Книга - The Boy with the Latch Key
The Boy with the Latch Key
Cathy Sharp
Heartache and hardship in London’s East End, from the bestselling author of The Orphans of Halfpenny StreetIt’s the 1950’s and the orphans of Halfpenny Street have found a new home in the Essex countryside at Halfpenny House. Meanwhile, back among the slum clearances of Bethnal Green, St Saviour’s has now been partially given over to a home for disturbed girls though it still serves as a reception centre for local children who are in desperate need.Amongst these are Archie and his sister June. They’ve been ‘latch key’ kids; fending for themselves while their caring but harassed and careworn mum tries to make ends meet. Now she’s been accused of theft and prison seems inescapable. Archie has no intention of letting his mum go down. He knows she’s innocent and will do anything to prove it. But can he help his mum before adoption, and the authorities, take him and June away forever?
Copyright (#u03c152e8-2afa-5cba-8aba-68f69720a496)
Harper
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First published in Great Britain by Harper 2017
Copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers 2017
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017
Cover photography © Henry Steadman (child characters posed by models); background street scene © Charles Hewitt / Hulton Archive / Getty Images
Cathy Sharp asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008211608
Ebook Edition © February 2017 ISBN: 9780008211615
Version: 2017-02-10
Table of Contents
Cover (#u9f4444e0-d600-54f3-a0d8-73fa91c4475b)
Title Page (#u1694e526-4704-5505-9023-d4482050ce61)
Copyright (#ub2c6bbd1-7f10-5b81-abe7-2c99d16f360e)
Chapter 1 (#u0b302acf-de7f-569c-97b5-a8444e8f4704)
Chapter 2 (#uf51383ce-2fd8-5068-be52-4c69b014f098)
Chapter 3 (#ud26544a6-4406-591b-82ba-5bed96f71964)
Chapter 4 (#uee37ce3c-a83d-5e49-bb1c-b3d2b713d25e)
Chapter 5 (#u41e7ab57-d5f8-550d-a747-77fb20ff73b0)
Chapter 6 (#uf13a7433-a2fe-5cb9-8693-e77a74cef6bf)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading … (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by Cathy Sharp (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER 1 (#u03c152e8-2afa-5cba-8aba-68f69720a496)
‘Here’s the money for some bread, Archie,’ Sandra Miller said. ‘There are eggs and bacon in the pantry so you can get yourselves a meal when you come home.’
The old-fashioned wireless behind her was playing one of the biggest hits of the music charts the previous year – ‘Oh Mein Papa’ sung by Edie Calvert and one of Sandra’s favourites, but she snapped it off impatiently as her son fiddled with his football boots and pushed the ten-shilling note at him.
‘Yeah, all right.’ Archie shoved the money into his pocket and looked bored. He knew the routine: let yourselves in with the key that hung on a string through the letterbox, make a meal for himself and his younger sister June, and leave the washing-up in the sink for when she got back. It wasn’t ideal and Sandra hated the fact that her kids were one of a growing number of latchkey kids whose mothers worked and didn’t get home until later in the evening.
Sandra hadn’t planned this kind of life when she’d married Tim Miller. He’d been a soldier then and the war that had devastated Europe and much of the world had been raging fiercely. They’d anticipated their wedding night because Tim had been going back to the Front and Sandra had feared she might not see him again. However, they’d been some of the lucky ones. Tim had come through the war unscathed. He’d landed a good job as the manager of a grocery store and until one foggy night in January 1950, Sandra’s life had been perfect … until the ring at the door and a young constable’s stuttering announcement that her husband had been killed cycling home from work in thick fog.
She’d been carrying Archie when Tim got leave from the Army in November 1941 and came home to marry her, but Sandra’s parents had stood by her and she’d appreciated their loving kindness. Her throat caught with grief as she recalled the night when their house had been blown apart with them still inside. They’d had no warning, because it was one of those terrifying rockets they called the V2; it came out of the night and suddenly a home and the people in it were gone just like that, leaving a gaping hole in Sandra’s life and that of her kids.
If her parents had lived she would have had someone to look after her children when she was working late, but unfortunately Tim had been an orphan and the kids had only her to feed, clothe and teach them about life, and sometimes Sandra felt it was a heavy burden, even though Archie did all he could to help her.
‘What time will you be home then?’ Archie asked, a little resentful now. Sandra knew he didn’t mind doing little jobs down the Docks or even washing windows for elderly neighbours to bring in a few shillings, but he hated it that she was hardly ever home before it was time for cocoa and bed.
‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘I’ll come straight home from the office, I promise. I’m not working at the pub tonight.’
Twice a week she did a few hours in the evening at the Dog & Gun in Bethnal Green, to earn extra money, because growing kids needed so much, and Sandra hated the idea that hers might have to go short.
‘I’m sorry, Archie,’ Sandra apologised, the reproach in his eyes pricking her. ‘I know I expect a lot of you, but I can’t help it …’
‘Yeah, I know, Mum,’ he said and grinned at her. When Archie smiled it was as if the sun had come out. With his dark-red hair and his green eyes, he was the image of his father and her heart turned over with love. ‘We’ll be all right.’
‘I know I can rely on you to take care of June …’
‘Yeah, I’ll look out for the brat.’ From the lofty position of his thirteen years, Archie saw his nine-year-old sister as a troublesome kid, but despite their constant bickering, Sandra knew that he would care for her as best he could. Yet he shouldn’t have so much responsibility and it hurt Sandra because she couldn’t provide the loving, stable home her children were entitled to.
Leaving the house, Sandra ran to the end of the dingy lane to catch her bus because she didn’t want to be late for the office; she was so used to the boarded-up houses on either side that she no longer noticed. This slum area was all she could afford since Tim died, although she was always looking for something better. She worked in a biscuit factory in the accounts department, keeping track of invoices and making up the wages. It was hard work but she didn’t mind that – in fact the only thing she disliked about her job was Reg Prentice. Reg was the office manager and a menace to anything in a skirt. None of the girls liked him, but most of them had the courage to stand up to him and tell him to get lost when he touched their bottoms and squeezed up against them in the corridor.
Sandra had asked him to leave her alone several times. In fact, he’d been such a nuisance that the previous evening, when he’d pushed her up against the wall, she’d slapped his face and told him that if he didn’t stop harassing her she was going to Mr Jenkins, the overall manager of the factory.
‘Do that and you’re out of a job,’ Reg hissed against her ear. ‘Besides, I’m your manager. He’s hardly going to believe a little scrubber like you. We all know what you widows are like; you can’t do without a man. I know you don’t say no to some others.’
‘I’m not interested in men, just in doing my job …’ Sandra protested.
‘I’ve seen you givin’ Mr Jenkins the eye,’ Reg sneered. ‘Well, he’s the sort that doesn’t stray and he doesn’t like loose women … By the time I finish tellin’ what I know you’ll be lookin’ for work without a reference.’
‘I don’t give in to bullies,’ Sandra retorted. ‘He wouldn’t believe you. I know Martha Jenkins and she will vouch for me.’
‘Not by the time I’ve done,’ he muttered beneath his breath.
Sandra had walked out on him, but a lingering doubt nagged at her mind. If Reg really had it in for her, she might be in serious trouble. He was a vindictive man and she wouldn’t be the first woman to lose her job because of wicked lies …
Her bus was stopping. She got off and walked quickly towards the factory, noticing the headlines on the newspaper stand. Anthony Eden had taken over from Mr Churchill when he resigned and now he was talking about calling a general election – as if that would make any difference to women like her! Reaching her workplace at the corner of Brick Lane, Sandra hung her jacket in the small dark cloakroom and entered the office. Here it was lighter, because of the large window at the back, and there were several desks, some equipped with typewriters, others like her own, piled high with folders and an overflowing in-tray. Reg smirked at her as she passed him and she saw two of the other girls whispering and giving her odd glances.
‘Don’t sit down, Mrs Miller,’ Mrs Landsbury said from the doorway into her office. ‘Mr Jenkins would like to see you immediately.’
Sandra looked at the manager’s secretary and saw frosty disapproval in her eyes. She glanced at Reg and knew at once that he was gloating. Obviously she was in trouble and she had no idea why …
‘I want to play with Mimi,’ June said that evening, pulling at Archie’s hand as he dragged her into the baker’s at the end of Whitechapel Road. ‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t go round her house. Her dad got her some skates and she says I can borrow them …’
‘You can go round there on Saturday,’ Archie said as he paid for the crusty cottage loaf from the baker. ‘It’s no use you sulking, June. Mum told me to look after you. I’ve got to get some tea for us both and then I’ve got schoolwork to catch up on. I have to do twenty sums tonight and they’re hard ones.’
‘I hate sums,’ June said, making a rude face at him as they walked together towards the row of dilapidated houses where they lived. The entire street was scheduled for demolition, some of the terraced houses already derelict, and the gutters choked with rubbish. Archie had heard the landlord telling his mother that she would have to find somewhere else to live, but she said everywhere was too expensive and she was staying put until she was forced to quit.
‘If you don’t do your schoolwork you’ll never get on …’ Archie muttered and put his hand through the letterbox to fish out the key on a string.
‘I’m going to be a famous model and wear lovely clothes when I leave school. I don’t need sums to look pretty.’ She kicked at the scarred front door, with its peeling green paint. ‘I hate comin’ back to an empty house.’
With her pale-blonde hair and her blue eyes, June took after their mother. She looked so sweet that butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but she could be a real pain as far as Archie was concerned. He would’ve liked to let her go with her friend so that he could have some peace, but there was no chance of that, because Mum would create if June wasn’t home when she got back.
‘Mum said she would be home earlier tonight,’ Archie lied, trying not to notice that there was a faint smell of drains in the kitchen again. Mum had poured loads of strong disinfectant down the sink but the stink always came back. ‘Maybe she’ll let us listen to Dick Barton on the radio—’
‘I don’t like Dick Barton,’ June said and flung herself down on the lumpy old settee. ‘I don’t like Journey into Space either. It frightens me when you listen to that, Archie …’
‘What do you want to do then?’
‘I want a comic. Can I have School Friend?’ She sprang up eagerly.
Archie fingered the change from the loaf and sighed. Sometimes his mother would let them spend a few pennies on comics. He would have liked one about Rock ’n’ Roll, because he was a big fan of Bill Haley & the Comets, and he was saving up because he wanted to go and see James Dean in East of Eden. He’d seen it once already, but he admired the rebellious American teenager who drove fast motorbikes, even though Archie wasn’t old enough to see his films really; his friend down the local flea pit let him in with a wink and a nudge sometimes. However, June wouldn’t stop moaning unless she had her own way. She would create all night and he would never get his homework done.
He gave her a florin. ‘Here, go and get it from the corner shop but come straight back. If you run off, I’ll come after you and you’ll be sorry!’
June stuck her tongue out, grabbed the money and ran.
Archie saved most of what his mother let him keep from the odd jobs he did on Saturdays and in the evenings in summer. He’d dodged school for a while to find work down on the Docks, but the inspector had come after his mother and threatened to fine her if he didn’t go regularly, so he’d had to give that up, which annoyed him, because he desperately wanted a gramophone. He listened to the popular songs on the radio, but it wasn’t the same as having your own records. Some of his friends at school had record players and they bought the latest hits with their birthday money. Archie usually had clothes for his birthday from the nearly-new shop down near Petticoat Lane. His mother didn’t buy from the market stalls, because she said a lot of the stuff was worn out.
‘Some people buy new clothes and then sell the ones their kids have grown out of,’ Sandra had told Archie when she’d bought him his first pair of long trousers the previous Christmas. ‘These have hardly been worn, love. I wanted to buy new, but I just couldn’t manage it – even with the money you earned from delivering papers.’
‘They’re all right, Mum,’ Archie had smiled at her. ‘At least they’re long trousers and people won’t think I’m still a kid.’
‘I’m going to save up for some new ones for your birthday next year,’ she’d promised. ‘I did knit you a new jumper …’
‘It’s great,’ Archie said, because the stripes were his school colours, which meant he could probably get away with wearing it there. The uniform was supposed to be grey trousers and a navy pullover or blazer and a white shirt. Archie’s shirts were frayed at the cuffs but he pulled them up inside his sweater and hoped that no one noticed.
He was still investigating the contents of the pantry when his sister returned clutching her comic and a tube of wine gums.
‘Hey, I said you could have a comic, not spend all of it,’ Archie said.
‘I’m hungry,’ June said as she dragged her coat off and flopped down on the old sofa.
‘What do you want – fried bacon and egg, or would you prefer scrambled eggs on toast?’
‘Can I have bacon and egg with toast … in the middle like a sandwich, and I’d like some brown sauce.’
‘What did your last servant die of?’ Archie demanded. ‘Set the table while I get it ready then … and I’m having some cocoa with mine …’
Archie looked at the clock. It was already half past eight in the evening and his mother still hadn’t got back from work. June had gone up to bed and taken her comic to read on the promise that Mum would bring her some more cocoa when she came home.
Having finished the homework he’d been given, Archie eyed the dirty plates, cups and saucepans he’d used to cook their tea. He hated washing up and Mum seldom expected him to do it, but he knew she was going to be really tired when she got in, and he felt guilty. Sighing, he filled a kettle with water and set it on the range to boil; Mum always said you should pour boiling water over the soda and then add the cold, because it got the grease off better. He wished she would buy some of the washing-up powder that made things easier, but she said soda had always been good enough for her. It was because she couldn’t afford newfangled things like washing powder, but it didn’t help him when he was stuck with a chore that he hated.
He remembered the old days when his father was alive. They hadn’t been rich but there had been money for new clothes, good food, trips to the zoo or a Disney film, and birthday presents that weren’t second-hand. He remembered his dad coming home with fish and chips wrapped in newspaper on Saturday lunchtime. Normally, he’d have sweets in his pockets for Archie and June and he’d given them threepence pocket money a week that they could save in their moneyboxes for whatever they wanted. Archie missed those things, but most of all he missed the way his dad smiled and swung him round or tossed him in the air, the games of football they’d played in the park, and the feeling of love in the house. His mother still loved them both, Archie knew that, but she was so tired all the time and so seldom around.
He listened to Dick Barton and then switched the radio off because it was music he didn’t like much. Sometimes, he listened to country music but mostly he liked Rock ’n’ Roll, because it was exciting. It made him realise that he was a teenager, and teenagers were different these days. The old dark days after the war had begun to change and life was easier, even here in the East End, though Archie’s family couldn’t afford to do all the things that other families did – those that had both a mother and father working were better off these days. The newspapers talked about a time of new prosperity and opportunities for everyone, and even here in the scruffy East End things were improving in some places. One of his best friends, Jamie Rawlings, had told him only that morning that his dad was getting a car soon.
‘We’ll be going to the sea on Sundays in the summer,’ he’d told Archie. ‘I’ll ask Dad if he’ll let you come with us. I’m sure he will, because he likes you – he says you’ve got a raw deal …’
Archie hadn’t liked the idea that his friends pitied him. His mother did what she could for him and June, and he wouldn’t have changed her for the world. He just wished things could be as they were when his dad was alive.
