Staircase to the Moon E-Book

Elizabeth Haran

• Herausgeber: Bastei Lübbe
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Seitenzahl: 727

Beschreibung

Perth, Western Australia, 1913: When her conservative family tries to force Emily into an arranged marriage with a much older, wealthy man, she takes destiny into her own hands and escapes her strict father and overbearing brothers. She embarks on a ship to North-Western Australia to take up employment as a private seamstress for a rich farming family, who welcome her with open arms. Surrounded by the breathtakingly beautiful and remote landscapes of the Kimberly region, Emily starts to believe that happiness and love really are possible in her new life. But storm clouds are gathering, and as the men of Kimberley march off to war in Europe, Emily must step up to prove herself against all the odds. And that’s when things start to turn out much more differently than she ever could have imagined..."Staircase to the Moon," follows Emily's fantastic odyssey to true love, featuring a cast of unforgettable characters along the way.

With an eye for detail, Elizabeth Haran is the author of numerous other romantic adventures including "Island of Whispering Winds," "Under a Flaming Sky," "Flight of the Jabiru," and "River of Fortune," available as eBooks.

For fans of sagas set against a backdrop of beautiful landscapes, like Sarah Lark's, "Island of a Thousand Springs" or Kate Morton's, "The Forgotten Garden."

About the author: Elizabeth Haran was born in Bulawayo, Rhodes ia and migrated to Australia as a child. She lives with her family in Adelaide and has written fourteen novels set in Australia. Her heart-warming and carefully crafted books have been published in ten countries and are bestsellers in Germany.

Leseprobe

Inhalt

CoverAbout the BookAbout the AuthorTitleCopyrightAcknowledgementsChapter OneChapter TwoChapter ThreeChapter FourChapter FiveChapter SixChapter SevenChapter EightChapter NineChapter TenChapter ElevenChapter TwelveChapter ThirteenChapter FourteenChapter FifteenChapter SixteenChapter SeventeenChapter EighteenChapter NineteenChapter TwentyChapter Twenty-OneChapter Twenty-TwoChapter Twenty-ThreeChapter Twenty-FourChapter Twenty-FiveChapter Twenty-SixChapter Twenty-SevenChapter Twenty-EightChapter Twenty-NineChapter ThirtyChapter Thirty-OneChapter Thirty-TwoChapter Thirty-ThreeChapter Thirty-FourChapter Thirty-FiveChapter Thirty-SixChapter Thirty-SevenChapter Thirty-EightChapter Thirty-NineChapter FortyChapter Forty-OneChapter Forty-TwoAuthors Note

ABOUT THE BOOK

Perth, Western Australia, 1913:

When her conservative family tries to force Emily into an arranged marriage with a much older, wealthy man, she decides to take destiny into her own hands and escape her strict father and overbearing brothers. She embarks on a ship to North-Western Australia to take up employment as a private seamstress for a large and rich farming family, who welcome her with open arms.

Surrounded by the breathtakingly beautiful and remote landscapes of the Kimberly region, Emily starts to believe that happiness and love really are possible in her new life. But storm clouds are gathering, and as the men of Kimberley march off to war in Europe, Emily must step up to prove herself against all the odds. And that’s when things start to turn out different than she ever could have imagined…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Elizabeth Haran was born in Bulawayo, Rhodesia and migrated to Australia as a child. She lives with her family in Adelaide and has written fourteen novels set in Australia. Her heart-warming and beautifully written books have been published in ten countries and are bestsellers in Germany.

Elizabeth Haran

STAIRCASE TO THE MOON

BASTEI ENTERTAINMENT

February 2016

Digital original edition

Bastei Entertainment is an imprint of Bastei Lübbe AG

Copyright © 2015 by Elizabeth Haran

Published by arrangement with Elizabeth Haran-Kowalski

This title was acquired through the literary agency Thomas Schlück GmbH, 30827 Garbsen, Germany

Written by Elizabeth Haran

Edited by Marion Labonte, Labontext, and Melanie Blank-Schröder, Cologne

Cover design by © Manuela Städele-Monverde Illustrations © getty-images/Andrew Watson, © shutterstock/godrick, © shutterstock/Serg Zastavkin

E-Book produced by Dörlemann Satz, Lemförde

ISBN 978-3-7325-2020-6

www.bastei-entertainment.de

www.lesejury.de

This book is for Ann Kenrick, one of my dearest friends.

I admire her strength, which has been tested so many times, her loyalty to everyone she cares about, her generous heart, always open, and something we share, that wonderful Irish sense of humor.

CHAPTER ONE

Early October 1913

Perth, Western Australia.

The stove for heating irons only added to the unbearable stuffiness in the work room at the back of Scott’s tailor shop in inner-city Perth. Feeling irritable and stifled by four walls, Emily Scott stood up abruptly, knocking her head on the light above her Singer sewing machine.

