again?”
Nicola smiled at her honesty. “I’d like that.”
“You mentioned you did poor work back home?”
“Yes.”
“Want to work at a soup kitchen tomorrow?” She raised her eyebrows as though daring her.
“Of course.” She didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll meet you on Lower George Street at ten o’clock. There’s an alley running from it down to the harbour. I’ll wait for you there.”
Chapter Five
Nicola lifted her navy skirts high off the ground. A man leaning against a wall across the street whistled at the showing of ankle, but she ignored him and stepped over a puddle. Rain during the night had done little to wash away the grime from this area of the town. A stench from an unknown source made her want to cover her nose, but she hadn’t a free hand. Clutching her skirts she tried her best to keep them clean, although a glance at the dirty hem showed this was a forlorn hope.
“There you are.” Frances exited the entrance to an alley and greeted her with a grin. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
Nicola frowned. “Why ever not? I said I would.”
“Yes, well many people say things they later regret.” Frances shrugged and slipped her hands into her drab skirt pockets. “Anyhow, come along, we’ve got hungry people to feed.”
The dull grey day cast the alley into gloom. Noise and clamour from the harbour, docks and warehouses vibrated along the walls. Seagulls cried as they wheeled over the buildings. Further down the alley, people gathered in a straggly line; old men, women with babies on their hips and children peeking from behind their skirts. All wore the same doleful expression. The sunken eyes watched without interest as Frances escorted Nicola through the large double doors and inside an old disused warehouse. It took her a moment for Nicola’s eyes to adjust to the dimness of the building. The only light came from the open vents high up in the walls. She guessed that over thirty people sat at the rows of planks that served as tables. Low chatter filled the room mixing with the shuffling of feet and the scraping of spoons.
“Right. You can serve beside me today.” Frances, her sleeves already rolled back, guided Nicola behind the long serving tables where two large pots of stew sat beside trays of bread chunks and stacks of bowls.
Nicola tied on the grey apron Frances provided while an older woman joined them. “This is Mrs Lawson. She helps me to run this soup kitchen. Her son owns a bakery and from him we buy the two-day-old bread.”
Nicola didn’t have time to do anything but smile and say good morning to Mrs Lawson as Frances gave her a ladle and pointed to the pot full of a watery vegetable stew. “Fill each bowl as I send them along.”
Nodding, she took a deep breath and looked up at the first person to step before her.
Over an hour later, when the human line had finally stopped coming through the doors, Nicola helped Frances and Mrs Lawson to clear away. “How many times do you do this?”
“Three times a week.” Frances heaved a long bench to one side to sweep under it. “I’d like to provide it once a day, but funds are limited.”
“How many patrons do you have?”
“None. I pay for it myself, courtesy of my brother. Mrs Lawson supplies her time, which is wonderful because I couldn’t do it alone, but I have no wealthy gents passing me copious amounts of money to buy what I need. Though it isn’t for the want of trying.”
“What about your brother. Can he not persuade his friends and acquaintances?”
Frances shook her head. “No, he won’t consider it and he ignores my begging. Besides, he already helps me with another project of mine and that’s funding a small private orphanage in Parramatta. He says he is in this country to amass a fortune not spend one on other people’s brats.” She sighed. “He can be rather cold at times, but thankfully I know the real man beneath, otherwise I’d have nothing to do with him. He has no idea
Nicola smiled at her honesty. “I’d like that.”
“You mentioned you did poor work back home?”
“Yes.”
“Want to work at a soup kitchen tomorrow?” She raised her eyebrows as though daring her.
“Of course.” She didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll meet you on Lower George Street at ten o’clock. There’s an alley running from it down to the harbour. I’ll wait for you there.”
Chapter Five
Nicola lifted her navy skirts high off the ground. A man leaning against a wall across the street whistled at the showing of ankle, but she ignored him and stepped over a puddle. Rain during the night had done little to wash away the grime from this area of the town. A stench from an unknown source made her want to cover her nose, but she hadn’t a free hand. Clutching her skirts she tried her best to keep them clean, although a glance at the dirty hem showed this was a forlorn hope.
“There you are.” Frances exited the entrance to an alley and greeted her with a grin. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
Nicola frowned. “Why ever not? I said I would.”
“Yes, well many people say things they later regret.” Frances shrugged and slipped her hands into her drab skirt pockets. “Anyhow, come along, we’ve got hungry people to feed.”
The dull grey day cast the alley into gloom. Noise and clamour from the harbour, docks and warehouses vibrated along the walls. Seagulls cried as they wheeled over the buildings. Further down the alley, people gathered in a straggly line; old men, women with babies on their hips and children peeking from behind their skirts. All wore the same doleful expression. The sunken eyes watched without interest as Frances escorted Nicola through the large double doors and inside an old disused warehouse. It took her a moment for Nicola’s eyes to adjust to the dimness of the building. The only light came from the open vents high up in the walls. She guessed that over thirty people sat at the rows of planks that served as tables. Low chatter filled the room mixing with the shuffling of feet and the scraping of spoons.
“Right. You can serve beside me today.” Frances, her sleeves already rolled back, guided Nicola behind the long serving tables where two large pots of stew sat beside trays of bread chunks and stacks of bowls.
Nicola tied on the grey apron Frances provided while an older woman joined them. “This is Mrs Lawson. She helps me to run this soup kitchen. Her son owns a bakery and from him we buy the two-day-old bread.”
Nicola didn’t have time to do anything but smile and say good morning to Mrs Lawson as Frances gave her a ladle and pointed to the pot full of a watery vegetable stew. “Fill each bowl as I send them along.”
Nodding, she took a deep breath and looked up at the first person to step before her.
Over an hour later, when the human line had finally stopped coming through the doors, Nicola helped Frances and Mrs Lawson to clear away. “How many times do you do this?”
“Three times a week.” Frances heaved a long bench to one side to sweep under it. “I’d like to provide it once a day, but funds are limited.”
“How many patrons do you have?”
“None. I pay for it myself, courtesy of my brother. Mrs Lawson supplies her time, which is wonderful because I couldn’t do it alone, but I have no wealthy gents passing me copious amounts of money to buy what I need. Though it isn’t for the want of trying.”
“What about your brother. Can he not persuade his friends and acquaintances?”
Frances shook her head. “No, he won’t consider it and he ignores my begging. Besides, he already helps me with another project of mine and that’s funding a small private orphanage in Parramatta. He says he is in this country to amass a fortune not spend one on other people’s brats.” She sighed. “He can be rather cold at times, but thankfully I know the real man beneath, otherwise I’d have nothing to do with him. He has no idea
Similar Books