Glancing at the clock again, Archie saw it was half past nine; it wasn’t like Mum to be this late. He hoped she hadn’t had an accident! A cold shiver went right through him as he remembered the terrible day his father had been killed. Mum had cried for days and so had he. June had wept too, but she hadn’t really understood, and she didn’t remember Dad the way Archie did.
Sighing, he decided to make their suppertime cocoa and take one up to June before he went to bed. She might be asleep, but she was probably still reading that comic …
Archie felt the panic surge as he realised that his mother hadn’t been in all night. Her bed was just the same; everything was exactly as he’d left it in the kitchen, all the plates and cups on the scrubbed pine table, because he hadn’t bothered to put them back on the painted dresser at the end of the room. Besides, he knew that Mum wouldn’t come home and not let him know. She wasn’t the sort to just stay out all night. Archie’s mum didn’t go with men. He knew for certain she wasn’t like that, and he trusted her implicitly, therefore, something had happened. She must have had an accident …
Archie felt sick with apprehension as he chivvied June into getting ready for school. She moaned and whined and kept asking where Mum was. He told her that Mum had had to go out and been back very late.
‘It’s not fair,’ June said and tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘I want her – why isn’t she here? Mimi’s mum doesn’t work all hours like ours …’
‘She has a husband to help her. Mum has to pay the rent on this dump and buy the food and clothes, everything. She can’t help it, June. Come on and get ready. I’m going to take you to school …’
‘What about my dinner money?’
‘Didn’t you pay that yesterday?’
‘Mum said she would give it to me and then she forgot. If I don’t pay today I shan’t get any dinner …’
‘I’ll see if there’s any in the pot.’ Archie looked in the old silver-plated teapot that had belonged to Mum’s granny and found there was just ten shillings. ‘How much is it for this week?’
‘Three ninepences,’ June said and frowned, her tongue coming out of the corner of her mouth. ‘I don’t know how much that is …’
‘It is two shillings and three pennies,’ her brother said. ‘Blimey, June, you ought to know how to add that much up.’
‘I can add up if I’ve got a pencil and paper. I do it on my fingers and write it down.’
Archie had too much on his mind to argue with her. Once he had June in school, he was going to look for Mum. He wasn’t sure where to start, but thought perhaps the best place would be the biscuit factory. If she’d had an accident they would probably know.
June lagged behind all the way to school. He practically had to push her in the gate and made her promise to wait for him after school.
‘I’ll walk you home so just wait in the playground until I get here.’
June reluctantly promised and ran off to join Mimi and her other friends. Archie sighed. He’d got football today, if only he could get there, but first he had to find Mum …
CHAPTER 2 (#u03c152e8-2afa-5cba-8aba-68f69720a496)
‘Angela, how lovely to see you,’ Sister Beatrice said, welcoming the woman who had been their Administrator at St Saviour’s for several years, and whom she sadly missed. ‘It seems ages since you visited us …’
‘Not for want of trying,’ Angela Adderbury said and smiled. ‘The twins had whooping cough last month, and then I had to pop down and see my father. I told you he hadn’t been well, didn’t I?’ Sister Beatrice nodded. ‘He had a few days in the nursing home and seems much better – and the lady he intends to marry had just taken him in a lovely bowl of fruit.’
‘Your father is getting married again?’
‘Yes, at last. He and Margaret have been friends for years. After my mother divorced him, he waited for a while before asking her, but I think his illness made his mind up for him. It’s happening next month …’
‘Spring is a lovely time for weddings,’ Sister Beatrice said. ‘Are the twins quite well now?’
‘Yes, and into everything,’ Angela said. ‘One day I’m going to get time to organise some more fundraising events for you, but at the moment my hands are full. Mark is always offering to help, but although he plays with them in the garden, he’s not good when they’re screaming and acting up. He lectures them about proper behaviour when all they need is a smack on the bottom and they behave. His intentions are good, but he isn’t really into childcare.’
‘Mark is a busy man, and children need a lot of patience,’ Sister Beatrice said. ‘I do miss your exciting projects, Angela, but I know Mark and your sons must come first.’
‘Things have changed a great deal since we worked together, Sister.’
‘Yes, and I’m not convinced they are entirely for the better. I’m sure the government’s intentions were good when they brought us all under the state umbrella, but an institution is only as good as those that run it.’ She paused for thought, and then, ‘It sometimes seems to me that all they’ve given us is miles of red tape. Naturally, we must abide by the government’s new rules, but St Saviour’s was always run with the same principles of love and care as the law provides. We have never given our children cold showers or sent them to bed hungry night after night, or treated them as if they were prisoners in a place of correction. I know that in the past many orphanages did these things, but I should never have been a party to such practices …’
‘Nor I,’ Angela agreed, ‘but St Saviour’s was always the gold-standard and the government needed to protect children from the harsh acts of those less caring than you and your staff, Sister Beatrice.’
‘Perhaps they ought to remember that when they descend on us for an inspection with scarcely an hour’s warning. So far we’ve had nothing but praise for our care, though they criticise the state of the toilets sometimes, because we’ve had a leak no one seems to be able to fix. They warned us last time that water on cloakroom floors can make them slippery. As if we needed to be told! I have no patience with all this mealy-mouthed nonsense!’
Her disapproval when speaking of the state supervision was obvious, but since the Children’s Act some years earlier the Children’s Department was taking over more and more and dictated a great many rules and regulations, against which Sister Beatrice had railed bitterly for some time. She, like everyone else, had grown used to the fact that they had to defer to the Children’s Department, who had taken over the new wing for their own purposes, and although Sister Beatrice was given a free hand with the day-to-day running she now had to report anything of importance to the Superintendent next door – a young, and in her oft-spoken opinion, pert woman who was far too inexperienced for the post.
‘Well, I’ll find time to organise a dance this summer, I promise – and one day soon the twins will be back at school. Mark says he doesn’t mind looking after them sometimes, but he’s so busy and … actually, I find I enjoy looking after them myself. I suppose we could employ someone to help but just for a while I want to be a full-time mother and wife. I have left them with a friend today; Janni is fond of them and always enjoys having them for a few hours, but I’ll go back on the evening train, because I hate leaving them for too long.’
‘I think you’re entirely right,’ Sister Beatrice said. ‘Nothing is more important in my opinion. Have you seen Nan at all?’
‘Not since her wedding to Eddie I’m ashamed to say,’ Angela admitted. ‘I sent her a birthday card and we always exchange Christmas cards, but I must try and see her while I’m in town for a couple of days.’
‘I know she would be delighted to see you,’ Sister Beatrice said. ‘Nan visits me every week, to have a chat and a cup of tea. I’m partial to her cakes and she is very good to me.’
‘You’ve been friends for such a long time,’ Angela said. ‘You must miss her terribly?’
‘I was always confident that St Saviour’s was in good hands when Nan and you were here,’ Beatrice confided. ‘I still have good people here but it isn’t the same next door – especially in certain regards …’
‘Do you have trouble from the girls?’ Angela frowned, because it had caused great controversy when the Children’s Welfare Department had taken over part of St Saviour’s for their disturbed girls. Beatrice herself had resisted the change, but the Board had been told it was necessary to use all facilities to the full and forced to agree.
‘I was against it from the start,’ Beatrice said, looking over the gold-rimmed glasses she’d recently started to wear more often. ‘I cannot say that I like this new woman they’ve put in charge either. Her predecessor seemed a sensible woman but this girl is too full of herself …’
‘She respects you, doesn’t she?’ Angela looked con-cerned. ‘You are in charge here, Sister Beatrice. Miss Saunders runs her department but in day-to-day matters, you are still responsible for our children. Although under the supervision of the state, we are still an independently run charity. Of course as an employee of the Children’s Welfare Department Miss Saunders does have the authority to override us if she thinks we’re doing something wrong …’
‘She would like to take charge of the whole place if she could,’ Beatrice sniffed. ‘She is a very modern young woman, Angela. Not your sort at all, brash and abrasive in my opinion. She may keep good discipline with her girls, and I dare say they need it – but I do not care for all the things she says. She came from a working-class background, as I did myself – but I never was radical in my ideas. Compassion mixed with sense, and morality, is my motto, as you know.’
‘Yes, I do,’ Angela agreed and Beatrice laughed as she recalled their disagreement over using the cane on children. Angela had been totally against it and Beatrice had come round to her way of thinking.
‘You taught me a lot, my dear, and perhaps I shall learn from Ruby Saunders, but at this moment I do not think it.’
Angela drank her tea and looked thoughtful. ‘If you are really uneasy about her I could have a word with Mark? The Board has some influence with the Welfare Department. It is still early days for them in all honesty. It would be impossible for them to take over every orphanage in the country and run them. They are overwhelmed by sheer numbers and rely on private institutions like ours and Barnardo’s to take some of the strain … and therefore open to a little gentle persuasion now and then.’
‘Say nothing at this stage; Miss Saunders has only been in the job a few weeks and I don’t want to undermine her position. I dare say we shall get used to one another in time.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ Angela agreed. ‘I bumped into Wendy on my way up. She seems happy here?’
‘Yes, she is my only staff nurse at present and a good one. I thought she might marry but when Andre died she seemed to accept that her life was here and, although she has friends, I do not think she will marry.’ Beatrice paused. ‘You must see Muriel while you’re here, Angela. She is always asking after you. I fear she may retire after Christmas so you should take the opportunity to see her.’
‘You’ll be sorry to lose her, and the children enjoy her cooking,’ Angela said. ‘You’ve kept several of the staff, haven’t you? Once upon a time we were always having them leave us, but Tilly and Kelly are still here, although I understand Tilly got married last year and works just three days a week?’
‘Yes, but that is sufficient most of the time. Nurse Michelle still does a shift two mornings a week, and Nurse Paula comes in as relief when Wendy has her holiday. I’m trying to secure the services of another nurse full-time, but it isn’t easy. You did know that Wendy’s friend in France died of his war wounds in 1950?’
‘It was just about five years ago, before I left to have the twins, so yes, I did know,’ Angela said. ‘I think she lost two men to the war and is now a dedicated career nurse.’
‘Wendy is my rock,’ Beatrice confirmed. ‘She takes a month’s holiday in France once a year to visit the May twins and her friends there, but the rest of her time is devoted to St Saviour’s so we are very lucky.’
‘Extremely,’ Angela agreed. ‘Well, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time, Sister Beatrice. I’ll go and see Muriel and then I’m meeting Mark for lunch.’
‘Give him my best regards,’ Beatrice said.
She took her glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose as Angela went out. It was good to talk with old friends and she didn’t see enough of either Angela or Mark, because they lived in the country and were more closely involved with Halfpenny House, which was nearer for Angela to pop in when she had an hour to spare.
Glancing at the paperwork in front of her, Beatrice sighed. Reports had never been her strong point and Angela had helped her so much with that kind of thing, but life moved on and the years seemed to fly by. However, she had a part-time secretary who came in once a week to keep the accounts straight. She was efficient, and would type up the report that Beatrice had written out, but she just wasn’t Angela. Oh, well, there was no point in trying to hold on to the past.
‘Sister Beatrice, may I have a word?’ Sergeant Sallis tapped the door as he put his head round. ‘I just passed Mrs Adderbury on the stairs. She said she thought you might have time to speak to me?’
‘Certainly,’ Beatrice said. She’d known him from the time he’d first joined the force and he was still as helpful and polite as he’d been as a constable. ‘What can I do for you, Sergeant?’
‘More of the usual,’ he said ruefully. ‘A couple of children in trouble, I’m afraid. The mother is in our cells awaiting trial for embezzling from her firm. She seems a decent woman and I can’t believe she did it, but the evidence is damning and that means the kids are on their own. I spoke to the Children’s Department and they advised bringing them here until something can be sorted out, otherwise they’ll have to leave London. All their resources are stretched to the limit …’
‘You want to know if we have a place for the children?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid I do,’ he said regretfully. ‘I know you’re full to bursting – but the boy is rebellious and if we don’t keep them together I think he will get into serious mischief. He went round to the factory where his mother worked in the office and when they told him she’d been arrested he lost his temper. Threw things about and yelled at the manager – called him a liar. Mind you, I don’t like that Reg Prentice myself.’
‘Oh dear, the rebellious ones usually end up next door, at least, if they’re girls.’
‘Archie is a decent lad. His neighbours all say he’s done his best to help his mother since his father died, but she was having a hard time of it … They live in a row of slum houses that are hardly fit for habitation, but she kept hers like a new pin inside.’
‘Do you think she took the money out of desperation?’
‘I’ve spoken to her and I believe she’s innocent, but she’s been committed for trial. The evidence seems to prove her guilt, and money has definitely been taken from the firm – stolen cheques as well as cash from the safe …’
‘What will happen to her if she’s convicted?’
‘She is previously of good character and if we can get someone to speak up for her, she might get off lightly – but it depends who is taking the case.’
‘So the children have no home …’
‘Literally,’ Sergeant Sallis agreed. ‘Their house was in any case on the list for demolition and now that the rent hasn’t been paid for a couple of weeks, the landlord intends to board it up ready for the bulldozers.’
‘In that case they must come here,’ Beatrice said. ‘You know we are mostly a halfway house these days. The majority of our children are passed on to Halfpenny House in Essex. The Board think the air is better there for them and I dare say they’re right – though we’ve had two or three run away from the home there. Some London kids just can’t settle anywhere else.’
‘I’m a Londoner myself,’ Sergeant Sallis said and nodded. ‘Right then, I’ll bring them round later. I thought I’d better ask first, because I know you don’t always have room these days. I hoped when they opened that new wing our worries were over, Sister.’
‘Yes, so did I, and for a while we managed well,’ Beatrice agreed with a wry smile. ‘However, the local authority needed somewhere to put their disturbed girls and they decided to take over that wing of St Saviour’s, leaving us to carry on here as best we can. I think they should have taken them elsewhere, but the Children’s Department have the power to do as they want these days.’
‘You don’t get any trouble from them, do you?’
‘From the girls you mean? They can be a bit cheeky, but we haven’t had any real upsets. I think they must be disciplined before they get here. I’m not happy about them being there, because I need the rooms for my orphans, but I was not given an option.’
‘I dare say they thought this side of the home was enough for you to manage …’
‘I may not be a young woman, Sergeant, but I’m not old,’ Beatrice fixed him with a hard stare. ‘I’ve hardly had a day’s illness for years …’ It wasn’t quite true, but she didn’t like it to be thought that she was too old to do her duty. She had no intention of being retired to the convent while she had breath in her body.
‘No, Sister, not at all,’ he said apologetically. ‘I don’t think it would be the same here without you …’
‘Well, I have things to do,’ Beatrice said. ‘Bring the children when you’re ready.’
‘Yes, I shall – and thank you for your help as always …’
Beatrice sighed as the door closed behind him. Her visitors had put her off her stride. She would leave the report for later. It was time for her to check on the sick wards and talk to Wendy about the cases of tummy bug they currently had on their hands.
‘Well, Billy,’ Staff Nurse Wendy said to the tall, well-built young man who had just fixed her medicine trolley for her. ‘You certainly know what you’re doing with machinery. That wheel has been wonky for weeks. Mr Morris said it was past fixing, but it looks sturdy enough now.’
