ellen glared at Mary Ann—so smug with her man at home. She wanted to slap her.
~
Ellen was no stranger to the Police Court in Campbell Street. Her father, her mother, her brothers and Mary Ann had all made appearances there, over the years. She had been in the dock herself, aged eleven, with Mary Ann, charged with disturbing the peace in Liverpool Street after midnight, throwing stones at doors. Dad had been angry—he’d had to pay fines of ten shillings and sixpence for Ellen and one pound for Mary Ann. Next time, he said, it would be the House of Correction for them, that would teach them some sense. Even at that age, she had known he didn’t mean it. Both he and Mam knew too well what life was like there to let their daughters be locked up if it could be avoided.
Two years ago, the court had moved from the rundown rooms attached to the police watchhouse to the red brick building with its elegant clocktower at the Brisbane Street end of the gaol. The courtroom, previously used for criminal sittings of the Supreme Court, was more impressive than the old Police Court. The walls were painted white with dark wood panelling halfway up. The magistrates’ desk was on a platform, a wooden canopy over the desk and a coat of arms on the wall behind.
Ellen sat on the hard bench beside Mary Ann and Bessie. Jennie wriggled and chattered as Ellen jigged her on her knee. She glanced past Mary Ann and saw that Bessie was playing peekaboo. Perhaps it didn’t matter if it kept Jennie entertained. As long as she didn’t start crying, her noise was unlikely to be heard over the general hubbub of the rest of those who were packed on the public benches.
All those in the court stood, their noise dying away, as the two magistrates took their seats. One of them was the same mongrel who had sentenced poor Will two years ago. Ellen glanced around the court. Harry was nowhere to be seen. Would they order maintenance if he didn’t show up? She didn’t want to have to face this again.
The magistrates got straight to business. It was easy to understand why some came for a morning’s entertainment rather than for business with the court. Ellen listened to the cases and tried not to think of her own. First up was a dishevelled older woman charged with being drunk and disorderly the night before. She looked to have spent an uncomfortable night in the watchhouse cells, her hangover a worse punishment than the five-shilling fine. Next was a man old enough to know better, charged with making a public disturbance by fighting in the street late at night. The old fool should have been at home with his family rather than making a nuisance of himself. The police magistrate, Tarleton, said as much. A cabman was fined two shillings and sixpence for driving his cab at faster than walking pace across the intersection of Liverpool and Elizabeth streets—not much of a crime at all. Case after case was heard. She wished they would all shut up and get on with it.
Then Ellen’s name was called.
She stood, Jennie in her arms, and pushed her way past her sisters’ knees to get out of the seat. The usher stopped her and told her to leave Jennie behind.
He held the gate open, and Ellen took her place in the witness box. When she turned, Harry was in the dock at the centre of the room.
She had done her best to look tidy and presentable. Her hair was neat beneath her hat, and her gloves were still good. With her coat on, no one could see the patches under the arms of her faded dress. At nearly six months pregnant, Ellen felt bloated and worn out. She clasped her hands above her belly and tried to stay calm.
And there he stood, the image of respectability, his hair and beard trimmed, his clothes neat. He was wearing a vest she hadn’t seen before over a spotless shirt with a collar.
‘Miss Thompson, what was the nature of your relationship with Henry Woods?’ Police Magistrate Tarleton asked.
At least he was polite.
‘I lived at the Springs with Henry Woods as his wife for around two years. He asked me to come there and live with him when I told him I was carrying his child.’
Tarleton looked over towards Harry. ‘Is this the case, Woods?’
Harry did not answer immediately. Ellen thought for a moment he was going to deny he was Jennie’s father.
‘Woods, answer the question!’ Tarleton snapped.
‘Yes, that’s about it.’ He sounded petulant.
‘Did you register the child’s birth?’
‘I did.’
‘The case is clear—you have a duty to support your child.’
‘I’m not a wealthy man, sir. I earn my living guiding people up Mount Wellington. I have to support both my elderly parents and my wife on the little I earn as a guide. I cannot afford to pay Miss Thompson anything.’
Ellen glared at him. Miss Thompson indeed!
‘And where was your wife while you and Miss Thompson were living your mountain idyll?’
‘She was in Perth. She joined me in February of this year.’
Tarleton peered over his spectacles. ‘It would have been wise, Woods, although you two were separated, to have heeded your marriage vows. A man who wanders still has to take responsibility for his actions, even if that means supporting two households. Keep that in mind if you are ever separated from your wife again.’
Harry’s face flushed, and he clenched his jaw. He kept his eyes on the magistrates.
Tarleton and the other magistrate spoke quietly together then Tarleton said, ‘Henry Woods, I order that you pay four shillings a week for the support of the child, the first payment to be made today to the police clerk. In view of your circumstances, I am remitting the court costs in this instance.’
‘Sir,’ Ellen said, ‘I am expecting another child by Henry Woods in August.’
‘Come back to the court once the child is born, and we will deal with the matter then.’
Ellen stepped down from the witness box. Harry had already gone. She glimpsed his back as he headed towards the clerk’s office.
Whatever he had felt for her had clearly disappeared. All that talk of love and never leaving her and how pleased he was to be a father, all worthless. But this wasn’t the place to think of it.
Her sisters were waiting for her in the street.
