Holding His Hand by Tyson Goddard (first e reader txt) 📖

lay in the little cabin weeping long into the night, one in the absence of a father, the other in the absence of a husband, both in the absence of a nation. Sara truly felt lost at sea.


Wolves at Dusk.

Tilly felt slightly light headed, of course she was prone to this, and she was told it was because she was born at sea. The doctor’s very words were, “Having not been born immediately onto the firm foundations of solid earth, Matilda will primarily feel ill at ease on stable ground, most likely preferring the swell of oceanic tides. Watch her carefully, as this means she could grow up to become a very dangerous criminal.” Tilly was not sure exactly how being born at sea could invoke a criminal mind, nonetheless her parents from quite early on had always watched her carefully. She never stayed in the sun for long amounts of time lest her delicate skin be harmed. Her days were meant to be filled with light embroidery, cooking or helping her mother housecleaning. Conversation was intended to be quiet and no louder than a hushed whisper; “A proper lady never speaks before spoken to, and when speaking must never be louder than a hushed whisper. Always courteous and polite the lady of the house should be a serene and calming presence to the inhabitants of the household.”

Poor Tilly often felt that she failed at pleasing her parents. She always struggled to be quiet at the appropriate times but often spoke back to her parents. Her mother Sara was a quiet, distant woman; kind, yet very distant. She barely spoke to her children of deeper things. Instead she instructed them about their daily chores, and was not a woman for physical affection. Tilly was sure though that that had always been the case. In the little times that she caught her mother clutching a photo of her family back in Ireland to her chest, or when she looked at her wedding ring with deep misty eyes that were remembering the day when that ring was first placed on her finger, Tilly caught a glimpse of her old mother. But if Tilly’s mother was bad enough in her absence of general affection, her father John was absent altogether. He was a predominantly silent man, talking briefly to his wife and children at meals or to give instructions.
“How was your day Matilda?”

“Fine thank you father.”

“And yours, Jack?”

“Fine thank you Father. It was quite hot but that’s all.”

John would nod in acknowledgement at his children’s conversations, but rarely any more would be said at meal times. Yet in the past few months Tilly’s relationship with her parents had become even colder after the disgrace of her first divorce. Which leads us back to Tilly sitting, massaging her temples, with the dizzying thoughts of the past few traumatic months?

The word disgrace seemed to follow Tilly wherever she went. The word echoed in her ears as she fiddled with the finger where a gold band had once been. This had become a habit in the last month, the bare finger being as much a symbol of her abandonment as the ring had been of her union.

“Stupid woman, stupid, stupid woman!” Tilly told herself. “What was this place? I really didn’t think this through. I really did NOT think this through,” she said, exasperated.

At that exact moment a grimy old man with a scruffy old dog that was equally as dirty passed by.

“May I help ya ma'am with your bags? Don’t be fooled by these skinny arms, they worked on lotsa farms!” He reached out his dirt-caked hands towards her and Tilly found herself pressed up against the wall shaking her head so vigorously she could hear her hair pins clacking against each other.

“Ah… no thank you sir. I’ll be fine.”

“No? well g’day ma’am. Any time you need a pair of strong arms just come on by!”

The man tipped what was left of his tattered hat and slouched off with his matted dog in tow.

“Oh lord, I really, really, really didn’t think this through!”

Tilly knew that the river here “Tweed River” was named after a river in Scotland which flowed in exactly the same pattern. The river flowed as one strong stream until at a certain point, it split into two and formed a Y shape. The two branches ended up in the sea but started somewhere at the base of the mountain range that surrounded the Tweed area. Maybe it was the fact that the river mimicked a river in Scotland that had attracted her to this place, the fact that Scotland was so close to Ireland, a link to her Irish heritage. Either way, she was here and she knew she would have to make do.

She was in a small curious town called Chinderah. It was placed on the very banks of the Tweed River. She stood across the road from the river outside the tavern. It was an overcast day with grey clouds scudding low across the sky. It was already three in the afternoon and the sun was beginning to set. Tilly looked around forlornly.

“I really should have organized this better,” she thought, wondering where on earth would she find a place for the night. Fretting terribly While she tried to gather up her belongings in a fretful state a slow rattling sound drifted up the stony road. Tilly glanced up as a sulky full of dark skinned men slowly rattled towards her. They wore tattered clothing and some had tools slung over their shoulders. They were covered in dirt and looked like they had just done a hard day’s work.