‘I’ve put a steel pin right through and fixed it with a bolt,’ Billy Baggins said and grinned at her. The evidence of his work was spread on the floor, metal shavings, tools and drill, and in his greasy hands, which he was wiping on a much-used cloth. ‘You only have to ask, Nurse, and I’ll see you right. ’Sides, the caretaker has more than enough to do. They make a lot of work next door …’ He jerked his head at the wing used for disturbed girls. ‘He told me he’s had to mend the window at the back three times this month. I reckon they deliberately break the lock so they can get in later at night …’
‘And to think you were the rebel of St Saviour’s,’ Wendy said and smiled at him approvingly, as he cleared the mess and packed his tools away in the battered old bag he kept them in. ‘Always running everywhere and getting into trouble with Sister Beatrice.’
‘Me and her are mates now,’ Billy said cheekily, ‘at least, most of the time. I doubt she’d feel like taking a cane to me now, even if I upset her – and I shan’t do that. She’s all right, she is …’
‘She’s one in a million and don’t you forget it, Billy. No one else would let a great hulking lad like you have the run of the place at your age …’
‘I’m looking for a room I can afford,’ Billy said ruefully. ‘You don’t earn much as an apprentice mechanic, you know. I’m saving up for driving lessons, and to get married as well …’
‘You’re still set on Mary Ellen then?’ Wendy twinkled at him. ‘I remember seeing you at the Christmas party last year … under the mistletoe …’
‘Yeah.’ Billy’s cheeks were slightly pink. ‘We’re promised to each other, but Mary Ellen’s sister won’t let her marry me until I’m doing a proper job – and it will be years before I’m through my apprenticeship.’
‘Well, you’re too young to marry yet, either of you,’ Wendy said. ‘I haven’t seen Mary Ellen for a long time. Is she still working at Parker’s clothing factory in Stepney? I was surprised when she went there; I thought she was set on being a teacher.’
‘Rose made her leave school and be apprenticed in the rag trade,’ Billy said. ‘When she took her to live with her in that posh council flat … Gone up in the world now she’s Sister O’Hanran, has our Rose …’ His eyes flashed with mischief.
‘Well, that is something to be proud of,’ Wendy said. ‘Rose worked very hard, and she always promised that she would have Mary Ellen to live with her when she could afford her own place.’
‘Mary Ellen wanted to stay here with me.’
‘It’s only because Sister Beatrice likes you that you can stay,’ Wendy reminded him. ‘Most of the boys leave at fifteen and you’re eighteen now.’
‘Yeah and I ought to be earning more money,’ Billy grumbled. ‘Well, I’ll get out of your way then …’
Wendy smiled as the good-looking lad left the ward. Billy was like one of her family now. She’d come to the home a year or so after he did and she’d stopped on, just as Billy had. He was a part of the place and helped out with little jobs that needed doing. Mr Morris was the caretaker, but in an ancient building like this there was always something that needed doing: washers on taps, cracked basins, stained ceilings when there was a leak in the bathroom, which Billy had found and fixed without them needing to call in a plumber. Sister Beatrice said Billy was useful, and as he had no family around she’d let him stay on, even though he was working. Wendy suspected the stern nun had a soft spot for the rebellious boy who’d done so well since he joined them at St Saviour’s. He ate sandwiches at work during the day but had his breakfast and supper with the older boys at the home, many of whom still looked up to him. Billy had gained quite a reputation for winning cups for running and football, and he still acted as a monitor at times, keeping some of the wilder ones in order and taking them to football practice in a battered old shooting brake he and a friend borrowed sometimes. Once he’d passed his driving test and could drive without supervision, he hoped to get a small van of his own. It would help with the football team he’d organised for the local youth club, to which most of the lads belonged.
Sister Beatrice had been given the discretion to choose when her children were ready to move on. It was the one clause she’d stipulated when the contracts had been drawn up and the local authority moved in.
‘I must be allowed to decide when my children are sufficiently settled to move on,’ she’d said, fighting tooth and nail for the principles she believed in. ‘Moving a disturbed or vulnerable child out to a place where he or she feels isolated or uneasy can set them back years. While I agree that the fresh air and better facilities at Halfpenny House are so much better for them, their mental state and ability to accept that move is paramount. If everything is to be done in a matter of days I am not the person for the job.’
Mark and Angela had done battle on her behalf, both with the Board of St Saviour’s charity, and the local authorities, who had wanted to impose their own ideas. However, such was the esteem she was held in by the local police, community bigwigs and general population, that her terms were accepted, and even Miss Ruth Sampson, who was still in overall charge of the local Children’s Department, had agreed that they needed Sister Beatrice if the swell of public feeling was to be appeased. Over the years of hardship she’d become firmly entrenched in the hearts and minds of the people of the area and was known as the Angel of ’Alfpenny Street to everyone. Women who slammed their doors in the faces of the council busybodies opened them to Sister Beatrice with a smile and the offer of a cup of tea.
St Saviour’s wasn’t quite the same as it had been in Angela’s time. She’d started up all kinds of schemes to keep the children busy and formed a team spirit amongst the orphans, most of whom had known poverty and tragedy. These days the children were brought here for a while to get over their bereavement and to learn to cope with life again without the parents they’d lost, but then most were moved out to Halfpenny House in Essex, unless they were considered to need a more specialised home. Billy was different. He would never have settled anywhere but the East End of London, and because she knew that, Sister Beatrice had provided him with a home until he could find his own.
Wendy knew how difficult it was to find somewhere decent to live. She’d stayed on in the nurses’ home for a while and taken her time before getting herself a nice little maisonette in one of the renovated buildings within walking distance of St Saviour’s, but she hadn’t done that until after she knew St Saviour’s was going to be her life. At one time she’d hoped that she might marry Andre and live in France, but the shrapnel in his head had moved sharply and entered his brain. Wendy had been horrified when she’d received the telephone call asking her to come at once. It had been too late when she got there. Mercifully, Andre had felt little pain, because it had happened so quickly. Wendy had understood that he’d been badly wounded in the war, but he’d seemed to be well and the shock of his death had devastated her, destroying her last hopes of marriage and a family.
If it hadn’t been for the twins, Sarah and Samantha May, who had some years previously come to them near to starving after their father abandoned them, she wasn’t sure what she would’ve done. Wendy had been instrumental in rescuing them when their uncaring aunt had tried to separate them and she’d accompanied them to their new home in France when their mother’s sister had claimed them, seeing them settled and happy before returning to London. When a couple of years or so later, Andre died and Wendy had wept bitter tears, Sarah had wound loving arms about her and sung her a lullaby in French, and, in remembering all the young girl had suffered, loving her and promising her that she wouldn’t be sad and she would always be her friend, Wendy had found solace.
Eventually, she’d made a nice home for herself above a sweet shop just off Commercial Road, but she knew Billy wouldn’t be able to afford anything like her flat on his wages; it was hard for youngsters with no family to find anywhere decent to live, even though a lot of new building had been going on since the war. If you didn’t dwell on the loss of life, Hitler had done them a favour really, bombing the slums, because there were better homes to be had now; flats and council houses further out in the suburbs. Yet Wendy hated the war and everything to do with it; she’d lost two men she loved to that awful war, and she knew she would never risk her heart again.
She was a nurse and that would be her life, just as it had been Sister Beatrice’s, even though she wasn’t thinking of becoming a nun. Wendy sensed that something terrible had happened to Sister Beatrice when she was a young woman. It wasn’t just that she’d lost a man she loved – no, it was more than that, because it had gone too deep for her ever to recover. Sister never spoke of her past and Wendy wouldn’t dream of asking her. They were friends and relied on one another in their work, but it didn’t go further than that … she couldn’t ask personal details.
Wendy was thoughtful as she started writing up her report for the day. Nurse Paula would be coming to take over in another twenty minutes. Wendy was visiting Nan and Eddie that evening; they’d asked her to supper to celebrate Eddie’s birthday. He was seventy-two and as forgetful as ever, but he and Nan were like family to Wendy. Alice and her husband Bob would be there too; they had three children now and Alice had given up her part-time work as a carer at St Saviour’s. She didn’t need to work now that her husband had a nice little business of his own. He was in partnership with Alice’s cousin Eric, and was married to Michelle, who had worked with Wendy as a nurse when she first arrived. Michelle had one child but had confided to Wendy that she was expecting her second, and so would be leaving, because with two children she wouldn’t be able to manage to work, at least until they started school – and that meant they would be short-staffed again. They had temporary nurses in to cover holidays, and Paula helped out when she could, but they really did need another full-time nurse.
Wendy had just finished her report when Paula came in. She looked cold and was rubbing her hands.
‘The wind is bitter this evening,’ she told Wendy. ‘You want to wrap up well because you’ll feel it when you get out.’
‘It’s supposed to be spring,’ Wendy said and pulled a wry face. ‘Billy came and fixed the trolley for us. He’s very good at it but he wants a better job so he can get married.’
‘He’s far too young to think about it yet,’ Paula said and shook her head. ‘I’m sure Mary Ellen will tell him she’s not ready to marry yet anyway.’
‘Have you seen her recently?’
‘Yes. I met her in the market just this morning. She was on a break from her job at that factory. She’d popped out to do some shopping for her boss. Apparently, he’s a widower and lives alone now that his kids are grown up …’
Paula broke off as they heard a commotion and then someone burst into the ward. The boy was angry and looked as if he’d been fighting the harassed police sergeant who followed him.
‘Get off me,’ the lad said. ‘I ain’t going to let her wash me. I can look after myself.’
‘I’m sorry, Staff Nurse,’ Sergeant Sallis said. ‘Your carer was just trying to tell them they needed to be bathed and looked at and he broke away from her … Come on, Archie lad, let the young lady look after you. She’s only doing her job.’
‘I’ve told you, we can wash ourselves. We’re not dirty and we’ve not got nits or fleas. Mum kept us proper and I’ve made sure June washes every morning and night. If you’d left us alone, we could’ve looked after ourselves at home …’
‘How were you goin’ to do that, lad?’ Sergeant Sallis asked mildly. ‘You’re still at school. You couldn’t earn enough to feed yourselves, let alone pay the rent and the gas. Besides, the landlord wanted you out of the house, because it’s coming down. Sister Beatrice says you can stay here until we sort your mum out …’
‘She didn’t do it,’ Archie said, glaring at him and then at the nurses. ‘Mum ain’t a thief. She’d belt me round the ear if I pinched anything. I know she didn’t do what they say she did …’
‘I believe you, lad,’ Sergeant Sallis said, ‘but there’s evidence that says she did …’
‘It’s false,’ Archie said and looked angry. ‘She told me someone had set her up, made it look as if she was guilty, but I know Mum wouldn’t do anything like that. She just wouldn’t, however hard-up she was …’
‘We’ll get to the bottom of it,’ Sergeant Sallis promised, but looking at his face Wendy could tell he was worried. ‘Do you know anyone who has it in for your mother, lad? Give me a hint and I’ll do what I can, I give you my word.’
‘She didn’t tell me, but I know she was bothered about something,’ Archie said. ‘She wouldn’t let on, because she wouldn’t want to upset us – and we don’t need to be taken into care. Mum will be home soon and she’ll look after us.’
‘Well, until she is, you’re lucky to be brought here,’ Wendy told him. ‘Look, I’ll tell Tilly that you can wash yourselves – but I need to examine you to make sure you don’t have anything infectious, measles or something like that, all right?’
Archie thought for a moment and then inclined his head reluctantly. ‘As long as you don’t start washing our hair with that horrible stuff like the school nurse does to the kids with nits.’
‘I promise,’ Wendy said, smiled at Archie and went out into the hall with him. ‘You don’t need to stop any longer, Sergeant. Archie is going to be sensible now. We have to look after June, don’t we?’ She looked at the truculent lad and saw him nod. ‘At least here you will have decent food and you don’t have to worry about the rent until your mother comes back.’
‘What will happen to all our things? The landlord says we have to get out and they’re going to pull our row down – but I don’t know what to do with our things.’
‘I’ll talk to Sister Beatrice. She’s the Warden here. I can’t promise anything, but someone ought to be responsible. Perhaps we can find storage for you. Sister knows lots of people and she may be able to arrange it.’
Wendy was thinking it was a job for Angela Adderbury. If she’d been here she would have known someone who could store the family’s possessions, but all Wendy could do was ask Sister for advice.
‘All right …’ Archie said grudgingly. ‘But we shan’t be here long. Mum will be home soon and she’ll find us somewhere to live. I know she didn’t take that money and they can’t keep her in jail if she’s innocent, can they?’
Wendy murmured something appropriate, but she knew life wasn’t that simple or that fair. It wouldn’t be the first time an innocent woman, or man, come to that, had been jailed for a crime they didn’t commit. If life turned out the way it should, Wendy would have a husband and children, but she hadn’t and wouldn’t, and she’d had to learn to accept that – as Archie would accept this in time.
She felt for his bewilderment and his hurt, but for the moment there was nothing she could do to help him, except ensure that he was warm, comfortable and safe.
‘Are you hungry?’ she asked.
Archie hesitated and then inclined his head. ‘We had a sandwich at the police station, but that was ages ago.’
‘As soon as you’ve bathed, changed into our clothes and I’ve made sure you’re healthy, which won’t take a minute, because I can see you’re fine, you can have your supper. I’ll ask Cook to make you some eggs on toast – how about that?’
‘I’d rather have beans,’ Archie said. ‘June likes scrambled eggs though.’
‘One beans on toast, one scrambled eggs,’ Wendy said. ‘Tell you what, I’ll make them myself and have my supper with you in the dining room – what do you think?’
‘Yeah, all right,’ Archie said and grinned at her.
Wendy blinked, because the change in him was amazing. This one was a real charmer, she thought and laughed inside, because there was something infectious about that grin. She found herself drawn to the young lad; he’d been like a tiger in defence of his mother’s honesty and she liked that – found it admirable.
Wendy would talk to Nan and Eddie about the family’s possessions that evening, she decided. Eddie was an old soldier and resourceful. He might know somewhere they could store Mrs Miller’s things so that they wouldn’t be looted or destroyed when the demolition people moved in – and if Eddie could help she would oversee the move herself that weekend …
CHAPTER 3 (#u03c152e8-2afa-5cba-8aba-68f69720a496)
‘Where are you going?’ Rose O’Hanran asked her younger sister as she saw her putting on her boxy red jacket with the swing pleats at the back. ‘Not to meet that Billy Baggins I hope?’
‘Yes, I’m meeting Billy this evening. We’re going to the church social hall. It’s Rock ’n’ Roll night on Fridays. You know we go every week for that …’
Rose snorted her disapproval. She’d done her best to break the bond that had formed between Billy Baggins and Mary Ellen in the years they’d lived at St Saviour’s together. Sometimes, she wished that she’d never taken her sister there, but at the time she’d seemed to have little option. With their mother dying of consumption, Rose had needed to make a choice between staying in the slums to look after her young sister and never achieving her ambition, and putting Mary Ellen in the orphanage so that she could train as a nurse. She’d chosen the latter and it had been a good decision in every way but one.
‘I know that boy will never amount to anything,’ Rose grumbled at her. ‘I’ve told you, Mary Ellen, you could do a lot better.’
‘I love Billy,’ Mary Ellen said and looked rebellious. ‘You made me leave school and go to work as a seamstress and I did as you asked, but I’m not giving Billy up, whatever you say. He’s my friend and one day we’ll get married.’
