Chapter 2

Liverpool, April 1868

Patty straightened up and reached for a towel to dry her hands. ‘Right you are, girls. That’s the last of the washing-up. You can help yourselves to a gingerbread lady if you want one.’

‘Gingerbread ladies’ had become Patty’s signature bake. Her gingerbread had always been one of the most popular items in the tea shop, and gingerbread ‘men’ were a staple offering in most bakers’ shops. One day it had occurred to her that, as one of the objectives of the tea shop was to introduce customers to the dresses for sale in the fashion department, it would be an amusing conceit to produce her gingerbread in the form of an elegant lady with the most fashionable silhouette. After asking around she had found a blacksmith who had crafted a mould in the desired shape, and gingerbread ladies now made a regular appearance on the tea tables.

‘You’ve got some leftover?’ said Maisie. ‘That doesn’t often happen.’

Patty caught her eye and winked. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but I’m cooking slightly larger quantities than I think will get eaten. Well, I don’t see why the customers should have all the enjoyment and us workers never get a taste, do you?’ She held out a plate. ‘Here, have one. Have two, if you like.’

She looked around her corner of the kitchen. It was quiet at this time of day. The rest of the staff would arrive shortly to begin preparing the evening meal, but that no longer concerned her. Outside, the spring sunshine was brightening the grey city streets. It was April, and the tea shop had been open for four months; four months in which it had become increasingly popular, justifying Mr Freeman’s trust in Patty’s skill. She now had her own staff, not just Maisie but a young girl called Lucy, whom she had chosen herself from among the orphans brought up, as she had been, in the workhouse. Lucy followed her with adoring eyes and called her ‘miss’. Patty had told her that was not necessary, but she could not suppress a small glow of pride. She had never expected to be given that sort of respect.

‘We’re finished here,’ she said. ‘I’m going upstairs to take the weight off my feet. Are you off home, Maisie?

Maisie’s home was a few streets away, so she was able to live there rather than in the accommodation provided for Freeman’s staff.

‘No, I’ve got some shopping to do,’ Maisie said. ‘You coming with me, Luce?’

‘Yes, please,’ the girl replied.

‘See you in the morning, Maisie,’ Patty said. ‘And you make sure you’re not late for supper, Lucy.’

‘I will. Never been known to miss a meal, you know me.’

The two younger women put on their bonnets and shawls and went out, and Patty made her way up the back stairs to the top floor where there were two dormitories, one for the women, one for the men, and a common room where they could meet and relax. There was a table in the middle of the room, where letters addressed to the occupants were placed, but Patty never bothered to look there. After all, who would ever be likely to write to her? She had no relatives, that she knew of, and her friends were all on the staff of Freeman’s.

That day, however, as soon as she came in one of the other girls who worked in the kitchen said, ‘Hey, Patty! You’ve got a letter – from Australia!’

Patty picked up the envelope with a quickening of her pulse. There was only one person who might write to her from Australia, and that was May. She had given up hope of ever hearing from her friend again, but now here it was! She found a chair, put up her feet on a low stool, and slit open the envelope.

Freshfields

Rutherglen,

Victoria,

Australia

January 2^nd 1868

Dear Patty,

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I realise that by the time you receive this letter that will seem a very odd thing to read, but you will see from the date that those festivities are only just over as I write. Before I go any further, I need to apologise to you for going off without even saying goodbye. It was thoughtless and unkind. Can you ever forgive me? I can only say in excuse that I was in such a state that I hardly knew what I was doing.

How are you? I hope you are well and have not missed me too much. I think about you often and remember the times we had together – the good times and the bad ones. Did you have a good Christmas? It really doesn’t feel like Christmas here. The weather is so much the opposite of what it is like at home. (I must stop saying ‘at home’ meaning Liverpool. This is my home now.) It is really hot here, hotter than I can ever remember it being in England. The sun beats down all day, every day. It’s wonderful to wake up in the morning and see the sky, clear blue with not a cloud, and never have to worry about wrapping up in gloves and shawls. I’ll never forget how cold we always were in the workhouse, and how much our chilblains used to hurt when our shoes pinched. Sometimes I catch myself wishing it was a bit cooler here, but then I remind myself of that and I don’t mind the heat – though the flies do make me irritable at times.

I need to explain why I was in such a hurry to leave. You remember that I was walking out with James Breckenridge? I never let you know how serious it was, though I think you must have guessed. I was in love with him – I still am, and he with me, I believe. But I always knew it could never come to anything. His mother was determined that he should marry a ‘suitable’ girl from a ‘good’ family. Someone who would make a good wife for a rising young solicitor. And her idea of suitable did not include a milliner’s apprentice, let alone a girl brought up in the workhouse. But she did not know that last bit, nor did James until shortly before I left.

If you remember, I concocted a story about having been brought up by relatives after my parents died, because I was ashamed to admit the truth. Then one day James asked me to marry him, and I knew I had to tell him the truth. He was shocked, not surprisingly. He told me it didn’t make any difference to the way he felt but he suggested that we keep it secret and stick to the story I had made up. But I knew that could never work. One day we would meet someone who recognised me from when I was a maid-of-all-work for the Freemans, or ask questions about where I grew up and went to school that I couldn’t answer. The more I thought about it, the more I realised I couldn’t marry James and live a lie, and he shouldn’t ask me to.