‘That wasn’t so difficult,’ Mary Ann said.
‘No, it wasn’t.’ Ellen took Jennie from Bessie and twirled about, smiling. She was relieved. She would be getting a shilling more than she had hoped for.
‘I can find a place of my own, somewhere not too far from Mam and Dad. Do you want to come and live with me, Bessie?’
Bessie’s face lit up. ‘I would. I could help with the children.’
Ellen would have just enough to get by. But her satisfaction faded when she thought of Billy. Had he been here, he would have been calling out to Harry, calling him Daddy. Of everything that had happened over the past two months what gnawed at her most was the way Harry had thrown Billy off as if he were nothing. Billy had spent more than half his short life thinking Harry was his father. And Harry had made the little boy love him. Now he acted as if Billy didn’t exist. Jennie would never know her father and, perhaps, that would be easier. Ellen hoped, with time, Billy would forget too. Harry Woods was nothing but a useless mongrel.
~
Harry went and paid his four shillings to the police clerk in his cramped office. He had known it was over with Ellen when he saw her last, but this put the seal on it. She had her family to support her and the children while he had three people dependent on him. She knew how hard it was for him to make ends meet, yet she had persisted with this. He had no idea how he would find the money once winter set in.
He was relieved to see Ellen and her sisters were well away by the time he stepped out into the street. He started as a burly hand slapped him on the shoulder.
‘Lucky for you George Thompson isn’t in town,’ Bob Flanagan laughed. ‘It would have been more than four shillings to pay.’
Harry glowered at him.
‘Don’t look so shame-faced, Harry.’ Bob grinned. ‘You’re not alone—you have your fun, you pay the price.’ He chuckled and walked on.
That didn’t make Harry feel any better. It was fine for Bob to laugh from the sidelines—he was not the sort who would ever find himself in this sort of predicament.
Eliza had offered to come with him to court. He supposed she saw it as her duty, but he wouldn’t have asked it of her. It would have been salt to her wounds to hear Ellen talking of living with him as his wife so matter-of-factly.
The situation between Harry and Eliza had settled back into the pattern of a marriage. He couldn’t say he loved her, but he was sorry for her. He would never have managed at the Springs without her—she was hardworking and courteous to the visitors. They had lived with long silences until the old man was back home. He was polite to Eliza from the beginning, chatted to her and told her his tales, asked her about her family and her life back in Perth. Harry could see her relief that someone was treating her as just another person, not an intruder. The stiffness faded from her face, and she smiled at the old man, occasionally laughing softly at his stories. Grannie barely spoke to her, any thanks was begrudging, and it was obvious in every action she wished Eliza gone. Harry glimpsed sadness beneath the calm surface. It was there in her eyes whenever she looked at him.
A few days after Harry had visited Ellen, the old couple had gone to bed early. The days were drawing in and the nights were cold. He had pushed the fireguard into place and turned to find Eliza standing beside the table watching him.
She stood stiffly, the way she had when she announced she wouldn’t leave him.
She stared towards the fire behind him as she said quietly, ‘I know how cold it must be out in that hut. I wouldn’t want you to catch a chill or worse.’ She paused, drew a deep breath and rushed on. ‘If you wish, you can sleep in the bedroom with me. It would be much warmer. I would put a pillow between us, in the middle of the bed.’ By the time she finished, her face was flaming red.
‘Thank you, Eliza. That would be more comfortable.’ He was aware of what the offer had cost her. She hadn’t raised her eyes the whole time she was speaking.
When he came back from the privy, she was already in bed, her face to the wall, the pillow at the centre of the bed.
The next night he had woken, aware of her silent sobs shaking the bed. In all he had done, he had never thought to make her so unhappy. He had truly believed she didn’t care what he did. He moved the pillow, only intending to hold her and comfort her. She hadn’t pushed him away and with her in his arms it was natural to try to kiss away her tears. He hadn’t meant to go further but Ellen wasn’t coming back and Eliza was his wife and she hadn’t objected. Afterwards, she had curled into a ball and wept again. He had felt such a bastard.
Scowling, Harry pulled his hat down and headed away from the court towards the Benevolent Society to collect the old couple’s rations.
Chapter 39
July 1881
Harry slumped in his chair and stared at the banked fire, too tired to move. It had been a bitterly cold day, snow covering the mountaintop to well below the Springs. He exhaled loudly. He should get into bed. It would be warmer there but it took too much effort. He had been down the mountain today to collect the old couple’s rations and had picked up a day’s work at the mill. Jack Davis, the foreman, was a decent bloke. He had told Harry to call in whenever he was in the town and he’d see what he could find for him to do. Harry made sure he earned his pay. With a day’s work a couple of times a week, the odd rabbit or wallaby he caught and the winter vegetables, they could get through the winter. Just. What was breaking him was the maintenance. Right from the start he had found it difficult. He had managed for the first five weeks but had caught a heavy cold—he could barely make it to town, much less work, so he had let the payments go. Ellen had ordered him to court and argued she couldn’t survive without the money, and he had been forced to pay the twelve shillings he owed, clearing out nearly everything he had saved to tide them through winter. It was an impossible task—he was already behind three weeks again. He wondered if he could go back to court and explain exactly how things were. They might not let him off completely but, perhaps, they would reduce it.
