Fields of Gold Page 3

  The St Just region had narrower lodes than some of Cornwall’s other mining areas. This meant the miners worked alone, each beating a metal chisel with a heavy hammer until one hand was tired and then he would swap hands. Elsewhere black powder could be ignited to blast the rock face. The men often worked in the dark. The cramped nature of tin mines and their lack of ventilation meant that even the tallow candle fingers Jack’s family supplied to the company weren’t useful; only able to burn turned on their sides in the smoky, dusty atmosphere. Most of the miners found it easier to snuff their light and give themselves a fraction more oxygen instead. The six fingers of candles per week they were given – strung around their necks, usually – were theirs to keep, and most took them home for the family.

  Jack was grateful for his family’s good fortune, which afforded him the opportunity to escape the daily trudge deep below the surface, never knowing whether he’d make it back out at the end of a shift. It wasn’t hard to despise himself for his whinging, especially as he enjoyed all the benefits of electricity whenever he wanted to turn on a light or heat some water.

  ‘Hey, Jack,’ called a familiar voice.

  He turned to see stocky Billy Jenner hurrying to catch up. Billy and Jack, like their fathers before them, had been childhood friends.

  ‘Morning, Billy.’

  ‘I’d heard they’d asked for you at South Crofty,’ Billy said, falling into step with Jack’s long-legged stride.

  Jack smirked. ‘My fame stretches before me. I’ll stay at Levant for now. Shorter walk.’

  ‘Well, watch your back. Dennis Pearce is after you. His Helen is three months gone, they’re saying.’

  ‘Well, whatever “they” say, it wasn’t me.’

  Billy gave him a look.

  ‘Yes, all right, I was with her – but just once, I swear. She’s a tart and you know it.’

  ‘Well, I’d be happy to have a slice of that tart!’

  ‘Even short men have a chance with Helen Pearce.’

  Billy punched Jack’s arm. ‘Who said you’re the answer to every woman’s dream, Bryant?’

  Jack laughed and within moments the young men began to play wrestle. It was exactly what Jack needed to lighten the tension of the previous day. Finally, once Billy submitted, Jack hauled the smaller man to his feet. Their breath steamed in the frigid air.

  ‘Look at the state of me. Do you always have to win?’ Billy complained.

  ‘I’m surprised you even ask. Now, will you look at that, Billy? You can’t tell where the sea meets the sky. Doesn’t it make you want to just sail off into the distance and see what’s out there?’

  Billy looked out beyond the cliff and shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’

  Jack sighed. ‘I didn’t get Helen Pearce pregnant. I took her to see a film one night and I haven’t seen her since. I think it’s wishful thinking on her part.’ He winked at his friend. ‘She got me in a weak moment …’

  ‘Cocky sod. Well, be warned. Pearce is probably going to be the other engineer on today.’

  ‘I’m not worried about Pearce, and you should be more concerned with the future.’

  ‘Don’t start that again, Jack. I’m not going abroad to seek some fortune you think is waiting out there for me.’

  ‘The future for us is in Australia or Asia.’

  ‘Your future’s already secured.’

  ‘Don’t be so sure.’

  ‘Oh, right. I’ll try to remember that when I next see you riding in that motor-car, or —’

  ‘Billy, I’m here, aren’t I? I’m in my working clothes, just like you, and I’m walking the mile or more to and from my shift. I earn an honest wage. I’m tired of apologising for my family!’

  ‘All right. Calm down. I didn’t mean anything by it. The truth is I just don’t want to leave Cornwall. It’s my home.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Jack said, bored of himself and his ever-simmering fury. ‘Come on, let’s not be late. You know how Captain Walter is on a Monday.’

  Following a path that was perilously close to the cliff edge, Jack lifted a hand in farewell as Billy began the trek down stone steps to the entrance of the mine, cut into the vertical cliff face, one hundred and fifty feet from the surface where Jack stood. He knew Billy was working deep today, well below the seabed in the richer veins that spread horizontally in myriad tunnels. And he would be lowering Billy and his fellow workers into those hot, airless, dimly lit seams for their eight-hour shift.