‘And end up back in some grotty little terrace slum house?’ Rose was scornful. ‘Remember what happened to his brother …’
‘I’m not likely to forget, and nor is Billy,’ Mary Ellen retorted. Arthur Baggins was currently in prison serving the first of twenty years’ hard labour for armed robbery. He’d been released from prison six months previously, fallen in with a gang of rough types and ended up back in jail before he’d had time to catch his breath. ‘You’re wrong to think Billy is like his father or his brother. He works hard and he will get on, I know he will. He’s not going to be just a mechanic forever. One day he’ll drive the coaches as well and maybe he’ll own a garage …’
‘If ifs and ands were pots and pans, there’d be no need for tinker mans,’ Rose chanted, feeling irritated by Mary Ellen’s blind faith in the boy she’d befriended years ago. ‘If he ever amounts to anything I’ll go to China and back.’
‘Be careful, I might keep you to that,’ Mary Ellen laughed and swung her long brown hair back as she picked up her purse and slipped the loop over her wrist. She was dressed in a grey felt full skirt with several layers of net petticoats underneath, the waist nipped in tight with a wide red belt. Her flat shoes were red, and matched her jacket, and she had a red hairband holding her hair back from her face. Her hair wasn’t permed but had a natural bend and she had it cut every three months at the hairdresser near the market. Her lipstick was pale peach and she had a dusting of powder on her nose and cheeks, but didn’t wear a foundation. Because her complexion was so clear, Mary Ellen hardly needed make-up at all, as Rose was always telling her, but she couldn’t stop her because at seventeen she was old enough to know her own mind in most things. ‘I shan’t be later than half past ten.’ She popped a kiss on Rose’s cheek and picked up her scarf, going towards the door.
One good thing about Mary Ellen’s job was that she got a decent discount on all she bought from the factory. Of course she was capable of making her own clothes, and quite often made up a skirt or a shift dress in a night for Rose. There were sometimes offcuts of material left over at the factory, not enough to make a whole garment, but with a bit of skill Mary Ellen turned them into rather fetching and original outfits. Sam, her boss at the factory, had told her she could have these scraps of material cheap, sometimes for nothing, but offcuts were popular with all the seamstresses so Mary Ellen had to take her turn with the others. It meant she had several pretty dresses and skirts to wear, and she’d made sure Rose benefitted too.
‘I’ll give you something for them,’ Rose had offered when Mary Ellen made her a summer skirt and matching bolero jacket, but she refused, saying that Rose had done plenty for her. Her generosity made Rose feel uneasy at times, because she’d always treated Mary Ellen as a duty. For years she’d begrudged the time she’d had to give up to visit her sister and she hadn’t bothered about finding a place to rent where she could have her sister to live with her until it suited her. When the new high-rise flats went up, Rose had known they were for her. Situated a short bus ride from the hospital, where she was now Sister O’Hanran, at reasonable rent and with three bedrooms, it was perfect for them. Although, if she could’ve got a smaller flat she would have taken that; they didn’t need the extra room and Mary Ellen had plagued her to let Billy have it for weeks, until she’d finally given up.
‘I shall be out myself this evening,’ Rose said, capitulating, because she couldn’t forbid Mary Ellen to go to the club when she herself was meeting some friends from work – and one friend in particular. ‘I’ll be home by eleven, so make sure you’re back by then or there will be trouble.’
‘’Course, Rose,’ Mary Ellen’s eyes twinkled with laughter, and Rose was struck by how pretty she looked. For years she’d thought of her as a kid, but she was very definitely a young woman with thoughts and ideas of her own now. ‘I shan’t do anything you wouldn’t …’
She danced off laughing and Rose frowned as she returned to the bedroom to continue dressing. As she fetched the new dress her sister had recently made for her, Rose was feeling excited. Mike Bonner was the registrar for one of the senior consultants at the London Hospital. Rose had admired him from afar for some time now, but although he always smiled when he came to her ward, she hadn’t thought he was interested. This evening he’d asked her to be one of the crowd he’d invited to share his birthday celebrations at a rather smart restaurant that had just opened up West. She would have to catch a bus to get there and that meant coming home alone late at night, which she wasn’t keen on, but it would be worth it if Mike Bonner finally noticed her …
‘Ellie, you look gorgeous,’ Billy said and kissed Mary Ellen softly on the lips as they met at the bus stop. He’d waited outside the youth club for her bus to arrive and it was still chilly in the evenings yet, even though it was April. ‘And you smell delicious – I could eat every bit of you.’
Mary Ellen smiled and touched his hair. Thankfully, Billy didn’t smother his hair with Brylcreem, as some men did, but allowed it to spring up in the same unruly style it always had. The colour was still a riotous red and she was glad, because she didn’t want him to be any other way than the way he was. Without Billy, Mary Ellen knew she would never have made it through the dark days after Rose abandoned her in the orphanage eight years previously.
‘Have you found anywhere to live yet?’ Mary Ellen asked as they joined the queue for the Rock ’n’ Roll club, which was held in St Mary’s church hall and supervised by the man who ran the youth club. The youth club had been started three years earlier by Father Joe, the Catholic priest who had organised so many events for St Saviour’s Orphanage and other kids. After he’d left London to go and work in a mission in Africa for two years, another clergyman had come to take over. He told the kids to call him Peter, and he was an Anglican curate in his first post in Spitalfields. Peter Simmons was involved with many activities for children, and popular with the teenagers who visited the club, because of his easy-going nature. He was keen on rugby and rowing and a member of the same athletics club that Billy frequented at least twice a week and together they’d organised a football team for the local kids, both those from St Saviour’s and any other kids who loved to play. There was no shortage of volunteers, because belonging to a club that played matches was better than kicking a ball about the streets.
‘I went to see a couple of rooms near Assembly Lane yesterday evening,’ Billy said, looking rueful. ‘They were awful and the whole place stank of old cabbage. You would’ve hated it, love. I’m still looking …’
‘I know you are,’ Mary Ellen said and squeezed his hand. ‘I got a rise today – another five bob a week. If we were married we might get a flat somewhere, because with my money we could afford it.’
‘Rose would never let you, not unless I could prove I can keep you, Mary Ellen. You know what she thinks of me … a waster like my brother.’
‘You’re nothing like Arthur,’ Mary Ellen fired up. ‘I’ve told her so many times but she doesn’t listen. She thinks I’m still a kid but I’m not … I’ll be eighteen this Sep-tember and you’ll soon be nineteen; neither of us is a kid now.’
‘No, you’re a real woman, my woman,’ Billy said and slid his arm about her waist, ‘but unfortunately, Rose can stop us gettin’ married until you’re twenty-one. It ain’t fair, because we can drive at seventeen, fight for our country and drink in the pub at eighteen – but we can’t marry until we’re twenty-one without permission. The bloomin’ government should change the law, but what do they know? I’d have to get round Sister B – but that’s a doddle …’ He grinned. ‘Shall I get us a coffee while you take your coat off?’
‘Yes, all right – listen, I love this one. It’s Bill Haley …’
‘Yeah, one of my favourites,’ Billy agreed. He shrugged off his old and much-worn leather bomber jacket, which he’d bought from Petticoat Lane and believed to have belonged to a fighter pilot in the war, and gave it to her. ‘Stick this with yours, love?’
‘’Course,’ Mary Ellen said and took the two jackets through to the cloakroom to hang on a peg. She paused for a moment to fluff her hair up in front of the mirror and then jumped as someone grabbed her arm. Turning, she looked at the girl who’d caught hold of her and smiled in pleasure. ‘Marion! I haven’t seen you for weeks. Where have you been?’
‘My boss at Woolworth’s sent me away for training. I’m a senior adviser on the counters, and windows, supervising how they look, and the girls on them; I’m getting six pounds a week now …’
‘Lucky you,’ Mary Ellen said, half envious. She still wasn’t earning that much, even after she’d been given her rise. ‘I think I’m going to pack in my job and start on at Woolworth’s.’
‘You wouldn’t get as much as me,’ Marion said. ‘It’s about three pounds ten shillings or even less for new-comers.’
‘Oh … that wouldn’t be as much as what I’m getting now,’ Mary Ellen said, feeling disappointed. If she could have earned as much as Marion, she might have been able to afford her own house with Billy, always supposing Rose would let her get married.
‘Six pounds sounds a lot,’ Marion said, ‘but I’m struggling to find a decent room I can afford. If I go out a few times a week and eat three meals a day it doesn’t leave anything much over for clothes – at least you get discount on yours, Mary Ellen.’
‘Yes, I do,’ she agreed. ‘How much are you paying for your room then?’
‘Three quid with breakfast and evening meal,’ Marion said. ‘You’re lucky you’ve got a sister. When I left St Saviour’s I had to stay in a hostel for girls like me; it was much cheaper but it was awful, worse than being an orphan. All the rules … and the beds were hard and the toilets were filthy …’
‘I bet Rose would let you move in with us for less than you’re paying,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘She charges me twenty-five bob a week for board and all my food …’
‘But you’re her sister,’ Marion pointed out. ‘I wouldn’t mind giving her two pounds a week if she would have me.’
‘I’ll ask her,’ Mary Ellen promised. ‘I think she would be glad for you to share the rent. It makes it easier for her, and we can help with the chores and cooking. Rose gets tired sometimes when she’s on late shifts. If they’re short of nurses she sometimes has to do longer hours.’
‘Is Billy with you?’ Marion asked as they left the cloakroom together. ‘I came with Jill from work. She’s on the cosmetic counter and gets a lot of free samples when the salesmen come round. They think she can influence the buyers, but of course our stuff is all ordered from head office. Jill only gives advice as to what is selling and what isn’t …’
‘I like that Tangee lipstick,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘They’ve got some lovely colours and it stays on well.’
‘Do you like this scent?’ Marion leaned nearer for her to smell. ‘It’s Lily of the Valley and Jill gave it to me – the last of the bottle. She’s got a new one … Evening in Paris …’
‘Yes, it’s all right,’ Mary Ellen said, not liking it but not wanting to offend her. ‘Billy got me some Elizabeth Arden perfume for last Christmas; it’s lovely …’
‘I can smell it,’ Marion agreed, looking a bit envious. ‘Did that skirt come from your workshop?’
‘Yes, but I made the net petticoats myself. If you come round one night I’ll show you some of my stuff, Marion. We could get some material cheap on the market and I’ll make a skirt and petticoats for you, too.’
‘Will you really?’ Marion looked pleased. ‘If Jill gets any of those lipsticks you like free, I’ll ask her for one for you …’
Billy stood up as the girls approached. ‘I’ve got a coffee for us, Ellie. Marion, I can get one for you if you like?’
‘No, thanks, Billy,’ Marion said, giving him a flirtatious look. ‘I’m with a friend – but you can ask me for a dance later, if you like?’
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘I expect you’ll be busy all night once you start …’
Billy shrugged apologetically as Marion swayed off, her hips moving enticingly. You’d never know now that as a child her leg had been badly broken and for a while she’d walked with a limp. ‘We were all mates at St Saviour’s,’ he said. ‘I suppose she thinks she can say things like that … but she knows we’re together …’
‘Marion fancies you,’ Mary Ellen said, feeling a twinge of jealousy, which she instantly quashed. Billy was good looking – not handsome, but rugged because of all the sport – and he had a nice open face. She knew there were plenty of other girls who fancied Billy but she also knew that he loved her.
Mary Ellen hadn’t wanted to work in the clothing manufacturers’ workshops. She still wanted to teach children, but Rose had put paid to her dreams when she’d made her leave school at fifteen and start on as an apprentice. She was well aware that life didn’t always give you what you wanted; she’d learned that when she was very young and her mother died, but she’d got more of the good things than most, because she had a steady job working for a boss she liked, and she’d got Billy – and when she was twenty-one they would marry, no matter what Rose thought, but that was such a long time to wait …
‘Feel like a shuffle round the floor?’ Billy asked as she finished her coffee.
Mary Ellen was on her feet straight away. They’d both learned to jive at the youth club, and Billy was really good. Because he was tall and strong, he could toss her over his shoulder and round his waist with ease, and the way he pulled her through his legs and then threw her in the air and caught her usually drew a crowd of watchers, who often applauded when they’d finished. Billy was unusual in that he’d learned the steps properly; his kicks and flicks were sharp and fast and he bounced high in time to the music. Mary Ellen was always out of breath by the time they finished, but Billy never seemed to turn a hair. It wasn’t surprising that he had a following of young women who eyed him longingly.
‘Listen,’ she said as they sat down again. ‘They’ve put a Guy Mitchell record on now –“My Heart Cries for You”. Oh, I love that, Billy. Come on, dance this one with me please.’
‘It’s not Rock ’n’ Roll,’ Billy objected, but Mary Ellen was on her feet, offering him her hand, and he couldn’t refuse. She moved into his arms and they did a slow rhythmic shuffle around the floor, her face pressed against his shoulder and his touching her hair. ‘You smell lovely. I really love you, Ellie – you know that, don’t you?’
Mary Ellen looked up at him and smiled, feeling the warmth of her happiness spread through her as she saw the expression on his face. ‘Yes, I know. I love you too, Billy.’
‘I want us to be married soon,’ Billy said. ‘If I could afford a place of our own, would you say yes?’
‘You know I want to,’ she said, the happy feeling fading. ‘Rose just won’t let us. You know what she is like.’
‘Yes, she hates me …’
‘She doesn’t hate you,’ Mary Ellen denied quickly. ‘She just thinks I’m too young, Billy, and perhaps I am – but in a year or so she’ll get fed up saying no. I’ll keep on at her until she just wants to get rid of me …’
Billy laughed, bent his head and kissed her. ‘This is almost like making love in public,’ he remarked softly as she responded by pressing herself against him. ‘We’d better be careful or Peter will throw us out …’
Mary Ellen laughed, because they weren’t the only ones smooching, and many of the couples would be going outside for a kiss and maybe more before the evening was over. A lot of the girls had difficulty in fighting off their boyfriends’ eager hands, but she’d never had that trouble. Billy sometimes told her he wanted her and kissed her passionately, but he didn’t try to persuade her into doing anything silly.
‘I don’t want us ending up in a slum tenement,’ he’d told her once when she’d been reluctant to break up their embrace. ‘I love you, and I want you – you don’t know how much, Mary Ellen – but I want us to be married properly, because we want to, not because we have to get married in a rush. If you have a baby at seventeen, you’ll never have any fun …’
‘Oh, I don’t know, it might not be such a bad idea. Rose couldn’t say no then, could she?’
‘She would never forgive us,’ he said shaking his head. ‘No, your sister has some daft ways, but she’s respectable and I want her to know I am too. I’m not going to get you into trouble, Ellie love.’
When he called her Ellie like that Mary Ellen’s stomach went all funny and she felt like melting. Several of the girls she’d known at school were already married and had a child, and sometimes she envied them – and yet somewhere buried deep inside her was the determination to make something of herself, to be more than just a girl who worked in the rag trade.
‘I’m going to night school,’ she announced when they sat down at their table again with the fresh coffees Billy had bought. ‘I’m going to try and sit my GCEs so that I can train as a teacher …’
Billy looked stunned for a moment, then, ‘Is that what you really want? To be a teacher? You know it will take ages doing it that way, don’t you?’