“Damn,” she muttered, and immediately caught the scowling disapproval of her three brothers. No surprise there! She could barely breathe without their censure. Every day they had an opinion about something, whether it was her attire, the way she spoke, what she ate, or how she styled her hair. It drove her mad. They told her where she could go, or more importantly where she couldn’t go, which was just about everywhere. While her father wasn’t so critical, he was very strict, so she was forced to tell fibs if she wanted even the smallest amount of freedom, after which she suffered pangs of guilt. It made for a truly unhappy life and she was at breaking point.

Whenever one of her three brothers criticized her, be it verbally or just a ‘look’, Emily would have flashbacks to her childhood. She was eight years old when her mother suddenly died. Confused and bewildered, she didn’t understand what tuberculosis meant or that she would never see her mother again.

Her father’s brother, Freddy, moved into the house to help, adding to the dominant male element. No one knew how to deal with a little girl, so Emily was treated like one of the boys. It was easier that way. She felt almost fortunate as she had the same freedom as her brothers. She could climb trees, fish for tadpoles and get filthy, ride her bike, and even play rough and tumble on the lawn with her brothers and their friends. With money hard to come by, she wore some of the boys’ hand-me-down clothes around the house and that gave her the liberty she would never have had in frilly dresses. But all of that changed a week before her fifteenth birthday.

Emily was alone in the house on a public holiday and decided to take advantage of the rare peace and quiet and indulge in a long soak in the bathtub. It wasn’t until she got out that she realised she’d left her robe in her bedroom. As she was the only one in the house it wasn’t a drama. She was crossing the hall to her room, with just a towel loosely wrapped around her, when suddenly the front door burst open. Startled and panicked, she stumbled and caught her toe under the rug and fell flat on her back with the towel open. Reeling in shock and red-faced, she scrambled to cover her nakedness, but her stunned brothers had seen more than enough to realise she was a fully-developed young woman.

The three boys remained in shock for days.

Uncle Freddy noticed that the boys were suddenly treating Emily like she had an infectious disease and wanted to know why. When he didn’t get anywhere questioning them, he confronted Emily.

At first Emily was embarrassed to tell him what had happened, but she was closer to her kindly uncle more than anyone in the house, so when he kept questioning her, she confessed.

“Oh,” Freddy said. “Now their behaviour makes sense. I’m surprised it took something so dramatic for them to see you have a few extra bits and pieces, but sometimes males need reality to slap them in the face, literally.” He pulled one of his funny little faces that always made Emily smile.

“They weren’t quite slapped in the face, thankfully, but my extra bits are here to stay, Uncle Freddy, so they’ll just have to deal with it,” she said.

“After your mother died it was easier to pretend you weren’t a girl. I guess they can’t do that anymore and they’re not sure how to handle it. You’ll just have to be patient,” Freddy suggested.

Emily hoped it would sort itself out, but their eventual reaction was to become over-protective to the point of suffocating her.

Seven years later, nothing had changed.

Emily went to the back door of the shop and flung it open in the hope of a breath of air. She knew it was unseasonably warm outside but she was still surprised to be blasted with gusts of hot wind.

“Close the door, Emily,” brother Joe insisted. “Dust is blowing in.”

“But it’s so stuffy,” Emily complained. “I just want some air movement.”

“Hot air won’t make you feel any better,” Joe retaliated.

Emily shut the door, but she wanted to scream, you don’t have to wear corsets and petticoats. Instead she mumbled under her breath, only to receive another look.

She went back to her machine and laboured over the sleeves of a lounge coat, while perspiration trickled down the back of her neck, dampening her corset cover and petticoats. Her small feet, ensconced in sensible laced-up shoes with round toes and a low wedge heel, peddled the Singer sewing machine, while her right hand flew to the wheel, to stop and start with expert efficiency and speed.

Dark cotton threads looked like a swarm of millipedes’ on the floor around Emily’s sewing table. Behind her, Jimmy, her eldest brother, was pinning patterns on bolts of quality cloth on an enormous table, while Joe, her second eldest brother, was cutting. Charlie, just eighteen months older than Emily and the youngest of the boys, had the unenviable job of using the hot irons to press cuffs and creases into trousers, but like his brothers and their father, he could also sew expertly on one of the other sewing machines.

In the background, Emily could hear her father’s voice as he served a client on the other side of the curtain that separated the shop front from the workroom. She recognized Winston McMillan’s voice. A regular customer, he was an avid sailor and a well-known identity in Perth’s high society boating circles. He was ordering a new sports blazer in navy-blue stripe with patch pockets and brass buttons. William Scott had no need to take his measurements as they were recorded down to the finest detail.

“I’m afraid there’ll be a month wait before your jacket will be ready, Mr. McMillan,” Emily heard her father tell Winston apologetically. “We’re very busy because our work is of the highest quality, as you are well aware.”

“As long as it’s ready for the Swan River Regatta in five weeks,” Winston replied in a tone that conveyed he did not want to be disappointed.

“I know all about it. I’ve taken several orders for new blazers for the regatta,” William disclosed. “And they will be ready. You have no need to worry about that.”

Hearing this, Emily groaned. While her brothers and her father thrived on more orders for suits and blazers, she saw herself as someone toiling in a ‘sweat house’. She didn’t enjoy the work; sewing men’s clothes was just something she had to do, which only added to the feeling of being trapped in a life she didn’t want.

