Over the years Meg Carter had learned to accept her solitude by keeping busy. She hadn't always been such a busy person. In fact, she'd been used to taking life at a fairly leisurely pace when she'd had both Jack and Joseph at home. Then, first Jack had gone, and a few years later Joseph had followed.
It all started when the Swing Riots broke out in various parts of the English countryside. By the end of 1831, the machine-breaking had spread as far as Farmer Wallace's place in west Berkshire, where Meg's husband, Jack, worked. The few offenders who had been recognised and caught were used as an example by the county's authorities, resulting in punishments that were both excessive and merciless. It was in January 1832 that Meg lost Jack and she found that she needed to keep herself busy all day long to prevent herself from breaking down in front of her young son, Joseph.
Losing his father had been a terrible shock to nine-year-old Joseph as well. Thankfully, he was a sensible boy and mature for his age. He quickly learned to hide his own grief by following his mother's example, keeping himself busy with the various chores that his father used to carry out, such as chopping wood and looking after the garden.
Although mother and son were occupied with their different tasks during the day, in the evenings they would sit down together for what they called their 'twilight hour'. Meg would sit peacefully with her knitting and listen while Joseph practised his reading skills by candlelight, using the Bible that Reverend Martin had given him for his last birthday.
However, once Joseph was old enough to earn his own living, the need to find regular employment forced him to move to the other side of Berkshire to work for his Uncle Frank, who was a master blacksmith. Joseph had pleaded with Meg to accept Uncle Frank's offer to take her into his household as well. He was worried about leaving his mother to cope on her own and desperately wanted her to make the move along with him and leave their isolated cottage. However, this Meg stubbornly refused to do.
She continued to keep herself busy once Joseph had left and gradually her days took on a new pattern. At seven o'clock each morning she would walk the half mile over to Farmer Wallace's, where she donned her white apron to cook and clean for the farmer's family. Once her work was finished, she would return to her own cottage and her own chores.
In the summer months, after tea, Meg liked to spend the remaining hours of daylight tending the garden just as Jack and then Joseph had done. When the sun began to disappear over the horizon of the Berkshire Downs, she would rinse the garden dirt from her hands at the pump before returning to the cottage and her 'twilight hour'.
Once indoors, Meg would move the candlestick on the table closer to her chair and light the candle. She would then take up her knitting from its small wicker basket. By candlelight Meg could just see the stitches on her needles, although she rarely needed to look at her work. She preferred instead to keep her gaze on the closed cottage door and watch the shadows made by the candle's flame as they played on its surface, or she would watch the moon making its way across the sky through the little windows on either side of the door.
For the next hour, the only apparent movements in the little room would be the shadows on the door, and Meg's fingers as they worked along the needles. But if anyone had been around to look a little closer, they might have seen Meg's lips moving ever so slightly from time to time as she mouthed the same sentence over and over. "Safe journey. God be with you." The rhythm of her unspoken words would match the working of her stitches in a silent meditation.
One particular July evening in the summer of 1846, Meg was enjoying the peaceful solitude of her 'twilight hour' as usual. It was almost dark, although when Meg glanced through the window on the left, she could just make out the familiar silhouette of the trees on the horizon. Suddenly she thought she saw something move just outside the window. No animal could be that tall, unless one of Farmer Wallace's cows had escaped. There it was again, moving across in front of the cottage.
A face appeared at the window on the right. With her heart thumping wildly, Meg dropped her knitting, blew out the candle, and scurried round to hide behind the table. Although she'd always hoped she would be calm and prepared when this moment arrived, now it was finally happening Meg found she was behaving like a silly young girl and needed some time to compose herself.
Slowly, she rose to her feet, brushed the tears from her eyes with the corner of her apron, and took a deep breath. Then, with head held high, she walked briskly across to the door and opened it, smiling broadly.
There before her was her beloved Jack. Just as she had promised him that she would never leave their cottage, so he had promised her that when his ten years in New South Wales were finished he would make his way back home to England. Meg had never doubted that he would return. Her solitude was over.