Mary Ellen nodded, the doubts already beginning to crowd in on her. She wasn’t sure why she’d suddenly made up her mind to do it, though she’d been thinking perhaps she might for ages.
‘I might not be good enough, but I think I should try – don’t you?’
For a moment he didn’t answer and her heart sank. Rose was going to be against her, and if Billy also said it was daft she didn’t think she would be strong enough to proceed on her own.
‘I think if it’s what you really want you should try,’ Billy said a little reluctantly. ‘It means I shan’t see so much of you …’
‘I’ll only go twice a week,’ Mary Ellen offered, but she knew it wasn’t just the evening classes. She would have to study hard if she wanted to pass the exams she needed to for teaching college. If Billy had objected she would probably have given in immediately, but he nodded and looked sad.
‘I wish I could get the sort of job that would support us both through you going to college and all of it,’ he said. ‘If I’d got that job with the railways …’
‘Sister Beatrice said you had to take an apprenticeship, and the railway wouldn’t offer you anything, because you were too young,’ Mary Ellen reminded him. ‘Rose was the same with me. They think they know best and they make us do what they want … and it isn’t fair …’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Billy agreed. ‘This is 1955 and we’re young. We’re the future, Mary Ellen. I may not get to be a train driver, but I don’t see why you shouldn’t train as a teacher if you want.’
‘Really?’ She looked at him earnestly. ‘You won’t get angry and throw me over if I can’t always do what you want?’
‘I’d never do that, Ellie. Surely you know there’s never been anyone else for me?’
‘Yes, of course I do,’ she said and clasped his hand, her fingers entwining with his. ‘I love you so much, Billy. I just feel we have to do something with our lives. Do you remember what Miss Angela used to tell us about looking up and reaching for what seemed beyond our reach? We were so eager when we had our teams and earned stars for a trip to the zoo or the flicks. I felt as if I’d lost something when I had to start working in the factory. Oh, I like Sam; he’s a dear and almost like a father to us girls, but I want something better for us – and our children.’
Billy’s eyes were fixed on her face. Their colour seemed intensely green rather than the greenish hazel they usually were; she’d noticed before that they changed colour when he was passionate about something. He had so much life, so much eagerness in him, that she knew he must be frustrated in his job too.
‘I want it too, Mary Ellen,’ he said and his voice sounded guttural as if emotion caught at his throat. ‘I get so mad at times because I can’t do the things I want – can’t give you the life you deserve …’
‘I don’t want things,’ she tried to explain, but knew he didn’t really understand. Mary Ellen didn’t want to better herself because of the money; it was for self- respect, for making life fuller and richer. ‘It’s just that … oh, I suppose it’s a better world for everyone …’
Billy nodded, but she knew he still didn’t see it the way she did. A better world to Billy meant a decent house, good wages and kids that didn’t have to go to school in bare feet and trousers with their backsides hanging out. For Mary Ellen it was more, but she couldn’t explain the mixed-up feelings inside her. She laughed suddenly. What was she thinking? She already had a better life than her mother’s, but there was something inside her that questioned. Surely after the terrible war they’d all endured there should be something more …
After seeing her safely home, Billy was thoughtful as he left Mary Ellen. He kicked at an abandoned pop bottle, feeling moody and unsettled. It was all his fault for letting himself be pushed into a dead-end job. Mary Ellen was right when she said she wanted a better life for them and their kids. He wanted it too, but he didn’t know how to achieve it.
‘Where yer goin’ then, Billy?’
The voice made him pause and then turn reluctantly, because he recognised Stevie Baker from school. He wasn’t one of St Saviour’s kids; his father worked on the Docks and his mother was a waitress in a greasy spoon café. Stevie had left school at fourteen and started work as a labourer for the council. Yet as he looked at his one-time school friend, he saw that Stevie was wearing clothes that proclaimed him as a Teddy boy and, by the look of his jacket, smart drainpipe trousers and thick-soled suede shoes, he’d paid a small fortune for what he was wearing. His jacket was blue, the trousers black and the shoes dark blue. The thin tie he wore with his frilled shirt was also black; like a girl’s hair ribbon but held by a silver clip. His hair had been brushed together at the back in a DA and he could’ve passed for one of Billy’s Rock ’n’ Roll heroes if he hadn’t known him.
‘Home,’ he said in answer to Stevie’s question. ‘I’ve been down the club and now I’m going home.’
‘You still livin’ at that dump?’ Stevie sneered. ‘I should’ve thought you couldn’t wait to get out of that place. It gives me the creeps just to look at it – more like a prison than a home. Mum says it used to be the old fever ’ospital, where they sent folks to die …’
‘It’s all right inside,’ Billy said, defending the home that had given him sanctuary. ‘I can’t afford a room on what I earn as an apprentice – not if I want to save for the future.’
‘More fool you then,’ Stevie crowed. ‘You want ter come down the Blue Angel if you want to see life – and they’re always after blokes to help chuck out the rough element. Ask for Tony and he’ll give yer a job, mate.’
Billy knew about the nightclub and its unsavoury reputation. He’d always steered clear of places like that, but now he was curious. ‘Is that where you earn your money then?’
‘Yeah, that and other places,’ Stevie said, avoiding his eyes. ‘Think about it, mate. I can help yer get some money if you’re willin’ ter work fer it and keep yer mouth shut.’
‘I’m not my brother, and I don’t steal,’ Billy said. ‘I wouldn’t mind an honest job, though.’
‘Plenty of stuff goin’ if you’re not too fussy – I don’t mean thievin’ either.’ Stevie grinned at him. ‘I’ll see yer around then, Billy. One of these days you’ll realise the bastards grind us all down unless we stand up for ourselves …’
Billy stared after him as he walked away. He might envy Stevie his smart clothes and wish he could afford something similar, but he wasn’t willing to do anything dishonest. Arthur had gone down that road, and Billy had vowed he never would. No, he just had to find himself a better job … and soon …
CHAPTER 4 (#u03c152e8-2afa-5cba-8aba-68f69720a496)
‘What’s up, young ’un?’ Billy asked the next morning when he saw Archie Miller disconsolately kicking a tin can in the street outside St Saviour’s and recognised him as one of the recent arrivals. ‘Shouldn’t yer be at school?’
‘We got a day orf,’ Archie said. ‘I was goin’ down the nick ter see me mother but Sergeant Sallis ain’t there and the other old misery guts wouldn’t let me in.’
‘Does Sergeant Sallis let you visit her?’
‘Yeah, he’s all right,’ Archie said and Billy nodded.
‘I get on good with him,’ he said and grinned. ‘Supposing we nip in the phone box on the corner and give him a ring – ask him to phone the station and tell them to let you in for a few minutes?’
‘Would yer? Thanks, mate, that’s great,’ Archie said. ‘I’ve heard about yer – playin’ football and runnin’ fast an’ all …’
‘Come on then,’ Billy said. ‘I’ll come with yer down the nick if he agrees and back you up …’
Billy opened the door of the phone box and they squeezed in together, Billy asking for a number and putting the coins in when the police officer answered. They chatted for a bit, Archie watching anxiously all the while and then smiling as Billy gave him the thumbs up.
‘Thanks Sergeant, I’ll do the same for you one day.’
‘Just keep your nose clean so I don’t have to arrest you …’
Billy grinned even more as he replaced the receiver and turned to Archie. ‘He’s goin’ to meet us there in ten minutes. He says you can have five minutes and that’s all. He ain’t supposed to do it, but he likes you, Archie – and he don’t think yer mum should be there …’
‘Thanks, Billy. You’re a real mate …’
‘Play football, do you?’ Billy asked as they walked the short distance to the police station. ‘Only, I help Peter to run the football club and we keep it goin’ even in the summer – keeps everyone fit and interested.’
‘Can I join?’
‘Why shouldn’t you?’ Billy nodded and held Archie’s arm. ‘We’ll wait out here until Sergeant Sallis gets here – he’s the best of them, believe me …’
As they stood outside in the rather fitful sunshine, which kept disappearing as clouds scudded across the sky, a rather unkempt-looking man walked out of the side door of the police station and glanced their way. For a moment his eyes dwelled on them thoughtfully, and he half smiled to Archie before moving off. Billy noticed that his walk changed from a brisk stride to a careless shuffle, and his whole demeanour seemed to change as he disappeared down an alley. It struck him as a bit odd, as if the man wanted to be thought something other than he was, but he forgot it as Sergeant Sallis arrived and smiled at them in his friendly manner.
‘Right, I’ll take you in, lad. Billy, why don’t you wait across the road in case Archie needs a hand when he comes out …?’
‘Yeah, all right.’ Billy watched as the two went inside the police station, the sergeant’s hand on the boy’s shoulder. It was rotten for Archie having his mother locked up – especially when even Sergeant Sallis didn’t believe she was guilty.
It was wrong and he felt upset for his new young friend, but there was nothing he could do. Billy couldn’t even find himself a decent room or earn enough to support a wife …
‘Mum … how are yer?’ Archie said as she was ushered in and he saw she was wearing the same dress he’d brought in for her the day after she was arrested. ‘When are they goin’ to let yer out?’
‘It’s you, not yer, Archie,’ she reminded him gently and moved towards him, holding her arms out.
Not usually one for hugs, Archie moved towards her and threw his arms about her, close to tears. He struggled to hold them back because he knew she would cry if he did. This was the second visit since she’d been in here and the first time she hadn’t been able to hold back her tears.
‘I miss you, Mum,’ he said, automatically correcting his speech for her. ‘June is miserable. She wants you home – we both do. I would’ve brought her but Sergeant Sallis says he can’t allow it. He shouldn’t have let us meet, but he’s all right.’
‘Yes, he has been kind,’ she said and smiled through hovering tears. ‘As kind as he can be in the circumstances …’
‘Have they told you when you can come home?’
Her bottom lip trembled. ‘It may not be for a while, Archie,’ she whispered. ‘They got me a solicitor and he says the case will go for trial – but I know he thinks I’m guilty …’
‘Mum! They can’t think that,’ Archie said loudly. ‘You would never do anything bad. I know you wouldn’t …’
‘Keep on believing in me, my love,’ she said in a choking voice. ‘And promise me you will look after your sister. Please, Archie. You have to take care of her until I can get home to look after you both …’
‘Oh, Mum, it isn’t fair. June hates being at St Saviour’s – and I don’t much like it, though it’s better than bein’ on the streets …’
‘You’ll be safe with Sister Beatrice,’ his mother said and stroked his hair back. ‘I wish this hadn’t happened, Archie. Someone hates me – I think Reg Prentice is behind all this, but I can’t prove it … and no one but Sergeant Sallis believes me …’
‘The judge will, Mum,’ Archie said fiercely and hugged her again. ‘I wish I could make him pay for what he’s done – that rotten manager of yours …’
‘Promise me not to do anything stupid,’ she said and kissed the top of his head. ‘You’re like your dad, Archie, and I know you’ll be all right at St Saviour’s. Don’t let them split you up and ask Sister to keep you here in London until I get home – but if they don’t I’ll find you. I promise …’
‘I’m sorry, Archie, but you’ll have to go,’ a voice said from the door. ‘If my chief constable finds you here I’m for the chop. It’s back to your cell, Mrs Miller …’
‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘And thank you so much for this …’
Archie stared rebelliously as she was led away, but he followed the police constable who beckoned him and showed him out of the side door.
‘You’re a lucky lad,’ he told him. ‘I wouldn’t have risked my job like the Sarge has … Get off with you now and behave yourself …’
Archie shot him a resentful look and left. He became aware that tears were trickling down his face and brushed them off angrily as he went to join Billy in the café opposite.
‘All right now?’ Billy asked and got up to join him. ‘I’ll take you to meet some of the football team. You’ll be fine with Sister Beatrice and if there’s any justice your mum will be out afore you know it …’
‘Ah, Nancy,’ Beatrice said as the girl knocked and then entered her office. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Nancy replied. Her soft fair hair was pulled back into a neat plait at the back of her head and she wore the pink gingham dress that was the uniform of all the carers. She was an attractive girl who could have made more of her looks if she’d tried. Since Nan had left them, she’d unofficially taken over her duties, liaising with Beatrice over the rotas and doing extra duty when needed. ‘I just wanted to let you know that I shall be visiting Terry this weekend.’
‘How is your brother?’ Beatrice felt the tiny prick of guilt she always felt when Nancy mentioned Terry. He was now living in a special home in Cambridgeshire for the mentally retarded, where Nancy said he was happy and content to spend his days. ‘Any change?’
‘Not really,’ Nancy said and sighed. ‘Last time I was down he didn’t know me for the first hour or so and then he came out of his trance and was pleased to see me. I never know for certain whether he will recognise me or not.’
‘That is so sad for you, my dear. I had hoped he might make a complete recovery.’
‘Mr Adderbury explained it to me,’ Nancy said. ‘Terry is blocking the past out of his mind. He isn’t violent these days. Everyone says he’s easy to look after, and he helps the gardeners, but he doesn’t remember much about what happened before they took him to the clinic, and sometimes he doesn’t seem to know me. I think it’s the treatment they gave him when he was first taken in …’
‘Well, perhaps it is better for him, Nancy. If the past hurts too much … not all of us are as strong as you, my dear.’
‘I don’t think about it; it’s over and gone and I’ve put it behind me,’ Nancy said, though something in her eyes told Beatrice that wasn’t quite true. ‘Well, I’ll get on. Tilly is in this morning but she can’t do everything on her own. We’re changing the linen today.’
‘I’m sure you’re very busy,’ Beatrice said. ‘Thank you for reminding me that you will be away this weekend.’
‘Jean said she would come in on Sunday if we need her.’
‘Yes, that would be most helpful, but I doubt we shall need her,’ Beatrice said. ‘Wendy will be on duty and I’m sure we can manage for once.’
Returning to her paperwork after Nancy had gone, Beatrice sighed. Jean Marsh had worked for them as a carer before her marriage, and had two young children at school. She sometimes worked a few hours in the mornings if they were short-handed, but it was a case of balancing the budget. Beatrice was fortunate in her staff, she knew, because they were all dedicated to their jobs and willing to work extra hours, often for no extra money. Wendy would sometimes do the work of the carers if necessary, even though her training meant she should not be asked to do menial work, but she never objected in a case of emergency.
Beatrice’s longest-serving carers were Tilly and Kelly, both of whom seemed devoted to St Saviour’s, and although Tilly had married she hadn’t left them, nor did she intend to until she had children. Kelly had a long-standing boyfriend, but no plans for marriage as far as Beatrice was aware. She supposed it was because both she and her friend had families to look after at home, but neither of them confided in her as Nancy and Wendy did. Nurse Michelle had recently given her a month’s notice, because she was having another child, and that meant Beatrice would have to try and find a replacement. It was so difficult to find a good staff nurse willing to work at the home. These days they were all busy at the hospitals, perhaps because nursing wasn’t as popular an occupation with young girls as it had once been. Beatrice had read something about nurses from overseas wanting to come to Britain and she wondered if perhaps she might be luckier if she took on a nurse from another country – and yet there might be difficulty in getting permission for them to work here for more than a few months.
