To Love Anew (20 page)

“My apologies. I should have introduced myself right off. I’m Grace Parnell and this is my husband Charles.” Charles offered a nod. “We’re here because of Catharine. The woman who visited you recently. She told us about Lottie.”

“Mrs. Atherton?”

“Yes. She explained that Lottie didn’t have a mother and that she was living here at the prison.”

Tightness settled like a lump in Hannah’s chest. She remembered that Catharine Atherton had mentioned the possibility of a family for Lottie. Of course it would be best for Lottie. Yet, Hannah couldn’t do away with her longing to hang on to her.

Grace straightened. “Catharine said that Lottie was being well cared for by one of the inmates. Would that be you?” She offered a gentle smile.

“Yes. After Lottie’s mother died, she and I became like family. We’ve been very close.”

Grace’s eyes traveled from Lottie to her husband and then back to Lottie. “We had two little girls. But they live in heaven now.” She looked at Hannah. “They died of cholera. There’ve been no more children.” Her eyes glistened. “We were hoping Lottie might like to come live with us.”

“That’s kind of ye, mum,” Lottie said, “but I want to stay with Hannah.”

Hannah wished Lottie
could
remain with her, but it wouldn’t be right. She needed a proper home. “Do you live near here?”

“Not so far. In Parramatta. Our farm is about fifteen miles inland.”

“Mind you, it’s not a fancy place but we do all right,” Mr. Parnell said. “She’d have a proper upbringing.”

“We attend services every Sunday and we’d see that she’s educated.”

The Parnells could take Lottie if they liked. They didn’t need Hannah’s permission. “It’s kind of you to ask.” Hannah took Lottie’s hand and glanced at the Parnells. “Can we have a moment?”

“Of course.”

Hannah led Lottie outside. They walked toward a eucalypt grove. The pungent scent of the trees seemed stronger than usual.

“Do I have to go, mum?”

“Don’t you want to?”

“I want to stay with ye.”

Hannah looked about the encampment. There was nothing here for a child, only desperation and suffering. “I would love that too, but this isn’t a proper place for a little girl. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a mum and dad and live in a real home where you can sleep in a fine bed and never again have to go hungry?”

“I’d like that, but I want ye to come too. Do ye think they’d let ye come along with us?”

“Oh no. I can’t. Remember I have a sentence to serve.” She looked toward the west. “Parramatta isn’t far. Perhaps Mrs. Parnell will bring you for a visit now and again, eh?” Hannah managed to smile. “I’d miss you, but I’d also be very happy to know that you’ve a family to take proper care of you.”

Lottie looked back at the hut. Mr. and Mrs. Parnell stood just outside the doorway. “They seem nice.” Her bottom lip pushed up in a pout as tears filled her eyes.

“Your mum would be very happy to know that you’ve a home with a mother and father.” Hannah fought her own tears.

Lottie nodded and wiped at her eyes. “I guess I could go.” She sniffled. “But only if they’ll let me come see ye.”

“That’s right.” Hannah knelt in front of Lottie and hugged her, knowing the Parnells would not bring Lottie for visits.

The little girl wrapped her arms about Hannah’s neck and squeezed hard. “I love ye, mum.”

“I love you too.” Hannah pressed her cheek against Lottie’s and smoothed her auburn hair. “Well then, we best tell the Parnells.” She straightened, took Lottie’s hand, and walked back to the hut.

“She’s decided to go with you,” Hannah said.

Mrs. Parnell pressed a palm against her chest. “Wonderful.” She reached out a hand to Lottie. “Shall we go, then?”

“I want to live with ye, but only if ye let me come see Hannah.”

“Of course you may. We’ll see to it.” Mrs. Parnell glanced at Hannah with a look of apology for her untruth. They both knew it would be best for Lottie to forget what had happened in this place.

“All right, then.” Lottie crossed to Lydia and hugged her. “I’ll miss ye.”

She gave Marjorie and Rosalyn a hug too, then moved to Hannah. She pressed her cheek against the scratchy fabric of Hannah’s skirt. Hannah circled her arm about the child.

“I won’t forget ye. And how ye took care of me,” Lottie said, chin trembling and eyes shimmering. Then she broke away, took Mrs. Parnell’s hand, and allowed the woman to lead her outside.