Emily’s tummy rumbled and she glanced at the clock on the wall above the door. It was noon. Right on time she heard her Uncle Freddy lean his bicycle on the wall outside. He literally sashayed through the door carrying a wicker basket of sandwiches and cake.

“Hello, my darlings!” No matter his mood, Freddy’s melodramatic greetings were always worthy of a theatrical performance. Wearing a flamboyant candy stripped, silk waist coat over a white shirt with a high collar, bow tie, breeches, and knee-length stockings; he was a true eccentric with a heart of pure gold. No one could forget that he’d sacrificed his life and any chance of personal happiness to help his brother raise his family. Freddy often referred to himself jokingly as Aunty Freddy, and indeed he’d been just like a lovable aunt. He did his best to dispense sound advice and cook nourishing meals, and he ran the house quite efficiently, but Emily still missed having a mother in her life and the company of other women.

Emily immediately noticed one side of his handlebar moustache had drooped when it was usually as stiff as a week old corpse. Had she not been feeling as trapped as a canary in a cage, she might’ve smiled. She noticed Jimmy couldn’t help himself.

“What’s for lunch, Uncle Freddy?” Charlie asked enthusiastically, trying to stifle a smirk.

“Corned-beef sandwiches with my divine tomato relish,” Freddy replied proudly. “I’m off to my tobacconist to buy a new humidor,” he said, heading for the front of the store so that he could consult William about the dinner menu.

“Only Uncle Freddy would need a new humidor,” Charlie whispered with a smile.

“Wait till he catches his reflection in a mirror,” Joe said and then they heard a shriek from the shop front and knew he’d done just that.

“I’m going out for an hour,” Emily said as she stood up and straightened her aching back, waiting in dread for the inevitable reaction. She’d been nervous for hours just thinking about this moment.

“Where are you going?” Joe asked, glaring at her.

“To the shops,” Emily replied, biting down the anger she felt at his tone.

“You must eat lunch,” he said with insistence.

“I’ll get something while I’m out.”

“Freddy can get what you need at the shops,” Jimmy jumped to say.

“Uncle Freddy has enough to do,” Emily insisted with a racing heart.

“Then you could go with him. He won’t mind. He’s only going to the tobacconist,” he said.

“I don’t need Uncle Freddy holding my hand,” Emily said in frustration. She felt like screaming, but held it in.

“You shouldn’t be wandering the streets alone, Emily,” Joe added sternly.

“There are hundreds of people shopping in the city, Joe, so I’ll hardly be alone.” She wanted to add, ‘I’m twenty-two years old, so stop treating me as if I’m a child,’ but she knew her brothers would gang up on her and beat down her resolve.

“As a young woman you are vulnerable to the wolves out there,” Jimmy insisted.

Emily sighed, thinking Jimmy was being ridiculous, but she couldn’t say it out loud.

“You’re naive, Emily,” Joe added critically. “Perth was a convict settlement until a few years ago. There are plenty of ticket-o-leave convicts walking the streets and you know nothing about men. They could easily lead you astray or take advantage of you.”

“How am I ever going to learn about men, or life, with three over protective brothers?” Emily asked.

“We’re just looking out for you,” Joe insisted. “You should be grateful you have brothers who care about you.”

Emily lost her temper. “Grateful! I should be grateful that you won’t let me out of your sight and grateful that you won’t let me dress how I please or even think for myself. Then call me ungrateful, because I wish you’d stop looking out for me!”

“See how emotional you are,” Jimmy retaliated. “If you can’t handle your emotions, how would you handle being accosted by a cad?”

Emily fumed. “Who wouldn’t be emotional when I can’t even tell my brothers I’m popping out to the shops without suffering an inquisition? Anyone would think I’d just told you I was running off to join a band of European gypsies.”

“Don’t even joke about things like that,” Jimmy said in disgust.

Emily’s throat tightened whenever she became emotional. “I just wish I knew some gypsies,” she croaked.

“I’ll go with you to the shops, Emily,” Charlie offered, trying to diffuse the animosity.

“I don’t want you going with me,” Emily retorted. “All I want to do is go shopping by myself! Is that too much to ask?”

Hearing the commotion, Emily’s father came through to the back of the shop. “What’s going on?”

“Emily wants to go out for lunch,” Jimmy said, infuriating his little sister.

“I wanted to look at the shops and suggested I might have something to eat while I’m out,” Emily explained.

“You’re needed here, Emily. Aubrey Tucker is coming in for a fitting of his new suit this afternoon and you’ve still got the trousers to sew. Aubrey is one of our best clients so we can’t let him down. I’m sure you do not need any frivolous items from the shops,” William added.

Emily knew she was beaten. “Fine, I’ll stay here,” she replied sullenly, the fight draining from her.

It was four o’clock in the afternoon by the time Emily had finished Aubrey Tucker’s trousers, and she literally felt like the walls were closing in on her. Jimmy had left a pile of work beside her desk, but she couldn’t bring herself to begin another garment. She felt sick but that was partially because she’d been too upset to eat any lunch. She heard Aubrey Tucker talking to her father in the shop front before going into the change to room to try on his new suit. William Scott would then check to see if any alterations needed to be made. If they did, he’d give her the garment to alter.