  Once again Jack told himself to heed his mother’s warning. He was one of the lucky ones. And if he put his head down, worked steadily and earned his father’s trust, everything could be different by next year. He was determined that today would be the day that changed his life.

  3

  October 1919

  Ned Sinclair’s senses were in overdrive. His eyes felt as though they were out on stalks, twisting and turning to take in all the sights at once. His nose twitched at the exotic smells, while his hearing homed in on the lowing oxen and the rumble of trams alongside the car as their driver negotiated the teeming streets of Rangoon.

  They were recently arrived off the ship and were making their way to The Strand Hotel, which overlooked the Irrawaddy River. Ned’s father, having survived the war, had left their home in North Berwick, Scotland, soon after for the far east. He had now been in Burma almost a year and Ned was longing to see his father again. He had reached many major milestones of youth without his father’s support or guidance. It was the same for many lads, of course. Ned’s mother, Lorna, had been deeply distressed when her husband had chosen to spend more time away from his family on his return, but she had hidden her feelings well. She told Ned that William was working to give their family a chance at a bright future after all the darkness of the war.

  Ned thought his mother was a saint, frankly, as well as being beautiful in a pale, fragile way. He was aware that they looked rather alike – he shared her slender build, neat, symmetrical features and large blue eyes. The golden, floppy hair of his childhood had darkened to the colour of the damp sandcastles he used to build during summer on the beach at Milsey Bay, where his father hailed from. He’d been an only child then; his sister, Arabella, had come along just nine years ago. But they’d left Scotland before her birth, returning briefly for a year before war was declared, and his father had left his family with old friends of his wife’s in northern England. Lorna was from York originally and had fallen for the dashing Scot when he’d passed through the city on a temporary teaching position. For the past eleven months, his mother had held a private teaching post in St Albans. With the family so often on the move, and Ned essentially home schooled, all traces of his early Scottish brogue had disappeared and Bella, too, had a clear English accent. Ned felt proud of his Scottish heritage and was all too aware he had lost his father’s lovely manner of speaking.

  His sister was squirming next to him at this moment.

  ‘Stop, Bella. I can’t give you any more room,’ he scolded.

  His mother gave him a tired look. The journey from Edinburgh via Liverpool to Rangoon aboard the Bibby vessel, Gloucestershire, had felt neverending. And right now, even talking seemed to sap one’s energy. Ned could smell the leather of the car seats, normally a pleasant aroma but today it mingled with the sour tang of perspiration, cloyingly sweet flowers and the earthy smell of oxen. The air was heavy with moisture and he felt beads of sweat running down his hairline. His back was damp and pressed against the car seat, and his shirt would be drenched. He scratched at the tightness of his collar.

  ‘You’re twice her age, Ned; a man now,’ his mother said gently. ‘Your father’s going to be so proud that you’re a fully qualified electrician.’

  ‘I’m not sure it’s going to do me much good out here,’ he commented, without bitterness.

  ‘I know that, darling, but I’m so pleased you agreed to come and keep our family together. We’re so nearly there now. Here, give me that hat box, and that should give you a bit more space.’
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  He duly handed over the box with its precious cargo – his mother’s newest bonnet, which she would need to wear daily to protect her milky, flawless complexion from the scorching sun. He hoped she would cope in the heat. She should have bought the topi helmet at Port Said, as one of the other women on board had advised. But their fares had absorbed almost all their savings, and his mother had resisted any temptation when they went ashore to part with the few pounds she had left. After Port Said, the temperature had increased and not even a sea breeze seemed capable of penetrating their modest cabin.

  The man who had met them in their father’s stead was called Fraser, a tall, gangly Scot; another opportunist, who hoped to make his fortune from rubies found in the famous tract north of Mandalay.

  ‘How long have you known my father, Mr Fraser?’ Ned asked, aiming to impress his mother with his conversation, for he could see she was too exhausted to do the polite thing herself.

