Brigid the Girl from County Clare Page 26

  After a while, she tugged his arm. “We’re not finished yet.”

  They strolled down Queen Street admiring the new buildings and discussing the state of some of the original buildings.

  Fires had devastated Queen Street in the 1870s but had lessened since the advent of the fire brigade who had a newfangled water-throwing device called a ‘hydropult’, but building expansion had slowed since the 1886 stock market crash. Large businesses and banks were hurting and many small businesses closing down. Now was not a good time to be in business in Auckland, but shops that sold supplies were better off than those that sold services or handled money.

  Their conversation was amiable enough, but not in the same the way they had talked on board the SS Dorunda two years earlier. Brigid was nervous and Philip was withdrawn.

  “I hear Brisbane is doing much better,” she said.

  Philip was forced to admit her sources were right. “Yes, business confidence is high now. The economy has lifted and people are spending.”

  Their conversation continued until Brigid came to a stop outside the elegant frontage of the troubled Bank of New Zealand. She was glad Sally had chosen another bank for their business.

  Again, she pointed across the street. “Do you want to look inside?”

  Philip took her arm and, once safely on the other side again, entered Court Brothers, Drapery and Clothiers. Smaller than the Smith & Caughey building and more traditional, Court Brothers was still impressive in size and dealt mostly in wools and velvets for clothing and curtains. They also had a tearoom.

  A range of felts, blankets and upholstery fabrics caught Philip’s eye, but while he found the layout and displays interesting, the diversification of Smith & Caughey interested him more, he said.

  On their way down Queen Street towards the wharf Brigid had kept Philip talking so he didn’t notice they had passed ‘Miss Brigid’s’ on the other side of the street, a few doors down from the Victoria Street corner. Now they were on the same side of the street, Brigid directed them back the way they’d come. He almost walked past the shop barely a block further on, before he realised where he was. He stood looking up at the shop front as if noticing it for the first time.

  Compared with what he’d just seen, the shop would appear small and old-fashioned. While it had a quaintness about it that would appeal to ladies, which was its sole purpose, it would never be in the same league as the other two stores Brigid had shown him, and she knew it. Her point of difference was the uniqueness of her product and the personal attention to detail ladies wanted.

  “Would you care to buy me a cup of tea?”

  Philip took her arm again, and she led him to the nearby tearooms and found a table away from the door where they could speak quietly.

  After Brigid poured the tea, she approached the subject she most wanted to address. “I know it is not my place to tell you how to run your business, but can I offer you my opinion?”

  Obviously deep in thought, he acceded without comment.

  “The small scale operation that is ‘Miss Brigid’s’ – and I have to tell you, your mother chose that name, not me – is not what you need right now.”

  “Never mind my mother. What do you know about what I need?”

  Brigid bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue. They had been companionable throughout the morning; she didn’t need his resentment resurfacing before she’d argued her case. “I don’t mean to offend, that I don’t. But in the year since I’ve been in Auckland I’ve seen changes, both good and bad. The good has been the growth and variety you saw today. Both of those stores have branches in other parts of Auckland.”

  Brigid took the pursed lip, a small hmm and a slight tilt of his head to mean he was impressed. “The bad has been the downturn in trade and small businesses closing up.”

  “So?” He looked at her over his teacup, his eyes joyless and distant and not giving anything away.

  Brigid gathered her thoughts and took a deep breath. “You agreed to listen to my opinion – so here it is.”

  She reminded him about his dreams and fancies, the ones he’d outlined to her on the ship. All of them were extensions of what already existed, what his father had put in place over four decades. What he had seen today were examples of those new ideas, built on a solid base.

  “You said yourself your father has lost the will and the ability to be in charge any more. You are the one to lead Harrison Browne into the future. You’ve always said that. Well, here’s your chance. Take it. I think your future looks bright.”

  Her soft, lilting voice lulled Philip into the scene and he listened, sometimes making a comment, sometimes dismissing an idea. She tried not to hurry him or argue against any of his contrary thoughts, but slowly she built the store in his mind from the ground up.

  “Harrison Browne already has a reputation for good-quality fabrics and household goods. The stock losses have been a setback, but they are not insurmountable. With Mr Price to source new products for you, you would have an edge over your competitors. You could have the most up-to-date, modern store selling the latest trends – even setting the trends. You could become Brisbane’s answer to David Jones. Even Grace Brothers is growing. Look what they’ve achieved in the last three years. Those are the things you dreamed of.”

  “And why would ‘Miss Brigid’s’ not fit into that scheme?” Philip might have emphasised the Miss Brigid name a bit too heavily for her liking, but at least he was discussing the options and not rejecting them entirely.

  “Not that you need telling, but back then you wanted a little corner of your father’s store to prove your worth – to test whether your ideas would work. You don’t need to do that any longer.”

  He needed to think bigger. Little money could be made from a few buttons, ribbons and corset boning, and lacemaking was time-consuming and needed personal service. If the form of ‘Miss Brigid’s’ was incorporated into a large, busy store, quality would be compromised. “Which would destroy your whole idea. I have enough trouble keeping up with the demand as it is, but it’s enough for the likes of me.”