On impulse, Emily stood up and picked up her handbag and hat and headed for the back door with the intention of avoiding her father.

Startled, Joe asked, “Where are you going, Emily?”

“Home!”

“But it’s only four o’clock.”

“I’ve been able to tell the time since I was six years old,” Emily said between clenched teeth.

“Are you ill? Shall we summon a doctor?”

“No, I’m not ill,” Emily said wearily.

“Then wait for us,” Jimmy insisted. “We’ll go home together.”

“No. I’m going home now. I’m…tired.” She wanted to say she needed time to herself, but he’d never understand. Her tone was harsh, but she didn’t care. She needed to get out of the prison that had become her life, even if it was just for an hour, and no one was going to stop her.

After closing the door firmly behind her, Emily walked along the lane. She didn’t look back, but she could well imagine her three brothers at the window and the look of shock on their faces at her uncharacteristic behaviour. She half expected to be chased down and imagined herself kicking the brother who dared in the shins.

Feeling really defiant, Emily didn’t go home. She walked to St. George’s Street and wandered past shop windows. Her enthusiasm for buying anything had gone, along with any sense of freedom she might’ve normally felt on the very rare occasion she’d been to the shops by herself. The streets were full of people, all going about their business. Emily wondered about the young women she passed wearing fashionable broad hats and gowns above their ankles. Were they prisoners in a male-dominated world, too? She looked at the young men. Were they ticket-o-leave prisoners waiting to take her innocence? She was sure they were not, but even if they were, wasn’t it better to live and be hurt, than never live at all?

As Emily continued to walk aimlessly, she felt terribly depressed. The future she saw for herself was abysmal, an old maid hunched over a sewing machine at the back of her father’s shop. Jimmy had told her once that he would choose a husband for her when he thought the time was right, perhaps another tailor, someone who could join them in the business. She knew he expected her to be pleased about this, even grateful, but she’d been absolutely appalled at the idea of her brother choosing the man she was to love and the time that she got married. Would it follow that he would tell her when she could have children, too?

It was at that time, two years ago, that Emily truly accepted that she had absolutely no free will and never would, as long as she lived with her family. She began thinking of escaping but with no friends to support her, thanks to her brothers, the idea was hopeless. She was stuck.

Trying to hide her face so that passers-by wouldn’t see that she was crying, Emily turned to a shop window, pretending to admire what was on the other side of the glass, even though she was blinded by tears. It took her a few moments to realise there was nothing for sale in the window because she was facing the Bradford Employment Agency and looking at the notice board. Dabbing her tears, she sniffed into a handkerchief and tried to pull herself together, hoping no one would notice she was upset. Her gaze passed over notices for a variety of positions that included station cook, kitchen hands, clerks, and milliners. Then one particular notice caught her eye.

Seamstress wanted.

For a few seconds her heart leapt at the prospect of working outside the family business. Then cold reality wrapped around her like a wet blanket. Her father and her brothers wouldn’t allow it. Out of curiosity she read the advertisement further and saw that the applicant was wanted in the remote Kimberley’s. She read the advertising again and thought about being thousands of miles from Perth and the restrictions her family placed upon her. Her mind raced. Could she move to the Kimberley’s? Was it really possible to escape her family?

On a crazy impulse Emily went into the agency and asked for more details. The receptionist, a young, plain girl with a very polite manner, who introduced herself as Miss Simms told her that they hadn’t been able to find anyone to fill the role so they were about to take the notice out of the window. “Are you interested?” she asked hopefully.

“I might be,” Emily said, breathless at the thought of doing something so rebellious and a little frightened at the prospect of taking a leap into the unknown. “I need more information.”

“Well, write to the station owner and ask as many questions as you like. It will take a few weeks to get a reply, though, as the mail goes up and down the coast by boat and someone from the station has to pick the mail up from town.”

“Okay,” Emily said, taking a piece of paper with a name and address written on it and thinking there was no harm in making enquiries. “If I was interested in the posting, how would I get to the Kimberley’s?”

“You’d take a train to Fremantle and a boat up the coast to Derby,” Miss Simms said. “The station owner would have someone pick you up from there.”

Emily thought that sounded like an adventure in itself. “How long would it take by sea to reach Derby?”

“I believe it’s between six and eight days, depending on the weather. Usually the boat on this itinerary is the Sea Gull. If you are interested in accepting the position it would be best to let the station owner know right away so that arrangements can be made to have someone pick you up in Derby.”

Miss Simms wrote down the name of the vessel and the skipper’s details and handed Emily the paper.

“How would I contact the skipper to let him know I’d need a passage?” Emily asked.

“If it would make it easier I can organize a booking on the Sea Gull if you decide to take up the post in the Kimberley,” Miss Simms said helpfully. “Just let me know and I’ll let the skipper know.”

“Alright,” Emily said, thinking the receptionist was making everything easy for her.

