The Cedar Cutter (11 page)

Not yet. The thought of letting him out of her sight still made her blood run cold. At first she'd believed he'd need no more than his letters and his numbers and she could teach him those just the way Aunt Lil had taught her. But this sudden, almost academic interest in things and his growing questions were at times beyond her knowledge. Why did snakes shed their skins? She'd no idea. In a moment of fanciful imagination, she'd told him it was because they wore out and the snake tailors made new ones. Six months ago he'd have nodded his head and accepted her every word as the truth. Not anymore. With a sense of patent disapproval he'd rolled his eyes and turned back to his detailed drawings.

Sighing, she edged down the ladder and made her way to bed.

With the window at the front of the house cleaned and polished, Roisin had no trouble spotting Elsie when she made her morning check. Like clockwork every morning. A broom in one hand and her eyes darting to and fro. ‘Elsie would you like to come in?'

Elsie's face flushed and she chewed on her lip before taking a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Morning. I didn't expect to see you here. I was just sweeping up, cleaning the alley. I expect you'll be having visitors soon and we want it all to look neat and tidy.'

Roisin drifted back to the window. ‘Would you like to come inside, Elsie?' The woman shook her head, although it wasn't what she meant. Her currant eyes darted back and forth, taking in the transformation.

‘Come and see what I've done so far, I'm rather proud of it.'

Elsie set foot slowly, one step at a time, and as she turned into the parlour her face became a picture, her mouth gaping open, her surprise evident. ‘You've been working, very hard. Goodness me, look at those windows. And the fireplace is as good as new.' Her eyes danced from one side of the room to the other. ‘Ah.' She pointed to the trunk sitting against the wall. ‘That'll be the trunk Carrick collected for you. He and that nasty bullocky man delivered them. Threw the other two on the footpath, I'll have you know.'

‘Yes. They did deliver them for me. It was very kind. I've unpacked everything. Would you like to see some of my work?' She held up a soft white nightdress and smoothed the pleats down the front. With the little pearl buttons in a perfect line down the centre and such fine cotton, it was as light as a feather. Perfect for the hot summer nights. ‘What you think about this, Elsie?'

‘It's very fine for a chemise.'

She smiled gently and held out the whisper-fine cotton. ‘It's not a chemise, it's a nightgown. A dress to wear while you're sleeping.'

‘You'd wear something like that to bed? I sleep in me chemise. No fuss. Quick in the morning. Haven't got time for fancies like that and what would Alfie say? He'd think I was givin' him the come-on.'

‘I like to wear a nightgown. It's comfortable and soft and cool on a hot night.'

Elsie's frown said it all. The idea of something worn for anything except practicality was far beyond her understanding. Perhaps Roisin's idea was a pipe dream. Something for the ladies of the night in Sydney, not for the likes of Elsie and Maisie.

Elsie dropped the nightgown onto the table as though it might infect her with licentious thoughts. ‘If you sleep in something like that you'll get a chill. And goodness only knows what else.'

Now was the moment. She'd planned it. Sat every night in front of the fire after Ruan was asleep, sewing. Not just for Elsie, but also because it calmed her, soothed her. ‘What do you think of this?' She held up a bright red flannel petticoat.

Elsie's eyes lit up. ‘Oh my. It's a petticoat.' She as good as snatched it from Roisin's hands, running her work-worn fingers over the soft flannel, then held it against her cheek and let out a long, low sigh. ‘I'd give my eye teeth, if I had any, for something like that.'

‘It's for you.'

She smoothed it like a pet cat. ‘For me?'

‘Yes, for you. A present. A thankyou for all you've done for me and Ruan.'

‘I can't be taking it. Not as a gift like. It's not right.'

‘I'd like you to take it. I couldn't have settled in without your help and I owe you money for everything I've bought in the shop.'

‘Tut-tut! I know you're good for the money. You keep it and sell it to one of your customers.' Elsie peered furtively around, giving the petticoat a loving pat as though she couldn't bear to part with it despite her best intentions. Then she thrust it into Roisin's hands, her face blanching. ‘There's Maisie. She's 'eading this way. Quick, put it away. I don't want 'er to see it.'

‘I've got one for Maisie, too.'

‘You got one for Maisie?' Elsie frowned.

What a silly mistake. ‘The one I have for Maisie is nothing like yours. It's a blue check. Not red.'

‘You think I'm the kind of person who would wear red unmentionables?' Her face flushed as she struggled to regain her composure. ‘And she's not?'

When Maisie rapped on the door Roisin slid the red petticoat under the cushion on the chair. Just as well because Maisie marched straight in. ‘So when is the grand opening?'

‘I'm not planning on a grand opening. I was going to ask if I could put a sign up in the shop window and down at the inn.' Roisin held up the sign she'd worked on last night while Ruan was asleep. The charcoal had smudged a little, though it was still readable and the elegant woman she'd drawn with her large-brimmed hat and tightly fitting pelisse looked all the better for the softening of the lines.

Maisie and Elsie peered at it. ‘What does it say?'

‘
The undersigned, Roisin Ogilvie, is prepared to do dressmaking and all kinds of needlework to suit ladies at moderate charges.
'

‘So it's not just alterations. You'll be making things from scratch?'

