Candle In The Damp

• Ava Da Silva, Grade 4
• Short Story
• 2021

The damp frosty air chilled Layla’s freezing skin as she pulled her thin torn shawl over her shoulders. London was always freezing in the winter. The weather was even worse for those living on the streets. But worse than weather, was the gut churning pain in Layla’s stomach from not having eaten in four days.
“Drop the bread you thieving rat!” Screamed the shop keeper as Layla grasped a small piece of bread from the store front table and ran. “Thief!! Thief!!!” The bellowing of the shop keeper’s voice echoed through the laneway behind her as she ran as fast as she could. Layla was feeling weak, as she tried to escape while shoving the piece of bread into her mouth, she could feel bystanders’ hands reaching out for her as she tried to escape.
With a hard thud, Layla felt her body crash onto the ground. Pain spread through her body as her arms were pulled backwards behind her and two constables pulled her to her feet. “Looks like we got a live one ere Bean,” said one of the officers sarcastically to his partner. “Looks like a runt if you ask me, and stinks like one too Smith.” Both constables laughed as they lead Layla to the local police station.
“Date, 22nd December in the year of our Lord 1804. Offence, stealing. Name, Grace, Layla. Age… What say you girl, how old are you?” Snorted the constables across the desk. Layla, scared and starving, eyeing out the piece of cake and crisp red apple on his desk, did not answer. “What say you girl? Are you an idiot?” He demanded an answer and Layla was too shaken to speak. She could feel the warm tears rolling down her freezing cheeks. Finally, she answered. “15 sir.”
She watched the officer scribble chicken scratching on paper then she was taken to the cells. They were overcrowded, dark and smelt disgusting. The poor women who surrounded her were all locked away for similar charges. Stealing some bread, cheese, flour, butter, meat, clothing, coal. These were women struggling to survive just as Layla was.
She stayed in the cells until after she had been seen by the court. The shop keeper wanted to see Layla pay and even lied about what had happened. He said she hit him with a large stick several times and ran off with many pieces of food from his store. The shopkeeper didn’t want others to see him as weak and that he was robbed by a scrawny, pale, red headed Scot. He also lied in the hopes that others would think twice about stealing from his store. He was making an example of Layla.
So was the court. She was sentenced to 7 years hard labour in New Holland, otherwise known as Australia. The days following her sentencing were a blur for Layla. She was so upset at the thought of never seeing her friends or family again, she was trying to think of ways to get out of being sent from England to this newly found country that the government would send criminals to.
The ship was filthy. Rations were scarce and every second woman was suffering from some disease because of the poor condition on the high seas. Four months at sea, 13 convict women’s lives lost and diseases spreading, Layla felt like she was living in hell. That was until the ship reached land. When her feet hit the sandy ocean floor after hopping out of the small boat that was being rowed to the beach line, Layla took a big deep breath in, the air was fresh, scented and calming. Even though she had been sentenced to hard labour, Layla felt that the island she was now living on was an opportunity to start a new life.