Two nights later, after everyone was asleep, Emily wrote to Kitty McBride of North Bundaloon Station, giving her very elderly neighbour’s address so that her family would never see the reply. Mabel Douglas, who was partially blind and suffered badly with arthritis, lived alone and didn’t usually collect her mail from the box until around seven o’clock in the evening and that wasn’t every day. Emily quite often took it in for her, so it was easy to sort it to see if there was something for her. She told Kitty McBride that she’d been sewing since she was a girl and she could design gowns and make patterns. She insisted she was very interested in the position and would like to know more about where she was to live for the term of employment. She didn’t ask about the salary because she didn’t care what it was. All she needed was lodgings and meals and the chance to sew feminine gowns. She had so many ideas for patterns.

In the time it took for Emily to get a reply her emotions were in turmoil. She tried to imagine herself leaving her family and the only life she’d ever known. Every time she thought about it, she felt sick. But then as she slaved over a pair of trousers, or a suit jacket, her apprehension about going into the unknown slowly turned to excitement and it was all she could think about. Still, she wavered. She wasn’t sure she had the courage to go, and she’d never deliberately hurt or disappoint her family. She was considering writing another letter to Mrs. McBride, saying she’d changed her mind, but something her brother did obliterated that idea.

One afternoon, nearly three weeks after sending a letter to Mrs. McBride, Joe brought a man to the shop. At first Emily thought nothing of it, concluding he was a new customer who wanted to see the back of the shop. When no one measured him up for a suit, and Joe brought him to her machine and introduced him, her suspicions were aroused.

Herman Wiseman was short with thinning, greasy hair, a large beak nose and horrible, big, fish lips over which a dark moustache hovered like a caterpillar. The only thing good about him was his suit. Emily found him quite repulsive. When he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was ‘looking her over’ and Joe began bragging about her sewing prowess, she knew she was right. Her brother was touting her as a prospective bride for the horrible, little man, who was at least twice her age. The idea made her feel sick and angry. She could barely be civil.

When Herman left the shop, after a brief discussion with her father, Joe looked very pleased with himself.

“So, Emily, what did you think of Herman?” he asked excitedly. Before she could form a reply that didn’t contain unladylike language, Joe added, “He’s a tailor with a fine reputation and his own home.”

Emily couldn’t hide her true feelings even for the sake of peace. “I don’t care if he owns a castle and sews for King George. He’s of no interest to me,” she said crossly.

“He’d make a fine husband,” Joe stated with tested patience. “And if he was to join our business, and put in capital, we’d be able to expand. Imagine that?”

Emily gasped. “You can’t force me to marry that man for the sake of expanding the business, Joe,” she said defiantly. “I’d sooner run my hand under my sewing machine needle every day for year than marry the likes of him.”

Joe was displeased and frustrated. “Don’t be melodramatic, Emily. Herman is a very good catch. Frankly, you couldn’t do any better.”

Emily gasped again. She was stunned that her brother thought she was only worthy of the likes of Herman Wiseman. “If he’s such a good catch, why hasn’t he been snapped up yet? He’s at least middle-age.”

“He’s close to fifty,” Joe said. “That’s the perfect age for a man to marry. He’s settled and has a home and plenty of money behind him.”

Emily frowned. “He’s an old man!”

“From what I gather from my friend Norman, who introduced me to Herman, he’s been very choosy about a prospective wife and that shows him to be discerning. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“With his looks he’s in no position to be discerning,” Emily suggested.

“Physical appeal is overrated, Emily. It’s security that’s important. I’d like you to go out with him and give him a chance. Father approves, so it’s settled. It’s time you were married and Herman would make a good husband. He approves of you, so you should be grateful.”

Emily gaped at her brother. She then glanced at Jimmy and Charlie, but they did not defend her. She wanted to burst into tears, but instead she made up her mind that she was going to North Bundaloon and she’d swim up the coast if she had to. Two days later, the longest two days in her life, she received the letter she’d been waiting for.

In her reply, Kitty McBride was more friendly than business like. She told Emily that besides a son she had three grown daughters and that they all needed a new wardrobe, as it had been five years since they’d made a trip to Perth to shop. The prospect of designing and sewing a whole wardrobe for four women absolutely thrilled Emily. Mrs. McBride was offering a six-month contract and a small remuneration with room and board provided. She also offered to pay her fare on the Sea Gull. She suggested that Emily catch the boat that was due to arrive in Derby on or around November 18th and said that one of her staff would meet her. Emily was thrilled. The timing was perfect!

Mrs. McBride also told Emily a little about the property. She said that North Bundaloon was a vast sheep and cattle station, with the homestead twenty-five miles from the town of Derby, on the north-west coast. She stressed it was isolated and that any prospective applicant should be prepared to give up their social life for the six month term. Emily might’ve laughed when she read that, had it not been a sad reality that she had no social life to give up. Kitty had no idea how much Emily longed to spend time with women or how much she longed to put some distance between herself, her overbearing brothers, and especially Herman Wiseman. That made the Kimberley region the perfect place to be, at least for six months. After that time she would see.

