gone. Even if he did, she was not going back. For better or for worse, she had chosen her course in life. Her main priority now, was to take care of Allison. If necessary she would seek the services of a lawyer and get a divorce. Right now though, she just wanted their journey to come to an end. The novelty of viewing the new countryside had worn thin, and every mile seemed interminable. Even though her eyes were tight shut, she knew with a certainty that the woman across the aisle was watching them both. She felt grubby and hungry and very tired. They had eaten the last of the sandwiches that Fred had made for them. In a funny way it had made her feel sad as, if by eating the sandwiches they had cut the last thread with their earlier life. The thought uppermost in her mind was of entering the cottage, shutting the door and being alone away from prying eyes.
She must have dozed off as she woke with a start by the gentle shaking of the elderly woman. ‘What’s the matter?’ She asked anxiously.
‘Nothing is the matter.’ She kindly assured her. ‘We have finally arrived.’
‘Oh, thank you, I must have dosed off.’ Jessie wearily rubbed her eyes.
‘You have been sound asleep for the past hour. Would you like some help.’
‘No, thank you all the same. We will manage.’ Jessie shook Allison awake. ‘Come on sleepy head we have arrived,’ she signed.
Once she stood up, Jessie realised just how stiff she had become. Five minutes later they were standing on the side of the street, with their luggage at their feet. Jessie reached into her bag to find the address of the cottage. On the bus all she had wanted was for the journey to end and now that it had she realised, she now had another problem. How was she going to get to the cottage? For all she knew it could be miles away. Every bone in her body was crying out with weariness. Allison was also looking pale and tired. She looked anxiously at her mother wondering what they were going to do now.
‘Have you got far to go?’
Jessie looked up to see who had spoken. It was the woman from the bus. ‘I don’t honestly know? This is the address but I have no idea where to find it.’
‘Let me have a look,’ she said as she took hold of the paper. Jessie felt irritated by the officious manner of the woman. However she was so exhausted she said nothing.
‘Well,….well, that is on the road out-of-town by the sea-side. Now you two wait there. I will ask my sister to give you a ride, after all we are going that way.’ Jessie opened her mouth to say something but the woman quickly butted in. ‘I know it’s none of my business and you probably think I am a nosy old biddy, but I do think that you are both done in. One of the few perks of old age, is you can tell people what to do and not worry what they say.’
Jessie smiled gratefully at the woman, as she marched determinedly off to find her sister. A few minutes later they were sitting in the back of the car, being driven to their new home. The two elderly women in the front talked non stop for the entire journey. Jessie smiled to herself as she realised that they were both talking and no one was listening. The woman from the bus was describing her journey and her sister was talking about her husband’s bad knee. Neither seemed to notice, nor mind, that the other one was paying no attention.
‘What’s the number we are looking for?’
‘Number 130 I think, yes that’s right, 130.’
‘Would you believe it, it’s the house across the street from Mrs Bun.’
‘Well, so it is.’
Jessie wondered who was Mrs Bun. One glance though at the sign above the door of the small corner bakery told her. It said Mrs Bunnington’s Bakery. As if reading her thoughts’ one of the sister’s said, ‘Mrs Bun makes the best meat pies in the district. Her pastry is just melt in the mouth. You will never need to go hungry living across the street from her.’_
All thoughts of mouth-watering pies vanished as Jessie looked at the cottage on the opposite corner. There had been some mistake Jessie thought. There was no mistake. The number on the gate that hung on a drunken angle clearly said 130. In her mind Jessie had conjured up a picture of a delightful cottage, with lace curtains at the windows. She had even pictured a lovely cottage garden. However the reality was far from what she had imagined. The cottage was badly in need of repair. The spouting along one wall had come off at one end and now hung down the wall. One end of the roof on the veranda had also fallen down. Every blackbird and sparrow in the area, must have tried building their nests on the remaining eaves of the cottage. Nesting material hung precariously from the veranda. Instead of lace curtains at the windows there was a very thick coating of dirt. Trees and shrubs had all grown wild. Jessie suddenly became aware that everyone, including herself, had stopped speaking and all were staring in astonishment at the cottage. Jessie felt tears welling up and swallowed hard trying to stem their flow.
‘Good heaven’s girl, you can’t stay there. It’s nothing better than a hovel’
‘Well, we have nowhere else to go. I am sure inside it will be better. Come on Allison, help me get the cases out of the boot.’ She determined she was not going to let the two women see just how upset she was. They said nothing, as she and Allison unpacked their things. Then Jessie thanked them both for their help and taking up a case in each hand, they walked towards the cottage.
The path to the front door was completely overgrown, so they decided to try the back entrance. The back door stood slightly ajar. Jessie tried pushing it open, but it was well and truly stuck. Putting down the suitcases she put her shoulder to the door and using every ounce of strength she possessed, she pushed hard. The door grated back over years of accumulated dirt and rubbish. The dominate smell was one of neglect and decay. The cottage was basically a three room dwelling. One large room ran along the entire back of the house. A large black old-fashioned coal range dominated the room. A door in the middle of the room leads to a small passage opening out to the front door and the veranda. On each side of the passage stood identical small bedrooms. Each bedroom contained an old-fashioned iron bedstead. The only other pieces of furniture were a well-worn horse hair sofa and a small table and two chairs painted a nauseating shade of green. At the back of the cottage, just outside the back door was a small room containing an old tin bath and a very dirty chipped hand basin. All this Jessie and Allison took in without saying a word to each other. Their misery was so great, they could not communicate their disappointment. Finally Allison signed, ‘Where is the toilet?’
Jessie pointed out the dirty window. An overgrown path led to a long drop toilet at the bottom of the section. The look of total devastation, and hurt that registered on Allison’s face was too much for Jessie to cope with. She slumped down on the wooden chair and putting her head in her hands, she began to weep. At that instant if Paul had driven up and asked her to go back to the farm she would willingly have gone, even putting up with his abuse. She felt she had made the biggest mistake of her life bringing Allison to this dreadful cottage. Allison tried to offer solace to her mother by wrapping her arms around her shoulders. There was nothing to say.
Chapter four
Nelson, New Zealand
They were so engrossed in their shared misery that they did not hear the footsteps approaching the back door. There was a sharp knock at the door. ‘Hello, can I come in?’ Jessie hurriedly wiped her face and stood up to face whoever was entering. Her mind was reeling trying to work out who could be at the door, they knew no one. The door grated back against the dirt and a very large woman squeezed her way inside. Jessie glanced at Allison and thought she looked like a frightened