If Angela were here she would know exactly what to do about that sort of thing. Beatrice had resented it when she’d first been appointed as Administrator for the orphanage but she certainly felt the lack of Angela’s organising skills …
A knock at her door made Beatrice look up. Most of her staff simply knocked once and put their head round the door, but this person had knocked twice and was obviously waiting for an invitation to enter.
‘Come in then,’ Beatrice said impatiently. She wasn’t really surprised when Ruby Saunders entered. The young woman was wearing a brown pleated skirt and a fawn jacket over a brown jumper. Her dark-brown hair was dragged back into a tight knot and she’d clipped it firmly back with brown slides. Her complexion was pale and she wore only the faintest smear of pale-pink lipstick. She certainly wasn’t vain about her appearance, that much was apparent, because underneath those dowdy clothes and awful hairstyle there might have been an attractive woman.
‘Ah, Miss Saunders, what may I do for you?’
‘I wondered if you’d heard about Mrs Miller.’
‘Mrs Miller?’ Sister Beatrice frowned as she sought for clarification. ‘Ah, I believe you mean the mother of those children we had brought in last month … Archie and June? No, I don’t believe I’ve heard anything – why?’
‘She’s been committed for trial next week, which means she will almost certainly be given a prison sentence.’
‘You can’t be sure the woman is guilty …’
‘They wouldn’t have brought a trial if they weren’t pretty sure of a conviction,’ Ruby said. ‘It means those children will be without a mother for some time – what shall you do if she’s sent to prison for a long term?’
‘I hadn’t considered it,’ Beatrice said. ‘They will stay here until I’m certain of the outcome and then … well, we may have to send them on to Halfpenny House.’
‘Did you know the Miller girl has been in a lot of trouble at school? She broke a window yesterday by throwing a stone at it and she hit a teacher with a ruler when she was disciplined for bad behaviour.’
‘That was unfortunate,’ Beatrice frowned. ‘I dare say she is very unhappy at what has happened to her. Her mother has been forcibly taken from her and she must wonder what is happening to her life. My carers haven’t reported bad behaviour here at St Saviour’s.’
‘Well, I thought you should know,’ Ruby said. ‘If such behaviour isn’t stopped immediately she may become uncontrollable and once they start down the slippery slope they end up before the courts. Perhaps you should have a quiet word, unless you would prefer me to speak to her?’
‘I believe I am capable of looking after the children in my charge, Miss Saunders. Leave it to me if you please.’
Ruby shrugged her shoulders. ‘Well, you’ve been warned. Some of these girls are devious, Sister Beatrice. I saw June talking with Betty Goodge yesterday morning and it made me wonder; Betty is a troublemaker and a bad influence on others – I’ve never been in favour of mixing your children and my offenders. Some of my girls are not a good influence. You might be well advised to move the girl before she gets into real trouble.’
‘Thank you for your advice, which will be considered,’ Beatrice said coldly. Did the woman think she’d been born yesterday? ‘Is there anything more you wish to discuss concerning my children?’
‘No. I just feel you would be better advised to move her or to think about fostering. June needs parents to keep her in order and her mother clearly cannot cope. She’s been allowed to get out of hand and …’ Ruby was silenced as Sister Beatrice rose to her feet. ‘Well, it’s just my advice, for what it’s worth …’
‘Quite.’ The one word was quelling.
Ruby’s cheeks turned dark pink and she turned and left without another word. Beatrice fought for calm. She didn’t know when she’d felt angrier. These people just couldn’t help interfering, making difficulties where none existed. Anyone would think she’d never dealt with a difficult child in her life! No one could have been a bigger rebel than Billy Baggins when he first arrived, and look at him now … He’d certainly repaid the care he’d been given in many ways, and that was why she was disinclined to ask him to move on, even though he ought to have gone long ago. However, he helped out with the older boys, getting them interested in football and athletics and keeping them out of trouble.
Still, there was no sense in ignoring the warning. She would speak to Wendy and Nancy about June and her brother. It was at times like these when she missed Nan. Her old friend had a wise head and they’d often discussed the difficult children, but like Angela, Nan had her own life these days …
Leaving the paperwork on her desk, Beatrice decided to take a walk round the home. It was by quietly observing the children at their work and play that she made her own decisions. Obviously Archie and June Miller would not be able to stay here if their mother was sent to prison long term, because few of the children did these days. St Saviour’s did a very necessary job of taking in frightened, anxious children, reassuring them, making them understand that a new life awaited them at Halfpenny House and then sending them on. However, Beatrice would do her utmost to make certain that the brother and sister stayed together …
Ruby made herself a coffee in her office and glared at the dividing wall between her and the orphanage next door. Sometimes it made her as mad as fire to see the way that lot went on, heads in the clouds as if all children were little angels who must be treated like fine china. Talk about a dinosaur! Sister Beatrice should have been shipped back off to her convent years ago in Ruby’s opinion. Stuffy old trout! Ruby had only been trying to give her good advice, to prevent a girl on the edge from slipping over into the abyss, from which it was very hard to climb back. Once the girl had a reputation for being trouble she would find life a lot harder than simply being moved to an orphanage in a pleasant location.
Ruby knew a bit about hardship herself, but she hadn’t gone to the bad, even though she’d had every provocation. She’d had to fight for what she’d got and that didn’t give her much patience with those that had it easy. By the look of her, Sister Beatrice had never done a proper day’s work in her life. Oh, she’d trained as a nurse, but she hadn’t had to struggle every step to claw her way through high school and pass her grades. With Ruby’s home life, she could’ve been forgiven for leaving school at fifteen and taking a job – anything to get away! She hadn’t lain down and wept and felt sorry for herself. She’d passed her exams despite all the stuff she’d had to cope with and, after some years of hard graft, she’d landed a good job with the Children’s Department. An orphan herself, Ruby had lived with an uncle and aunt for four years, until she’d won a scholarship to college. After that, she’d made her own way. Nothing would ever persuade her to live under his roof again. She didn’t even visit her buttoned-up Aunt Joan and she wouldn’t go near him if she were starving! Her uncle was a grubby-minded little man who couldn’t keep his hands to himself – and Ruby should know! She’d had to fight him off since she was twelve.
When she’d taken the first lowly position in the Children’s Department, Ruby had had to struggle for recognition and the chance to realise her ambition. It was only when she’d helped Ruth Sampson out with a difficult case on a couple of occasions that she’d started to move up. It was important to Ruby that her superior should appreciate her; she wasn’t sure, but she had the feeling that Ruth didn’t like men any more than she did – it was why she’d never married and dedicated herself to her job. What Ruby didn’t know for sure was whether she felt more than liking for her.
It was something she had to keep hidden, this passion for another woman. Sex and love between two women wasn’t seen as correct, either politically or lawfully, and although the voices raised against the old-fashioned laws were growing in number, at this time it didn’t look as if things would ever change. Ruby saw that as unfair and discrimination against someone like her; she couldn’t help it if she wanted to love a woman and not a man. The very thought of a man touching her made her shudder – so why shouldn’t she find happiness with someone of her own persuasion? Yet she knew she had to be careful. If she offended Ruth, she would be out of the Department and looking for another job – and she might find herself in worse trouble …
Ruby’s job paid quite well. She had her own tiny flat, just a bedroom, tiny bathroom, kitchen and that was it; there was no space for anything much but it was hers, her sanctuary. Her bed folded away during the day and she had a battered old sofa she sat on; a single wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a chair and a table that let down and could be stood against the wall at night. It was all she needed. She’d got where she was by working hard and keeping her emotions tightly under control.
She was in charge of this side of St Saviour’s, but her bit wasn’t called that now. It was a centre for girls on probation, girls who could end up in an institution that had bars on the windows and cells rather than dormitories if they didn’t behave. Ruby had twenty girls in her care at the Halfpenny Probationary Centre, and two assistant female workers under her supervision as well as a male orderly; his strength was needed occasionally if one of the worst offenders became violent. One girl had been strange whenever there was a full moon and they’d had to restrain her a few times, but she’d now been removed to a secure unit. There wasn’t a sick ward here, and in the case of illness Ruby called in the doctor or asked one of the nurses from next door to pop in, but if the girls were ill they went to hospital. She wasn’t a nurse and wouldn’t allow herself to be drawn into caring for her girls in that way; they were here because they needed to be disciplined and she was here to see they behaved. Ruby wasn’t soft, she’d been trained in a hard school, and she was up to the tricks of the girls who landed themselves in her charge.
At twenty-seven she’d finally got the kind of job she’d been after for years and she was proud of herself. She wrote regular reports on the behaviour of the girls in her charge and she prided herself that she’d had nothing significant to report for months. Ruby had made certain that her girls knew they must live by her rules; she considered herself as being fair but strict and she’d told them that if they made trouble or ran away the next step was a remand home and then prison. So far not one girl had run away, and that was more than they could say next door. Ruby happened to know that one of the boys they’d sent to Halfpenny House had absconded recently. She’d heard that they’d had trouble keeping staff there and that some of the kids were rebellious. Of course the boy who’d run off wasn’t an offender and at fourteen he was probably old enough to find himself a job, but that old trout next door shouldn’t be too proud to take some advice when it was given in good faith …
An altercation outside her door interrupted her thoughts and then a girl burst in, shouting at the top of her voice, followed by one of the carers. Ruby dismissed the carer with a wave of her hand and looked at the girl. She was Betty Goodge and she was wearing lipstick again, something expressly forbidden.
‘Be quiet, Betty,’ Ruby said sternly. ‘Why are you wearing lipstick? You are far too young, even if we allowed it – and you know the rules. Even the older girls are not permitted any make-up during their stay here.’
‘Rotten ole rules,’ Betty sneered at her. ‘I didn’t ask to come ’ere – what do I care what yer say?’
‘Would you prefer to be sent to the remand home?’ Ruby asked sternly. ‘This is your last chance, Betty. If I have any further nonsense from you, you will be sent somewhere you will learn discipline.’
‘See if I care …’ Betty stuck her tongue out at her. ‘Rotten ole cow!’
Ruby went round the desk and slapped her across the face just once. ‘You will care if I send you away. What I just did is nothing. You’ll be restrained and drugged if you’re violent and kept in a padded cell …’
Betty stared, shocked into listening. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, eyes filling with tears. ‘Didn’t mean it …’
‘You have one last chance,’ Ruby repeated and held out her hand. ‘Give me the lipstick and don’t let me see you wearing it again …’
Betty handed it over reluctantly but raised her head in defiance. She held her tongue, still stunned by the slap and the threat of what would happen to her in a remand home, but Ruby guessed it wouldn’t last long. Because she knew what the girl had been through at home, she would give her one last chance, but she didn’t regret the slap. Betty had to learn discipline and if she didn’t she would deserve all she got …
‘How are the Miller children settling in?’ Beatrice asked Wendy when she saw her later that afternoon. ‘Do you think they’re ready to be moved on yet?’
‘In my opinion no,’ Wendy said, looking thoughtful. ‘Archie is set on visiting his mother at the police station and wants to prove her innocence. I don’t think he has much chance of doing either, even if Mrs Miller is innocent – but I believe he would resent being sent away or being separated from his sister. She is a little truculent at times, but does what the carers ask her, so both Tilly and Kelly say …’
‘That is exactly my own opinion,’ Beatrice nodded her agreement. ‘I shall wait until we hear what happens to their mother. If she is sent to prison, of course, they must both be moved to Halfpenny House.’
‘Yes, I suppose so. It’s a pity we can’t just keep them here.’
‘We only have so much room. I spoke against handing over the new wing to the Children’s Department, but we had little choice in the matter. I’m afraid that in the case of a prison sentence for Mrs Miller I shall have no alternative but to send them on. However, I shall keep them together.’
‘Oh yes, they must stay together,’ Wendy agreed.
‘Well, that has settled my mind,’ Beatrice said. ‘You are off this evening I believe?’
‘Yes, I’m looking forward to it,’ Wendy said. ‘I’ve arranged to go to the pictures with Kelly. Her boyfriend is working and her father said she should have a night out for once, and as her sister is old enough to help about the house now she asked me if I wanted to see Annie Get Your Gun with her.’
‘Is that a new film?’
‘No, it came out in 1950 but somehow I never got to see it and neither did Kelly. It’s on again at the Odeon and we thought it would make a nice change; it’s a musical.’
‘Ah yes, you will enjoy that,’ Beatrice said. ‘How is young Dick this evening? He has as nasty a case of the measles as I’ve seen …’
‘He has been feeling very sorry for himself,’ Wendy smiled in sympathy, ‘but I’ve seen an improvement today, and fortunately we haven’t had any further cases pre-senting themselves.’
‘Good. Well I shan’t hinder you; I’m sure you have things to do …’
Beatrice smiled as she walked back to her office. Thank goodness she didn’t have to work with Ruby Saunders!
CHAPTER 5 (#u03c152e8-2afa-5cba-8aba-68f69720a496)
‘Can I see my mother?’ Archie asked the following Saturday morning at the police station. ‘I’ve brought her some fudge. She likes fudge and I got it special for her.’
‘I’m sorry, lad,’ Sergeant Sallis said from behind the counter. ‘She was found guilty at her trial yesterday and she’s been moved to Holloway … they gave her an eighteen-month sentence …’
‘They can’t have …’ Archie was stunned. ‘She’s innocent. Why doesn’t anyone believe us? If she took that money where is it?’
‘She said she was innocent but the stolen cheques were found in her desk and a sheet of paper on which she’d been practising the manager’s signature – and there was ten pounds missing from the cash box too. Only she and Reg Prentice had the key … and he was the one that drew attention to the missing money.’
‘Then he took the money and he put those things in Mum’s desk, I know he did,’ Archie said belligerently. ‘It ain’t fair. Mum ain’t a thief …’
‘If it were up to me I’d give her the benefit of the doubt,’ Sergeant Sallis said. ‘I’m truly sorry, lad. I wish there was something I could do, but the evidence went against her. She got a light sentence because of her previously good record and with good behaviour she might be out in a year or less.’
Archie felt the rage building inside him, but he wasn’t going to rage at Sergeant Sallis. Twice, he’d let him see his mum for a few minutes, and he wasn’t supposed to do that, Archie knew.
‘How can I see her?’
‘I’m not sure they will let you visit at the prison,’ Sergeant Sallis said doubtfully. ‘You’re still a child in the eyes of the law – but I’ll find out for you, and if there’s a way I’ll get you a visiting order, and if not I’ll get you the proper address so you can write to her and send her a little parcel.’
Archie swallowed his anger and bewilderment and thanked him. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked away, shoulders hunched defensively. It was hell being a kid with no parents. If he’d been older he could’ve stood up to those people who’d labelled his mum a thief; she’d told Archie she was innocent and believed she’d been set up and she’d whispered a name. For some reason Reg Prentice had had it in for his mum, but she hadn’t told him why; instead she’d told him to keep it to himself and not make trouble.
‘If you go round there and accuse him it will only make them think you’re a troublemaker, Archie. You have to stay strong, look after June for me, and I’ll come back and find you when I can …’
Tears were burning the back of Archie’s throat. He wished there was something he could do to comfort his mother, picturing her sitting in a cell, either alone or with other women – women who were thieves and worse. How she would hate it! Sandra Miller had always done her best to keep her children honest, clean and decent, and she’d been that way herself. Archie didn’t believe for one moment that his mother had stolen those cheques or any money either. Someone had wanted to punish her and one day Archie was going to find out why and when he knew for certain … Reg Prentice had just better look out, that’s all.