Emily feigned a severe headache the following afternoon and said she was going home. Instead she went back to the Bradford Employment Agency.

“I’m going to take up the position as seamstress on North Bundaloon, Miss Simms,” she said. “Mrs. McBride said I should arrive in Derby on or around November 18th, so when does the Sea Gull leave Fremantle?”

“I’ve checked, just in case you came back. The Sea Gull leaves Fremantle on the morning of the twelfth. Can you be ready to go then?”

“Yes, I’ll be ready,” Emily said with a racing heart.

“You’ll need to catch the first train to Fremantle and be at the docks by ten o’clock.”

“I can do that,” Emily promised, feeling excited and terrified at the same time. Living in the Kimberleys would be like living in a different world, a world where she was free from the constraints her family put on her and free from Herman Wiseman. She’d be able to think for herself and make her own decisions. But she couldn’t bear to think about what would happen if her father or her brothers found out her plans. The most important thing to do was to keep it secret. She would have to be extremely careful. The few practical preparations such as packing would have to stay hidden, even if it would not be easy. But nothing and no one could stop her. She’d had a small allowance for years, and she’d been saving it, so she had enough funds behind her. She would be in Fremantle to meet the Sea Gull in less than two weeks. Determined she turned to the young employee:

I do have a problem, though. I’ll want to take a sewing machine with me, but it’ll be too heavy to carry. Do you have any idea how I could get it to the docks?”

“Could you have it boxed up?”

“Yes, I could do that?”

“I could have it picked up for you and taken to the docks?”

“That would be a great help,” Emily said, her mind racing. “When would that happen?”

“How about on November 11th. Would that suit you?”

Emily thought about it. “What day of the week is that?”

Miss Simms consulted a calendar. “It’s a Friday.”

Uncle Freddy always went to the market on Friday mornings. “I could have it ready by nine thirty if that’s all right,” she said.

“Perfect. I’ll let the skipper of the Sea Gull know to expect the box on the eleventh. Just give me your address.”

The Scott family attended church every Sunday morning and Emily saw this as the only opportunity to box the sewing machine without anyone in the house. She got ready to go and then at the last minute feigned another severe headache. She hated being devious, but desperate measures were needed. Her father and Uncle Freddy were quite concerned that she’d been ill a lot lately, so they made her promise to see a doctor. She agreed, knowing she wouldn’t be in Perth much longer.

When everyone left the house she dismantled and boxed up the old sewing machine that had been stored in the basement, knowing it was unlikely to be missed. She then left the box in the basement as it was too heavy for her to lift and it needed to be hidden. For the next few days she worried, day and night, that someone might go down the basement, see the box, and then ask her questions. No one did.

When Friday finally arrived Emily's nerves were on the edge. First she would have to try to shake off her brothers and her father and hope that Uncle Freddy would leave the house in time for the crate to be picked up unnoticed.

They all always walked to work together, as they lived just streets from the shop. William opened the shop at precisely eight forty five, six days a week, and it wasn’t unusual to have customers waiting. Emily was known for her tardiness, but on the Friday morning she deliberately overslept and pretended to be disorganized. As her brothers and her father couldn’t be late, they were forced to leave without her, but urged her to brusquely follow. Emily could see that her father was concerned about the change in her behaviour, but he didn’t comment. She just hoped he wasn’t suspicious enough to realise that something wasn’t quite right.

Seconds felt like hours as Emily waited for Uncle Freddy to leave for his weekly trip to the markets. He fussed around the kitchen, looking for shopping bags and house keys, causing Emily great anxiety. With just minutes to spare, he finally left the house.

At nine thirty, Emily stood waiting by the front window and the minutes ticked by. Her heart thudded. All she needed was Freddy to come home and say he’d forgotten something or one of her brothers to come looking for her. She couldn’t believe her plan was in jeopardy of going awry. Finally, at nine forty five a wagon pulled up with two men aboard. She led them inside and down the basement. They picked up the heavy box containing her sewing machine and then took it outside. Emily followed them outside and made sure they knew that the box had to get to Fremantle that day as she was sailing the following day. She’d written her name on the box and made sure they knew it was to be delivered to the skipper of the Sea Gull. Finally, all seemed to be going to plan, but she kept a nervous lookout for one of her brothers.

“What was that, Emily?” Mabel Douglas asked from behind her front gate as the wagon pulled away.

Emily jumped with fright. “Mrs. Douglas, you startled me,” she said breathlessly, her mind racing for an explanation.

“Sorry dear. Was that a box you were sending away?” Mabel strained to see.

“Yes, it contained a sewing machine that needs to be fixed,” Emily said because she couldn’t think of anything else on the spur of the moment.

“Doesn’t your father usually fix the machines, dear?”

“He can’t fix this one,” Emily said with a racing heart. She hoped Mabel hadn’t seen the name of the boat on the box, but then her eyesight was very poor. “It’s a very old machine that he can’t get parts for, but I learnt to sew on it so it’s sentimental. I’m getting it fixed as a surprise for my father. So please don’t say anything.” She wasn’t sure Mabel understood but the old lady nodded and went back inside her house. At that point Emily saw Charlie come around the corner. He walked right by the wagon with her box on it, and even glanced at it. Emily stood waiting for him, praying hard that he hadn’t seen her name on the box. She clenched her trembling hands as he came towards her.