  After a few moments’ silence, he seemed to accept her reasoning. He asked questions about what could be done: how many staff would he need, which departments to start with and which to grow into, and where to get the stock? Brigid could feel the excitement rising within her as she pictured the store they described between them. How could Philip not want such a place? And yet he still seemed unmoved by their discussion.

  She knew she was blathering on and he was just as likely to get cross with her and tell her to stop, but she had to convince him. Everything he had ever wanted was there for the taking.

  “Aye, that sounds grand, it does. Auckland is smaller and not so up to date, but you can offer something no one else in Brisbane has.”

  She saw no hint of any burning desire to get started or that glow of hope that came into people’s eyes the moment they thought something better had come their way. She still had no idea what he was thinking.

  Brigid laid her fingers on top of his hand, her eyes bright and eager. “You could make it work. I know you could. I fell for your ideas then because selling my lace to ladies was my dream, but it’s too small to be your dream. Your dreams are out there waiting for you. Go and grab them with both hands.”

  17

  Resolutions

  Sunday, 16th December 1888

  In the days after they’d parted company at the tearooms the previous month, Brigid had not seen nor heard from Philip. However, in the build-up to Christmas she barely had more than a few moments to herself to think about what that meant. Except at night, when worry gnawed at her. She had trouble sleeping and she was losing weight. She simply had no idea what he might do next.

  A couple of weeks earlier, a note from Mrs Browne had eased her mind a little and put a smile on Sally’s face. Philip had returned to Brisbane like a man possessed, she said, and the new store in Eagle Street was being redesigned.

  Then this w
eek, she received another note to say they were planning a big opening of the new Harrison Browne Department Store on Christmas Eve.

  “She wants to know what I said to him.”

  Sally and Brigid sat in the living room upstairs, Sally working on the accounts while Brigid stitched. Laura, sitting beside her, worked at her embroidery, and Jane was sketching at the table.

  Sally didn’t take her eyes off the figures in front of her. “From what you told me, you never stopped talking.”

  Brigid chuckled. “Aye, but I haven’t any idea what made the difference. He never said a word.”

  Secretly, Brigid thought the visits to the drapery stores had sparked his imagination. Although drawing a parallel between his vision and the department stores in Sydney and Melbourne hadn’t done any harm either.

  “Will he be back, do you think, hen?”

  “I feared he would return, but maybe not any more – not from what Mrs Browne says. And Mr Price tells me he’s as busy as a bumblebee, full of instructions and a sense of importance. But Tommy’s right happy – Harrison Browne ordered a massive amount of fabric.”

  Speaking of Tommy had reminded them of those ghastly days of anguish after the visit from the police. Whilst the constable had seemed uninterested in a case from Australia, Brigid couldn’t be certain. Would they be back? And how had Philip known anything?

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, Miss Brigid. Leave it all to Tommy Price here. I’ll find out what the lay of the land is and let you know.”

  Without waiting for an invitation from Philip, Tom had taken ship for Brisbane only days later and turned up at the Eagle Street premises. She’d long considered Tommy could sell silk to a silkworm if he set his mind to it, and was not in the least bit surprised when Tommy told her the agreement they had come to.

  “Looks like I won’t be visiting you as much as I’d like to for a little while, my girl,” he teased on his return. “I’ll be away, I will, travelling the length and breadth of the globe to source and deliver the type and quantity of product that young mannie wants.”

  But Tommy’s greatest revelation was yet to come. He’d made enquiries, both in Brisbane and Townsville. “You see; it’s like this. There’d been these notices put in all the papers. A Mrs Emily McKendrick from the Queens Hotel had advertised for people knowing the whereabouts of Miss Sally Forsythe, or Miss Maggie O’Neill and two little girls, to get in touch. I bet that Harrison-Browne fella saw the notices and put two and two together. After all, he knew their names, if not what happened to them.”

  Tommy had talked to Mrs McKendrick. The police had initially connected their disappearance to that of Michael O’Neill, who was listed as a missing person, and questioned her. Mrs McKendrick had explained she’d had a farewell letter from Sally explaining her reasons for leaving, but not a forwarding address. She’d wanted to be in touch with her friend again. With no leads to follow and no reason to suspect anything untoward, the police dropped the matter.

  “So you see, there’s nothing to worry about. Mrs McKendrick says she put the advert in several times. One had gone in not long before he turned up here.”

  Sally was delighted and immediately wrote to her friend Emily. She would never return to Townsville, she was still scared of Carruthers, and she was happy in New Zealand, and could they still be friends. Emily’s prompt reply followed and the two women continued their friendship by post.

  With that matter off her shoulders, and with her mind at rest, Brigid’s more pressing worries concerned Maggie. She had become totally reclusive and unresponsive after the police had been. She usually hid in her room, only emerging when some urge came on her, then she would clean the house from top to bottom and bake and cook until they had more food than people could eat. Spent, she’d retreat again.

  She and Sally had talked about her when the girls weren’t around but couldn’t come to any conclusion. Laura and Jane avoided her and were even frightened by her. Brigid was the only one who could calm her or communicate with her in any way.