  Fraser grinned, pushed back his reddish hair and wiped his flushed forehead again with his already damp handkerchief. ‘We first met in North Africa, where we both did our training. While I’m from Glasgow and he’s an Edinburgh boy, we’re both sons of Scotland. We watched each other’s backs as best we could over the next couple of years and vowed if we didn’t come home in a wooden box, we’d seek our fortunes together out here.’

  ‘Are you married, Mr Fraser?’ Lorna Sinclair asked, dabbing a dainty embroidered square of linen to her glistening top lip.

  ‘No, Mrs Sinclair. I never did meet the right lassie before the war, but as it happens I have met a bonny girl who visited with her family earlier this year. I’ve decided to go home and ask her to marry me. Mary’s a beauty and heaven knows why but she found something to love in me.’ He grinned lopsidedly.

  ‘And how will she feel about returning to the colonies?’

  Fraser shrugged. ‘I don’t think she’ll mind if it’s not for too long. Mary’s keen to start a family, though I doubt she’ll want to do so in Rangoon or Mandalay. However, since I was granted this small lease by Burma royalty …’

  She smiled in understanding but Ned knew his mother too well. He suspected she quietly blamed Fraser’s grand ideas for her husband’s absence. Lorna Sinclair would not admit it but Ned knew she had been hurt and baffled by her husband’s actions in coming to Burma. Now she had an explanation, a focus for that frustration, not that she would air a grievance.

  ‘And how goes my father’s mining?’ Ned inquired, flicking back the thatch of hair that flopped in his eyes.

  ‘We’re approaching the wet season, which is another reason why I’ve decided to head home.’ He laughed at Ned’s expression. ‘It will get much hotter, and far more humid than this, I’m afraid. And the rains can be deadly. But you’ll get used to it.’ He sighed. ‘I’ve had some success, I’ll admit, and your father’s on to a good pit at last, I reckon. His enthusiasm never wanes, Ned. His delay is because he wants to bring his family home a prize.’

  ‘We’ll just be glad to see him, Mr Fraser,’ Lorna commented. ‘To my knowledge my husband was trained to be a teacher, not a prospector or trader.’

  ‘Are we nearly there?’ Arabella pleaded, her pale, lightly freckled complexion flushed red from the heat. Her undisguised exasperation reflected the emotion everyone else in the car felt but was trying to hide.

  ‘Nearly, Bella darling,’ her mother replied absently, staring out at the wide brown river that snaked alongside them.

  ‘Bill’s sparing no expense, Mrs Sinclair. I think you and the children will find The Strand more than agreeable.’

  She turned and regarded him coolly. ‘I’m sure we will, Mr Fraser, and thank you again for being good enough to meet us on William’s behalf.’

  Ned couldn’t wait for this journey to end.

  The Strand was Rangoon’s oldest hotel, having opened at the turn of the new century. It had been built by the Sarkie brothers, who had also opened other famous hotels in Asia including Raffles in Singapore.

  Ned smiled at the tall, magnificently attired man in a turban who greeted them at the grand entrance. Even if his mother had asked him to walk another twenty steps further, Ned wasn’t sure whether he could have done so. It was nearing midday and the heat was searing. But the lobby yawned dark and inviting, and ceiling fans mercifully stirred the air.

  ‘Ned, hurry Bella along, will you?’ his mother urged, and by the time he’d reached for his sister’s small, thin hand, the family had been swallowed up into the cool, resplendent surrounds of the building.

  Ned took in the teak parquet floors, lofty ceilings and painted wall panels of the reception area. Floral arrangements scented the air and inside people went about their business quietly and efficiently. Ned held back, keeping Bella occupied as his mother, aided by Fraser, organised for their luggage to be sent to their large shared suite. Ned had no idea how long they would be staying, either at the hotel or even in Burma, but he had been so glad to escape a Scottish winter. Yet what he wouldn’t have given at this moment to feel the bite of that familiar cold on his overheated skin.

  Their friends had done everything to dissuade Ned’s mother from making this voyage. Ned recalled the horror tales, from children being impaled and cooked over open coals to snakes stealing babies from sleeping cots. Ned had poured scorn on these later, suggesting that her friends were simply jealous of his adventuring father and the romance of what he proposed for their future.

