Читать книгу Truly, Madly, Deeply - Romantic Association Novelist's - Страница 12

1863, Lancashire

Sarah Boswick had been hungry for so long she couldn’t remember her last full meal. She stood quietly in the queue, not expecting more from the soup kitchen at the church than a bowl of thin soup and a chunk of stale bread. It would be her only food of the day.

None of the mill workers had realised that the war between the states in America would affect Lancashire so badly, cutting off supplies of cotton and therefore putting people out of work. Sarah’s husband had been delighted to think of all the slaves being freed. He’d been such an idealist, poor Daniel. He’d died a year ago, weakened by lack of food, and she still missed him.

The line of women shuffled forward and someone poked Sarah to make her move with them.

When a gentleman with silver hair stopped nearby, Sarah didn’t at first realise he was speaking to her.

Mrs Foster, one of the supervisors, said sharply, ‘You, Boswick! Step out of the line and answer the gentleman. He’s spoken to you twice already. Where are your manners?’

Sarah moved quickly, not allowing herself the luxury of resenting the scolding –it didn’t pay to cross the supervisors, not if you wanted to eat here regularly. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid my thoughts were miles away.’

‘It’s partly my fault. I should have waited to be introduced to you before I spoke. I’m Simon Marville, from the town of Swindon in the south, and I’m here because my church has raised some money for the relief fund in this area.’

She tried to pay attention but the smell of food nearby was intoxicating. Sometimes gentlemen or ladies came to the north to stare at the poor starving cotton operatives. It was annoying to be treated like a wild animal on display and it did little good that she could see. There would still be no work for those in Lancashire after the visitors had gone back to their comfortable lives.

‘Could we talk for a few minutes, Miss Boswick?’

‘Mrs I’m a widow.’ Sarah couldn’t help looking towards the food and as she did, her stomach growled.

‘Have you eaten today?’ he asked, still in that same gentle tone.

‘No, sir. The only food I’ll eat today is what’s offered here at the soup kitchen.’ She saw Mrs Foster looking at her and added quickly, ‘For which I’m very grateful.’

He turned to the supervisor. ‘Do you think we could have some food brought for this poor woman, ma’am? It’ll be hard for her to concentrate on what I’m saying if she hasn’t eaten anything yet.’

‘Of course. If you sit down over there, I’ll bring some across for you both.’

‘None for me, thank you. Save it for those who need it so desperately.’ He led the way to the table indicated, pulling out a chair for Sarah.

At least this visitor was treating her courteously, she thought as she sat down.

He took his own seat and was about to speak again when Mrs Foster brought her a big bowl of soup and two pieces of bread.

Sarah’s mouth watered at the sight of the larger bowl and extra bread. Clearly the lady patronesses were out to impress. She looked at him, wondering whether to start eating.

He waved one hand as if giving her permission and she could hold back no longer. She didn’t gobble down the food, because that would make her ill, but chewed slowly, spooning up soup in between each dry mouthful of bread. As she finished the first slice, she looked round and whispered, ‘Would you mind if I put this other piece of bread in my pocket, sir? I have a neighbour whose child isn’t thriving.’

‘No, of course not. Though you look as if you need it yourself. You’re very thin.’

‘I’m managing but it’s harder on the little ones.’

When she’d finished, he asked, ‘How long have you been hungering?’

‘Since my husband died last year, before that even.’

‘May I ask what happened to him?’

‘Daniel came down with a fever and hadn’t the strength to resist it. He was low in spirits, took it very badly not to be able to earn a living.’

Mr Marville’s expression was so genuinely sympathetic, Sarah felt tears rise in her eyes. She tried to change the subject. ‘What do you wish to talk about, sir?’

‘You, my dear. I’d like to find out more about your life.’

That puzzled her. What had the ladies been telling him?

‘I’ve been charged with helping select a group of cotton lasses to go to Australia, where there is plenty of work for those willing to become maidservants. The supervisor has suggested you. What do you think?’

She gaped at him. ‘Go to Australia? Me?’

‘Yes. Do you know where Australia is?’

‘On the other side of the world. I saw it on the globe at school. But I don’t know much else about it. I’ll have to see if there’s a book in the library.’ It had saved her sanity, the new free library had. If you could lose yourself in a book, you could forget the gnawing hunger for a while.

‘A ship going to the Swan River Colony will be leaving in two weeks. How long will it take you to decide whether to go?’

She looked round and laughed, though it came out more like a croak. ‘I don’t need any time at all, sir. If there’s work there, I’ll be happy to go because there’s nothing for me here, not now.’ Only Daniel’s grave, and beside him in the coffin a tiny baby who had not lived even one day.

‘How long will you need to get ready, pack your things?’

She looked down at herself and grimaced. ‘I have very little beyond the clothes on my back. I regret that. I’d keep myself cleaner if I could.’

‘A complete set of clothes can be supplied.’

‘I’d be very grateful.’

He hesitated and asked again, ‘Are you quite sure?’

She wasn’t sure of anything but to do something was surely better than doing nothing. ‘I shan’t change my mind, sir.’

‘Then you may as well travel south with me when I return. I’m sure Mrs Foster will provide you with clothes for the journey and we have other clothes in my church.’

‘Thank you.’ Poor box clothes. She knew what those were like but beggars couldn’t afford vanity.

‘Do you have any family here, anyone you should consult?’

‘No, sir. I’m an orphan.’ She’d only had Daniel. At the moment she was sharing a room with five other young women to save money. The others would be jealous of this chance she’d been given, so the sooner she could leave the better.

When Mr Marville had gone, she took her platter to the clearing up table and went to thank Mrs Foster for recommending her.

The other woman nodded then reached for a small, cloth-wrapped bundle. ‘You’ll need better food to face such a long journey. There’s more bread here and a boiled egg. Eat it all yourself.’ She held on to the cloth. ‘Promise you’ll not give this to anyone else like that bread in your pocket.’

She blushed in embarrassment. ‘I promise. Um, could I ask why you recommended me?’

‘Because you’re still trying to help others, sharing what little food you have. You deserve this chance.’

‘Thank you.’ Tears welled in Sarah’s eyes at these unexpected words of kindness.

‘Come back at four o’clock and we’ll go through the clothing in the church poor box to see what else we can find for you.’

She’d look a mess, Sarah thought, but at least she’d be decently clad. And warm. She’d been so cold during the winter.