  Christmas would be a strange event this year, with Maggie likely to hide herself away and Jamie still missing from her life. Brigid was glad to get a letter from home. Nellie’s writing had improved a lot and the letter was longer than most.

  Our Breeda,

  I’m that excited, aye I am that. I sold my lace pieces, just like you used to, and I gave Ma a few coins. I’m learning dressmaking from the nuns and will be as good as you one day. Ma says she is well and to tell you Máire’s still away working and has a boy now. She sends money home too. She’ll wed next year.

  Norah’s good at stitching an’ all, but she still has some funny ways about her. She says she can talk wi’ the faeries. John’s talking a lot to the priest these days. I don’t know what that’s about.

  Da says the crop is better this year, and we have plenty of food. It’s not as wet as most years. There are still evictions going on. Bad it is, but we are right as rain now.

  The grandparents are getting old. They are tired, they say. Granny Brigid’s not the same since Granda Michael went. She sits in the chair and spins, and sleeps a lot. Ma and me have to do all the work.

  I wish you the blessings of the season. I miss you,

  Nellie

  Brigid folded the letter and put it away safely in her drawer. A tear misted her eyes as she thought about home. Aye, Dear Lord, I give thanks for all You have given me, and for the strength to cope with what You have taken away. But don’t go anywhere, will You? I’ll need You to guide me through this time ahead.

  18

  Coming of Age

  Sunday, 10th February 1889

  The next day would be Brigid’s 21st birthday. She would officially come of age and could legally decide her own destiny – and control her own money without parental control. The situation seemed ludicrous since she’d been doing that for so long, but at least now she was officially grown-up.

  Sally and the girls had insisted on a party and decorated the place with flowers and ferns. They’d set the table with the best of everything they owned, and Laura gave Brigid a special present of a matching cup, saucer and plate, which she begged Brigid to open so she could use it at the party.

  In one of her bursts of energy, Maggie had baked a fruitcake, which Laura and Jane decorated, and made delicate sandwiches and other sweet goodies. She didn’t say much, but Brigid felt she understood more of what was going on around her than she sometimes let on. But then she’d disappear into her lost world again.

  Their surprise guest was Tom Price, returned only that morning from his journey.

  “Mr Price, this is a pleasure to see you back so soon.”

  Tommy removed his hat and bowed low.

  The girls giggled and he winked at them.

  “And a pleasure it is to be here, Miss O’Brien. Those new steamships are so quick it fair takes one’s breath away. But I would sail on the wind from anywhere to be at your birthday celebrations.”

  With a flourish and the return of the cheeky grin Brigid had missed, he pulled a small parcel from his pocket. “For you, fair lady, with my grateful thanks.”

  “Thanks for what exactly, Mr Price?” Brigid took the parcel from him but didn’t immediately open it.

  “For putting a fortune my way in the shape of Harrison Browne Drapers, of course.”

  Sally hovered around wanting to move the proceedings on. “Do sit down, Mr Price, and join us for some tea and sandwiches.”

  “And cake,” said Jane, taking Tommy by the hand and leading him to a chair.

  “Thank you, Miss Forsythe, I will. And later in the day, will you join me in a tipple, the two of you? You do still enjoy a glass or two, do you not, Miss Forsythe? And for you, Miss O’Brien, I’ve brought a small bottle of the best sherry from Spain.”

  Sally assured him she did enjoy a glass of spirit every now and then, and Brigid blushed. “Shush now. Not in front of the girls.”

  The parcel from Tommy sat on the table.
Brigid itched to open it but manners dictated she wait until they had finished eating. They chatted amicably about the places Tom had journeyed to, and he teased the girls something awful about the scary things he’d seen.

  In due course, Sally asked the girls to clear the table, putting the plates to one side on the dresser.

  “We’ll take them downstairs to the kitchen in a wee while, but I think maybe Brigid should open her presents. What do you think, girls?”

  “Oh, yes. Now, please.”

  Jane rushed off to her room and came back holding a small, flat parcel in her hands. Laura, already having given Brigid her present of matching crockery, hugged her, wished her a happy birthday and sat on the stool beside her.

  Tommy moved his chair closer. “Open Jane’s first,” he said, seeing the girl’s excited face.

  Brigid inspected the handkerchief Jane had given her. “I made it myself; I did all the embroidery and hemmed it and crocheted the lace around the outside.”

  “And a beautiful job you did of it too, Jane, my love. You are a wonderful girl, and I thank you.”

  Then Jane gave her a sketch of a gown. “I thought it might be something you could make for yourself.”

  Sally looked over Brigid’s shoulder as they studied the sketch together. “That is an amazing design, young miss. I am so proud of you. You have great ideas,” said Brigid.

  “Aye, lass you do too,” agreed Sally. “I think Brigid should make it, and I know exactly which fabric she should use.”

  “Please, Brigid. Please,” begged Jane.

  “How can I say no?”

  “You can’t,” they all chorused.

  Sally pulled an envelope from her pocket. “This came for you.”

  Brigid turned the plain brown envelope over, but there was no return address, just a single stamp and a postmark from a place she’d never heard of. She ripped it open and took the flimsy sheet of paper out.