An Orphan’s Courage

An Orphan’s Courage Cathy Sharp Heartache and hardship in London’s East End, from the bestselling author of The Orphans of Halfpenny StreetSt Saviours children’s home in London’s East End has provided a safe refuge for local children for decades and Sister Beatrice and her team are as busy as ever.New staff member Jinny is glad to escape the lewd advances of her drunken and slovenly mother’s rotten boyfriends, but can she prove she isn’t a chip off the old block?As ever, the staff are tested when orphaned brother and sister Andy and Beth are brought to the home – they are clearly terrified of something, and Andy refuses to be sent home, but can Sister Beatrice get to the bottom of their story before they are returned to their stepfather?It’s all in a day’s work for the home – but things are about to change forever – will they be ready to face the future? Copyright (#u5d3cd0a3-984e-521e-9d9e-34dae630d19a) HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd The News Building 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk) First published in Great Britain by Harper 2018 Copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers 2018 Cover design by Claire Ward © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018 Cover photograph © Emma Kim/plainpicture (child); Lee Avison/Trevillion Images (street scene); Shutterstock (suitcase) 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. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. 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Source ISBN: 9780008211639 Ebook Edition © February 2017 ISBN: 9780008211646 Version 2018-02-20 Table of Contents Cover (#uc9bb4d69-5e01-5bdd-a7dd-daa6255740dd) Title Page (#ua5d7bc01-b507-50fb-b5a3-963ae20accd7) Copyright (#ue145dd76-fe87-5c07-a87a-c3ffc1e68cc4) Chapter 1 (#uaeca0287-cf14-5290-96ae-8ccc6e9c55f2) Chapter 2 (#u02dcedf1-1ca7-576e-83bd-dba55252653f) Chapter 3 (#u8dc8b267-4d25-5160-9d28-613ecd0594d8) Chapter 4 (#u6b15417b-a9c3-5dad-aff7-bda1e1495cf8) Chapter 5 (#u3624a0bd-45c0-558f-9df2-c3724f988be5) Chapter 6 (#u46a64457-1081-54b5-ac5b-dec1cc0fab26) Chapter 7 (#u805665a4-ef0d-5d3c-8cb1-ee83d43dd443) Chapter 8 (#ub4f22e43-3952-5588-95ff-be1c39e791bc) 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) Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo) A Q&A With Cathy Sharp (#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 (#u5d3cd0a3-984e-521e-9d9e-34dae630d19a) ‘Want some pocket money?’ the drunken voice asked, and a large hand waved a pound note at Jinny Hollis enticingly. He leered at her in a way that sent chills down Jinny’s spine and she shook her head as he rose to his feet and stumbled across her mother’s kitchen towards her. ‘Come on, it isn’t hard to be nice to me, is it?’ Jinny drew back, feeling the vomit rise in her throat as she saw the lascivious gleam in his eyes. She kept her gaze fixed on the face of the latest of her mother’s punters, backing away, moving towards the door and freedom. He was good-looking in a dark, brutish way with black hair slicked back with hair oil and unshaven chin. Jake wasn’t the first to offer her money in order to be allowed to fumble beneath her skirts, and his approach was the same as that of all the others. When her mother was in the room they played the nice uncle, but as soon as Jinny was alone with them, they tried to molest her. Some offered enticements, money, small gifts and food but others just made a grab for her. She’d been forced to endure rough hands up her skirt and under her blouse more times than she cared to remember, and once, one of them had got her down and tried to force himself on her. Her screams had brought Nellie from next door running in at the kitchen door and her irate neighbour had batted the unfortunate uncle with her rolling pin until he swore at her, got to his feet and bolted. Jinny would have screamed for Nellie now but she knew it would be useless; her friend had gone shopping down the market and wouldn’t be back for ages. Jinny’s back was against the door now. She wrenched at it, pulled it open and tried to escape into the back yard, but Jake lunged at her, pinning her against the doorpost so that she could feel its sharp edges cutting into her flesh. ‘Got you at last,’ he muttered as he pressed his slack wet mouth against hers and the stink of his breath made the gorge rise in her throat. In desperation she brought her knee up and went for his groin with every ounce of her strength. He gave a yell of shock mixed with pain and staggered back, his eyes filled with a vicious rage that terrified her. Yet her action had saved her, because as he drew back, stunned and winded, she made her escape into the yard and ran for her life. Tears stung Jinny’s eyes as she ran, her chest heaving; she fought for breath and against the storm of emotion overtaking her now that she was – for the moment – out of danger. Forced at last to stop running because her chest hurt and she couldn’t go any further, Jinny leaned against the wall of a derelict factory and closed her eyes, letting the tears flow. Why did everything have to be so horrible at home? Jinny’s mother was almost always drunk when she came back from the pub where she worked behind the bar until late at night. There was usually a man in tow, sometimes known to Jinny and, at other times, a complete stranger. Mabel Hollis just didn’t seem to be able to manage without a man about the place, even though several of them had treated her badly. Some of them beat her and she often had black eyes when she finally got up in the morning, others simply sponged off her, expecting her to provide food and lodgings, as well as the other comforts Mabel offered. Quite a few considered that Jinny should be a part of the bargain, and she’d been fighting them off since she was twelve and was always in trouble at school for turning up late, because if she didn’t do a few chores in the house no one did, and the safest time to do them was in the morning before Jake and her mother got out of bed. Jinny’s mother seemed to have money for drink and for having her hair bleached and set in the deep waves that men seemed to find so sensual, but she seldom remembered to go shopping for food, and often ended up shoving a few pennies in Jinny’s hand and telling her to get some chips. Mabel dressed and behaved like a tart, and Jinny was ashamed of her. Now that she was coming up to her fifteenth birthday and preparing to leave school Jinny thought desperately of getting away somewhere – anywhere she could live by herself or with friends, away from her mother’s sluttish ways and her men. She couldn’t really call them customers, because most of them didn’t pay a penny towards their keep and some lived off Mabel for as long as she was willing to provide them with whatever they needed. ‘What’s up then, Jinny?’ Her eyes flew open as she heard the voice close by. Micky Smith was three years older and had left school at fifteen to work on the Docks. At school he’d never noticed her, except once when she’d been at the centre of a group of vindictive classmates who were jeering at her, pulling her dark hair and calling her mother a whore and a drunken tart. Even though Jinny knew the accusations were true, she’d tried to defend her mother against their insults and given one of her tormentors a black eye. Several of the others had charged at her, knocking her to the ground, and she’d been struggling to throw them off when suddenly she’d found herself free and a grinning Micky Smith had been looking down at her. He’d offered her his hand, pulled her to her feet and then turned to the gang of sullen girls watching. ‘Jinny’s my friend,’ he’d claimed. ‘If any of you harm her again, you’ll answer to me.’ Jinny hadn’t even thanked him, because she’d hardly spoken to him previously and didn’t know what to say. For a moment their eyes met and then he’d walked off, leaving her standing alone. ‘Micky’s pet,’ one of the girls chanted at her mockingly. ‘Giving it ’im, are yer? Yer just a bleedin’ little whore like yer ma …’ ‘Whore like yer ma …’ the other girls hissed but none of them tried to touch her as she brushed past them. Jinny might have gone after Micky and thanked him then, but he was with some other lads and they were laughing and looking her way. She’d had the feeling they were laughing at her, probably saying what they’d like to do to her or naming her a whore like the girls had. Now she stared at him, wary and half-mistrusting as she noticed that he was no longer dressed in patched trousers and a jacket with holes at the elbows. He had on a pair of black drainpipe trousers, a blue cloth jacket with velvet on the collar and suede shoes with thick crepe soles. His white shirt sported a thin black tie, which was knotted and pinned with what looked like a diamond tiepin. Knowing that Micky’s father hadn’t worked in years, because of an accident on the Docks, and his mother went charring at several offices, Jinny wondered how he’d managed to become prosperous all of a sudden. ‘I haven’t seen you for a while,’ Jinny said. ‘Not since school …’ ‘I’ve been busy,’ Micky said and grinned. He had black curly hair, swarthy skin and very dark eyes; his hair was long, nestling into his nape and he had dark sideburns, rather like those worn by Elvis Presley, the American singer. All Jinny’s classmates swooned over Elvis Presley and talked about his records and the Rock ’n’ Roll dances they attended on Saturday nights. Jinny couldn’t afford to go to the dances and she didn’t have many friends – she couldn’t ever take them home so she was never asked to their birthday parties – but Nellie had an old-fashioned radiogram and she liked Rock ’n’ Roll, too. Jinny had heard her playing Elvis over and over again through the thin walls that separated their terraced houses. ‘I seen ’im at the flicks and ’e’s a bit of all right,’ she’d told Jinny when she went next door for a slice of bread and dripping and a rock cake, as she did most days after school. Nellie had a picture cut from a magazine, which she’d stuck up on her kitchen wall, much to her husband’s disgust, but Nellie only laughed and said if she were twenty years younger she’d be off to America to join the girls who flocked about their new heartthrob. Of course she didn’t mean it, because she and her husband got on well and had two grown-up sons with families of their own, but Nellie liked to tease her long-suffering husband. Both of Nellie’s sons were in the Army and no longer lived in London, but she looked forward to their infrequent visits with her grandchildren, of whom she had three. Colin had two young boys and Brian had a girl of a few months. Jinny knew how much she missed them but she was a cheerful woman in her early fifties and never let on to them that she wished they’d come back home. ‘They’ve got good lives where they are. I was worried to death when they had that trouble over the Suez Canal last year, but it seems it’s all over now, and Brian’s in Ireland now …’ Nellie had told Jinny as they looked at photos the elder son Colin had sent from Cyprus where he was currently stationed with his regiment. ‘Why should they want to come back ’ere then? I know Harold Macmillan says we’ve never ’ad it so good, but ’e ain’t living ’ere in this courtyard, is ’e?’ ‘What were you cryin’ for?’ Micky asked; a sparkle in his dark eyes that made Jinny aware that lost in her thoughts she’d been staring for too long. ‘Are you in trouble?’ Jinny nodded, hanging her head, tongue-tied and ashamed. ‘It’s just one of Mum’s blokes …’ she said, because he expected an answer. ‘He tried to grab me … so I gave him one where it hurts with my knee – and he’ll half kill me when he gets the chance …’ Micky nodded his understanding. ‘Jake Harding is a nasty piece of work. Your ma should send him packing. He’s a troublemaker down the Docks – if you knew what I know …’ ‘Why don’t you tell me?’ ‘Best you don’t know, but he’s in with a bad lot and one of these days …’ Micky shook his head. ‘He hits Mum,’ Jinny said and shuffled her feet. ‘He’s one of the worst she’s had – and … I’m frightened of him …’ ‘No need to be,’ Micky said. ‘I’ll sort him for you if you want?’ Jinny looked at him and smiled. ‘He’s a big bloke,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely of you to offer, but I don’t want you to get hurt for my sake …’ Micky looked amused and touched his pocket as if it contained a secret only he knew. ‘Don’t you worry about me, Jinny girl. I can take care of myself – and I take care of my own too.’ ‘I never thanked you for what you did at school …’ ‘You didn’t have to,’ he said. ‘I don’t like bullies.’ ‘Jake is a bully,’ she said. ‘He offered me money for a start but when I said no he tried to force me … he’s not the first to try. Those girls were right that day; Mum is a whore – but she doesn’t even get paid half the time …’ She raised her head defiantly. ‘I’m not like her and I don’t want to be.’ ‘I know that, Jinny.’ ‘How can you? Everyone thinks I’m like my mum and she’s a slut.’ ‘Your mother was all right until your father went off and left her. I suppose she got lonely and desperate …’ Micky said and looked grim. ‘He was a bad ’un, your dad, Jinny. I don’t mind a bit of thievin’ if it comes to that, especially if something is just begging to be liberated – but your dad was a mean sort. He stole from his mates and he got punished for it, so in the end he didn’t have much choice but to clear orf – otherwise he might’ve been lynched.’ Jinny felt the tears burn behind her eyes. She could recall only little things from the time when she’d had a father, but he’d been kind to her and her mother had been happier then, too. ‘You’re rotten to say that about my dad,’ she said resentfully. ‘I thought I could trust you, but now I see you’re like all the rest …’ She turned and started to walk away, but Micky came after her and grabbed her arm, turning her to face him. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you, but it’s the truth. He stole from his works and he broke into houses, but he took from his friends too – and he took a reward for ratting on someone, letting him carry the can for what he’d been part of – and they don’t forgive that around here.’ ‘Leave me alone,’ Jinny said and shook his hand off. ‘I don’t believe you – you tell lies …’ ‘I do lots of stuff,’ Micky called after her as she walked swiftly away. ‘But I don’t lie to you and I’m still your friend. I’ll look after you, Jinny, and one day you’ll understand that you can trust me …’ Jinny didn’t bother to look round. She knew that it was likely he was telling the truth about Sam Hollis, but she couldn’t bear to hear it. The only bright memories she had was of her dad giving her a pretty doll one Christmas and tussling her hair whenever he came home from work. He’d bought her sweets and told her she was his princess and she’d thought he loved her. To a girl who hadn’t had much love in her life that was precious and she wouldn’t easily forgive Micky Smith for ruining her memory of her dad. Jinny set out in search of Nellie. When she told her what Jake had done, her kind neighbour would offer her a chance of a bed with them, and this time she was going to take it. If her mother wanted Jake around she would have to take care of their home herself, because Jinny wasn’t going back while he was staying there. CHAPTER 2 (#u5d3cd0a3-984e-521e-9d9e-34dae630d19a) ‘Well, I shall be sorry to lose you, Hannah.’ Sister Beatrice frowned over the top of her glasses at the young woman sitting in the chair at the other side of her desk. She put down the newspaper she’d been reading, an article about the launch of a campaign to stop smoking, because of new research into cancer diseases thought related to the practice. As always she wore the dark grey habit of a nun with a white starched apron and simple headdress, a heavy silver cross and chain about her neck. ‘I must admit I’ve come to rely on you as one of my most trusted staff – and it’s so difficult to find girls who want to work here these days …’ ‘I’ve loved working with you at St Saviour’s,’ the carer said and looked genuinely sorry. ‘But this is a wonderful chance for my husband to have his own business. We’ll be moving across the river and he’ll need help in the shop – so what with that and having another baby …’ She placed her hands on her bump and smiled. ‘I just shan’t have the energy or the time …’ ‘Oh, I understand perfectly and I wish you well in your new life,’ Beatrice agreed. ‘Your husband and your family come first of course. It’s just that I shall need to find someone to take your place when you leave.’ ‘Well, I do know of someone looking for her first job. She’s just left school and her neighbour asked me if she thought Jinny might be taken on here as a kitchen help, but she’s an honest girl and bright. I think you might like her – and Nancy was only fifteen when she started, wasn’t she?’ ‘That was rather different,’ Beatrice frowned at her, because Nancy was a special case. ‘This girl is hardly old enough to be given the care of children, but I suppose she could be taken on as a girl of all work. If she is willing to do kitchen work, as well as anything else she’s asked, that might solve a part of our problems. We’ve had a succession of girls coming for a few weeks and then leaving in the kitchens since Muriel retired last Christmas. Unfortunately, Mrs Davies can be a little difficult …’ ‘Yes,’ Hannah replied ruefully. ‘I’ve run afoul of her tongue a few times, but she’s just finding her way and Sandra says her bark is worse than her bite.’ Thank goodness for Sandra, who had become a friend as well as a colleague since she joined their staff! Beatrice relaxed mentally as she thought of the young woman who had begun as a part-time secretary and occasional carer after her stint in prison almost two years previously. Sandra had been imprisoned after a farcical trial on trumped-up evidence and only the perseverance of her friends had got her free with her name cleared. In truth she owed her freedom mainly to Ikey, the man who was now her husband; Sandra owed him far more because he’d rescued her children – Archie Miller from an uncertain fate on the streets and June from the clutches of unsuitable foster parents. Beatrice had employed her without a reference and given her a temporary home here at St Saviour’s in the nurses’ home until she’d married, and Sandra had more than repaid her since with her friendship and her hard work. As Ikey’s wife – or Nathaniel Milvern as he was known in his professional life, as a police officer – Sandra had no need to work but she’d continued to come into St Saviour’s every day. They’d married very quietly in the spring of 1956, because Ikey was still recovering from the brutal attack on him. However, he was now back at work and involved in several projects aimed at helping London’s unfortunates who lived on the streets. ‘Yes, I believe Sandra can manage her,’ Beatrice nodded, and glanced through her diary. ‘Very well, send this young woman to see me … the day after tomorrow in the morning at ten thirty. I shall ask Sandra to join me and we’ll see. If this girl … what was her name again?… If she is suitable we’ll give her a chance.’ ‘Jinny Hollis,’ Hannah said and stood up. ‘She’s a pretty girl, sensible and pleasant, but she’s had a terrible home life for years, Sister, but I know you won’t hold that against her. She needs a job and somewhere to live, so her neighbour told me. Had she been brought in when she was younger I know you would’ve taken her in – as you do all the kids in trouble.’ ‘I take as many as I can,’ Beatrice said and sighed. ‘Unfortunately, we’re only a halfway house now and many of our children are moved on to the new place after just a few weeks. I regret that we were forced to give up the one wing of St Saviour’s, which means we only have room for sixty orphans at the most, but I suppose it is progress … or so they tell me …’ ‘You haven’t thought of taking a position at Halfpenny House in Essex?’ Hannah asked, on her feet now and lingering at the door. ‘No, I think not,’ Sister shook her head emphatically. ‘I’ve spent the last twelve years or more here in Halfpenny Street at St Saviour’s; it’s where I belong and I have no desire to move.’ ‘It wouldn’t be the same without you,’ Hannah said, hesitated, and then offered shyly, ‘I shall miss working with you and Wendy and Sister Rose and the others …’ Beatrice inclined her head but said no more as the carer left. She’d said all she had to say and since the parting was inevitable there was nothing to do but accept it. She’d lived too long and suffered too many partings, each of which left a little shadow on her heart, but God gave her strength to carry on with her work. Her fingers clasped the heavy silver cross she wore on a long thick chain and she winced as she felt stiffness and pain; it was arthritis, she imagined, and it was gradually working its way through her body: shoulders, back, neck and now her hands. She flexed her fingers trying to relieve the pain and felt it ease; exercise helped. Beatrice had learned that from watching her father, who had been a butcher and used to working in cold conditions and standing for long hours. He’d developed a severe form of the disease as he’d grown older but he’d been too stubborn to give in and had carried on working until he died … of a heart attack. Beatrice shook her head, dismissing old memories, which could have no bearing on her life now. She’d taken her vows after tragedy drove her to despair but for years now she’d led a busy, interesting life here at St Saviour’s, looking after the children given into her care. It was a demanding job sometimes, needing all her strength and patience to carry her through, but it was her life. Indeed, she did not know what she would do if the job were no longer hers. A return to the convent would be unfortunate; here in St Saviour’s she’d become used to warmth and the comfort of her office and her room in the nurses’ home, and she ate well – better than her fellow nuns did at the convent, she knew. Beatrice remembered how cold it had been in the small impersonal cell that had been hers when she first became a nun. Over the years her room at St Saviour’s had acquired some small comforts, a few books, a picture or two – mostly of gardens. She did appreciate gardens, though it was years since she’d had one to tend, as well as the little things the children had made for her, all of which she treasured. At the convent such treasures, if not exactly forbidden, would not be understood; she was supposed to have given up all worldly pleasures, but she feared that her years in nursing had somehow made her fonder of her personal comforts than was right. Perhaps fortunately for her turn of thoughts, the telephone shrilled and she picked it up, smiling as she heard the voice at the other end. ‘Sergeant Sallis, how nice to hear from you again; I thought you’d forgotten us.’ ‘I’m pleased to say things have been quiet for a while, but we had two children brought in this morning – found wandering down by the Docks, both of them filthy and hungry, and the boy has been beaten quite recently …’ ‘Bring them in and we’ll see what we can do,’ Beatrice said and shook her head, because it was the same old story. Things were supposed to be getting better now. It was a brave new world and filled with clever inventions and hope for a bright and exciting future, but in some of London’s meaner streets, of which there were still far too many, the old evils of poverty, dirt, cruelty and neglect still flourished. ‘Are they related?’ ‘Brother and sister. His name is Andy and hers is Beth. If they have a second name they’re not giving it, but we’ll make some inquiries and discover who they are.’ ‘Very well – until then we’ll look after them as always.’ ‘Thank God for St Saviour’s. If ever you close your doors, Sister, I don’t know what we’ll do. Social Services don’t know what to do with the kids – and they ship them off somewhere so they feel disorientated and miserable, and that’s why half of them run away again. I’m sure they would rather be on the streets that are familiar to them than sent off to some cold clinical place where they can’t even make themselves understood half the time …’ ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t happen for a few years,’ Beatrice said and smiled. She liked the police sergeant who had been bringing her waifs and strays from the streets for as long as she could recall. St Saviour’s was always the first place they thought of, though of course these days the Welfare people had to have their say and would no doubt make an appearance to check the details. However, they were normally kept busy with cases of abuse within the family and had little time to bother over a home proven to be more than adequate. ‘I’ve heard rumours …’ Sergeant Sallis said. ‘They have been talking about redeveloping that whole area again …’ ‘Oh, we had that some years ago,’ Beatrice said blithely. ‘There’s a covenant on the building so I’m not too bothered about the threat of redevelopment – they can carry on around us as much as they like but our Board won’t budge.’ ‘I’m relieved to hear it,’ he said. ‘I’ll bring the children in myself – and we want to know if they tell you anything about the beating. It was nasty, I can tell you that, and I’d like to bring whoever did it to justice.’ ‘Naturally, we shall keep you informed.’ Beatrice replaced the receiver. Sometimes the children told the nurses things in confidence once they were settled and no longer terrified, but she could pass on such information only if the child gave permission. Much as she agreed with the police officer that the perpetrator should be punished, a child’s confidence must be respected. Rising to her feet with a suppressed groan, Beatrice decided it was time for her to visit the sick wards. Wendy had some cases of a particularly nasty tummy bug in the isolation ward at the moment, one of them a girl from the council home next door, but fortunately the room kept for lesser ailments was free and they would put the two new arrivals in there until they were sure they were ready to be assigned to their dormitories. Once again, she regretted that the wing next door had been taken over by the council for their disturbed girls. She wished they could return to the past when St Saviour’s had been able to house so many more children for as long as necessary. However, that had been taken out of her hands and, no matter much she disliked it, it was a fact of life that she could not escape and she must make the most of what she had … Ruby Saunders read the letter again and frowned. My dear Miss Saunders, Miss Sampson had written. I should like you to visit me this afternoon at about three if you can manage it. I have something important to discuss with you – something concerning St Saviour’s that will be to your advantage … please be prompt. Ruth Sampson. Ruby folded the letter and frowned as she placed it in her top drawer. A request from Miss Sampson was tantamount to an order, so no matter what she’d planned for her afternoon she must attend her at her office. Relations between them had been a bit strained for a while after that business with the Miller girl, because Ruby should never have been taken in by those people who’d applied to be foster parents – but what had happened subsequently hadn’t been her fault. The Children’s Department should have checked the Baileys’ details more thoroughly. All she’d done was recommend them as possible foster parents. Ruth Sampson had had her fingers rapped publicly when the papers got hold of the scandal. The department had tried to keep it private, but somehow one of those scandal rags had nosed out the story and made a meal of it, though the child hadn’t been named. So Ruth had been reprimanded and Ruby had borne the brunt of her displeasure, but she’d weathered it and hung on, and now it seemed that she was being offered a reward. Ruby had been made to eat humble pie after the truth came out about those awful people who had abused June Miller and for a while she’d felt regret, but then her natural sense of certainty had come back and she’d begun to resent the way Sister Beatrice seemed to have an almost free hand next door. St Saviour’s was inspected about once a year or so, but it seemed Sister Beatrice always managed to get away with a glowing report. Ruby, on the other hand, had been questioned about her methods of discipline more than once and now had to suffer twice yearly intrusion into her regime. She’d felt she was being criticised and, after the last interview was over, asked whether they were dissatisfied with her. ‘We have been told that you threatened one of the girls you sent on to a remand home with violent punishment if she misbehaved there …’ Mr Irvine, the Department’s chief inspector, told her. ‘You shouldn’t believe a thing these girls say,’ Ruby retorted furiously. ‘Some of them become violent and have to be restrained. I worked in a remand home for some months before I applied for this job and I saw how necessary it is to use force at times …’ ‘We are aware that in extreme cases it is sometimes necessary to restrain a violent case, but always the minimum amount of force is to be used. Did you not tell a girl that if she caused more trouble she would be subdued by drugs and locked in a padded cell?’ ‘No, of course I did not!’ Ruby retorted and then felt the hot colour rush up her neck and into her face as she remembered she had said something of the sort to Betty Goodge. ‘Well, I told her it might happen if she was violent … she attacked me and I had to subdue her …’ ‘Did you know that she tried to commit suicide the day after she was committed to the remand home?’ Mr Irvine asked coldly. Ruby felt sick and shaken. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she said, ‘No, I was not aware of that … but I’m sure I had nothing to do with it …’ ‘You think your threat was not related to her act of desperation?’ the inspector asked sarcastically. ‘Did you not know the girl’s history, Miss Saunders? As a child she was sexually abused and beaten systematically, and when she fought back she was locked in a cellar until she ceased screaming. We knew she was a thief and a little wild, but we sent her here rather than a remand home to give her a chance for a better life – your threats affected her mind powerfully and she went into a decline after her attempt at suicide and is now in the care of a psychiatrist in a secure hospital.’ ‘I didn’t realise she’d been locked in a cellar …’ Ruby felt hot and uncomfortable. ‘I do not see that I can be held accountable for what happened to her at the remand home.’ ‘Neither did Miss Sampson,’ the inspector told her. ‘However, it has been decided that we shall visit more often in future and see how things are going here. For the moment I find that everything is in order – but I must tell you that the Department frowns on the use of threats …’ Ruby had fretted with frustration after that last visit. It wasn’t her fault if a wild girl had tried to take her own life because she’d been sent to a place where the discipline was harsh. Besides, the attempt had failed and had probably been staged to gain attention. Betty was now in a hospital and most likely running rings round the staff there … She glowered at the wall that divided her office from the orphanage next door. It had been Ruby’s ambition to take over there when Sister Beatrice retired – and surely that couldn’t be much longer. She wondered what Miss Sampson had to say to her and hoped she wasn’t in her bad books again … ‘Well, that is the intention,’ Ruth Sampson said, giving Ruby a triumphant look. ‘It isn’t confirmed yet, because we still have to come to terms with the Board of St Saviour’s – but I’m fairly certain that it will go ahead by the end of the year. We shall take over the whole building and you will be in charge of both sides … if you wish to accept the position …’ ‘Yes, of course …’ Ruby stared at her, unsure of what she was hearing. ‘You’re saying they’re closing their doors and we’ll be in complete control of the orphans as well as our girls …’ ‘Yes, that is the idea. St Saviour’s cannot continue to support two homes, as I’m sure they realised, but they kept it on because Sister Beatrice fought the closure and local people supported her – but now they’ve realised it is untenable …’ ‘What will happen to her – to Sister Beatrice?’ Ruby asked, feeling an odd pang of sympathy for the woman she’d resented at the start but now rather admired from afar. ‘Her methods are outdated and since I am in overall charge I should not accept her continuing presence. You will run the kind of home we require with the proper standards. We shall continue to take in children from the streets for a short time, but other centres are being planned and eventually we shall be what we are now but much larger … It makes more sense for sick children to be dealt with in specialised centres these days before being moved out to the country. The nurses next door are an unnecessary luxury.’ ‘Yes, I suppose so …’ Ruby was a little disappointed. She’d quite liked the idea of taking in the children in need. ‘So it will happen by Christmas?’ ‘Possibly the following January … but it isn’t settled yet. There could be complications so you must keep this to yourself. Were it to become known … I wouldn’t put it past that woman to stir up the local population again …’ ‘Of course, you may rely on my discretion …’ ‘Naturally.’ Miss Sampson smiled. ‘I was sure I could … This will be a promotion for you, Ruby.’ Ruby agreed and left the office, feeling thoughtful as she walked back to her home. Once, she’d thought she felt more for Miss Sampson than she ought, but the gloating in her eyes as she’d spoken of Sister Beatrice’s dismissal had left a nasty taste in Ruby’s mouth. Ruby didn’t like the old bat much, but she did respect her and felt oddly guilty that she was being sent packing just like that. It seemed unfair after all her years of service … As she entered the building where her small flat was situated, Ruby saw a young woman burdened down with parcels and bags and realised she must be moving into the vacant apartment above. Seeing the girl drop some of her parcels, she darted forward as the lift opened. ‘Here, I’ll give you a hand with those,’ she said and scooped them up. ‘I’m Ruby and I live in the flat below you.’ ‘Hi, I’m Carla.’ The girl’s bright eyes made Ruby feel an odd tingle at her nape and she dropped her own. The flame of her hair as it curled about her face was striking and there was something about the girl that instantly appealed, her smile reaching out to Ruby’s lonely heart. ‘Come on up, I’ll be glad of help with all this lot – and then perhaps we can get to know one another over a cup of coffee …’ ‘Well, I’ll give you a hand in with all this stuff – but I’ve got some reports to write this evening.’ Ruby saw Carla’s smile dim and wished the words unsaid, but she couldn’t go back on them and perhaps it was best she didn’t. Ruby couldn’t afford to get too close to a girl like this; she had to think about her career … CHAPTER 3 (#u5d3cd0a3-984e-521e-9d9e-34dae630d19a) ‘Keep yer mouth shut, Beth,’ Andy Rutherford hissed at his sister as they trailed in the wake of the police sergeant. ‘If they know where we came from they’ll send us back, and I’d rather die than be made to do that.’ His younger sister Beth nodded, silent and instinctively obedient. Her large brown eyes were wide with distress as she held on to Andy’s hand, her face pale with fear. The last thing she wanted was to be sent back to a life that terrified her. She was seven years old, pale and vulnerable, and all she’d known in her short life was abuse, hunger and fear. Love was something she felt for her elder brother, because he was her protector and her refuge, though she couldn’t put a name to her feelings. She only knew she was safe with Andy: he’d taken a beating for her more than once, saving her from the Beast … ‘It ’ull be all right,’ he whispered with a reassuring smile, his eyes lighter in colour than hers and his sturdiness making him seem so much stronger and fitter than his sister. ‘Not like before …’ Beth’s hand trembled in his and nodded silently. She believed in Andy, who was six years her senior and seemed to the timid girl wise and brave and her only protection from those who wanted to hurt her. Sergeant Sallis glanced back at them and smiled kindly. ‘Don’t be frightened, Beth,’ he said. ‘I told your brother they were good people here and they are. Sister Beatrice looks stern, but she’s the kindest person I know – and Staff Nurse Wendy is lovely, as is Sister Rose.’ ‘Why are they called sisters?’ Andy asked curiously. ‘Is it a place for nuns?’ ‘Bless you no, it’s a proper children’s home, one of the best around,’ the police officer said. ‘Sister Beatrice is a nun but she’s also a nursing sister – and Sister Rose used to work in the London hospital.’ ‘That’s where they took Ma when she was bad,’ Beth said and Andy squeezed her hand hard, making her look at him in protest. ‘I wasn’t going to say,’ she whispered. Sergeant Sallis looked from one to the other, but didn’t press for more information, merely nodding to himself before moving off again. Beth was a little nervous of anyone in uniform, but Andy had told her they could trust him. ‘You can tell by his eyes,’ Andy had whispered to her when the police had taken them in and fed them. ‘He’s all right, Beth. I wouldn’t trust him just because he’s a copper, mind. It’s the way he smiles with his eyes and means it – not like the Beast …’ Beth felt sick at the mention of the Beast. She’d clung to her brother, shielding behind him as the policeman told them he was taking them to a place where they would be safe and looked after. Once before, after their mother died, someone had told them that and it hadn’t been true, because they’d been made to go and live with the Beast, but Andy was listening and agreeing to the policeman’s suggestion. ‘We’ve got to do what he says for now,’ he’d whispered to Beth. ‘It won’t be for long, love. As soon as I can work I’ll find us some rooms and I’ll look after you. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again …’ Beth nodded, and held on tightly to her brother’s hand. She’d been cold and hungry for days, because they’d slept rough in a little deserted shed down by the railway, living on the food Andy managed to beg or steal. He’d tried to get work, because he was strong, but the bosses kept turning him away – he wasn’t old enough to work legally, they said, and they would be in trouble if they let him do a man’s job. Once or twice since their escape, Andy had found work washing down lorries that had carted dirty loads and he’d come back to her stinking like drains, but the only place he could wash was in the men’s toilets and he had to be careful. He’d taken his shirt off to wash once and a queer bloke had come after him, offering him money to do something that Andy thought was rude. So now he filled bottles of water and they washed their faces and hands as best they could in their little hut, but both of them were itching and Beth thought she’d seen something moving in her brother’s hair. She shuddered at the thought and longed to be clean again, but she would remain dirty all her life rather than go back there … to the Beast’s house. She felt sick at the memory of the months since her mother’s illness and sudden death in hospital. Left alone at the mercy of the Beast, they had lived in terror, never knowing whether he would return drunk or sober. Beth sometimes thought her step-father was worse sober than when he was drunk; drink mellowed him for a while and if she was careful and kept out of his way, she had little to worry about. However, when he was sober, he swore at them both, expected Beth to do the chores her mother had done and gave them very little to eat. They were, he vowed, nothing but a nuisance and he could not be bothered to bring up children who were not his. ‘The silly bitch shouldn’t have gone poking her nose in where there was sickness,’ he muttered furiously as he landed a blow on Beth’s arm when she reached for a piece of bread spread thinly with dripping. ‘If she hadn’t gone and caught scarlet fever, we should’ve been eating a decent dinner instead of this rubbish – and I’m havin’ that last slice so keep your dirty fingers orf it!’ Andy was made to do all the chores Beth couldn’t manage, like digging the allotment and cleaning the gutters out when the rain came pouring down the walls because they were choked with filth. He had to polish the Beast’s boots and clean the bike he used to get to his work in the canning factory, fetch him fags and beer from the pub on the corner, and clean the stove out in the mornings, as well as putting the rubbish out in the bins. All the jobs the man of the house was supposed to do and the Beast had never bothered with, leaving them to his long-suffering wife and then her young son. Beth wasn’t good at ironing and sometimes she got a few blows because she’d creased the Beast’s trousers wrongly or scorched his shirt. When he wasn’t at work, and despite his slovenliness about the house, Beth’s step-father liked to dress well if he was going out. He’d tried to thrash her when she’d accidentally scorched his best blue shirt and Andy had stepped in to stop him, but the Beast had turned on Andy, beating him until he fell to the ground and lay still. The Beast had stared at the boy lying unconscious at his feet and shrugged, before snarling at Beth, ‘Tell anyone about this and I’ll kill the pair of you. I’m going out …’ He’d slammed off out of the house, leaving Beth to kneel by her brother’s side and bathe his forehead with cool water as she wept. Andy had come round at last, feeling sick and woozy, but gradually the mist had cleared, and that was when he’d told her that they had to run away. ‘But where shall we go?’ Beth asked plaintively. She hated the Beast but she was even more terrified by the idea that they would run off somewhere, because at least in this house that had been their father’s they had beds and there was sometimes food to eat. ‘We’ve got to go, Beth,’ her brother insisted. ‘Next time he will kill us – besides, he’ll probably have us put in a home somewhere if we stay. He doesn’t want us around now that Ma is dead, and I hate him.’ ‘I hate him too,’ Beth agreed, and allowed him to persuade her that they should escape while their step-father was out down the working men’s club he liked to visit on Friday nights, playing darts for the local team. They’d taken some of their clothes, the few that fitted and weren’t falling apart with wear; they’d also taken an old flask that had once belonged to their father filled with water from the tap, what was left of the bread and dripping, Andy’s pocket knife, two chipped mugs and two spoons from the drawer, two towels, their spare shoes, Beth’s rag doll and a Biggles book that Andy’s father had given him long ago. There was no money in the house. The Beast had made sure of that, giving Beth’s mother only a small amount for shopping each week. After her death he paid for everything himself, never sparing a copper for either of the kids, and giving them only enough food to survive and that grudgingly. Perhaps it was because they’d been hungry for a long time that the hardships of life on the streets hadn’t hit them immediately, but by the time the police picked them up after a tip-off from one of the railway workers, Beth was so hungry she cried most of the time, and Andy wasn’t much better. The promise of baths, food and clean clothes was tempting and Beth’s feelings swayed between apprehension and hope when the policeman told her they were nearly there. When she looked up at the severe building with its grimy walls and small windows up in the attics, she pulled back and her fear made her want to run, but Andy pressed her hand and Sergeant Sallis smiled at her, as if he sensed her nervousness. ‘It’s all right, Beth,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t look much, but it’s warm and they look after you here. I promise you … cross my heart and hope to die if I tell a lie …’ A reluctant smile came to her face and she stepped forward, some of her fear evaporating as she saw a woman in a pale grey uniform and a white frilly cap standing in the hall. ‘Ah, you must be Andy and this is Beth,’ the nurse said and her smile lit up her face. ‘My name is Staff Nurse Wendy, and I’m going to look after you. I think you both need a nice wash and then I’ll tuck you up in bed and bring you something lovely to eat.’ ‘It’s not time for bed,’ Beth said solemnly and she saw a twinkle in Nurse Wendy’s eyes. ‘No, but I think you must be tired and hungry after all you’ve been through, and I want to make sure you’re quite well before you go to the dorms – and perhaps start school …’ ‘School – can I go to school?’ Beth’s heart did a little skip, because it had been ages since she’d been allowed to go. The Beast said she had work to do for him and didn’t need all that nonsense. ‘Yes, you can and you should,’ Nurse Wendy said and looked at Sergeant Sallis. ‘Thank you for bringing them to us. I shall look after them now.’ ‘Yes, I’m sure of that,’ he replied and hesitated, before offering his hand to Andy to shake. ‘You’ve been a sensible lad. If you ever need my help, please come and tell me and I’ll do my best to sort things for you.’ ‘Thank you, sir,’ Andy said. ‘When I can work I’ll ask you for a character reference so I can get a good job.’ ‘You should study hard and do something worthwhile, lad. I think you’ve got it in you to do well …’ Turning to Beth, he said solemnly, ‘It has been nice to meet you, miss. I know you’ll be safe here with these kind people.’ Beth thanked him shyly, and then she saw that Nurse Wendy was holding out her hand. She hesitated, looked at her brother, and when he gave her a little nudge, slid her hand into the nurse’s. She had begun the long journey back to trust, but was still anxious enough to look over her shoulder and make sure that Andy was following close behind … CHAPTER 4 (#u5d3cd0a3-984e-521e-9d9e-34dae630d19a) ‘Are you certain she said I was to go for an interview today?’ Jinny asked, looking at Nellie as she pushed a mug of hot strong tea in front of her together with a slab of bread and jam. ‘Just like that, really? I asked at half a dozen places this week and they all said to come back when I had some experience of work …’ She spread her hands wide. ‘How can I get work experience if no one gives me a chance?’ The radio was playing behind them, the music of Bill Haley and His Comets blasting out, making Jinny want to dance the way her friends had shown her at last year’s Christmas party at school, when they’d put records on the Dansette record player that a teacher had brought in. ‘Well, yer’ve got your chance now thanks to my cousin’s daughter,’ Nellie said. ‘I saw Hannah when I was down the market, a few days after you left school and told ’er you needed a job. I said you wanted to work for St Saviour’s. It weren’t quite the truth, but a little white lie does no harm now and then.’ Nellie wagged her three chins and laughed as she saw Jinny’s smile widen. ‘That’s it, love. You’d have somewhere to live as well as a job, see – and it’s not that I don’t love havin’ you ’ere but you ain’t safe while that devil is still livin’ next door …’ ‘Oh, Nellie, why couldn’t you’ve been my mother?’ Jinny said and got up to hug her. The music on the radio had changed and the words of Elvis Presley’s record ‘All Shook Up’ flooded the room. ‘Listen, he’s your favourite …’ ‘Yeah, I like Elvis,’ Nellie chuckled and turned the wireless up until her neighbour banged on the thin wall. ‘Miserable old meow she is …’ ‘Oh Nellie,’ Jinny said and hugged her. ‘I do love you. You’re a good friend to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it hadn’t been for you …’ ‘Go on with yer, girl,’ Nellie said and gave her a friendly push. ‘Get that tea down yer and then go and ’ave a look what you’re goin’ ter wear fer the interview. I reckon that navy blue skirt yer made last week would be about right, but what about a blouse? I’d lend yer somethin’ of mine, but they’d drown yer …’ She went off into a peal of laughter and Jinny laughed with her at the idea. ‘I’ve got my white school blouse,’ Jinny said with a sigh. ‘It’s the last thing I had new for school. Ma grudged it to me but she had to give me the money, because the old one split at the seams. I’ll pay you back for the material for my skirt, Nellie – I promise.’ ‘I told yer it don’t matter,’ Nellie said and took her purse down from the shelf. ‘’Ere, go and get yerself somethin’ orf the market … and don’t refuse. When yer earnin’ yer can give me a treat … take me to the flicks or somethin’.’ ‘Yes, I shall,’ Jinny promised. ‘We’ll go to see Elvis in his film if you like …’ Nellie’s face lit up at the promise, even though she’d already seen her hero on the big screen twice. She pressed a ten-shilling note into Jinny’s hand. ‘Get a good one, girl. Somethin’ smart, like, not second-hand rubbish. I saw some pretty new blouses for five bob on the market – that stall near the fishmonger. Well … not too near, ’cos then they’d smell like ’e does …’ She went off into a cackle of laughter. ‘Nellie, you do say awful things,’ Jinny teased, but she took the money and slipped it into her pocket as she reached for her school coat. It was worn and threadbare on the sleeves, but better than the shapeless dress she was wearing. She would wear it to go shopping, even though it was so warm she didn’t need a coat. As she aimed a kiss at Nellie’s cheek and left, she made a mental vow to repay everything the good-hearted woman had done for her. Jinny had done what she could by helping out about the house as much as she was allowed, but Nellie wanted no repayment, and she would have to find ingenious ways of giving back the kindness she’d received in this house, but once she was earning money she could bring her friend fruit, sweets and perhaps the latest records – and she would take her out, to the flicks and other places. All she needed was a job, but that was easier said than done. She’d started by sending out polite letters, but when most of them had either gone unanswered or brought abrupt rejections, Jinny had started a tour of shops: Woolworths, Peacock’s, and the Home and Colonial, as well as the Co-op and a couple of dress shops, also factories, caf?s and hotels. She’d been offered two hours scrubbing out offices in the mornings and had thought she might take it, but Nellie discouraged her. ‘If you get stuck wiv something like that, you’ll be in a rut and never get out of it,’ she’d said and patted her hand. ‘I’ll ask about a bit, love. See if I can find out about something better …’ Jinny had agreed but it hadn’t stopped her looking. Unfortunately, nothing had turned up and by the time she’d applied for the scrubbing job, it had gone. Nellie had said it was just as well, though Jinny had regretted it, but now she felt excited. She was being offered a proper interview at St Saviour’s by some people named Sister Beatrice and Sandra Milvern, and that sounded important. She didn’t know what sort of a job it was but she didn’t really care. Anything decent and legal would do; she just wanted to earn some money and repay Nellie’s kindness – and her friend was right, it would be better to get away from here so that she wouldn’t have to put up with Jake’s glaring eyes every time he saw her. ‘Bitch,’ he’d hissed at her the last time he’d blocked her path, his hand gripping her arm in a punishing hold. ‘I’ll get even with yer one of these days. Just wait and see …’ Jinny hadn’t answered. She’d been frightened of pushing him into something violent, but with Nellie’s husband standing at the door waiting for her, Jake had left it at veiled threats. He hadn’t wanted one of Bert Strong’s