“Are you all right, Emily?” he asked when he reached her. “Dad is worried.”

“Yes, I was just about to leave,” Emily said, relieved when he didn’t mention the box but annoyed that her father had sent him looking for her.

“I’ll walk you to work,” Charlie said. “I have something to tell you, Emily,” he said with wary excitement. “You may not be pleased, but the idea will grow on you if you allow it.”

“What are you talking about, Charlie?”

“You are going out tonight.”

“Am I? Where?” Emily’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Or should I ask, with whom?”

“Herman Wiseman is taking you to the Hotel Australia for dinner and a show.”

Emily gasped. “That detestable man! I don’t want to go anywhere with him.”

“I’ve made enquiries about Herman, on your behalf, and he has a very good reputation. We all feel comfortable that he’s the right man for you. So give him a chance. He’s going to pick you up at six thirty this evening.”

Emily wanted to strongly object, but she did not want to upset him for fear of jeopardizing her plans. The most she could hope for was to postpone a date with the detestable Herman Wiseman. “I can’t go. I have nothing to wear as I’ve never been allowed to go on a real date before,” she said resentfully.

“You will have a suitable gown by this evening as dad is going to ask Uncle Freddy to go shopping for you when he brings our lunch.”

Emily was gobsmacked. Any semblance of guilt she felt about taking the post in the Kimberley evaporated. She wanted to erupt in anger, but she fought the urge. She’d made up her mind that she was leaving very early the next morning, before any of the family woke up. So she couldn’t cause any disruptions that might give her father or brothers a sleepless night.

Herman Wiseman arrived in his glossy black 1910 Model T Ford Tourer at precisely six twenty-five.

As soon as Emily stepped onto the front porch, surrounded by her brothers and father, his gaze slid down her body. She felt like she was being undressed and assessed. Her skin crawled with revulsion. His tone, when he greeted her, was condescending at best. “Good evening, Emily, you look…delightful.” Emily was a reasonably tall, young woman with shoulder-length brown, wavy hair. Her skin was fair but clear, her mouth was generous and well shaped and she had curves in all the right places. She’d always felt she had potential, maybe not to be a classic beauty, but certainly very attractive, given the chance. But this evening she’d made no effort. The last thing she wanted was to appeal to Herman Wiseman. She wore the gown that Uncle Freddy had bought her, which was cream in color and trimmed with gold piping. It came with a matching beret secured with a decorative sea-horse-shaped gold pin. It was lovely, but Emily was upset that the first time she was given something new and fashionable it was only so that she could go on a date with a man she loathed.

Emily couldn’t even mumble a polite greeting in return. She felt sick. With her chin practically touching her chest, she walked to the gate, overhearing her father apologizing for her lack of manners, claiming she was just nervous.

Clearly Herman expected her to be impressed as he opened the car door for her, revealing luxurious leather upholstery. She made no comment, but what she lacked in enthusiasm her brothers and her father made up for, gushing compliments about the motor car as they saw her off from the door step. Emily turned to give them reproachful glares as the car pulled away, but they were so pleased with themselves and already planning the expansion of the business, so they barely noticed.

While Emily kept her eyes averted on the drive through the city to the Hotel Australia, she could feel Herman leering at her. She pressed herself against the car door to get as far away from him as was humanly possible in the confines of his vehicle. To keep from telling him, in no uncertain terms, that she’d sooner jump off the tallest building in the city than marry him, she kept reminding herself that at the same time the following evening she’d be standing on the deck of the Sea Gull with a fresh sea breeze in her face, and freedom on the horizon.

Emily and Herman were seated in an intimate circular cubicle that overlooked a stage where a variety dinner show would take place. The waiter poured wine that Herman ordered, and then he topped up her glass before she’d had the chance to taste it. With a pompous arrogance and without consulting her, he ordered three courses for two, starting with potato and leek soup followed by Beef Bourguignon with seasonal vegetables and for dessert, apple and rhubarb tiramisu.

Emily fumed, glaring at Herman as she handed her menu back to the waiter. Knowing she’d never be his wife gave her some comfort and surprisingly, made her feel bold. “Did it occur to you that I might not like beef or rhubarb?” she asked him when the waiter had gone.

“No, it didn’t, but I love these dishes so you will learn to love them, too,” Herman replied without the slightest doubt.

“That’s what you think,” Emily mumbled, taking a sip of her wine.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I just commented that the wine is nice,” Emily fibbed.

“Nice! My dear it’s one of the finest 1910 vintages from the Chateau Latour, from Pauillac in France. It costs a fortune per bottle.”

“Well, excuse me,” Emily said sarcastically. “If you were trying to impress me, you’ve wasted your money. I wouldn’t know a Latour wine from an Aspall cider from Suffolk.”

