Convict WivesThe Convict's Bounty BrideHis Convict Wife by Lena Dowling

Author:Lena Dowling
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Escape Publishing

Chapter 7

‘So this is where you’ve been hiding. Get up, lazybones,’ a female voice shouted. A claw of fingers gripped her by the shoulder, shaking her awake.

At first, with her head foggy with sleep, Colleen had thought she was back in The Factory, but then she remembered that today would be her second whole day of freedom. She opened her eyes and pushed the hand off, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

‘What?’

‘It’s a washday and I need you helping. I’ll not be stoking the copper all morning while you play up to the sandman.’

Colleen hauled herself up onto her elbows.

‘Alright, alright keep your cap on. Who are you, anyway?’ she asked the young woman standing over her — a Ticket of Leaver judging from her clothes, which were much the same as her own prison slops.

‘Liza.’

‘I’m Mrs Biggs,’ she said, a little thrill bursting up inside her as she gave her new name.

Imagine that — her, Colleen Malone, married. And not just married, but wed to someone who treated her with respect and was willing to have her at his side as a helper, and someone she could have a laugh with as well.

But there was no sense in letting on she was pleased and give the girl an excuse to accuse her of being big-headed. She tried to keep up a poker face.

Not that it helped. Liza somehow sensed she was proud to call herself Samuel Biggs’ wife jumping at the chance to throw it back in her face. ‘I know who you are. No need to come over all high n’ mighty about it. Just coz you’re Mrs Biggs doesn’t mean you can shirk your share.’

‘Alright, don’t be workin’ yerself up into a lather. I’ll be there in a minute.’

Colleen flopped back down on the bed like she meant to lie in a while longer. She didn’t know what had got up the girl’s nose but whatever it was, she wasn’t going to let Miss Uppity get the better of her.

‘Well, see that you are. I’m not going to be waiting around all mornin’’ Liza said, turning and stomping off out of the hut.

Once the little madam was gone Colleen struggled out of bed, washed using the battered jug and bowl and sliver of soap that had been left for her, dressed, and fought her wild tousle to fix it up under her mob-cap.

She looked around for Mr Biggs but he was already up and gone. She left the cabin; circling the yard, idling around behind the cabin and the cookhouse, taking her own sweet time.

Living with a bunch of harpies for the last seven years she’d had no choice but to stand up for herself, but mostly she’d had to learn sharpish how to look out for Nell, who came in for more than her fair share of trouble on account of being so popular with the punters.

She found the washhouse, little more than a shed, open at the front, made of planks and shingles behind the house.

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