hammer fists in his face although Bert was quite a bit older than Jake, who couldn’t be more than early thirties, he was a big tough man who worked as a Docker, an amateur champion boxer in his day. The sun was warm and Jinny undid her threadbare coat, wishing she’d left it at home, but she felt like a scarecrow in her old dress, which was one of the few things her mother had brought round and shoved in Nellie’s arms when Jinny was out one day. ‘You’ve got the ungrateful little bitch, so you keep ’er,’ Ma had hissed drunkenly. ‘I don’t want ’er back …’ Jinny wished that her mother had brought her extra shoes and more underwear, but she suspected that anything worth selling had gone down the second-hand stall for beer money. Jinny had been left with the school things she’d been wearing and a couple of old dresses; plus a nightgown, some knickers, a cardigan and a skirt that had seen better days. None of it was good enough to sell or Jinny would’ve sold it and bought material to make something new, but Ma hadn’t given her anything worth having. She bit her lip, feeling the sting of tears. Why did her mother blame her for what had happened? She’d come round to Nellie’s screaming at the top of her voice that Jinny was a scheming bitch and sporting a black eye. ‘It’s your fault ’e give me this ’ere,’ she’d yelled and gone for Jinny until Nellie had hauled her off and given her a push into the nearest chair. After Nellie had finished telling her off, she’d looked a bit ashamed and said, ‘Well, she must ’ave flaunted ’erself to make ’im go fer ’er like that …’ ‘’E’s a pig and a brute,’ Nellie said bluntly. ‘You know that, Mabel Hollis, so don’t come round ’ere blamin’ that girl; ’e’d ’ave anythin’ in a skirt and Jinny’s a lovely young girl – in case you ’adn’t noticed …’ ‘Too damned pretty,’ her mother said and started crying tears of self-pity. ‘What chance ’ave I got when she’s around? They look at me an’ then they look at ’er and I’ve ’ad it …’ ‘That ain’t Jinny’s fault. She don’t encourage Jake and you know it – but she’s stayin’ wiv me now so that’s it …’ Mabel glanced round the neat kitchen, taking in the painted dresser, which was fresh and bright and set with blue and white crockery, the scrubbed pine table, blue and white voile curtains at the windows, and mismatched chairs, and shining linoleum on the floor. Nellie didn’t have a better home than she did, but it just looked better – and it smelled better – and perhaps in that moment Mabel was aware of her failings as a mother and housewife. ‘Well, she’s better orf wiv you any road,’ she said and stopped crying. ‘I’ll bring ’er fings round then …’ She’d seemed ashamed of herself as she left, but when she’d brought the old clothes round later she’d been in a temper again, and had obviously decided that she would dispose of the better clothes that her daughter possessed. Jinny was nearing the market in Petticoat Lane. The thought of the ten shillings in her purse was so exciting that she could hardly contain herself as she wandered from stall to stall, keeping her hand in her pocket to protect it from wandering fingers that might try to rob her. Pickpockets frequented the various lanes that housed the several markets in the area; all kinds of merchandise was sold in these lanes, second-hand clothes, shoes, and better clothes, as well as crockery; leather and cloth bags, straw hats, curios, and a variety of other goods in the lane itself, but in the next streets there were caged birds, food stalls, rags and pens containing rabbits and small livestock, like one-day-old chicks and ducks. Jinny lingered by a stall selling new clothes. She looked through a rail of skirts, none of which were more than ten shillings, and found a tweed one she liked a lot, but what she really needed was a new blouse. ‘Sell yer that fer seven bob if yer want it, luv,’ the stallholder said and winked at Jinny. He had a nice smile and she didn’t feel in the least threatened. She was tempted, but knew she needed a blouse more than another skirt. ‘I like it, but I need a blouse,’ she admitted. ‘Perhaps another week – if I get my job …’ ‘Yer can ’ave it two bob down and half a crown a week,’ the trader offered. ‘Yer’ve got an ’onest face, luv.’ ‘Thanks,’ Jinny said and smiled. ‘I need to see how much I can get a blouse for first – and maybe I’ll come back …’ ‘Maybe you’ll win lots of money on Ernie’s new Premium Bonds,’ he said and grinned at her. ‘I’m gonna buy one fer a quid next month and if I win the big prize I’ll be rich – and then I’ll give all me customers half price …’ He nodded and Jinny moved off, passing the stalls selling new blouses, most of which would take the whole of her ten shillings and more, to the second-hand stalls further down. In the previous street the goods shown were much worn and unwashed, but on one stall with a notice proclaiming the goods were nearly new, the clothes were hung on hangers and nicely presented. Jinny saw some lace blouses and went to look. She immediately saw two pretty ones that she liked; one was yellow voile with little white spots and the other was cream silk and had a lace frill at the cuffs and tiny pearl buttons. Both looked as if they might have been new, and she looked at the price tags with some apprehension. They were priced at six shillings each – which meant she could afford one of them and still put a deposit on the skirt. ‘Do you like ’em?’ The young woman came round from the back of the stall with a friendly smile. ‘They’re a bargain they are – cost you two guineas each new they would.’ ‘They look as if they were expensive,’ Jinny agreed. ‘Is there anything wrong with them?’ ‘Nah, they’re perfect, and I washed ’em meself,’ the girl said proudly. She was wearing a full skirt, pretty blouse and white bobby socks with winkle-picker shoes. ‘I’m good at things like that – you ’ave to be careful with real silk …’ ‘Are they both silk?’ Jinny asked, feeling a flutter of excitement, because she’d thought they were lovely without knowing what they were. ‘Why did the woman who owned them sell them?’ ‘She ’ad a baby and they wouldn’t fit – ’sides, she’s got loads of money … she was tellin’ me she were at Wimbledon when Althea Gibson beat Angela Mortimer. I ’eard it on the radio, but I’d love to ’ave been there – wouldn’t you?’ ‘Oh, I’ve never thought about it … I did play tennis at school, but I wasn’t very good.’ Jinny touched the material of the silk blouses reverently. ‘I’d like them both but I can only afford one,’ she said hesitantly. ‘I’m not sure which to choose …’ ‘How much ’ave yer got?’ ‘Eight shillings to spend on a blouse … I need two for something else,’ Jinny said and took the money from the purse in her pocket. ‘I think I’ll ’ave the cream one …’ she decided but before the stallholder could act someone snatched the money from Jinny’s hand and started running. ‘My money …’ she cried and started after him. ‘He’s pinched my money …’ People stared but made no attempt to stop the rogue from fleeing through the crowded market. He was getting away from her and Jinny’s heart sank as she saw him disappearing into the throng. The money Nellie had given her had gone and she wasn’t likely to see it again, and that meant she couldn’t buy anything. Tears pricked her eyes and she felt such a fool for holding the money out so eagerly to show the stallholder. What an idiot. She should’ve waited until the blouse was wrapped and kept a tight hold on it. Feeling miserable, Jinny turned away, knowing that she’d lost her money and there was nothing she could do. Retracing her steps, she went back to the stall selling the blouses and almost in tears told the girl that she couldn’t buy either of them. ‘If you’ve got them next week, I’ll buy one – if I get my new job …’ ‘Wanted it to make a good impression I expect?’ ‘Yes, but my school …’ Jinny broke off as a hand clutched her arm and she turned to see a somewhat out-of-breath Micky Smith. He grinned as she stared at him and handed her the ten-shilling note he was holding. ‘What …?’ ‘Sorry it took me so long to get ’im,’ Micky said, looking proud of his achievement. ‘I didn’t realise straight away what he’d done and then someone said you’d been robbed. I managed to get it off him but he got away … I’ll find ’im though and I’ll make ’im sorry …’ ‘You got my money back?’ Jinny was disbelieving and then overwhelmed. ‘That’s so kind …’ She choked as the tears became very real. ‘Thanks. I can buy my blouse now …’ ‘You can have the two for nine bob,’ the girl said. ‘I reckon you deserve it after a nasty turn like that. I don’t like thieves. They nick things off the stall if me and Dad don’t keep an eye out.’ She smiled at Micky. ‘You was brave and clever to get that back, Mick.’ ‘Yeah,’ he agreed, his grin widening as the purchase went ahead and Jinny parted with the note for her paper bag and a shilling change. ‘Be seein’ yer, Maisie. Tell yer father I’ve got a bit of business fer ’im later …’ ‘Righto,’ Maisie said and looked pleased as Jinny took her purchases and moved off, Micky at her side. ‘I’ll see yer later then …’ Micky nodded but didn’t look back at her. He walked with Jinny as she moved away. ‘The bugger didn’t hurt yer, did he? I wish I’d seen him sooner …’ ‘No, I’m all right,’ Jinny said. ‘I’m going for a job interview tomorrow at St Saviour’s, and I needed a new blouse. I was just deciding which to buy and got my money out too quick – and he snatched it before I knew he was there.’ ‘Probably been followin’ yer, waiting to get yer purse,’ Micky said. ‘They do that in the market when it’s busy. Was there anything else you need now?’ ‘I was looking at a skirt but I bought two blouses so I can’t afford the deposit now …’ ‘Let me buy it for you,’ Micky offered immediately and Jinny sensed his eyes on her dress. ‘You can’t go like that …’ ‘I’ve got a decent skirt,’ Jinny said, ‘but the trader was kind – offered to let me pay so much a week. I’ll just tell him I may come back next week if I get my new job.’ ‘Which stall is it?’ ‘This one,’ Jinny said and blushed as the young stallholder came out to her. ‘I was just telling Micky I can’t buy the skirt today but if you’ve got it next week I may buy it …’ ‘What yer, Mick,’ the trader said and grinned. ‘Nice bit of work. If this young lady is yer girl she can take the skirt and pay me later … no deposit needed …’ ‘I’m no one’s girl,’ Jinny said quickly. ‘I’ve got a shilling – if you’ll take that as a deposit I’ll pay you as soon as I get my first wage …’ ‘If Jinny says she’ll pay, she’ll pay,’ Micky assured him. ‘Wrap it up, Dave, and take her shillin’ …’ ‘Anythin’ you say, mate,’ Dave said and put the skirt in the bag, accepting Jinny’s coin with a grin. ‘If it ain’t right you can bring it back – and pay me when yer like …’ ‘I’ll pay next week if I get my job,’ Jinny said, her cheeks warm. ‘Thanks so much. I wanted to look smart for my interview and now I’m spoiled for choice.’ ‘A pretty girl like you deserves nice things,’ Dave said. ‘I’ll see you right any time you want something new and can’t afford it …’ He grinned at her as she walked off with Micky. When they were out of earshot, Jinny looked at Micky. ‘I got a bargain with my blouses and it was nice of Dave to let me have this before I paid him – but you’re not to give him the money, Micky. It wouldn’t be right. I’m not that sort of girl …’ Micky laughed softly, but there was a faint look of hurt in his eyes. ‘Did you think I would try to buy yer for the price of a skirt off the market? I wouldn’t be so cheap, Jinny – and I know you ain’t like that …’ ‘I didn’t mean that …’ She blushed hotly, because she had and now She was ashamed of thinking ill of him. ‘I know you’re generous but …’ ‘No, I ain’t.’ Micky shook his head. ‘I like yer, Jinny. I always ’ave – but if I decide to make a play fer yer, you’ll know – right? If yer my girl I’ll treat yer proper …’ Jinny shook her head, embarrassed. She was too young to be anyone’s girl and wasn’t sure what she wanted from life yet. Once upon a time all girls ever thought about was getting married, but these days life could be more exciting and, having made the break from her home, Jinny wanted to enjoy it before she settled down. ‘Who says I’ll be your girl?’ she asked crossly, more because she didn’t know what to say than because she was angry or disliked him. ‘Oh, you’ll have me if I ask,’ he said and smiled. ‘I ain’t the ignorant lout you think I am, Jinny. I can talk proper if I want but it suits me to be the way I am, especially with the market lads, right? Let me tell you now, Micky Smith is goin’ to be someone one day – one day soon – and when I am I’ll be lookin’ for the right girl. It might just be you, if yer lucky …’ He winked at her. ‘I’ll give yer a ride on me motorbike if yer good …’ ‘You’ve never got a motorbike …’ Jinny stared in disbelief. ‘Oh, ain’t I?’ Micky laughed. ‘I’ll be orf to the Isle of Man one of these days – you’ll see …’ Jinny stopped in her tracks as he walked off laughing. Was he joking or had he really got a motorbike? He was such an odd mixture, the flashy wide boy at one moment, a dashing hero the next, chasing that thief to recover her money even though he was out of breath when he came back. His speech was as mixed up as he was and she believed that he could put on a posh voice when it suited him, just as he could be one of the lads in the market. She wondered again what he did to earn the kind of money he so obviously did; he wasn’t going to tell her, but whatever it was both Maisie and Dave had respected him, almost as if they looked up to him – as if he had influence or importance in their lives … Jinny frowned. She had reason to be grateful to Micky but she wasn’t sure how she felt about him, or whether she wanted him to be important in her life or not. At the moment all she wanted was to be accepted for the job at St Saviour’s … CHAPTER 5 (#u5d3cd0a3-984e-521e-9d9e-34dae630d19a) ‘Oh, damn,’ Rose said on seeing her bus disappear round the corner just as she got to the stop. She’d been busy all morning, visiting Mary Ellen at her home and giving her a hand with some washing in return for being able to use her new electric washing tub for her own things. She’d been interested in hearing all about her sister’s progress at teaching college and forgotten the time. ‘Damn, I’m going to be late.’ ‘Sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing that …’ Rose turned to look at the man who had spoken. He must have been in his late twenties with fair hair worn a little too long and falling into his eyes; he was dressed in work overalls stained with paint, black boots, a short-sleeved shirt and a red spotted handkerchief knotted about his throat. ‘I’ve got my van across the road. Can I give you a lift, nurse?’ Rose hesitated, because she’d never seen this man before, but he had a gentle smile and she was inclined to trust him. ‘Well, I need to be at St Saviour’s in Halfpenny Street – if you’re going anywhere near there …’ A grin broke out, making him seem far more attractive than he’d looked at first glance. ‘You’re one of those ’Alfpenny angels,’ he said. ‘As a matter of fact I’ve got an appointment with your Sister Beatrice this mornin’. Hop in and I’ll take you there …’ ‘Did Sister Beatrice ask you to call and see her?’ Rose said as he opened the passenger door for her to get in. The smell of paint and turpentine would have told her that he was a decorator by trade even if she hadn’t already guessed it. His radio was playing something that sounded like skiffle but he switched it off. ‘Are you from Thompsons?’ ‘Yeah, that’s me,’ he said and went round to the driving seat. ‘I’m Rob and my brother Nick and me started up about two years ago. We’d both had enough of working for wages so we decided to give it a go on our own. I’m just thankful they took that petrol rationing off. I know they had to after that trouble with the Suez Canal last year, but I’m glad we’re not still restricted. You need a vehicle in this job.’ ‘We had rationing for years during the war.’ ‘I know, but I wasn’t driving then. I was seventeen when it ended.’ ‘And now you have your own business …’ she said as he drew out into the traffic. ‘I know it can be hard starting up on your own. You can’t afford to employ many staff, but that means you have to work all hours yourself …’ ‘That’s about us,’ Rob replied without looking at her. ‘It’s easier for me, because I’m not married, but Nick is a widower with two young boys – and his house is mortgaged.’ ‘I know what it’s like to worry where the next penny is coming from. My father died when I was quite young and Ma could never quite manage. It took me years to earn enough to look after myself.’ ‘As long as the work keeps coming in, we’ll manage,’ Rob said. ‘Nick has gone after a big contract on a new housing estate this morning, and if he gets it, it could make all the difference.’ Rose didn’t say anything to that, but she could understand what it meant to a fledgling business. It was 1957 now and the country had just about shrugged off the hardships of the war; the prime minister said the country had never had it so good, but Rose had known what it was like to be really poor. After their mother became ill and died, Rose had been forced to put her younger sister in St Saviour’s and train as a nurse for very low wages. She’d tried to help Mary Ellen along the way, to see that she had a few treats, but it had been difficult for a long time. Rose had buried her grief as she trained hard to become a nurse and she’d done well at the hospital. Matron had wanted her to go on and rise to the top of her profession, but Rose had fallen out with one of the senior doctors and left before he had her sacked. She’d been lucky to get the job at St Saviour’s and was enjoying her work. Love hadn’t come her way, but she had friends and she got on well with Mary Ellen and her husband Billy these days, although just now and then she was very aware of the passing years and sometimes wondered if she would ever have a family of her own. ‘Here we are.’ Rob’s voice brought Rose back from her own problems and she realised that she hadn’t spoken to him for several minutes. ‘Oh …’ she said, feeling embarrassed. ‘Thanks so much. I’m sorry; I was lost in my thoughts …’ ‘I expect I was rabbiting on too much.’ ‘No, of course not.’ Rose smiled at him. ‘It’s just that you talking about what you want for the future made me wonder about my own …’ ‘Ah, thinking of getting married and settling down?’ ‘No, nothing like that … Just thinking about work and whether I should make a change …’ ‘I see … well, good luck whatever you decide,’ he said and jumped out of his van, coming round to open the door for her. Rose smiled; she liked being treated like a lady. ‘Good luck to you, too,’ she said. ‘I hope you get that big contract.’ ‘My brother needs the luck,’ Rob said and smiled too. ‘I’ve just got to hope that Sister Beatrice has accepted our price for the work …’ Rose almost told him that his price would have gone to St Saviour’s Board for the decision, but decided not to mention it. He was a pleasant man and she was grateful for the lift, but she didn’t expect she would see much of him, even if he got the job. Pushing all other concerns from her mind, Rose hurried up to the sick ward to relieve Staff Nurse Wendy. It was Wendy’s afternoon off and she was planning on a visit to the hairdresser and then she was going out for the evening with a friend. They had tickets for The Mousetrap, Agatha Christie’s long-running play. Wendy had surprised everyone by her continuing friendship with a man some years her senior. They’d all thought her a career nurse but Rose knew that Wendy was considering a proposal of marriage. If she were to marry and perhaps leave, that would leave Rose and Sister Beatrice – which meant that Sister Beatrice would be looking for new nursing staff again. Rose couldn’t leave her in the lurch at such a time. ‘Oh, there you are.’ Wendy turned with a smile as Rose entered. ‘I’m glad we have a few minutes before I leave. I wanted to tell you about Beth … she seems to have a temperature this morning and I think we should keep an eye on her.’ ‘You haven’t called the doctor? What does Sister Beatrice say?’ ‘She was in earlier, but Beth was all right then. I rang her office but she didn’t answer … but I’m sure she’ll be back soon – so if you’re worried …’ ‘I know she has an appointment with someone just now,’ Rose said. ‘I’ll pop in and look at Beth and I’ll keep an eye on her. If she gets any worse I’ll get the doctor to come and see her.’ ‘It’s probably nothing. You know what children are, up one minute and down the next, but she was undernourished when she came to us and I don’t think she eats enough …’ ‘We’ll have to see if we can tempt her,’ Rose said and frowned. ‘Muriel used to know exactly what to send for kids who didn’t eat much. I don’t think Mrs Davies is half as good a cook as Muriel was but I’ll ask her to send some strawberry jelly and ice cream … if she has it, or perhaps rice pudding. Muriel always had some ice cream for the kids but Mrs Davies seems to think it’s a waste of money.’ ‘Yes, jelly and ice cream might tempt the child. If we haven’t got any in the kitchen, I’ll pop to the corner shop and buy a small block of strawberry and vanilla,’ Wendy said and checked her files again. ‘Otherwise, we’re pretty quiet. I sometimes wonder how long we shall go on like this, Rose. We are busy when we have new children brought in, and now and then we have some of them falling sick – but it isn’t like it was when I first came here. We were much busier then. It was so different …’ ‘Yes …’ Rose sighed with regret. ‘Everyone says it hasn’t been the same since they opened the new home in Essex …’ She hesitated, then, ‘Would you go and work there if you were offered the chance?’ Wendy looked at her for a moment and then shook her head. ‘I think if St Saviour’s were to close I should go back to hospital nursing … perhaps try and specialise. I suppose they would make me retrain. Things have moved on since I came here and it would be hard work catching up … and I’m not sure what I want yet …’ She shook her head. ‘You’re not thinking of leaving us?’ ‘I’ve thought about specialising in paediatrics,’ Rose said. ‘I thought when I left the London I would be settled here, but it isn’t the same as it was even when I came here …’ ‘No, I agree,’ Wendy said. ‘I think I’ve only stayed this long because of Sister Beatrice. If she weren’t here …’ ‘The whole thing would close down,’ Rose said and laughed. ‘I sometimes think we’ve outlived our usefulness. The Welfare people have their own centres to take in kids in trouble now, and they pass them on to the permanent homes within days, hours sometimes. Sister Beatrice believes in winning the trust of our kids before they move on, and I know she’s right. It’s too drastic to just ship them off to the country when they really don’t know what’s happening. I think that’s why a lot of them run away and come back to London. They would rather be on the streets than in a home they hate.’ ‘The Children’s Department is too clinical, too concerned with the law and not compassionate enough,’ Wendy said. ‘I’ve never forgotten the way they dealt with the May twins, Sarah and Samantha; giving them to their father’s sister was so wrong – and there was June Miller … that was a disaster. She should never have been fostered with those awful people that abused her.’ ‘No, that was wicked,’ Rose said. ‘Perhaps we are still needed for a bit longer. I know Sister thinks so …’ ‘Yes, she does,’ Wendy said, ‘and the kids love her. Billy Baggins and Mary Ellen still come and see her, even though he’s doing so well running that warehouse and all those market stalls – and, as you know, your sister is well on the way to becoming a teacher. She told me that she still thinks of St Saviour’s as her family, and she’s always doing things for the kids. She remembers when Angela Adderbury was here and used to give the children stars and encourage them to do lots of projects for stars.’ ‘Yes, Mary Ellen and Billy have done really well, but there are lots more kids that have got on because St Saviour’s was here,’ Rose agreed, but she couldn’t help wondering how long it would continue just the same … ‘We’ve been given a budget for the work,’ Beatrice said to the young man who had presented himself in her office in his overalls, as if prepared to start immediately if given the go-ahead. She rather approved of that and it was part of the reason the Board had chosen his firm from amongst those that had tendered. ‘You’re a decorator, but you do realise there are some plumbing jobs included in the specification?’ ‘Yes, of course. My brother Nick is a builder. He does bricklaying, carpentry and plumbing. I’m lazy; I just make it all look good at the end …’ Beatrice saw the twinkle in his eye and smiled inwardly. He reminded her of someone but she couldn’t think who at the moment. ‘Well, your figures seem to be satisfactory, Mr Thompson. When can you start?’ ‘I’d like to do some preliminary work today, Sister,’ Rob said. ‘Just make a few notes and then I’ll order the materials we need. Did you have any preference for the colour schemes in the kids’ dorms?’ ‘We’ve always stuck to the same basic colours – doesn’t it cost more if we change?’ ‘No, because we use three coats,’ he said. ‘We don’t just splash on one watered coat and then a top coat. We could make this place look brighter and more modern, if that was what you wanted? Or we can stick to the basic cream but use a lighter, newer colour … I could even do a feature wall with stencils, pink and flowery for the girls and blue and sporty for the boys … perhaps a racing car …’ ‘Good gracious.’ Beatrice removed her spectacles and rubbed the bridge of her nose where they’d pinched. ‘For now I think perhaps a lighter cream for the communal areas. I’ll speak to my staff about the feature walls. You don’t need a decision on that right now?’ ‘No, I’ll get started on the utility rooms; kitchen, bathrooms. Nick will put in the new sinks and toilets where we agreed and then I’ll paint the reception areas, finish up with the dorms and fit the nurses’ home in a bit at a time – I’ll be here at seven thirty in the morning, if that isn’t too early?’ ‘I am always here by seven – unless we have an emergency in the night, but there will be someone on duty.’ ‘Then I’ll just have a look round and make some notes – and we’ll see you in the morning.’ Beatrice nodded and sighed as the young man left her office. She was certain she’d seen Robert Thompson before but she just couldn’t recall it. He was in his late twenties so he couldn’t have been one of her children at St Saviour’s and yet there was something about his eyes … and the smile that lit up his face that touched a chord in her memory … and then it came to her: he was a little like someone she’d once loved. For a moment she felt a suffocating pain in her chest, but the next second it had gone. She shook her head and straightened her cap, smoothing the plain grey habit she wore. She’d noticed that one of the children Sergeant Sallis had brought in was looking a bit flushed earlier that morning. It would be a good idea to just pop in and see if she had developed a fever … Something was nagging at the back of her mind as she walked to the isolation ward where the two children were still housed. Neither of them was ready for school or to join the dorms yet, although Andy seemed to be coming on in leaps and bounds. Beth was a quiet, nervous child who clung to her brother and seemed frightened of speaking lest she did something wrong. Beatrice suspected that she’d been badly treated for some time and she wished Andy felt able to tell her, because whoever had done this to them needed to be punished … but without confirmation it would be difficult for the police to do very much. Rose was standing by the girl’s bed, taking her temperature when Beatrice entered. She turned and smiled and the satisfied expression in her eyes told Beatrice that the child was fine. ‘Beth was feeling a little poorly when Nurse Wendy gave her a wash this morning, but she’s better now and I’m going to ask for some more jelly and ice cream for her.’ ‘Temperature normal now?’ Beatrice asked, her practised eyes going over the little girl. Beth still looked a little flushed but her forehead wasn’t sweaty and she felt cool to the touch. ‘A little higher than normal but not enough to call the doctor for,’ Rose said. ‘Did you want to see Wendy’s report while you’re here?’ ‘How are you feeling, Beth?’ Beatrice asked the child. She glanced nervously at her brother and then said, ‘I’m all right, Sister …’ She hesitated, then, ‘When can we get up and go outside please?’ ‘Do you feel you’re ready to go to school, Beth?’ Again the slight hesitation, and then Andy got out of bed wearing his St Saviour’s pyjamas and came to sit on the edge of her bed. ‘We want to go to school, Sister, but … if we tell you where they’ll tell him … and we can’t go back there or he’ll kill us …’ ‘The Beast …’ Beth said, her voice trembling and her eyes filling with tears. ‘Tell her, Andy – tell her how he beat us and didn’t give us enough to eat after Mum died …’ ‘Is this man your step-father?’ Beatrice asked, her voice sterner than she intended. ‘Let me promise you that if he was the one that beat Andy before you came here, he will not be allowed to have the care of you again.’ ‘If the school tells him we’re there he’ll get us on the way back here,’ Andy said and Beatrice saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. Beth’s hand reached for his and he held it tightly. ‘I can stand up to him, Sister – but I don’t want him to hurt Beth again …’ ‘Well, you don’t have to go to school just yet. Nancy is our head carer and she will give you a few lessons to do in the mornings until you feel able to return to normal school – but if you can trust me and tell me the name of this man I may be able to have him punished. He should be in prison for what he has done to you.’ ‘He would come after us and take us back,’ Andy said. ‘I want to go to school but I can’t protect Beth, because she goes to … the juniors …’ ‘Yes, I understand your concerns,’ Beatrice said, treating his opinions with the respect they deserved. ‘Perhaps, if you wished to return to school, I could have a word with your headmaster? I have already spoken to Miss Sampson from the Welfare people about you, Andy, and for the moment she is content to leave you in my care – but the Department would like to investigate your case and punish the man that hurt you …’ Andy shook his head stubbornly, and Beatrice nodded, because she knew that he needed time before he could really trust her. ‘Yes, I do understand. Do you wish to let Beth have her lessons with us for the moment and try to attend school yourself?’ ‘Can I think about it, Sister?’ ‘Certainly … ah, here is Nurse Rose with your meal. I shall leave you to enjoy it and let you decide what is best. If you felt it was just too dangerous to stay in London, I could send you to Halfpenny House in Essex. It is more modern than we are and the people there are good people. It might be better for you if you fear your step-father’s retribution …’ Andy gave her a long considering look and then inclined his head. ‘I’ll try goin’ to school tomorrow,’ he conceded. ‘It depends on what them people do … but he was given custody of us when Mum died and he lies all the time. He’d say I was making trouble for him out of spite … but he’s a bully and a beast, and we’re never goin’ back there.’ ‘Will you believe me when I say I shall do all I can to make sure you stay with us?’ Andy hesitated for some moments and then inclined his head. ‘I trust you – but the Welfare people sent us back to him after we run away when Mum died. He said he would look after us, but he made us do everything; he wouldn’t let Beth go to school and told them she had a cold when they came askin’ why – and he hit me whenever he felt like it, especially when he was drunk.’ Beatrice had heard the story so many times before. It happened time after time, when the children were left to an uncaring relative who drank. She also knew that Andy was speaking the truth when he said that the Welfare people had given them back to their step-father’s care when they’d tried to escape after their mother died. It was their policy to leave children with a relative unless they had reason to believe that person was unfit – and that wasn’t always easy to judge. People were very good at putting on a show when they had a visit from the Children’s Welfare Department. ‘I shall make sure certain people know what this man has done to you – but it would be so much easier if I knew his name.’ ‘He’ll just smile and deny it all and they’ll believe him,’ Andy said, ‘and then he’ll know where we are and come after us …’ The fear of the man they called ‘the Beast’ had gone too deep to be erased with vague promises. Beatrice knew she had to talk to someone at the Children’s Department … Suddenly remembering that she had an appointment with a young woman, Beatrice turned hurried steps towards her office. She was late and she could only hope that Sandra had remembered Jinny Hollis was coming for an interview … Luckily, Sandra was already there and had given the young woman a cup of tea. She’d been sitting down when Beatrice entered but got to her feet, a faint flush in her cheeks as she said hello. It was obvious that she had nice manners and Beatrice approved. She thought that perhaps they’d been lucky Hannah had recommended the girl and she smiled, inviting her to sit once more. ‘Drink your tea, Miss Hollis. I’ll have one too, Sandra – and then we’ll hear what this young woman has to say …’ Beatrice had just entered her office that afternoon when the telephone rang. Picking it up, she discovered it was Angela Adderbury, the woman who had helped her run St Saviour’s for years and was now helping to run Halfpenny House in Essex. ‘Angela, how nice to hear your voice …’ ‘Sister Beatrice, I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to tell you something; it isn’t set in stone yet, but there’s a definite chance that St Saviour’s will be closing next year …’ ‘Oh no! This can’t be true … surely they wouldn’t …?’ Beatrice felt the shock hit her like an icy wave. Her heart raced and for a moment she felt a little light-headed. ‘Rest assured that both Mark and I will fight it – but I’ll keep you in touch. For the moment this is confidential but I wanted you to be aware – of course you know there is always a place for you here …’ ‘You’re very kind, Angela, but the Board might not agree … besides, my life is here. There are still children in dire need, Angela …’ ‘I know and I promise I’ll do everything I can to stop the closure – but I wanted you to reassure you of my support in case the worst happens …’ Beatrice was recovering her composure and decided to change the subject. ‘Thank you for letting me know; now tell me, Angela – how are you and the twins? I see Mark when he’s in London, but it’s ages since I’ve seen you.’ ‘Oh, the twins are fine. We took them to Scotland in the Easter holidays and they loved it. Mark is talking of teaching them to ski this winter; he’ll take them to Switzerland I imagine.’ ‘That sounds wonderful. Is everything going well at Halfpenny House now? I know you had a few problems …’ ‘Some of the older boys took a long time to settle down. One of the carers was too harsh and I think he upset them, but since he was asked to resign things have run smoother. I found a new cook too and the food is better. I’ve introduced a new regime of fresh salads and vegetables … the kids were getting too many suet puddings, chips and fried stuff …’ ‘I dare say fresh vegetables are easier to get there than in town?’ ‘Yes, and I’ve formed a relationship with some local farmers. It’s much cheaper to buy direct from the farm and fresher too. You must come and stay with us soon, please say you will.’ ‘Well, perhaps – just for a day,’ Beatrice said. ‘Oh, I can hear voices at the door … I must go. Please keep me in touch …’ Beatrice replaced the receiver and sat very still staring into space as her heart raced. It was ridiculous, but the news had made her feel quite ill … as if she couldn’t breathe for a moment. How foolish. She’d always known this could happen; it made perfect financial sense for the Board to close St Saviour’s now that they had their modern country home. Still, it had upset her for a moment, but she was fine now, perfectly fine … CHAPTER 6 (#u5d3cd0a3-984e-521e-9d9e-34dae630d19a) Jinny felt as if she were walking on air when she finally left St Saviour’s an hour and a half after she’d entered it, having been given a job and shown a nice airy room in the nurses’ home that would be hers for as long as she worked for the orphanage. The orphanage didn’t look much of a place outside, a bit austere with tiny windows in the attics and scarred grey walls. It had come through the war without suffering a direct hit, but there were cracks in the brick walls and the roof had patches of thick moss, though inside it was much better. You could see several alterations had been done over the years to modernise it, and it was kept lovely and clean. Sister Beatrice had told her it was due for a paint-up and the builders were going to do several much needed repairs. ‘It shouldn’t trouble us too much,’ she’d told Jinny. ‘I’m sure they will keep out of our way as much as possible …’ ‘Oh, I’m sure it won’t bother me, Sister,’ she’d said and the nun had smiled a little. Jinny was now officially one of the ’Alfpenny girls, or angels as a lot of people called the nurses and carers. St Saviour’s of Halfpenny Street was well known to East Enders, and the people who ran it were generally praised in glowing terms. Jinny had been nervous of meeting Sister Beatrice, who was often described as a bit of a dragon, but she’d been a little subdued when she finally arrived late for the interview, after Sandra had already made Jinny feel comfortable and given her a cup of tea in her office. Sister had apologised and the interview had begun somewhat later than expected, but both Sandra and Sister Beatrice had seemed genuine and kind people to Jinny; she’d expected to be put through a lot of difficult questions, but they asked mainly about her family life, and then, only after a few minutes’ pleasant chat, what she wanted to do in the future. ‘I don’t mind cooking and cleaning, and I like sewing,’ Jinny had answered truthfully. ‘I liked reading at school, and writing compositions – but I’m not good at maths, though I can add up and divide, but I can’t work out logarithms and equations and that sort of stuff …’ ‘Nor can I,’ Sandra admitted and she’d laughed softly, her blue eyes full of mirth. ‘A part of this job will be helping in the kitchens, the preparation of food, washing up and that sort of thing – also cleaning the children’s dorms, collecting dirty laundry and dealing with it. We have a woman who comes in early to scrub the floors, but bathrooms, changing beds and that sort of chore is what we’d expect from you before you start work in the kitchen, Jinny. In time you may be asked to help with children when they are admitted – and if you have the right sort of patience, reading and playing with the little ones …’ ‘Oh …’ Jinny hardly knew what to say, because it all sounded like a dream to her. She was going to get paid for doing things she liked? ‘Does the idea not appeal?’ Sister Beatrice asked and frowned. ‘You’re a little too young to go straight into the job of carer …’ ‘Oh no! I mean yes, it does appeal,’ Jinny said and blushed violently. ‘I didn’t think it would be so nice … I mean, do I get paid as well as my room and food just for … doing what you said?’ ‘The wage is two pounds fifteen shillings a week, plus your uniforms, your food and your room. You’re expected to keep it clean, but the sheets are done at the laundry with St Saviour’s …’ ‘Are you offering me the job?’ Jinny was breathless, hardly daring to believe that she could be so lucky. ‘Yes – if you want it,’ Sister Beatrice said, looking a little stern. ‘Oh yes, please,’ Jinny said. ‘When can I start – tomorrow? Can I move in this evening?’ Sister Beatrice smiled. ‘I think that is an excellent idea, Jinny. You will be here nice and early in the morning so that you don’t keep Mrs Davies waiting … and now I think Sandra should take you to meet Mrs Davies, and Nancy, and then show you where you will sleep and the other rooms …’ Jinny thanked her, still not quite believing her good fortune as Sandra led her off to meet various members of staff and then to see the lovely neat, clean room that would be hers. It was larger than the one she had at Nellie’s, not huge but big enough to have an elbow chair and a desk, as well as the bed, chest of drawers and single wardrobe. Jinny didn’t have many possessions other than her clothes, but she realised that she could gradually make this room into her home and it was such a lovely feeling that she turned anxiously to Sandra. ‘Do I have to pay rent?’ Sandra smiled and shook her head. ‘No, Jinny, it is part of your wage. Sister Beatrice doesn’t force girls to live at the nurses’ home but she thinks it is a good idea, especially for the younger ones. You’re asked to be in by ten thirty at night, because then we can lock the gates and know that our staff and children are safe from intruders.’ ‘Oh yes, I’ll be in by then. I don’t go out much in the evenings – but I promised Nellie I’d take her to see Elvis Presley at the Odeon when I get my wages. She’s been that good to me, but we can go first house …’ Sandra nodded, looking at her steadily for a moment. ‘Sister Beatrice may seem stern to you, Jinny, but she cares about the children, and she cares about her staff. Be honest, do your job well, and you should be very happy here. I know I have been.’ ‘Thank you …’ Jinny blushed, because she hadn’t told them all the details of her unhappy home life, but she thought they probably knew most of it because of Hannah. ‘I shan’t let you down.’ ‘I am sure you won’t,’ Sandra said. ‘Well, get off and pack your things – we have supper at half-past eight so if you’re here by then you’ll meet some of the children, because we all sit together for meals …’ ‘What yer!’ Micky’s voice hailed her as she approached the corner of Lilac Lane just before she turned down into the ancient courtyard where Nellie’s and her mother’s house stood at the middle of the terrace. He’d just come out of the grocer’s shop and was clutching a racing paper, a packet of cigarettes and a large paper bag filled with what looked like biscuits, cakes and crisps. ‘How yer doin’?’ ‘I’m all right,’ Jinny beamed at him, unable to control her excitement. ‘I got my job at St Saviour’s. They’ve given me a nice room to myself and I start tomorrow. I’ll be able to pay for that skirt when I get my wage and take Nellie to the flicks …’ ‘That’s great.’ Micky grinned all over his face. ‘You can come to the flicks with me any time you say, Jinny. There’s a film comin’ soon I want to see – Bridge on the River Kwai …’ ‘Thanks …’ She hesitated, not wanting to cut him off and yet knowing that she wasn’t ready to become involved too much with someone like Micky. ‘I’ll probably be working most of the time for a start. I’m not sure how much time I get off …’ She glanced at the paper bag and, perhaps because she felt awkward, teased, ‘If you eat all that lot you’ll get fat and then you won’t be able to run fast enough to catch any more thieves …’ ‘They ain’t fer me,’ Micky said. ‘Just fetched ’em fer a friend. He’s got two little kids and he’s bin orf work for weeks. The Social don’t pay enough to keep a flea alive, let alone a few treats for the kids. I’m as fit as a fiddle, don’t you worry.’ Jinny nodded and moved from foot to foot uneasily. ‘I’ll see you around then, Micky.’ ‘Yeah, I pop up all over the place,’ he said. ‘Go and tell Nellie yer good news; she’ll be sorry ter lose yer …’ ‘Nellie is a good friend, but she couldn’t keep me there forever,’ Jinny said. ‘She took me in when I needed help, but I’ll be all right now. It’s a nice place to work and Jake won’t come after me there …’ ‘If he bothers you just let me know and I’ll put him right,’ Micky said but Jinny shook her head. She didn’t want them fighting over her, especially as she thought Micky might come off worse. Jinny liked Micky as a friend and she was grateful for his help over her stolen money, but she wasn’t ready to be anyone’s girlfriend just yet. She wanted to work and get some money saved so that she could stand on her own two feet and she thought Micky was the sort who would expect her to be his once he put his mark on her. Jinny was too young and she wanted some fun before she became romantically involved. Her mother had been pregnant with her at fifteen and married the day she became sixteen – and that was enough to make Jinny vow she wouldn’t get caught in the same trap. There was a big exciting world out there and she wanted to have some fun before she got wed … if she ever did. ‘Run on home and behave yerself,’ Micky said and turned away, whistling cheerfully as he set off up the road. She couldn’t help being curious about what Micky did for a living. He always seemed to have money in his pocket, and he was wearing a smart suit that morning, and yet she saw him about quite a lot and he didn’t seem to have a regular job. Unless he worked at night … Nellie hugged her and told her she’d known she would get the job all along. There was a suspicion of tears as she helped Jinny pack her things into a big old shopping bag that she’d had for years. ‘I’ll bring it back when I get time off,’ Jinny promised and Nellie gave a little shake of her head. ‘Yer can always come back ter me if they don’t feed yer enough or treat yer bad,’ she said. ‘I shall miss yer, love, and that’s the truth – but I know it’s best fer yer to go. Jake were sniffin’ round ’ere earlier and I think ’e were lookin’ fer you, Jinny. I went out in the yard and started shaking mats over ’im. ’E give me such a look and went orf quick then! I don’t trust that bugger and that’s the truth.’ Jinny nodded, knowing that there was no real privacy in the communal yard that all four houses in the terrace shared. They were Victorian houses and due to be pulled down as part of the general clearance and rebuilding that was going on all over London. One of these days the tenants would all get notices to quit their homes and the bulldozers would move in, but it had been threatened for as long as Jinny could recall and most people had given up expecting it to happen. If the renovations did go ahead the council were due to rehouse them in one of the more modern estates built in the suburbs. Jinny’s mother had said she wouldn’t let the ‘bloody council’ stick her in ‘one of them soddin’ flats stuck up in the sky’, but Nellie was quite looking forward to it. ‘I wouldn’t mind living somewhere the rats didn’t invade every time it turns cooler,’ she’d once told Jinny after chasing one almost the size of a cat out of her kitchen with a broom. ‘I’d like a nice modern flat with proper electrics and all the rest, better for us as we get older – but I’m not sure the old man will go fer it. ’E’ll probably look for somewhere cheap down near the Docks. They ain’t goin’ ter pull the lot down in one go, are they?’ Jinny had agreed that they would probably find another terraced house going cheap somewhere if they tried. She thought a nice modern house or flat would be much better, but most of the residents were against the demolition of their homes, and some of them talked of barricading the entrance to the court so the bulldozers couldn’t get in. Since none of them had yet received notice it seemed a long way off to Jinny, though you couldn’t go far these days without seeing buildings that were either being knocked down to make way for big stores or new office blocks, or renovations to bring buildings up to standard. Old London was fast disappearing and being replaced by new buildings, though here and there you could still come across a bomb site that was grown over with weeds and littered with rubbish and posters stuck up on billboards, and kids playing in the debris, despite the notices to keep clear. Jinny couldn’t wait to get away and start her new life. St Saviour’s and Halfpenny Street weren’t much better than these sadly dilapidated houses from outside, but inside it was very different. Even though it was due for a paint-up and some of the basins and toilets were to be renewed, it was far superior to anywhere she’d lived before, the bathroom and tiny kitchen at the nurses’ home modern and sparkling clean. Sandra had told her she could take a bath when she liked, but it was best to check with the others when they wanted to use it and fit in to a rota so there were no arguments. ‘Sometimes it’s easier to have a wash in your room,’ Sandra told her. ‘When I stayed here I found the later in the evening you try the better. Most of the girls use it as soon as they finish work, before they go out. Mind you, it’s only Sister Beatrice, Mrs Davies, Rose and Nancy who live here at the moment, but we’re looking for another carer so you may have more soon. The others sometimes use the facilities if they have to work late but that doesn’t happen often.’ Sandra looked round thoughtfully. ‘It is rather a luxury for so few these days. I suppose … at one time all of the rooms were occupied.’ ‘Why don’t we have as many kids as we used to?’ Jinny asked curiously. ‘The Board of St Saviour’s built a new home on the outskirts of Harlow,’ Sandra said. ‘I haven’t seen it, but Wendy says it’s marvellous, lots of fields round it for the children to play … sports hall, dormitories and a good bus service to the school, youth clubs …’ ‘That sounds great for them, but surely …’ Jinny stopped and flushed. ‘I mean it’s here the kids live and get abandoned or sick … isn’t it? So it’s here they need help first …’ Having settled into her room, Jinny found her way to the dining room just as the children came pouring down the stairs and started to rush in, pushing and shoving until Nancy appeared and asked them to form an orderly line. They did so but still continued to push and argue amongst themselves as they queued up to select what they wanted to eat and drink. ‘They’ll quieten down in a moment,’ Nancy said as she saw Jinny lingering on the sidelines, not quite sure what to do. ‘You can help Mrs Davies to dispense the cocoa and Ovaltine or hot milk. After that, you can find a place to sit down and eat yourself. Anywhere there’s an empty seat. Now is your chance to introduce yourself to the children …’ Nancy wandered away to sort out an argument between two boys that looked as if it might develop into a fight, leaving Jinny to join Mrs Davies behind the long counter where supper was set out. It consisted mostly of thin slices of sponge cake, jam tarts and plain biscuits. Two lads were lingering by the biscuits and Jinny overheard them moaning. ‘It used to be homemade biscuits and steamed puddings for supper,’ one of them said. ‘They’re old shop-bought things and they don’t taste half as good.’ ‘The jam tarts are homemade,’ Jinny said and offered him the plate. He glared at her for a minute and then took one. ‘What sort of biscuits did you use to like?’ ‘Coconut – and almond ones and ginger ones an’ all,’ he said and eyed her with more interest. ‘Tom likes hot chocolate pudding best and I like the plums wiv custard, but we don’t get none of that, nah. You the new kitchen girl, then?’ ‘Yes, I’ve come to help in the kitchen and with lots of jobs,’ Jinny said and offered him a mug of cocoa. ‘I’ll ask why we don’t have our own biscuits and steam puddings if you like.’ ‘She’ll chop yer ear orf,’ the second boy said, glancing at Mrs Davies with dislike. ‘Nancy’s the best; she makes all sorts when she’s on duty …’ Jinny nodded but made up her mind to ask the cook why they didn’t make their own biscuits when they were so much better. ‘Thank goodness for that,’ Mrs Davies said when the line of boys and girls had worked its way through. ‘I don’t know why they want so much supper when it’s only a few hours since they had their tea …’ ‘Growing lads are always hungry, leastwise, that’s what Nellie says; her sons used to eat her out of house and home before they went off to the Army,’ Jinny replied, eyeing Mrs Davies curiously. She was a woman in her late forties and seemed disgruntled with her lot. ‘They like homemade stuff better than shop-bought biscuits …’ ‘I don’t always have the time,’ Mrs Davies grumbled. ‘Nancy gives me a hand sometimes and so does Hannah, but she’s leaving – and that Elsa Janes is a lazy good-for-nothing. She went home after tea, because her stomach ached …’ ‘You had a lot to do by yourself,’ Jinny sympathised, guessing that the best way to get on with her was to choose her words with care. ‘I’ll be here now and I’ll be able to help you a lot more. I can make a start on the washing-up now if you like. I’ll take all the empty plates into the kitchen and wash them …’ ‘You’re not due to start until the morning …’ Mrs Davies seemed uncertain but Jinny just smiled at her. ‘Well, if you’re sure, it will save me a job.’ Jinny nodded, loaded up the plates and carried the first lot through to the scullery so that she could make a start. There was far too much for one person to do here, and even though Nancy came to give a hand with the wiping up, it took ages to get through all the plates, mugs and dishes. ‘Muriel used to have a couple of helpers when we had more children, but Mrs Davies has managed with just the one until now and unfortunately Elsa isn’t always reliable …’ ‘I shall be,’ Jinny said and felt good inside as she saw Nancy’s look of approval. ‘I think I’m going to like it here …’ ‘You should ask Staff Nurse Wendy for some cream for your hands,’ Nancy told her. ‘We usually have some in the kitchen but it keeps disappearing – get some for your room. You don’t want to have sore hands.’ ‘Thanks, I’ll ask her,’ Jinny said, hesitated, then, ‘Do you think Mrs Davies will teach me to cook? I can cook a bit but I’d like to make the steamed puddings and biscuits and cakes the kids enjoy …’ ‘Well, we’ll see how things work out,’ Nancy said, ‘but I was taught by Muriel, our previous cook, and I’ll give you a few lessons in your spare time if you like.’ ‘Thanks ever so. I should like that.’ Jinny looked at her a little shyly. She liked the attractive young woman who looked to be in her early twenties. ‘I’m so glad Sister Beatrice took me on. I want to make her proud of me …’ ‘Just do the best you can and always act honestly,’ Nancy said and sighed as she looked round the kitchens. ‘We really need a paint-up in here, but I dread the thought of workmen all over the place.’ ‘Oh, Mr Thompson seemed pleasant,’ Jinny said. ‘I saw him just as he was leaving this evening. He said hello and told me who he was and what he was doing …’ ‘Yes, I suppose he’s all right,’ Nancy said. ‘It just upsets the rhythm of our life here …’ Jinny wondered at the tone of Nancy’s voice. She’d been lovely to her, but it seemed she’d taken the young decorator in dislike … Nancy made sure all the children were settled in their dormitories and that Mavis – one of their part-time carers – had arrived for the night shift before she left via the back entrance and crossed the garden at the rear. She was feeling a little unsettled that evening, and it was all the fault of that decorator. She’d just come from the bathroom in the nurses’ home that morning and was still wearing her old dressing robe pulled loosely about her and tied with a soft belt when Mr Thompson had walked up the stairs, surprising her. Her gasp of dismay on seeing him had been involuntary. She knew he was called Rob and was one of the brothers working on the renovating for both St Saviour’s and the nurses’ accommodation, and he had every right to be there, but she’d felt his eyes on her and his slow smile had embarrassed her, the appreciation in his eyes as they settled on her long hair hanging down over her shoulders. Nancy’s hair was thick and shone like pale silk and she hadn’t had it cut for years, twisting it up on top of her head so that it was held neatly in a sort of top knot for work. ‘Sorry if I startled you, miss …’ ‘I’m the head carer Nancy Johnson,’ she’d replied primly. ‘I wasn’t aware that you were starting here this morning …’ ‘Actually, it was you I wanted to speak to about the decoration up here,’ he’d said, a note of apology in his eyes. ‘I saw the kids going into breakfast and I thought I’d just nip in, have a check to see what needed doing most and then ask if you had a preference for the colour scheme?’ ‘I can’t talk to you like this,’ Nancy frowned at him. ‘Excuse me while I dress. I was up late last night with some new arrivals. Make sure you knock before you enter any of the rooms, some of which may be locked – and then come and see me in the main building. My office is next door to Sister’s …’ ‘Yes, Miss Johnson,’ he’d answered meekly, but there had been a spark of interest in his eyes that made her shiver inside. Nancy knew Sister Beatrice wouldn’t have given this man and his brother the run of the place unless she trusted them, and he had a pleasant friendly look about him – but there was something inside Nancy that wouldn’t let her trust any man. Their interview later had been formal and she’d given him a list of colours that the individual members of staff had asked to have in their own rooms, stressing that it had been decided on a pale cream colour everywhere else. ‘We asked the children and no one could agree on a colour scheme, but we suggested that one wall could be done in a medium blue in the boys’ dorms and notice boards fixed so that they can pin their pictures up. The girls don’t want pink but suggested a pale greenish blue with somewhere to display their treasures. Do you think you could manage that, Mr Thompson?’ ‘Yes, Miss Johnson,’ he’d answered, a twinkle lurking deep in his own bluish green eyes. ‘And your own room – do you have a preference?’ Nancy hesitated, then, ‘Pale green please,’ she said and stood up. ‘If there’s nothing else, Mr Thompson, I am rather busy …’ ‘Yes, of course you are, and we need to get on,’ he’d said, then, ‘Most people call me Rob – and I do apologise for upsetting you this morning. I should’ve checked it was all right for me to go upstairs …’ Nancy had felt herself blushing and knew she was making too much of the incident. Decorators had to go everywhere they needed, to move about without hindrance, and any other morning she would already have been at work. ‘I was just surprised,’ she said. ‘You have nothing to apologise for Mr – Rob …’ He gave her a breathtaking smile that made her heart jerk suddenly and beat faster than normal. ‘Thank you, Miss Johnson. I shall ask everyone when it is convenient to do their rooms … I should like to make a start on the boys’ landing today, if that suits you?’ ‘Of course,’ Nancy said relaxing, because it was ridiculous to sulk. ‘You have your work to do. I’ll let Hannah know you’ll be about. She’s in charge of the boys’ dorms this week …’ She got up to leave, but as she passed him, he touched her arm. His touch was light and she knew she could break from it with the slightest movement but it sent a frisson of something like fear down her spine, which she knew was stupid. After all these years she ought to have been able to put the past behind her, and she had, but it came back in moments like these. ‘Please do not touch me,’ she said frostily and saw the disbelief and puzzlement in his eyes, because after all it had been meant only as a delaying tactic, not an intention of force. ‘Forgive me, that was rude – did you wish to say something more?’ ‘Just …’ He shook his head. ‘No, it would have no point. Forgive me …’ He’d given her another puzzled look, as if asking what he’d done to make her dislike him so much, and Nancy had felt foolish, because of course he’d done nothing that any normal woman could object to. The trouble was that she wasn’t normal where physical contact was concerned; she just didn’t like to be touched by a man – any man – and that Nancy knew was a very sad thing, because it meant she could never be married and have children of her own … CHAPTER 7 (#u5d3cd0a3-984e-521e-9d9e-34dae630d19a) Ruby’s head ached as she looked at herself with dislike in the mirror on the wall of the cloakroom. By no stretch of the imagination did she look herself that morning – she felt like a dead rat the cat had dragged in off the streets – and it was her own fault. She had no idea what had made her call in at an off-licence and pick up that bottle of white wine on her way home the previous night. It had been a bad day, of course, with two of her girls caught trying to steal sweets from the shop on the corner of Commercial Road, and Sergeant Sallis warning her that if this kind of thing continued, he would be forced to charge the thieves. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Saunders,’ he’d told her sternly. ‘I know you have a difficult job with these kids, but unless you can keep control of them I’ll be making a formal complaint to my chief constable and that could result in serious trouble for them – and you.’ ‘I’m sorry you’ve had this bother,’ Ruby replied stiffly. ‘I’ll do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again – but I think some of these girls do not deserve a second chance. They would have been better placed in a house of correction in the first place.’ He’d given her an odd look and then left her to it. Ruby had had the girls into her office – a sullen girl of fourteen named Doris and a younger girl with a frightened air who was nicknamed Mouse but whose real name was Emmeline. ‘Well, I hope you’re properly ashamed of yourselves?’ she asked and saw a flicker of fear in Emmeline’s eyes but sheer defiance in the older girl’s face. ‘You’re here because you’re being punished for making nuisances of yourselves at the home you were placed in, and because the court decided to be lenient with you – but there are other places you could go, unpleasant places that I should be loath to send you to – either of you. Now what have you to say to me?’ ‘I’m sorry, miss,’ Emmeline whispered. ‘I didn’t mean to do it – but I’m partial to sweets and me dad alus bought me sixpence worth on a Saturday till the day he died …’ Ruby felt a flicker of sympathy. It was rotten having no parents and both these girls had come to her from council-run orphanages. They’d been classed as rebellious and ungovernable, and had caused several pounds’ worth of damage to their school. Because of that the courts had removed them from the home and placed them here in her care. ‘It ain’t fair,’ Doris muttered. ‘Why can’t we ’ave a few pence for sweets once a week? Anybody would think we was bloody murderers … even the orphans next door ’ave that much …’ Looking from one to the other, Ruby knew instantly that Doris was the ringleader and had no doubt led the younger Emmeline into trouble, both at their previous orphanage and here. If the courts had taken the trouble to examine the case more thoroughly, they would have been split up – and it was clearly what needed to happen. ‘You’re here to learn discipline and no sweets is one of our rules,’ Ruby told them severely. She knew that most of the girls broke that rule whenever they could manage to get hold of a few pennies to buy them, and probably quite a few of them stole when they got the chance, but these two had been found out. Since the rules were already tight, she wasn’t sure what she could do to punish them, short of sending them – or one of them – to the remand home. ‘Well, this time I’m merely going to send you both to your dorms with no tea or supper – but if it happens again, you will both be sent away somewhere you do not have the freedom to roam the streets and steal from people …’ Something in the eyes of both girls made Ruby think of Betty Goodge and what had happened to her. She’d vowed after she was told of the girl’s unhappy fate that she would never threaten another girl as she had Betty. ‘I’ll be good, miss,’ Emmeline promised. ‘Please don’t send me to prison …’ Doris stared at her with huge miserable eyes, her whole body rigid with defiance and suppressed anger. ‘Do you not realise how fortunate you were to be sent here?’ Ruby asked them. ‘You could have been sent to a place of correction – and I assure you their rules are much harsher than mine …’ ‘What ’ave we got ter look forward to?’ Doris demanded. ‘In the last place it was all bloody rules, nuthin’ decent to eat, only watery stew and bread and people naggin’ at yer all the time …’ Ruby stared at her for several seconds and then inclined her head. ‘As it happens I agree with you,’ she said, ‘so I’ll tell you what I’m going to do – in future every girl who behaves herself and gets no black marks during the week will have sixpence to spend as she pleases on a Saturday – any transgression of the rules and that privilege will be suspended, not only for the girl who broke the rule, but for everyone …’ She dismissed them both, wrote out a notice to that effect and put it on the notice board where all the girls could see it. Her decision was rather clever, Ruby thought, pleased, because the majority of the girls would soon put any defiant girls in their place who were careless enough to break the new code, if they too were made to suffer for the misdemeanour. Still in a mood of good will, she telephoned Miss Sampson’s office and asked to speak to her. There was a pregnant pause and then the secretary said in a rather flustered tone, ‘I’m sorry, Miss Saunders. Miss Sampson is too busy to speak to you at the moment. Please send her a memo if it’s important …’ Anger had roared through Ruby as she jammed the receiver back on its stand. Ruth Sampson had always come straight on whenever she’d telephoned before and her rejection was like a slap in the face. She brooded over her wrongs for an hour or more and then, after some soul-searching, went next door to visit Sister Beatrice. Ruby hated having to ask a favour of the nun. They had never really got on, and after the mistake she’d made over June Miller’s foster parents, she always felt uncomfortable when talking to her – but if Miss Sampson wouldn’t speak to her, she had no alternative. Sister Beatrice looked at her impatiently as she entered. She hesitated, and then asked if she could spare a few minutes and reluctantly the nun agreed and Ruby moved nearer to the desk. ‘I wondered if you would consider a suggestion I have,’ she said tentatively. ‘One of my girls … I want to move her from the influence of one of the older girls. She came to me because she caused trouble at her previous school and has recently been caught stealing sweets …’ ‘She doesn’t sound as if she can be trusted …’ ‘I think if she was moved somewhere she would receive a different kind of care …’ Ruby floundered, feeling about two inches high. ‘Oh, forget it. I shouldn’t have asked …’ She would have left immediately but Sister’s voice stopped her. ‘Please sit down and tell me how I can help?’ Ruby sat, feeling as if she were back at school instead of the confident young woman well able to hold down a responsible job she actually was. ‘Her name is Emmeline but the others call her Mouse – and I think that’s the trouble, she’s nervous and easily corrupted, but given a proper chance I believe she could do better. The home she came from doesn’t have much of a reputation and I thought perhaps if you could take her at that place in Essex … away from Doris and the temptations of too many shops …’ ‘Do you have the authority to place her in our care?’ ‘Yes – well, I normally clear any transfers with Ruth Sampson,’ Ruby admitted, ‘but I’m sending her a memo and I don’t think she will object … I just think Emmeline would have a chance if she gets right away, but if she stays here I may have to send Doris to a remand home instead and I’m reluctant to do it …’ ‘So you do have a heart after all …’ Ruby stared at the nun, shocked and annoyed but managing to control her temper. ‘Forgive me, Miss Saunders, that was rude – but I must admit I had not thought you capable of acting with compassion.’ Sister stared at her and Ruby felt uncomfortable under that intent gaze, as if the other woman could see right into her soul. ‘Yes, I believe we could arrange that for you. I will telephone Angela Adderbury and see if they will accept her but I feel sure that, like you, Angela will believe the girl deserves a chance of a better life, and she can usually sway the Board to her way of thinking. When she was here she had all the market traders and businessmen falling over themselves to offer us help.’ ‘Thank you …’ ‘Before you go … I was wondering if we might allow some of your more reliable girls to mingle with ours. They could help with the little ones at mealtimes, and perhaps reading stories to them at bedtime – if you thought it might help some of your girls prepare for the future …’ ‘Well, yes, I had wondered if you would allow me to bring my girls here for tea sometimes. I think it might be a little treat for them – and really help to encourage good behaviour …’ ‘An excellent idea, Miss Saunders. Helping vulnerable children may perhaps make them realise that their lot is not so very terrible.’ Sister Beatrice was actually smiling. Ruby swallowed her annoyance, because she felt peeved even though she was getting what she wanted. She thanked the nun, made her excuses and left, her pulses racing as she struggled to control her aggrieved feelings. She almost wished she hadn’t bothered to approach the nun, but her conscience told her she owed it to the girls. Emmeline, because she’d have a chance of a good life in Halfpenny House, and Doris, because she needn’t go to a remand home – and somehow Ruby was wary of sending any of her girls on there. If Miss Sampson got her way it was the direction the home was going in the future. Ruby had wondered if Sister Beatrice knew anything about what was going on behind her back, but she’d given no sign of it. For some reason that made Ruby feel a bit guilty; although she’d rubbed up against Sister Beatrice a few times, she was beginning to see that she was actually a caring woman. In a spirit of defiance, she sent a memo to Ruth Sampson to the effect that she’d arranged for Emmeline to be transferred to the Essex home and didn’t bother with asking permission. If Ruth Sampson was going to ignore her, two could play at the same game! So, maybe that was the reason she’d stopped off to buy the wine to eat with the pie and mash she’d bought from the corner chippie. Ruby rarely bothered to cook for herself, because there was always some kind of hot food she could take home from one of London’s many shops selling everything from fish and chips to eel pie and curry hot enough to burn your tongue off. Ruby had been smarting from the humiliation of the day, miserable because a woman she admired – and let’s face it, loved in a way that wasn’t returned – had snubbed her. Sister Beatrice’s kindness had made her squirm inside, because she felt guilty over being part of a plot to oust her from a job she loved and did so well. Ruby had thought about going upstairs to Carla’s flat and inviting herself for that cup of coffee the girl had offered when she moved in, but something – an inner unease – held her back. Supposing she’d misread the look in Carla’s eyes … and even if she hadn’t, the world frowned on the kind of relationship that Carla seemed to invite. Ruby knew that if she began such an affair its discovery could quite easily lead to the loss of her job. She would probably be considered unfit to have charge of the girls in her care, just because she wanted to be held and kissed by a woman rather than a man. The thought made her frustrated and angry, because for Ruby the love of another woman was as natural as breathing … In fact, Ruby felt at odds with the world and fed up with her life – and so she’d drunk the whole bottle of wine. And this morning she felt like death warmed up! Never again, she groaned as she swallowed two Aspro and drank a glass of water. She was never going to touch wine again as long as she lived … ‘Well, that is rather splendid of you, to come up and take her down yourself,’ Beatrice said to Angela on the telephone. ‘And thank you for responding so quickly to my request.’ ‘You know we all trust your judgement,’ Angela said. ‘Besides, I think we’ve had similar cases in the past. It sounds to me as if Emmeline needs some loving care, which is what we always try to give our children – and Mark agrees with me.’ ‘Yes, well, we all have him to thank for a great deal,’ Beatrice said. ‘It was his drive and concern for the children that got St Saviour’s up and running.’ ‘So are you getting on better with Miss Saunders?’ ‘Well, I wouldn’t quite say that,’ Beatrice replied. ‘At least it shows she has a heart … I’m afraid I offended her by saying that to her face, but it surprised me and the words were out without my realising …’ ‘That isn’t like you.’ ‘No, but I had been used to thinking her rather a monster, and I suppose it shocked me that she came to me for help. I thought she was just one of those smart modern young women who care for nothing but getting on, but now … I think she is very unhappy. She normally doesn’t let anyone see it, but it surfaced as she spoke of Emmeline. Her guard went up immediately, of course – but I think perhaps we can begin to understand one another better, and work together for the good of the children. I know her children are difficult … but we’ve had some difficult ones ourselves and with love and trust …’ Beatrice sighed. ‘I can only hope …’ ‘Yes, well, I’ll see you next week then. I do need to talk to you face to face because we have important decisions to make,’ Angela said. ‘Give Miss Saunders the good news and I’ll look forward to seeing you and bringing Emmeline back with me.’ Beatrice smiled as she replaced the receiver carefully. It was good that she had some happy news to pass on, she thought as she went down the stairs and out into the street. Children were just starting to come home for their tea, and she saw that some of the girls from the probationary centre were talking to her children. Some of them had actually entered the hall of St Saviour’s and she could hear the sound of laughter, though one or two looked at her apprehensively, as if they feared she would be angry because they’d dared to step inside her domain. She nodded as she passed them and entered what had once been her new wing, feeling a pang at its loss – but perhaps it was being put to good use. If her influence could help Miss Saunders to make the right decisions for these girls, perhaps a lot of unhappiness could be saved in the future, especially if Angela’s fears came to pass – and that was surely worth the loss of a few beds for her … CHAPTER 8 (#ulink_5d8f2d95-9724-502e-9668-8e020acea90c) Andy saw the man he most wanted to avoid hanging round the school gates and hung back, feeling panic as his eyes moved from side to side, wondering how he could avoid passing his step-father. ‘You three …’ Mr Barton, the sports teacher, appeared from nowhere, blocking their path. ‘I want volunteers for sorting out the cricket and rounders stuff for Saturday morning. If you all give a hand it won’t take more than twenty minutes.’ ‘I’ve got to meet my mum,’ Sandy Jones said. ‘We’re goin’ ter get some new boots and this is the only time she can go after work.’ ‘Off you go then,’ Mr Barton said. ‘What about the rest of you? I’ll run you back to St Saviour’s afterwards so you’re not late.’ ‘Yes, sir,’ both Andy and Keith Roberts, the other lad the master had cornered, agreed with alacrity. The promise of a ride in his old but beautiful sports car would have made them agree to almost anything. For Andy it was a reprieve. His step-father would give up and go home long before he was finished helping the sports master and since they would be leaving by the back entrance, the Beast wouldn’t know he was here. He just hoped he hadn’t spotted him amongst the crowd of boys and girls in the school playground. ‘Come on then,’ Mr Barton said and smiled in his genial way. ‘It’s a chore but we have to pack the gear up ready to take on the coach with us. You’re in the rounders team, aren’t you, Roberts’ ‘Yes, sir,’ Keith said and looked pleased. ‘Andy is real good at catching balls, sir. You ought to put him in the team too …’ The master’s dark intelligent eyes centred on Andy’s face. ‘Would you like to join either the cricket or the rounders team?’ ‘Yes, sir. Keith is a mate of mine and I’d like to play with him.’ ‘In that case we’ll take you with us on Saturday,’ the master said, leading the way into the gym where piles of equipment were waiting to be sorted and packed into canvas bags to make it easier to carry and stow on the bus that was to take them to the fixture with a rival school that weekend. Keith grinned at him and gave him a little poke in the ribs as they followed Mr Barton’s instructions. They soon had all the sports gear stacked and ready to be loaded the next morning. Mr Barton was in good form, cracking jokes and getting stuck into the task himself, looking pleased when they had it done in double quick time. ‘Thanks, lads,’ he said. ‘I’m grateful for the help. I’ll run you both home now and don’t forget to be bright and early on Saturday morning.’ They thanked him, following eagerly to the red Morgan that was parked at the rear of the school, scrambling into the passenger seat, squeezing up together. Their teacher gave them a nod of approval and shot off at speed, making them both crow with delight as the car gave a throaty roar and its wheels crunched on gravel. ‘Wow! I want a car like this when I’m old enough to drive,’ Keith cried excitedly. Andy didn’t say anything, but he felt as if he’d reached the gates of heaven and suddenly the world was a golden place. He’d been glad to stay behind because he hadn’t wanted his step-father to see him, but now he felt on fire with a new longing. He knew that it wasn’t likely a boy like him would ever own a car like this, but he wanted to drive it – and other cars like it. He decided that he would learn to drive as soon as he was old enough and he would find some kind of work that involved cars for a living. They stopped outside the home and Mr Barton turned to look at them as both boys thanked him for the ride. He grinned and nodded, lifting a hand as he drove away. ‘That was fantastic,’ Keith said. ‘I’ve always wanted a ride in his car.’ ‘I hadn’t thought it about it much,’ Andy replied, ‘but it was great. I’d like to drive cars like that for a living …’ ‘Who wouldn’t,’ Keith said and punched him lightly on the arm. ‘You’d need to be good to be a racing driver. Come on, I’ll beat you in to tea …’ Jinny stood behind the counter as the children walked in for their meal. She saw the group of three, two of whom who had criticised the selection at supper on her first evening and waited for some comment as she saw their faces and the look of surprise. Nancy had spent two hours that afternoon showing Jinny how to make almond biscuits and a Victoria sponge cake. They’d also made gooseberry crumble with custard and there were some squeals of excitement as the kids grabbed for the fresh crispy biscuits and a crumble that looked and smelled gorgeous. Jinny was proud of what they’d managed to produce on Mrs Davies’ afternoon off, even though she’d only helped and Nancy was the one responsible for all the lovely food. ‘Cor, this is better,’ the lad Jinny knew was named Tom said and grinned at her. ‘This is Nancy’s cooking. She always makes lovely things …’ Jinny smiled and agreed, forbearing to tell him that she’d suggested the biscuits and the crumble. It had been just a suggestion; Nancy was the one who had created the little miracle, but Jinny had made some rock cakes herself and she was gratified to see they didn’t last long as eager hands reached out for them. Tom ignored them in favour of the crumble and some biscuits as well as the tomato sandwiches Nancy had asked her to make. ‘We have to give them some fresh fruit and vegetables, and tomatoes are the one thing most of them like, as long as it’s in a sandwich with a little salt, pepper and vinegar. I slice them and season them on a plate first. Don’t make the mistake of sprinkling vinegar on the tomatoes once they’re on bread …’ Nancy warned. Tom took a bite of his sandwich as he moved away, stopped, turned back and took another quickly before they all went. ‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘Did you make them?’ ‘Nancy showed me how.’ ‘Thought so,’ he mumbled, his mouth full of sandwich. ‘You’re all right, new girl …’ Jinny smiled, because Tom wasn’t easy to please. Nancy came up to her as the tables filled and children and staff took their places. ‘Doesn’t look as if we’ll have much waste tonight,’ she said, her glance passing along the table. ‘I’ll have the last of those sandwiches if no one else wants it – and one of those rock cakes. They look good … yes, lovely.’ She smiled as she bit into it. ‘Nan used to make these when I was about your age. She was the head carer here nine years ago and she helped me so much …’ Jinny felt pleased because one or two children were coming back for seconds and there wasn’t much left. She was just about to take the last rock cake for herself when Tom came up and snatched it from under her nose. ‘Jax says these are great,’ he said. ‘Just like my mum used to make before she died …’ ‘Oh, Tom, I’m so sorry,’ Jinny said, feeling a wave of sympathy for the lad she’d thought was always complaining. ‘I miss my dad too …’ He glared at her and walked off, seeming angry that she’d dared to offer him sympathy. She bit her lip, because she’d wanted to please and believed she had – and now he’d gone cold on her. Jinny started collecting empty plates and taking them through to the kitchen. She was determined to wash everything before she left that evening, even though she wanted to pop over and see Nellie, who would want to know how she was getting on with her new job … ‘Do we ’ave ter do this tonight?’ Elsa’s sulky tones broke into Jinny’s thoughts and she turned to look at the young woman who had spoken. Elsa was nineteen, older than Jinny, but sometimes she acted like a spoiled brat, making faces behind Mrs Davies’ back when she asked them to do something difficult or time-consuming. In fact, Jinny thought the other woman spent most of her time watching the clock until it was time to go home. ‘You know it can’t be left overnight. Besides, we can get this lot done easily if we put our minds to it,’ Jinny said. ‘I’ll wash and you can wipe. Put everything on the table and I’ll stack it later.’ ‘They won’t appreciate yer any more if yer stay late every night,’ Elsa said but picked up a tea towel and began to wipe the dishes with obvious reluctance. ‘You’re just a skivvy to them upstairs and don’t yer forget it …’ Jinny looked at her in amazement, because she’d met with nothing but kindness from everyone who had employed her. ‘I’m glad to have a job and somewhere to live,’ she said. ‘It isn’t too much to ask that I do my work properly, is it?’ Elsa sniffed but said no more. Aware that sulking wasn’t going to do her any good, she started talking about her current boyfriend who was taking her to the dance at the social hall that weekend. ‘Why don’t yer come?’ she said suddenly. ‘It’s a bit of fun and we get little enough workin’ ’ere …’ ‘I can’t dance,’ Jinny replied, but felt sad that she had no one to take her. ‘Besides, I don’t have a partner.’ ‘Yer can soon pick up a chap,’ Elsa said. ‘Yer look all right and we all muck in tergevver anyway …’ ‘No, I don’t think so, thanks anyway,’ Jinny said. She didn’t want to play gooseberry with Elsa and her boyfriend, and the thought of picking up a stranger sent chills down her spine. She might end up with someone like Jake walking her home! Nellie gave her a beaming smile as she told her how the kids had enjoyed the rock cakes she’d taught Jinny to make. ‘Well, fancy that,’ she said. ‘They ain’t special, just plain home cooking. I should’ve thought that fancy cook of theirs could produce better stuff than my rock cakes …’ ‘She’s all right cooking dinners and making scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast, but she doesn’t like making cakes and biscuits or puddings for the kids’ tea and supper. She says they only need a biscuit at supper and thinks out of a packet is good enough …’ ‘It’s more’n a lot of kids get,’ Nellie said with a sniff. ‘I reckon them kids wot complained were ’avin’ yer on, love.’ Jinny considered for a moment, then shook her head. ‘No, Nancy told me the last cook used to make everything herself. She thought it was cheaper and better for them – you can get them to eat fruit if you put it in pies and crumbles …’ ‘We ’ad to make do with bread and scrape in my young days,’ Nellie said, ‘and durin’ the war we ’ad wot we could get …’ ‘I remember everythin’ bein’ short,’ Jinny agreed. ‘But because we had to make do with less then doesn’t mean kids should go short now, does it?’ ‘No, it don’t,’ Nellie agreed with a laugh. ‘I reckon them kids of yourn will be spoiled rotten if you ’ave anythin’ ter do wiv it …’ ‘Oh, Nellie, you know you don’t mean that,’ Jinny said and laughed delightedly, because she could see the twinkle in her friend’s eye. ‘They’ve been through so much some of them. Sandra – she’s Sister Beatrice’s secretary and helps her with lots of things – well, she was telling me about children who’ve been brought to us … from parents who abuse them and beat them, orphans who’ve been on the streets until they were found and brought to us … and kids who’ve run away from other homes. Sandra told me that some places they treat the kids somethin’ awful …’ ‘I’ve heard about places like that,’ Nellie agreed with a dark look. ‘It’s disgusting if yer ask me – the councils that run ’em should take more care when they pick their workers. And they ought to inspect ’em an’ all …’ ‘St Saviour’s is run by a charity and they’ve got another home in Essex – on the outskirts of Harlow – so Sandra said. Her son was sent there when she was in trouble and he ran away. Archie says it isn’t anywhere near as nice as St Saviour’s. He doesn’t live at the home now but he works on the market and visits his mum sometimes and comes to the kitchen afterwards for a chat …’ Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/cathy-sharp/an-orphan-s-courage/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.