On the sulky sat Thomas, no longer the skinny boy of fourteen. He was now a strapping young man of eighteen. His shoulders were broad and well muscled from spending his teen years working in a cane field. He had a fine chiselled face with a strong angular jaw and big brown eyes. Since he had been taken from his home in Vanuatu he was forced into a working contract on a sugar cane farm. Life however for him and the other island men went on. The cane fields had become their life, their occupation. They were each responsible for their own homes and how they spent their earnings. Although a forced contract, it was still an income in a society that offered little to men of their colour.

The sulky pulled up right in front of Tilly. She looked at the men imperiously, but with a secret fear knotting in her stomach. Being the sheltered child that she was, she had had little exposure to “coloured folk,” and was truly nervous without the protection of her father or brother Jack near at hand. Thomas hopped over the side of the sulky with cat- like ease and landed only a few inches away from Tilly. The sulky continued on its way. There was a long moment as the two strangers stared into each other’s eyes; he with a childlike curiosity, she with a nervous blink.

Tilly cleared her throat to break the awkward silence.

“May I help you sir?”

She tried to sound confident, but her voice faltered with every syllable.

“Well lady, it was me gonna be askin you that,”

replied Thomas in his broken English. His voice was deep yet warm and kind.

“No thank you I’m perfectly fine. I’m waiting for my …….ah……..friend, my male friend, he’s with the army you know, very important, and strong and has lots of old war guns, big guns from the war…yes lots and lots of them. Good for shooting.” After telling her little tale she stood nervously wondering if he might believe her.

A big grin spread across Thomas’s face. “Now you sure you’ll be fine lady?” he said, gesturing to her heavy bags.

Tilly nodded still blinking nervously at the coloured fellow.

‘Alright then lady, but you better be watch’n yourself, the sun’s almost sett’n and at night the wolves and snakes crawl through the town, lookin for folk such as yourself that don’t make it inside before dark.’

Tilly gulped as she watched the setting sun.

“But don’t be worry’n lady, your big army friend will protect you, won’t he lady?”

With those last words Thomas tipped his hat and disappeared around the corner of the tavern. Tilly sighed as she was left alone in the dimming light. She looked around desperately for some place she could stay, preferably not the tavern; she didn’t much like ale nor the people who drank it. Something caught her eye on the tavern wall. A large wooden board with notices pasted onto its surface adorned the better part of the brick wall. Taking a closer look, she noticed a tiny piece of yellowing paper that had in clear writing “Room for board available, work for keep and income”.

Tilly smiled at the tiny ray of fortune that had been sent her way. She looked at the address printed on the bottom. She didn’t know the town, and she definitely didn’t know the street. She tore off the notice and returned to her bags. Somehow she was going to have to find a way to get to this house.

Just as Tilly was pondering hopelessly on how to find some mode of transport, Thomas rode around the corner of the tavern on a horse. He didn’t even look at her and was about to canter right passed her when she called out to him, ‘Excuse me! Excuse me!’
Thomas stopped and smiled down at Tilly.

‘Do you know this address? If so could you take me there please?’

Thomas looked at the little square note that she’d handed him and smiled,“Whatsa matter lady? Can’t your army friend take you? I don’t want to make him angry, he sounds very important,” Thomas said in mock fear.
Tilly still couldn’t pick up that he was joking around and had never believed her from the start, and to add to her humiliation there were no wolves in Australia.
‘Aah he’s not coming, I forgot…silly me. Aha he told me yesterday and I forgot, silly me.’

‘You said that twice lady,’ Thomas laughed at her.

‘Oh yes so I did, silly me. I mean. Nothing. Look, can you take me there or not?’ there was an annoyed edge in Tilly’s voice, but she was more annoyed at the web of lies she’d woven and was now tangling herself in then what she mistook for gullibility on Thomas’s part.

‘I can help I think Lady,’ said Thomas, still smiling down at the quite obviously forlorn woman.

In no time at all he had two of Tilly’s bags attached to the side of his saddles and the third, pressed between them as they rode along. Tilly didn’t quite know where to put her hands and attempted to hold on by grasping the back of the saddle, but after four near tumbles she resorted to wrapping her arms around his powerful torso.

‘So where is you comin’ from lady?’ asked Thomas.

‘Rosewood, in Calvert.’

‘You have any family down this way?’

‘No,’ thank the Lord, thought Tilly. She’d come here to get away from the family.

‘If you don’t mind me askin, why did you come here then? A little