  He was relieved that his mother agreed, assuring her children that William would not put his family in any danger. Once again he deeply wished his father had been there to greet them at the docks – if only for his mother’s peace of mind.

  He amused Bella by allowing her to stand on his well-scuffed boots. He noticed her leather sandals weren’t in much better shape. Her lightweight gingham smocked dress surely made her the coolest of them all. The soft green and white checked fabric ballooned as he walked her around the parquet floors, hushing her giggles. He was still getting used to her short, bobbed haircut. He missed her long, golden ringlets, but Lorna had insisted it would be a more practical style for the tropics.

  Ned heard a soft commotion of hushed voices and turned to see his mother fainting in the arms of Mr Fraser, and hotel staff running from everywhere to help.

  A European doctor had insisted on offering his services to Lorna Sinclair, who was now semi-conscious in the bedroom, being looked after by Dr Fritz and his wife.

  Arabella had been hurried down to the kitchens to help pick out a plate of cakes for afternoon tea. After Ned assured Bella that their mother had simply fainted from the heat, she had happily gone off with the beautiful dark-eyed serving girl who was to escort her.

  But the taut faces around him had told Ned all was not well. It was up to the general manager of the hotel to explain.

  ‘Master Sinclair, forgive me for being the bearer of such dreadful news, but your father has been involved in an accident.’ The man looked down and cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid, sir, that he is dead.’

  The only aspect of that chilling moment Ned recalled was the faint scent of orchids wafting from a massive vase nearby, and he would ever after associate that scent with death.

  ‘Dead?’ he echoed, unable to comprehend the word.

  The man nodded solemnly. ‘Our most sincere condolences.’

  Ned realised he must steel himself to hear more, now that his sister was distracted and his mother was being cared for. Doors were closed on the chamber, one of the trio of rooms that formed their suite, leaving him with a handful of sombre-looking men, one of them an ashen-faced Fraser.

  The manager straightened, took a breath and adopted a business-like demeanour. ‘Mr Sinclair, this is Mr Paul Hannigan, chief of police.’

  ‘You’re sure of this information?’ Ned demanded, his eyes searching their hollow expressions. It was shocking to be called Mr Sinclair. That was his father’s title.

  Hannigan nodded. ‘It was a landslide of sorts, son. We believe you
r father slipped down an incline, struck his head and landed face-down and unconscious in a shallow pool in the pit. It appears that he drowned. He was found by some local Burmese miners. The commissioner asked me to convey to you his deep regret at this news.’

  Despite the chaos of his mind, Ned’s body felt numbed to the point of stillness. He suddenly couldn’t even move his lips. His mother and Bella were helpless – they needed his father now more than ever before. He felt a fury at his father rising within him for leaving them all alone and penniless so far from home.

  Hannigan took his silence as permission to continue. ‘His body will be brought to Rangoon as soon as possible.’ He turned to Fraser. ‘Sir, as a family friend, I understand you’ve been asked to postpone your travel plans until the corpse arrives. Is that correct?’

  Ned flinched at the word ‘corpse’.

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ll stay with Mrs Sinclair and the children until Bill … and, er, help with arrangements.’

  The doctor emerged from Lorna’s room and everyone’s gaze was drawn to his grave countenance. Ned had liked the brisk little man when he’d first offered his help in the hotel lobby and especially liked how Fritz had talked with him directly, rather than to the older people around him.

  ‘She’s quiet now, Edward. I’m afraid I’ve had to sedate her quite heavily as I fear for her state of mind during these first few hours. The fatigue, the heat and the lack of air, on top of this terrible, terrible news, will conspire to undo her. We need her to be stronger before she faces reality. I hope you understand.’

  ‘I do,’ Ned said, automatically. What else could he say? ‘Thank you, Doctor.’

  ‘My wife is more than happy to stay with her for the rest of the day. And I will not be far away. I’ll check on her regularly.’ He pushed his glasses further up his aquiline nose. ‘I’m really very sorry, son, about your father. Do you need anything?’