Remember Me - Lesley Pearse [180]
Mary nodded. That sounded logical to her. For if she met someone with a Cornish accent she knew she’d immediately want to talk to them. ‘Did you know then where I was?’
Castel shook his head. ‘Indeed not. With a girl like Dolly you wouldn’t ever think she could have a sister that might have been transported.’
‘Why?’ Mary asked.
‘Well, she’s so…’ He stopped, clearly unable to find the right words.
‘Honest?’ Mary decided to help him out. ‘You didn’t think she could have a sister who was a thief?’
Castel looked embarrassed. ‘I didn’t mean that,’ he said hurriedly. ‘Dolly’s timid and industrious. I imagined her sister was just like her.’
Mary was sure now that this man knew Dolly. ‘Timid and industrious’ was a good description of her. Mary had often described her to people as a mouse!
‘So why has it taken you so long to come forward?’ Mary asked. It was some fourteen months since the news of her arrival in Newgate had been in the newspapers. The pardon, when there had been more news, was over three months ago.
‘You can call me slow if you like,’ he said, and looked sheepish. ‘Because I read all about “the girl from Botany Bay” in the newspapers, even noticed your name was the same as Dolly’s sister. But I didn’t think for one minute it could be the right Mary Broad.’
‘You didn’t?’ Mary said in some surprise.
He fingered his stiff collar nervously. ‘It was too extraordinary. No one knowing Dolly would think her sister could be that daring. Besides, Mary Broad is a common enough name and the paper I read didn’t say you were from Cornwall.’
‘So what finally made you think I might be her sister?’ Mary asked curiously.
‘A poem,’ he said. He looked at Boswell as if hoping for some support, but Boswell didn’t offer any.
‘A poem?’ Mary said. She guessed he meant one of those that Boswell had mentioned, though he’d never read one of them to her.
‘They’ve been sticking them up all over the place since your pardon,’ he said awkwardly. ‘But I never really read one properly till they put one up by my shop. I can’t explain why exactly, but I got this feeling about it which wouldn’t go away. I didn’t want to show it to Dolly, in case she got upset that her sister might have been transported. Or that the poem suggested you were more than friends with Mr Boswell. So I went round to his house this morning to ask his opinion.’
Mary looked at Boswell questioningly.
‘The first thing he asked me was if you were from Fowey,’ Boswell said with a despairing kind of shrug. ‘I agreed you were, and then he told me of Dolly. I wanted to come alone to see you, but Mr Castel is a persistent man, my dear. Now, my suggestion is that I check out his story, and return to you when I have proof.’
Later that same day, Mary was helping Mrs Wilkes wash the supper things when someone knocked on the front door again. ‘I’ll wager that’s Boswell again,’ she said with a worried look. ‘Maybe he’s found out more about Castel.’
Mary had been anxious all day. She wanted to believe Mr Castel, but as Boswell had seemed so suspicious about his claims, she had tried very hard not to build up her hopes.
She hurried down the hall, removing her apron as she went, but as she opened the door, her knees went weak.
There was Mr Castel again, and by his side was Dolly.
There was no mistaking her sister, she looked just the same as she had nine years ago, when she stood waving goodbye to Mary as she took the boat to Plymouth. She had kept the image of that small upturned nose, and those blue eyes locked inside her all these years. All Mary could do was gasp and cover her face with her hands.
‘Mary!’ Dolly said softly. ‘It really is you! I was so afraid Mr Castel was mistaken.’
All at once Mary was enveloped in her older sister’s arms, and they stood on the doorstep rocking each other, both sobbing out all the years of separation.
‘Now, will you please come inside?’ Mrs Wilkes said