Hannah moved to the door and watched Lottie walk away. When she was out of sight, she retreated to her hammock. With tears sliding down her cheeks, she stared at the ceiling.

“It’s a blessing from God,” Lydia said. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Ye did the right thing by her.”

Hannah nodded. “She deserves a home and a good life.”

The women were quiet that night and went to their beds early. Hannah wished for sleep, but it wouldn’t come. She’d likely never see Lottie again. She’d lost her. God couldn’t entrust a child to her. She was unfit to mother anyone.

Two days later, Hannah and several other women from Port Jackson were transferred to the Female Factory at Parramatta. They were loaded onto a barge and slowly moved up the broad Parramatta River.

While men thrust long poles into the water and propelled them forward, Hannah settled her back against a bag that held her few belongings. She was curious and fearful about the factory. She’d heard it was a harsh place.

Lydia sat beside her. “I like this, floatin’ on the river. It’s nice.”

“Almost peaceful,” Hannah said.

As they made their way upriver, the Parramatta narrowed and began to wind. Its banks were crowded with lush green plants and trees. Hannah especially liked the eucalypt trees with their white bark and slender, spinning leaves. Bushes crowded for space among the trees; some were heavy with yellow flowers. When they passed a small tree decorated with large red blossoms, Hannah wished she could stop and pick them. That wouldn’t happen. She was a prisoner and she’d never have the freedom to do as she liked.

“They’re wonderful!” Lydia said. “One day I’ll pick a whole armload.”

Hannah leaned back and wished she could enjoy the March sunshine. If only she had Lydia’s positive outlook. She decided not to think about what awaited her and allowed her thoughts to wander to Lottie. Living at the factory, she’d be closer to her young friend, but Lottie wouldn’t know she was there. Hannah’s heart was heavy. She’d never believed Lottie would visit her, and now she was more certain than ever.

A cloud of green swept toward them from upriver. A whirring sound filled the air.

“What is it?” Marjorie asked, her voice laced with fear.

Hannah sat upright, staring at the approaching green and blue swirl. “It’s birds! There are so many of them.”

“
Ah, them’s just rosellas,” one of the crew said. He stared at the mass of fluttering color. “Ye best get used to them.”

Hannah was enthralled at the sight. The birds weren’t very large. They had red heads with white faces and vibrant green and blue feathers, and she thought them delightful.

“They’re grand,” said Rosalyn.

“They’re a nuisance.” The guard pointed his musket at the colorful cloud, but he didn’t fire.

The birds disappeared into the forest, and Hannah settled back against her bag. The woods were alive with all kinds of fowl, flitting back and forth among the trees. There were large, brightly colored squawking birds and small, trilling ones. The concoction of sound and sight was soothing. Hannah tried to imagine what it would be like to be free and to float upon the river any time she liked. She decided it would be incredibly pleasant.
When I’m free, I’ll be sure to float the river again.
She tried not to think about the number of years she still had left to serve. It was too dreadful.

They hadn’t traveled far when the first farms appeared. Broad fields of wheat surrounded some; others had pastures speckled with grazing sheep. There were small properties as well, with homes and garden patches. Hannah wished that one day she could reside in such a fine place. She wondered if Lottie lived in one of the houses. Perhaps the barge had floated past her home.

The men with the poles pushed the barge toward a dock at the edge of a small hamlet.
This must be Parramatta
, Hannah thought. It seemed a nice settlement. Homes and businesses were huddled among rolling hillsides, open fields, and clusters of trees. On the uppermost hill there stood a building of significance.

“What is that place?” Rosalyn asked.

“Government House. And you’d best keep your distance. Government business goes on there. No need for whores.”

Rosalyn eyed the building. “There’s always a need for whores,” she said with a smirk.

“Out with you,” the guard ordered the women, keeping his musket ready in case of attempted escape.

Hannah joined the others on the dock. She wanted to stay on the barge. It had felt safe. Now she’d have to face the factory and her future.

Hannah stared at the two-story structure called the Female Factory, which measured approximately twenty by sixty feet. They were ordered inside to the cells. It was utter squalor, and the stink of the privies assaulted her. The bedding consisted of filthy, bug-infested piles of wool. Hannah was nearly convinced the hold on board ship had been better.

There was no kitchen, only a single open hearth. Hannah guessed it was used for cooking and heat. She doubted it would be of much help during the winter months.