Herman rolled his bulbous eyes and turned as pale as the tablecloth. “We’ll have to change that as soon as possible,” he said.

Fortunately, the show started so Emily feigned interest so she wouldn’t have to participate in polite conversation. After a few minutes steaming bowls of soup were placed in front of them. Herman asked the waiter to stand by while he made a flamboyant grand gesture of tasting it.

“It needs extra seasoning, and it’s barely hot enough,” he said, adding a sprinkle of salt and pepper, before tasting it again as if he was a gastronomic connoisseur.

Emily had no appetite, but just to be disagreeable she tasted her soup. “It’s perfect,” she said to the worried waiter. “It doesn’t need extra seasoning and it’s adequately hot.”

Herman frowned disapproval but did not respond. Instead he noisily drank his soup, holding the spoon with his bejeweled pinkie-finger extended. If Emily had an appetite, watching him drink soup certainly would have caused her to lose it. She continued to feel utter dismay that her brothers and father expected her to marry this repulsive and pompous man!

The lights were dimmed further, and the waiter lit tea-light candles on their table. Emily was tense, but she froze when she felt Herman slide across the seat, closer to her. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead. A few moments later he murmured something in her ear about the scantily clad dancers in the show. She ignored him and leant forward, pretending to drink her soup. A moment later she felt his hand on her leg, near her knee. Her spoon of soup froze midway to her mouth. When the hand moved a little further up her thigh, she put her spoon down and pushed his hand away, glaring at him. Thinking, as a gentleman he’d take note of the rebuff, she was shocked when his hand immediately returned to her thigh.

“Mr. Wiseman, keep your hands to yourself,” she hissed at him, pushing his hand away again.

“You will soon be my wife, so we should become intimately acquainted,” he said with a lecherous smile. His moustache quivered above his lip.

Emily glared at him with her mouth open. “We won’t ever be intimately acquainted,” she hissed loudly.

“Yes, we will, my dear. Your father is eager to expand his business, so you will do just as I say, or that won’t happen.”

Emily felt the pressure of his fingers on her thigh, as he squeezed her leg and made what sounded like an animal grunt. She picked up her bowl of soup and dropped it upside down in his lap. He yelped in pain as the soup that he’d claimed wasn’t hot enough, scolded him. Emily shuffled away from him and stood up. “If my father knew you were running your hands up my thighs he wouldn’t even consider going into business with you, you lecherous old fool!” she said loudly. A moment later she was on the street, taking deep breaths to control her rage. She turned towards home and began walking briskly.

When Emily entered the front door of her home, her father came out of the living room.

“I didn’t hear Herman’s car,” he said, noting her cheeks with flushed with exhilaration.

Emily had been thinking about this moment. She couldn’t say she’d had a nice time. “I…asked him to drop me at the corner so his car didn’t wake the neighbours,” she fibbed.

“Did you have a nice dinner?” he asked eagerly as she began heading for her bedroom.

“Herman ordered French food and wine, which I’m not used to,” Emily replied evasively, avoiding eye contact.

“He has worldly taste,” William said proudly. “I’m sure he’ll introduce you to all the finer things in life when you become his wife, Emily.”

Emily was bursting to tell her father that Herman Wiseman was a lecherous old coot, but she wanted peace on her last night at home. “I’m going to bed, Dad,” she said. It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “See you in the morning,” but she couldn’t, because she wouldn’t. “Good night,” she said instead.

In her room, Emily spent hours writing and rewriting a note, which she planned to leave on the bedside chest. She knew she was leaving her family at a busy time, and apologized for that, but there was no right time to do it. An opportunity had presented itself and she couldn’t let it pass.

In the note, Emily explained that she’d taken a position as a seamstress for six months, and that the position came with accommodation and that they should not worry. She could’ve explained all the reasons she needed to leave, but she knew it would be a waste of time. Uncle Freddy might’ve understood, but her father and her brother’s wouldn’t have.

In one of the many versions of the note she wrote, she mentioned North Bundaloon, but then thought it unwise to let them know exactly where she was going, as she imagined her brothers coming up there to fetch her, dragging her kicking and screaming back home and thrusting her into the lecherous arms of Herman Wiseman. She hastily disposed of that note. She decided it was best not to give them any clues to her whereabouts. One shock at a time!

CHAPTER TWO

Emily slipped out of the house and headed for the train station at five o’clock the following morning. It felt surreal to be walking alone in the darkness, carrying her suitcase. She passed a few men who looked at her strangely, but she forced herself to be brave. She was giddy with nerves at the prospect of starting a new life, but she also felt exhilarated.

The distance between home and the railway station seemed interminable in the dark, especially lugging a suitcase that seemed to get heavier with each step. Few people were about; the milkman on his cart pulled by a Clydesdale horse, the baker opening his shop, and the newspaper boy. Even so, the journey wasn’t made any easier by Emily’s overactive imagination. Every time she heard a sound she imagined it was footsteps behind her and her heart would leap. She’d look over her shoulder, expecting to see one of her brother’s chasing her down. By the time she got to the station she was shaking and jittery. She could barely tell the ticket seller where she wanted to go.