I was in a desperate state, trying to see a way forward, when I got a letter from Gus. You remember he decided he wanted to settle in Australia? You know I always thought my father had drowned at sea. That was what my mother told us when she was still alive. Well, it wasn’t true. He had been sentenced to transportation to Australia for smuggling, and she was so ashamed that she made up the story about him being lost at sea. Now I know that when he had served his sentence he decided not to come home, because he had not heard anything from my mother and thought she had probably married again. He met people who had come out to dig for gold and decided to join them, and he struck lucky! He is now a very wealthy man.

Gus had a job in a hotel in Melbourne and one day our father just happened to walk in and took a room in the name of Lavender. Well, it’s not a common name and so he and Gus soon discovered that they were father and son. Father – it still seems very strange to write that word – has invested his money in a piece of land and gone into partnership with a Spaniard called Pedro to grow vines and produce wine from them. Gus’s letter invited me to go and join them, and enclosed a warrant for a berth on the Royal Standard. Well, it seemed like the perfect solution to my dilemma. I wrote to James and told him that I couldn’t marry him and booked my passage. The only snag was that by the time I got the letter I only had two days before the ship sailed. I had a frantic rush to get ready. Mr Freeman, who has always been so kind to me, let me go without giving proper notice and even let me choose new clothes and other things for the journey. I was so caught up in all the preparations that I am afraid I never even thought of saying goodbye. And I was still feeling hurt and upset about breaking up with James, so much so that I did not want anyone to see me leave or wave me goodbye. Can you understand that?

I thought by the time James got the letter the ship would have sailed, but it must have been delivered very early. I was standing at the rail, taking a last look at Liverpool, when suddenly I saw him on the dockside. It was quite a shock, as you can imagine! He shouted to me that he would marry me, and he wouldn’t ask me to lie, and he begged me to come back. Well, by that time the ship was moving, so it was impossible. I shouted back to him that if he really loved me he would get the next boat, and he promised he would. But of course I realised as soon as the words were out of my mouth that it was impossible. His mother is very sick and he is the only son. He couldn’t leave her. And then there are his final exams, to qualify as a solicitor. It would be stupid to waste all those years of study. I wrote him a letter, explaining that I understood that, and posted from our first port of call. Then, just a few days ago, I got a letter from him, saying almost the same things and apologising for not keeping his promise.

He says that as soon as his mother no longer needs him, and once he has passed his exams, he will come to join me. It’s terrible to think that we are both waiting for his mother to die. The doctors say it is only a matter of months. James takes his final exams just before next Christmas, so by then he may be free – but even then it will be over a year before he could get here. He doesn’t ask me to wait, but of course I shall. The question is, will he? That’s an awful thing to say, but a year is a long time and his mother is determined to see him married to someone suitable. I’m afraid he may find himself being pushed into a marriage, even if he still really wants to be with me.

I must try to trust in him. I’m sure he loves me – but it would be so much easier (and probably better) for him to marry someone else. I can only wait and hope.

That’s quite enough about me! I really only intended to explain why I went off in such a hurry. There is so much to tell you about my new life here – but my hand is aching already. I’ll write again soon, but you will have to wait until another ship can bring you my letter. It’s very hard, waiting for news, when it takes three months for a letter to reach England and another three before you can get a reply.

Do write to me as soon as you can. I’d love to have all the news from Freeman’s! I hope everyone is well and that Chef isn’t giving you too much of a hard time. I’ll tell you one thing I really miss out here – your delicious cakes!

Your affectionate friend,

May

C/O Freeman’s Department Store,

Lime Street,

Liverpool,

England

April 3^rd 1868

Dear May,

I’m not much good at writing letters. You were always the clever one in our class at the workhouse, and I always hated the lessons. That horrible Miss Bale was always hitting me over the knuckles with her ruler for blotting my work. But I’ll do my best to give you all the news.

I’ve had a real stroke of luck. You remember I always liked making cakes? Well, Mr Freeman has decided to open a tea shop inside the store and he has asked me to be responsible for making the cakes and all the other things to eat. I’ve been given a pay rise and I have my own corner of the kitchen, with one of the new gas stoves to cook on. It frightened me to death to begin with. When you light it it gives a great pop, as if it’s going to explode. But I’m used to it now and it certainly beats the old coal range they are still using in the main kitchen. I also have two girls working for me. Imagine! Me, a boss!

The tea shop opened in November and it’s going really well. Lots of people say my cakes are delicious and they come back for more. It’s wonderful to have a job I really enjoy.

There isn’t much other news. Freeman’s is doing good business, they say. And there are always plenty of people shopping in the store. Mr Freeman gave all the staff a bonus at Christmas to say thank you.

The weather here is chilly for the time of year, but I don’t mind that. It’s always warm in my kitchen.

I can’t think of any more to say, except of course I forgive you for not saying goodbye. I can see you were in a bit of a state, what with one thing and another. I’m sure James will keep his promise and come to join you next year. But even if he doesn’t, I bet there are plenty of nice-looking young men out there who would jump at the chance of marrying you. Just don’t wait too long.

Write as soon as you can. I’m dying to hear all about life in Australia. Have you seen a kangaroo yet?

Love,

Patty