Roisin nodded. ‘If someone would like them. If you'd put the sign up in your window, Elsie, and I'd like to ask you if you could please tell everybody who comes into the shop that they're very welcome to come and have a look and see what I can make.'

‘Will you be thinking I should be showing my petticoat? I could twitch my skirt a little bit.' Elsie clapped her hand over her mouth.

Roisin laughed and drew out the petticoat from under the cushion. ‘The petticoat is for you, no matter what. I hope you like it.'

Maisie let out a shocked gasp, her eyes wide and her gaze darting between the red petticoat and Elsie's outstretched hands. ‘I have one for you, too, Maisie. If you'd do me the honour of taking it.'

‘For me? You wouldn't catch me wearing anything that colour, I can tell you.' She folded her arms across her bosom as if to defy the audacity of the bright red flannel.

Roisin eased the blue-checked petticoat, trimmed with white lace, from the trunk. ‘I thought this might be more your style.'

Maisie's face softened and her lower lip trembled. ‘I love it. You wait till Harry sees it. Next thing you know I'll have another baby on my hands and I'm too old for that.'

‘I didn't think that was how you make babies.'

‘That shows you how much you know.'

Roisin smiled. They'd helped her so much, it was the least she could do to repay their kindness. ‘So you'll both be taking the petticoats, then?'

The two women exchanged glances. ‘Wouldn't want to upset you. Tell you what,' Maisie glanced at Elsie to check she was in agreement, ‘suppose we take 'em as payment for displaying your advertisement and spreading the word like. Means you'll have to do up a few more of them signs.'

‘I'll give 'em to the women when they come in to the store.'

‘And I'll give 'em to the men …'

Elsie gave an outraged shriek. ‘You will not, Maisie Kidd.'

‘Well maybe not. I'll keep 'em under the counter for when the travellers come through and give 'em to the ladies. Never know who wants what.'

‘Are you sure you don't mind?' Roisin asked.

‘Doing you a favour, so I don't feel so bad about taking your gift.' Elsie grinned. ‘Do you think I've got time to put it on now before my Alfie gets home?'

Roisin held back the curtain she'd hung across the corner. ‘Madam, if you'd like to step this way.'

‘Oh, no one can see. It's very clever.' Elsie disappeared and after a lot of huffing and puffing reappeared a few minutes later with cheeks as red as her new petticoat. She twitched the bottom of her skirt. There was a flash of colour and a little bit of lace. ‘Your turn now, Maisie. Go on.'

Maisie frowned and scowled a bit, then held out her hand for the petticoat and disappeared behind the screen.

‘You should be putting something in
The Maitland Mercury
, too. That's where they have advertisements for important things. Then you'll be attracting some of the high-fliers around town. The Winchesters and their fancy friends.'

My dear Aunt Lil,

I am sorry it has taken me so long to write at any length, but the days have been busy. My trunks arrived and now the place is beginning to feel like home. Ruan has settled in well and he has his own room in the attic. He is busy collecting treasures, which he constantly finds around the place. I am keeping up with his lessons.

Chewing the end of the pencil Roisin stared into the fire. Should she mention the cedar cutter and the strange friendship they'd struck up? Probably not. In a way she longed for Carrick's return as much as Ruan did and regretted having told him to leave. She shook her head and sketched a quick drawing of the two petticoats she'd made. She'd remedy that when he returned. She licked the end of her pencil.

Business is beginning to come my way. I have made two petticoats, one red and one with the pretty blue check I had in the trunk. Several local women have sought my advice on matters and I hope it will lead to commissions.

A slight deviation from the truth as the petticoats had been gifts, though they had led to several visits from local women, or maybe the advertisements had. More out of curiosity than anything else. Nothing she could imagine leading to any great result. Some advice on buttonholes and a badly fitting sleeve, turning a frayed collar and repairing a snag in a lace pelerine. However, the money Aunt Lil had given her was holding up and she and Ruan wanted for nothing.

The house is very cosy and with much washing and scrubbing many of the existing furnishings are quite satisfactory.

That part was at least true. The pile of rag rugs and curtains she'd found in the corner of the kitchen had cleaned up a treat and made the house more comfortable, and the two soft chairs she'd discovered in the woodshed had pride of place by the fire.

As always I miss your company and that of the girls, but I am not dissatisfied with my life and believe we have made the right decision. Ruan is so much stronger. The fresh air and freedom is seeing him grow. He hasn't had one single bout of the breathing sickness since we left.

Please write to me soon and let me know how life is in Sydney.

She wouldn't, couldn't mention his name, wouldn't tempt fate.

I miss you all and long to hear your news.

With all my love

Roisin let out a huge sigh and pushed the paper across the table. She was doing no more than marking time, and no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, being in Wollombi was the best outcome for Ruan. There were days when she missed home, missed the only other life she'd ever known.

She drifted into the bedroom and sank down on the edge of the bed, running her fingers over the complicated patchwork of the quilt. Pieces of the past all neatly sewn together, a map of her life. She stroked the silken offcuts of the first corset she'd ever made and Ruan's first dress. It was to have been his baptismal gown, but the priest had refused to mark the father as unknown despite Aunt Lil's insistence, and poor Ruan had never been baptised.