For the moment he had to take care of his sister. Archie was well aware June had been in trouble at school. He’d taken her to task over it, telling her what a fool she was to let others provoke her. He knew she was getting a lot of bullying at school, other girls jeering at her because her mother was locked up for theft and calling her names. Archie had endured some of the jeering himself, but he’d ignored it, squaring up to one of the boys and asking him if he wanted to make something of it. Because Archie was older and stronger than his sister, he’d succeeded in quietening the bullies, but June was different. She didn’t like to be the object of scorn, and she was upset because their mother had gone away. Archie had tried to tell her it wasn’t Mum’s fault, but he didn’t know whether she believed him or not.
He kicked angrily at a discarded can, lingering at the edge of the market. He didn’t want to go back to his room at the orphanage; he hadn’t made many friends there and he missed the life he’d known before his mother was arrested.
‘Hey there, young ’un,’ a voice said and he saw Billy Baggins coming towards him. ‘Got nothing to do?’
‘I went to visit Mum,’ Archie said. ‘They’ve moved her to prison …’
‘I’m sorry about that,’ Billy said. ‘My brother is in prison, you know. I felt ashamed the first time, but he’s no good – it’s different for you. Sergeant Sallis told me he doesn’t think your mum got justice.’
‘She’s not a thief. I know she’s not …’ Archie shuffled his feet moodily. ‘I’m going to try and visit her in prison, but I might need an adult to go with me – if they’ll let me at all …’
‘I’ll go with you if they’ll give us a visiting order,’ Billy offered. ‘Just keep believin’ in her, mate. It doesn’t matter what the world says, as long as you know the truth …’
‘Thanks, Billy,’ Archie said. ‘I wish I could run as fast as you.’
‘I don’t run as much as I used to. I’m too busy working these days,’ Billy told him. ‘Look, do you want to earn a few bob?’
‘Yeah – what do I have to do?’
‘See that man at the fruit and veg stall?’ Archie nodded. ‘You tell him Billy Baggins sent you and he’ll give you a job trimming stuff and clearing up the rubbish. I used to work for him, but I’ve got other things to do these days. He’s a fair man is Ted Hastings; he’ll treat you right. I’ve got to go now. I’m takin’ a mate to help clear his house and move him into a new council place …’
Archie thanked him and watched as he strode off, looking for all the world as if he were king of all he surveyed. He thought he’d like to be like Billy one day, but he didn’t think he could win cups in running or football. He hesitated, and then approached the man on the stall Billy had pointed out. Archie hadn’t anything else to do with himself for a few hours, and a few extra shillings would come in useful if he did get to visit his mother …
It was the stuff of nightmares, but even in her worst dreams Sandra had never seen herself in prison; she wasn’t the sort who broke the law and one of the worst things of all was being labelled a thief in the eyes of the world, even though she knew she hadn’t touched that money. There was no doubt whatsoever in Sandra’s mind that Reg Prentice had set her up because she’d threatened to go to the boss with her complaints. How he must be laughing now and how she hated him for doing this to her; it was her anger against him and the others who had turned against her, people she’d thought her friends, that made it possible for her to bear the humiliation.
Sandra wasn’t sure which part of the nightmare had been the worst: her arrest and the look in the eyes of people who believed her guilty; the time she’d spent in the police cells, her trial or her arrival at the women’s prison. The sound of that metal door clanging shut behind her, the stench, and the knowledge that she was shut in this foul place for months on end would’ve broken her if she hadn’t been so angry. She’d always believed in British justice and until sentence was pronounced she’d believed she would be declared innocent and set free.
Sandra had still been in a state of shock when they took her down from the dock and put her in a van with other women – women who were hardened to crime and laughed, jeering at the guards and swearing in a way that made Sandra wince. She could hardly believe that it had really happened, and because of that she’d endured the strip search, the showers during which the women huddled together, watched over by a warden who looked as if she’d never smiled in her life. She’d seen her things taken away and put in a box for which she’d had to sign, and she’d been given a shapeless grey sack that, belted in the middle with a tie, might just look like a dress.
All of that was bearable because she was angry. It was only when they’d pushed her into a cell and locked the door on her that Sandra began to tremble and the useless anger became a nameless fear that made her want to scream and scream, shouting her innocence out loud, and yet she didn’t because some inner instinct told her that the only way to endure this was to keep her thoughts to herself – to live for the day when she was released. Shouting abuse as some of the others did wouldn’t help, nothing would alter what was happening to her and being abusive would only make things worse.
‘So what did you do then?’ the only other occupant of her cell asked. ‘I’m in ’ere fer sellin’ it on the streets – wot ’ave you done, ducks?’
Sandra had hardly noticed the woman, or girl as she now saw, because she couldn’t have been more than seventeen surely. She had bleached blonde hair, dark eyebrows and lashes and pale skin, which was blotched in a few places with red patches.
‘They say I stole money and cheques from work,’ Sandra said. ‘I was set up by a man who hates me because I told him to get lost.’
‘Yeah, I know that sort,’ the girl said and pulled a face. ‘It were one of them that got me started on the game. I ’ated him and got away from him when I found Dicky; he’s a pet and saw me right …’Ere, you ain’t got a fag, ’ave yer? I’m gaspin’ fer one and the buggers don’t give us enough ter last the week …’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t smoke …’
‘Don’t let the buggers know that,’ the girl said. ‘Or you won’t get yer ration. Fags are bloody gold dust in ’ere, love. If you don’t want ’em there’s plenty do, and you can trade ’em for privileges, see … There’s women in ’ere that can make yer life ’ell if they want, or if they take to yer, they can make it easier.’
Sandra nodded, warming to the girl despite her unkempt appearance. She probably looked much the same herself now, because she hadn’t been able to dry her hair properly after the shower, and she hadn’t brought anything in the way of cosmetics into the prison with her. Archie had brought her a comb and toothbrush to the police cells, but apart from those and a bar of prison-issue soap she had nothing of her own.
‘Is this your first time inside?’
‘Nah, third, but I’m only in fer six months this time – four if I keep me nose clean …’
‘I’m Sandra.’ She offered her hand and after a moment the girl took it and grinned. ‘I’m glad I’m sharing with you …’
‘Mo, they call me, but me name’s Maureen,’ the girl said and laughed. ‘Tell the truth, I don’t care what they call me. I do what I’m told and keep out of trouble. If I were you I’d do the same. It’s no use complaining, whether it’s the screws or the other lot. You just have to put up with it until they put you out of the front gate and tell you not to come back.’
‘I shan’t be back,’ Sandra said. She wanted to say that she would soon be released and that her friends would prove her innocence, but she didn’t know who her friends were any more or even if she had any …
‘I didn’t think to say last time so I thought I’d better come round and tell you,’ Sergeant Sallis said to Sister Beatrice later that day. ‘Archie Miller came to the station and asked to see his mother, brought her a bag of fudge – and I had to tell him that she’d been sent down for eighteen months. I’ve told him I’ll try to get a visiting order, but I doubt they will let him see her; he’ll have to be accompanied, even if they’ll allow it.’
‘That would be no problem, one of my carers could go,’ Beatrice said and frowned. ‘However, this means I shall have to move him and his sister to Halfpenny House, because I can’t keep them here for that length of time.’
‘Archie isn’t going to like that,’ Sergeant Sallis said. ‘I’d take the lad to visit myself and I’m prepared to vouch for him – but I can’t promise anything …’
‘Well, I’ll delay it for a week or two but if we get more children needing to be admitted, Archie will have to be moved, and his sister …’
‘Now that’s the other thing …’ Sergeant Sallis looked grave. ‘We’ve had a complaint about June Miller. Apparently, she and an older girl …’ he consulted his notebook, ‘Betty Goodge, currently residing next door, were seen stealing lipstick from Woolworth’s this morning …’
‘Are you certain it was June Miller?’ Beatrice frowned. ‘I know Betty Goodge is a convicted thief. If she was older she would be in prison – and that is probably where she belongs. I understand she is a bad influence on the other girls next door …’
‘Sometimes you get a bad one,’ Sergeant Sallis sighed heavily. ‘It seems to be bred in them and no matter how many chances you give them they won’t change. I’ve told Miss Saunders and she said that Betty was already on a warning so I dare say she may find herself on the way to the remand centre before she knows what has happened.’
‘Will you leave June to me, Sergeant?’
‘Yes, of course. It’s why I’ve told you. We don’t have any proof she actually stole something. She was with Betty Goodge and that was enough to bring me here, but perhaps if you talk to her she will see the error of her ways.’
‘I think I may have to send the children away after all, for June’s sake,’ Beatrice said. ‘I shall tell Archie that if he wishes to visit his mother he may do so and St Saviour’s will fund his fares to the prison and back to Halfpenny House. It is not ideal, but if the girl is in danger of being corrupted the sooner she is moved the better, and I do not think separating them would be the right thing.’
‘No, I am certain it would not,’ he agreed. ‘Well, I’ll get off home then. I know I can leave it to you to sort things out …’
‘Here, shove it in your pocket, June,’ Betty hissed as she handed her a fistful of lipsticks she’d snatched off the counter in Woolies. ‘We’d better make a run fer it or they’ll nab us …’
June giggled nervously. She was in awe of Betty, who was bold and daring and didn’t seem to fear anyone. She felt flattered that the older girl had noticed her and chosen her as her special friend. Betty was already leaving the shop when June felt the hand on her shoulder and was suddenly stopped in her tracks.
‘Betty …’ she cried piteously, but her friend looked back and grinned as she ran off, leaving June to face the anger of the shop manager by herself.
‘You’re in trouble now, girl,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’m holding you responsible for the theft of those lipsticks and you’ll sit quietly in my office until the police come … and it will be better for you if you tell me who the girl was that actually snatched them.’ He paused and frowned at her. ‘I saw what she did and I’ll tell Sergeant Sallis who was to blame – but you’re in serious trouble, girl, and she’s run off and left you to take the blame …’
June looked at him, tears hovering. ‘I want my mum,’ she whispered miserably. ‘I want to go home to my mum …’
‘Oh no, not again,’ Sister Beatrice groaned as Sergeant Sallis pushed June forward and told the sorry tale. It was his second visit of the day and by far the most serious. ‘June, what have you got to say for yourself?’
June hung her head but didn’t speak. Sister Beatrice sighed and looked at her sadly.
‘Don’t you know what kind of a girl she is, June? She isn’t your friend or she would’ve stayed with you and helped you – she got you into this trouble and you’re very lucky not to be sent to a remand home. If it happens again, I shan’t be able to stop the police bringing a case against you …’
‘I’m sorry. It was just a lipstick …’
‘At least four,’ Sister Beatrice shook her head. ‘Go along and have your tea, but remember this is your last chance …’
She stared at the police officer in exasperation as the door closed behind June. ‘She isn’t a bad child – it’s that Betty Goodge.’
‘I’ve spoken to Miss Saunders about her and she’s having her sent on to the remand centre. Apparently, she gave her one last chance – and now she’ll have time to repent at leisure …’
‘Do some of them ever learn? I don’t think even we could have helped that girl – and she’s certainly had no understanding or love next door …’
‘Miss Saunders doesn’t see things the way you do, Sister. It will be a sorry day if her kind ever takes over completely – they don’t seem to know the meaning of compassion; it’s all morals and rules with that lot.’
‘Yes, I believe you may be right,’ Beatrice said. She was thoughtful as Sergeant Sallis took his leave. June would soon be leaving for Halfpenny House and out of the way of the bad influence from next door, but did she ought to visit the prison and tell June’s mother any of this? Mrs Miller surely had a right to know whatever she’d done … Perhaps she would wait until she had better news to pass on, when June was settled in Essex and doing better. Surely, it couldn’t help to give Mrs Miller bad news, because she must be worried enough as it was …
Ruby replaced her telephone receiver and smiled in satisfaction. After what had happened today, Sister Beatrice wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if she tried to hang on to June Miller. Ruby had rung the Children’s Department as soon as she’d heard and told them she was moving Betty into secure care. Her call to Miss Sampson had turned out to be more worthwhile than she’d hoped, because her supervisor from when she worked in the Children’s Welfare Department had agreed with everything she said; they were alike in more ways than one, though Ruth was a few years older, but neither of them was interested in marriage or men. Ruby suspected that Miss Sampson’s reasons might be different from hers, but it did mean that they got on well, and Ruby took care to consult her about important decisions, even though she was in charge of her girls, within the Department rules.
‘I know that strictly speaking it isn’t my affair, but I felt in the interests of the child I should consult you. In my opinion she has been allowed to run wild for years and even if the mother were not in prison I believe she would be better with a decent family. Otherwise she will end in a remand home like so many others.’
‘You were very sensible to contact me,’ Miss Sampson said primly. ‘I have always thought that St Saviour’s would be better run by someone like you, Ruby – especially now that Angela Adderbury has retired. Sister Beatrice was kept there because a lot of influential people refused to move her, despite my advice. Sister Beatrice is well-meaning, I have no doubt, and I believe she is strict – but I think I shall look into this matter and quite possibly make an order for fostering.’
‘I’m so glad I rang you. I thought you might reprimand me for interfering?’
‘Not at all, Ruby. Did you have anyone in mind for foster parents?’
‘Well, I do know of a couple who have asked about fostering one of my girls. Mr and Mrs Bailey said they wanted to give a child a good home. I explained that my girls are here to be disciplined and could not be considered for fostering or adoption, but then I thought of June …’
‘What kind of people are they?’
‘She is a school teacher and he owns a grocery business; he helps to run a youth club in the evenings. They are both in their thirties and childless – and willing to foster older children, but they did ask for a girl.’
‘They sound ideal,’ Miss Sampson said. ‘Yes, give me their details in writing and I’ll make some inquiries. We are a little short of available foster parents at the moment, so they might very well be suitable.’
‘I am so pleased I rang you now. I was afraid you might think I was interfering in St Saviour’s business.’
‘Not at all, Ruby. You are a woman after my own heart and I trust your judgement. Please keep me informed of anything that attracts your notice.’
Ruby glowed under her superior’s praise. It was exactly what she wanted – for Ruth to notice her and approve. Perhaps it was the first step to a relationship between them … but she still needed to be very careful; she must be sure her affection was returned before she made a suggestion. ‘I’m so glad you agree, because I am sure Sister Beatrice will not …’
‘Well you know my opinion there. Leave it with me, but as soon as I’ve verified this couple, I shall make an order for June Miller to be taken into custody …’
Ruby was feeling elated when she finished her call; Ruth Sampson had thought she’d behaved properly, though Sister Beatrice would almost certainly be furious. She would believe that Ruby had gone beyond her remit and would no doubt be angry to receive an order for one of her children to be taken into care and then fostered. Ruby pushed the thought from her mind. She’d acted in the best interests of the child, which any bystander was entitled to do …
Archie was pleased as he fingered the half-crown in his pocket. Ted Hastings had praised him for his work and rewarded him generously. He’d been so pleased that he’d told Archie he could have the job every Saturday morning if he wanted it.
