Belinda Murrell: Bringing Australian History To Life | Page 22
EXTRACT
THE RIVER CHARM
FRIGHTENED FOR THEIR LIVES, THE ATKINSON FAMILY IS ABOUT TO MAKE A DARING MOVE . . .
‘C
harlotte, dearest,’ whispered Mamma, shaking
her gently on the shoulder. ‘Charlotte, wake up.’
Mamma stood over
her bed, black hair hanging down her
back and a shawl thrown over her white
nightgown. Mamma’s face looked pale
and drawn in the flickering light of the
candle. Charlotte glanced over to the
other bed where Emily was still asleep,
her nightcap tied tightly under her chin.
‘I am sorry to wake you,’ apologised
Mamma. ‘But we must get ready to go.
I need you and Emily to dress and help
me. We can leave Louisa and James
their bits. Charlotte worried that
the noise might wake Mr Barton.
Fortunately, his bedroom faced the
front of the house. Charlotte shivered
and wrapped her woollen shawl more
tightly around her shoulders.
Mr Ash, Charley and Bill the bullocky
were now loading the trunks onto
three red Devon bullocks by the light of
several lanterns. The track to Budgong
was too narrow and precipitous to drive
a vehicle. The bullocks would be driven
on foot by Bill and one of the convicts.
Mamma flitted to and fro anxiously
in the darkness, glancing back to the
house, giving the men directions and
‘I’m carving my name,’ he confessed, shamefaced. ‘Just in
case we never come back. I wanted to leave my name as a
record that we belong here and Oldbury belongs to us.’
asleep until the very last moment.’
Charlotte yawned and nodded
reluctantly, not wanting to leave her
warm bed.
Mamma woke Emily quietly and lit a
candle for them to dress by.
Charlotte shivered in the cold early
morning air as she climbed out of bed
and grabbed her shawl. The floorboards
felt icy under her bare feet. The rest of
the house was dark and quiet, except
for the long, rumbling snores that came
from Mr Barton’s room at the opposite
end of the hall.
The girls splashed their faces in the
washbasin and dressed hurriedly in
chemises, petticoats, dark riding habits,
stockings and boots.
Together, Mamma and the girls
carried down the trunks to the rear
courtyard. Charley and Mr Ash had
saddled up a number of horses,
including Ophelia and Clarie, and
they were tethered outside the stable,
stamping their hooves and jingling
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checking that all was packed to her
satisfaction. The men loaded sacks of
flour, potatoes, sugar and tea from the
storehouse. The first two bullocks had
already been loaded up with tents,
bedding, Mamma’s medical chest and
foodstuffs. Bridget carried a wicker
hamper of provisions from the kitchen.
Charley had captured a number of
chickens, which were now imprisoned
in a wicker hamper, squawking
with disgust. The bullock at the rear
bellowed mournfully. Samson ran
among the bullocks and men, barking
with excitement. It was impossible
that Mr Barton had not heard the
commotion.
‘Run and fetch Maugie, if you please,
Emily,’ asked Mamma. ‘I have a pannier
here for him. He’ll be snug in a nest of
old clothes.’
Emily ran to obey, her brown ringlets
tangled and tousled.
‘Charlotte, my dear, would you be so
good as to wake Louisa and James and
help them dress?’ asked Mamma. ‘We
must get away as soon as possible. It is
nearly dawn.’
The horizon to the east was streaked
with a glimmer of crimson. The men
fumbled with buckles and straps on the
packsaddles in the dim light. A cock
crowed.
Charlotte ran upstairs, her heart
thumping. The house seemed bare
and cold and her footsteps echoed on
the timber floorboards. In the middle
bedroom, she woke James first, urging
him to be quick and quiet. Then she
went to Mamma’s room next door.
Louisa was fast asleep in Mamma’s wide
four-poster bed, tangled in the damp
sheets, her thumb in her mouth.
Charlotte leant over her youngest
sister and breathed in the warm, milky
scent of her skin.
‘Louisa,’ whispered Charlotte.
‘Poppet? It is time to wake up.’ Louisa
rolled ݙ\