One of Us Buried by Johanna Craven (year 2 reading books TXT) 📕

open as I walked, the drizzle growing into marbles of water that turned the roads to mud. The rain brought cool air with it, and I shivered as droplets ran down my bare arms. I put my head down and quickened my pace towards the kitchen.

I knew Lottie would not want a thing to do with me. Perhaps she would send me away. Or perhaps she would not even be here. Perhaps Owen had decided he wanted her for the night again.

The alleyways of the Rocks were near empty, rain pounding against roofs, and water trickling from the gutters. A few sailors were sheltering beneath dripping awnings with pipes in their hands. One of them called out to me as I stumbled past, but didn’t bother following. I squinted in the darkness. Which way to Lottie?

I stumbled through the maze of cottages and shacks until I found the narrow door leading to the kitchen. I knocked loudly. Tripped slightly on the doorstep as an old woman let me inside. Lottie pushed her way towards me.

“Nell,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

I felt myself swaying slightly. “I’m worried for you,” I said. “I thought Owen…” The lie spilled out without me having a thought of it. Why couldn’t I admit that I needed her? Why did I feel the urge to appear in control, even when I was soaked to the skin and my steps were crooked with liquor? Perhaps Lottie was right. Perhaps I did need to show her how well I’d done for myself.

“Are you drunk?” she demanded.

“A little.” Water trickled down the back of my neck.

Her hand was suddenly around my arm, leading me to the corner of the room where Willie’s basket was tucked away. Water dripped from the ceiling and ran down the wall, but the kitchen was marginally drier than the alley.

“Christ,” Lottie said, unwrapping her shawl and draping it over my shoulders. “What happened to you?”

Suddenly, I wanted to tell her everything. The breaking of my betrothal, and being thrown from Flynn’s house, and all that had happened between Blackwell and me. I wanted to tell her of the chaos of guilt and love that roiled inside me. But instead, I said:

“Has Owen been back for you?”

Lottie sighed. “Would you forget about Patrick for one damn minute? What’s happened to you?” She slid an arm around my shoulder and I felt myself break. Deep sobs racked my body and I buried my head against her shoulder. She held me tightly.

My words came out in a tangle. “Flynn broke off our betrothal. I ruined everything. And Blackwell…” I knew I ought to stop; knew I shouldn’t speak of him in front of Lottie. But I couldn’t stop myself. “He’s leaving,” I sobbed. “Going back to England. To his wife.”

Her arms tightened around me. “It’s for the best, Nell. You know that. You know how the Rum Corps sees women like us. We’re the lowest of the low. They can’t look past our convict stain.”

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “Blackwell’s in Sydney. Staying with a colleague. Flynn found out I went to him… To his room…” Perhaps it was a foolish confession. But with the words, I felt a weight lift from my chest.

“I see,” Lottie said after a long silence. Outside the window, rain poured from the edge of the roof and thundered into the street.

A part of me wanted to tell her about the conversation I’d had with Blackwell about what had happened at the Owens’ cottage after the rebellion. Tell her I understood her hatred, Owen’s hatred. And I wanted to tell her of the remorse I could sense in Blackwell’s words. Tell her of the way he saw the world through a guilty man’s eyes.

But I did none of that. It felt like I conversation I was not permitted to have. She would know I still saw the story from Blackwell’s side. How could she not, after all I’d just confessed?

I wiped my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I coughed. “I didn’t mean to burden you.”

“Don’t be a fool, Nell. You’re not a burden.” She leant her head against mine. I was so glad for her closeness, for the friendship I’d feared had been washed away completely.

In the basket beside us, Willie gave a weak cry. He rubbed his eyes and squirmed beneath his blankets.

I frowned. “Is he unwell?”

“A fever,” said Lottie, scooping him into her arms. “Came on last night. Neither of us have had a wink of sleep.”

“Come back to the Whaler’s with me,” I said. “Stay in my room. It’ll be quieter there. And drier.” I could see her hesitation. “Please. I could use the company.”

Lottie glanced at the baby, then back to me. “All right,” she said finally. “But just for the night.”

The rain was beginning to ease as we made our way back to the tavern. Lottie held Willie tightly to her chest, while I carried his empty basket, drawing in lungfuls of air to clear my liquored-up thoughts.

As we passed Captain Grant’s house, I lowered my eyes and began to walk faster. Lottie jogged to keep up with me.

“What’s this about then?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I just—”

Oh.” She peered up at the house with knowing eyes. “This where you paid the lieutenant a visit?”

I felt my cheeks burn with shame.

Lottie glanced back over her shoulder, then gave me a crooked smile. “House is dark,” she said. “No need to rush by with your tail between your legs.”

“The family’s left for Van Diemen’s Land,” I mumbled. “But I’m sure Blackwell’s still there.” I turned the corner hurriedly, glad when the Whaler’s Arms came into view. I stopped in surprise at the small figure standing outside the tavern. “Kate.”

She offered me a sheepish smile, twisting a strand of dark hair