‘I’ve been lookin’ for a likely lad to work on the stalls,’ he’d said as he handed Archie a plastic mug of tea and a sticky bun. ‘If you keep up the good work I could take you on when you leave school. In time you could be running a stall yourself and you might even own one in time …’
Archie knew that Ted Hastings owned several market stalls. His daughter Maggie ran a stall selling material and she’d been busy the whole morning. Ted had sent Archie over with a cup of tea for her and Maggie had been just as friendly as her father.
‘Thanks, Archie,’ she’d said after he’d told her his name. ‘That’s just what I could do with. I hope you’re going to work for us every week?’
‘Mr Hastings said I can work for him when I leave school,’ Archie said. ‘I could leave next term, but Mum wanted me to stay at school and learn to be something proper – in an office or a mechanic or somethin’ …’
‘Dad says you never get anywhere as a wage-slave,’ Maggie told him. ‘I think you should come and work for us as soon as you leave. You’ll do all right for yourself with us. When Dad takes to someone he looks after them …’
Archie wondered what Mr Hastings would think if he knew his mum was in prison for theft … a theft she hadn’t committed. Perhaps he should have told him, but it wasn’t something he was proud of. He might have believed Archie, but if he didn’t he probably wouldn’t have let him help on the stall.
Archie was just going to have to prove himself, before he told his new friend.
‘Where did you get to all day?’
June’s sulky tones made him turn to look at her. He’d been sitting in the little garden behind St Saviour’s because it was quiet and he wanted to think but now he was suddenly angry.
‘I should think you’re the one who should be telling me that,’ Archie said and stood up. ‘Why did you take those lipsticks? You know Mum would be furious if she thought you’d pinched anything.’
‘I didn’t,’ June said truculently. ‘Betty gave them to me …’
‘But she stole them and you knew what she’d done,’ Archie said. ‘It was stupid, June. Do you want to end up in a remand home like her?’
‘No …’ June looked fit to burst into tears. ‘I want to be at home with Mum but she’s in prison …’
‘Because someone lied about her,’ Archie said. ‘You’ve still got your freedom and it’s not too bad here. Sister Beatrice looks stern but she’s fair – and Wendy is lovely, so are Sally and Nancy. All of them are … We could be in a lot worse places, June.’
‘I know …’ June hung her head. ‘It was Betty. She kept taunting me and I wanted her to like me.’
‘If you want me to like you, just behave. I don’t want you sent off to some remand home. Mum would kill me when she got home. We’ve got to stick together, love – don’t you see?’
‘I’m sorry,’ June said. ‘I wish Mum was here …’
As the tears slipped down her cheeks Archie relented and put his arms about her. ‘It’s all right, June. I’ll look after you. You’ll always have me. I promise …’
CHAPTER 6 (#u03c152e8-2afa-5cba-8aba-68f69720a496)
‘Was it a good film last night?’ Tilly asked as she met Kelly coming into work that evening. ‘My sister Mags wants to see it and I’ve told her she can go with her friends, but I’ve been thinking I’d like to see it myself.’ Tilly’s brother had joined the Army the minute he was old enough and intended it to be his career, but Mags had come to live with Tilly and her husband Terry after their mother had died the previous year. Mrs Mallens had been too fond of the drink and when she caught pneumonia, she hadn’t had the strength to fight it.
‘It was Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. It came out last year but I hadn’t seen it and I loved it,’ Kelly said. ‘I don’t get to the flicks often, because I work most nights and I’m usually busy at home even if I’m not at work …’
Tilly nodded her understanding. She knew how ill Kelly’s mother was and sympathised with her, because although hers was a happier home than Tilly’s had been, there were several younger children for whom Kelly had been responsible until they were old enough to leave school, and there was still the youngest boy and her sick mother to care for. Until her death, Tilly’s own mother had often been moody, sometimes drunk, and always irritable since her second husband was sent to prison for attacking a young woman. She’d blamed Tilly for everything, but she’d got used to it over the years, ignoring her tantrums until the last. Mags had started working on the counters at Boots the chemist and contributed to the household income, which made it easier on Tilly because she couldn’t do a full-time job now she was married. Mags was a pretty girl and Tilly thought it wouldn’t be long before she was thinking of getting married and settling down.
Tilly was pretty too, or she had been when she was younger. She sometimes thought that she was looking older, perhaps because she’d had to struggle to keep a roof over her family’s head all these years. Sometimes she went out with Terry for a drink, but mostly she just went home so that Mags could go off with her friends. Even after her mother died and she’d married, Tilly didn’t get out much. She and Terry had moved into a nice council house in the suburbs, which meant she had to get the train to come to work and that didn’t leave an awful lot out of her wage. Terry said it was a waste of time and wanted her to take a job in the corner shop near their home, but Tilly liked her work and she was staying put until she got pregnant and she had a feeling that might not be too far away. She was going to have to see a doctor very soon if her suspicions were correct …
Kelly’s situation was different. Her home was filled with love. They weren’t much better off than Tilly’s family had been, because Mr Mason was sometimes on shift work at the Docks and didn’t have a big wage. Yet he loved his sickly wife and all his children, and he made sure that Kelly was rewarded for her hard work now and then – and Kelly was courting. She’d been going with Steve Jarvis for seven years, but both of them had commitments and seemed content with their lives as they were. At least, Kelly never said any different, even if she thought it.
‘Well, I’d better get my coat off and start,’ Kelly said cheerfully and Tilly let her go. She was thoughtful as she left St Saviour’s. It was milder that evening and still quite light. For some reason she was restless and the thought of going home to an empty house wasn’t pleasing. She decided that she wouldn’t catch her bus; instead, she would walk home by the river, give herself time to sort out her thoughts. She’d been stuck in a rut for years and she was getting pretty fed up with it …
‘How is your mother?’ Wendy asked when Kelly popped into the sick ward with a tray of tea and sandwiches for her. ‘Is she any better?’
Kelly shook her head sorrowfully. ‘No, if anything she’s a little worse. The doctor came this morning and he told us he thinks she won’t last much longer.’
‘It’s such a shame,’ Wendy sympathised. ‘You’ve done everything you can to help her but sometimes there just is nothing more you can do – it was like that for me when my mum died. I still miss her so much even though she died years ago.’
‘I don’t know what Dad will do,’ Kelly said and swallowed hard. ‘I haven’t told him yet, though I shall have to, because he has to know …’ She sighed. ‘We thought she would be better when we moved into our new house, and she was for a few years, but since last winter when she had that chest infection she’s just got worse.’
‘Oh, Kelly, don’t cry,’ Wendy said as a sob escaped the younger woman. ‘You know if there’s anything I can do to help, you’ve only to ask …’
‘Thanks, Wendy, you’re a good friend, but there isn’t anything. If the doctor says there’s nothing, we just have to accept it and make her last months as happy as we can.’
‘If you need time off work I’m sure Sister Beatrice would understand. She would take you back when you were ready …’
‘Yes, she told me that the other day,’ Kelly said and gave her a watery smile. ‘When I first started here in the kitchen I had more warnings than Billy Baggins, but I worked hard and I’ve made a place for myself here. I might have to stay off towards the end, but at the moment Dad and Cate are managing at night – and my younger brother is wonderful. The older one is off with his mates all the time, but he pays his share at home so I don’t try to force him.’
‘Well, I hope Mrs Mason will be better soon,’ Wendy said. She knew the words sounded foolish given that Kelly had just told her that her mother was dying – but what else could she say?
Wendy poured herself a cup of tea and settled down to look at Paula’s reports for the day. No new cases had been admitted and they just had one case of measles and another had been treated for a tummy upset. Paula had done a check for nits and treated six of their children, who had picked it up at school. It was a constant battle against reinfection. Now and then the children presented with fleabites, caught when visiting their friends in slum properties infested with rats. The rats harboured the fleas and no matter how much the women scrubbed their homes, they couldn’t get rid of them.
Wendy sometimes thought that the kids sent on to Halfpenny House were the lucky ones. Conditions were better in the country, because there was often better housing and fresher food. Although, Angela had told her they still had a few fleabites to deal with now and then, and apparently it wasn’t all honey down there. Angela said they’d had some trouble with the older boys, who’d been playing truant from school. Because of it they’d taken on a new carer who’d retired from his job as a headmaster and claimed he could soon sort their problems out. In Wendy’s opinion what they needed was to send for Sister Beatrice and let her talk some sense into the lads.
‘We’re quiet at the moment, Staff Nurse …’
Wendy looked up as Sister Beatrice entered the ward. ‘Yes, I can’t remember when we had so few children presenting sick – but then, we used to have many more than we normally have now.’
‘Yes, although I believe we may have two brothers coming tomorrow.’ Sister Beatrice glanced at the report. ‘I think we have enough beds for them if they arrive – and I’ve decided that June Miller and her brother will be moved to Halfpenny House next week. James Benton is due to go too and Philip Manse. So we’ll send them all together.’
‘Yes, I think it’s better if several go together,’ Wendy agreed. ‘Are you going to send Susan Marsh too? She’s been here three months and seems quite well and happy now.’
‘That would mean sending more than one car,’ Sister Beatrice frowned. ‘I’ll see how many new admittances we have in the next week. I like to keep them here until I’m sure they can cope with another change in their lives … If only we had more resources so that we could keep them all here …’
‘I think we just don’t have enough staff to look after larger numbers, as we used to.’
‘Staff is a part of the problem,’ Sister Beatrice agreed.
‘Talking of staff – Kelly was telling me how ill her mother is …’
‘Yes, I feel most concerned for her,’ Sister Beatrice said. ‘I shall take on a temporary replacement if she feels she needs time off to be with her mother, but I would like her to return when she can.’
‘Oh, I think she will. Kelly has worked hard for her place here.’
‘Indeed she has. Well, I’m going home. You don’t need me this evening. We can only hope that things stay quiet for a while … though I shouldn’t tempt fate, should I?’
‘Oh dear, let’s hope she didn’t hear,’ Wendy said and laughed.
Whether it was Sister Beatrice tempting fate or just the way things happen, they had a steady influx of children in need over the next ten days. First the two brothers, Ben and Malcolm, who had been picked up wandering the streets and were both suffering from malnutrition and the cold. They were admitted into the sick ward, because Sister Beatrice was horrified by the way their ribs were showing through their emaciated bodies. Neither of them would tell her, but she suspected they’d been on the streets for weeks. Their parents had apparently abandoned them and the boys had been wandering around London trying to find them and to beg for food.
After they’d been dealt with, a girl of seven was admitted; Maggie Ryan had been sent on from the hospital that had treated her for a broken arm and severe bruising to her body. Her brutal father had been arrested and her mother was dead, so she would now be in the care of the orphanage until the Children’s Department decided where her future lay. Another three children were brought in from the streets, two having been found with evidence of severe beatings and another in a confused state – he didn’t know his name and needed special supervision from the nurses.
Beatrice had decided that she would bring the date of the transfer of several children forward to the next day. She knew that she had to explain to Archie what was happening and to reassure him that he would be able to visit his mother, if a visiting permit was granted. Though so far no such permission had been forthcoming, as Sergeant Sallis told her when he visited that morning.
‘I’ve phoned them three times and they say they will let me know, but I understand it is irregular for an underage lad to visit a prisoner and I’ve said I’ll go with him. However, if they refuse I’ll visit myself and then let him know how she is …’
‘I’m afraid he won’t be here,’ Beatrice said. ‘I don’t like to make him leave London when I know how important he feels it to be near his mum, but we’re bursting at the seams. I just have to send them on.’
‘Would you like me to explain for you?’
‘No, I’m going to talk to him this afternoon when he gets in from school,’ Beatrice said. It was her decision and her responsibility.
However, she found it harder than she’d imagined to look into Archie’s eyes and explain he was being sent to the country, not because it was better for him, but because she didn’t have the room to keep him and his sister indefinitely.
‘I am truly sorry, Archie,’ she said, ‘and I want you to know that we shall pay for your fares to visit your mother when an order becomes available. Sergeant Sallis won’t give up trying, and if a permit comes through he will contact you. I shall make sure you have the fares – and I think you will like it at Halfpenny House. They have playing fields and more facilities for sport than we have here …’
‘I don’t want to go. I’ve got to stay here,’ Archie said. ‘I’ve got a job on the market on Saturdays and I’m savin’ for when Mum gets home. She’ll need some money to get started …’
‘I’m sorry, Archie. You have to go. I really don’t have a choice – but my promise to you is that you will be able to see your mother if that permit comes. And it might be better for your sister to get away, don’t you think?’
Archie looked rebellious and she thought he was going to refuse. She was wondering if she could possibly manage to keep them on when she saw his slight nod of acceptance.
‘It would be better if June wasn’t here,’ Archie admitted. ‘She hates it at her school, because they bully her, and she won’t listen to what I tell her. If we’re away from here she might settle down and not run wild …’
‘I’m glad that you are so caring towards your sister,’ Beatrice gave him an approving nod. ‘You will be leaving tomorrow, both of you – and please feel free to write to me if you have any worries. I am always here for you; do you understand?’
‘Yes, Sister,’ Archie said. ‘May I go now? I have to talk to June, make sure she understands …’
‘Of course,’ Beatrice said. ‘I’m very pleased you’ve behaved so responsibly and I shall do whatever I can for you in future – should you wish to return to London, as I’m sure you will once your mother is home. After all, yours is only a temporary situation, is it not?’
‘Yes, Sister …’
Archie inclined his head and went out. Beatrice looked at the closed door and wondered. Had she done what was best for the boy and his sister? She didn’t really have much choice given the situation at St Saviour’s. True, she would have two free beds when they’d gone, but she needed them for emergency admissions.
If only the new wing hadn’t been leased to the Children’s Welfare Department. She’d never had this worry once the new wing was built, because it provided a lot of much-needed extra space for her children, but the Board had decided that the future lay in moving the children out of the East End, nearer to the country where the conditions were better and the air was fresher, and Beatrice was only one voice. It meant that once again she was often short of beds for emergencies and had to pass her charges on sooner than she would like. Was she the only one who saw that some of these children could never belong anywhere but the streets where they were born and bred? At least here she’d been able to help many of them into good jobs and better lives than their parents had known.
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- Жанр: Зарубежная психология, Историческая литература, Современная зарубежная литература
- Язык: Книги на английском языке
- Объём: 380 стр. 9 иллюстраций
- ISBN: 9780008211615
- Дата выхода книги: 16 мая 2019
- Версия: 📚 Электронная книга
Heartache and hardship in London’s East End, from the bestselling author of The Orphans of Halfpenny StreetIt’s the 1950’s and the orphans of Halfpenny Street have found a new home in the Essex countryside at Halfpenny House. Meanwhile, back among the slum clearances of Bethnal Green, St Saviour’s has now been partially given over to a home for disturbed girls though it still serves as a reception centre for local children who are in desperate need.Amongst these are Archie and his sister June. They’ve been ‘latch key’ kids; fending for themselves while their caring but harassed and careworn mum tries to make ends meet. Now she’s been accused of theft and prison seems inescapable. Archie has no intention of letting his mum go down. He knows she’s innocent and will do anything to prove it. But can he help his mum before adoption, and the authorities, take him and June away forever?
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