“These are your quarters,” a guard said. “Upstairs is the factory. You’ll be spending most of your time there.”

Hannah held her bag against her stomach. It contained folded dresses and her blanket. She moved to her wool bed.

Lydia sat on one next to Hannah’s. “Pretty fancy, eh?” she teased.

“No talking! Upstairs!”

The women followed the guard up a narrow flight of steps that led to the second floor. The factory was nothing more than an open loft with floorboards so warped it was difficult to walk. The room stank of sheep and filth and sweat. Women worked at long benches carding wool or weaving yarn into coarse material. Some made rope. Others sat at spindles.

“This’ll be home to you now,” a guard said with a smirk. “Get to work. The others will show you what to do.”

Hannah and Lydia squeezed into spaces at the workbench. “I thank the Lord Lottie’s not here,” whispered Hannah.

“It’s a blessing for sure.”

Hannah glanced at the nearby hillsides. “At least there’s countryside about.”

“Too bad it’s as much inside as out,” Rosalyn snapped, sitting across from Hannah.

Marjorie stood alongside the bench, hugging her waist and watching the others. “I don’t belong here,” she murmured.

“None of us do,” a tall, angular-looking woman replied. “Name’s Abigail. Sit down. Figure you can twist these into rope. Like this,” she said and showed the women how to transform twine into sturdy ropes. “If you’re here as long as me, you’ll get good at it.” She smiled. “It’s better than carding wool. Can’t abide the stink.”

“How long ye been ’ere?” Lydia asked.

“Four years.” Her jaw tightened.

Hannah suddenly felt sick. She couldn’t imagine spending four years or more in this place.

“All you do is make rope?” asked Lydia.

“No. We share the work. Today I make rope, tomorrow I card wool. We do some sewing too.” Her eyes moved over the newcomers and stopped at Hannah. “You’ll likely not be here long. You’re comely. You’ll find a husband. The men come by and choose wives. The lucky ones get picked.”

“I’ll choose me own husband, thank ye,” Lydia said.

“You’ll see,” said the woman. “Soon enough you’ll be praying to be chosen and you’ll be willing to go with anyone.” She held up cracked and callused hands. “It’s worse in the winter. You never get warm. A lot of us die.” She squared her jaw. “Never been picked. Figure I’ll finish out my days here.”

Hannah couldn’t imagine being forced to become someone’s wife. “If you’re chosen, must you go?”

“Depends on who’s doing the choosing. Some of ’em won’t take no for an answer.”

Hannah felt flushed and thought for a moment that she might be sick. How had her life come to this?

The days stretched out, long and tedious. At night the cells were hot and stifling, the ticks relentless, and the irritation and stink of sheep dung in their beds pervasive. Hannah preferred working. In the loft, air flowed and helped cool hot skin. However, her thoughts often went to the approaching winter. She wondered how difficult conditions became in the winter months. Here there was little protection from the cold.

She spent most of her days sewing coarse clothing worn by prisoners. Since she was a good seamstress, she was allowed to work at the sewing table much of the time. Lydia preferred making ropes, and so did Rosalyn. Marjorie, who didn’t like doing any kind of work, insisted she’d been raised too genteel to lower herself to such tasks. Lydia had little patience for the woman, nor did the other prisoners. Hannah tried to be tolerant.

She often thought of John, but the idea of never seeing him again hurt too much, so she’d force him from her mind, hoping that one day she’d truly forget him.

And what of Lottie? What was she doing, where was she living, was she happy? She prayed for her every day and longed to see the freckle-faced little girl. She’d look out at the surrounding countryside and wonder which house she lived in.

The men came on a Saturday—farmers, laborers, and even some who looked like gentlemen. Most were ill-mannered and common. Hannah, Lydia, and Marjorie hung back while Rosalyn walked right up to the men, moving provocatively.
What decent man would want a wife who behaves in such a
disgraceful manner?
Hannah wondered.

“Rosalyn,” Lydia whispered. Rosalyn either didn’t hear or decided to ignore her. Lydia said her name louder. “Rosalyn.”

She looked back and then sauntered toward her. “What is it?” She folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to miss me chance.”

“Yer chance for what?” Lydia rolled her eyes. “Be sensible. Working here is not as bad as becoming a slave to some foulmouthed, foul-smelling bloke.”