by Cathy Sharp
‘Are you up there, Sarah?’
‘Yes. Mum, I need the midwife …’
‘I’ll sent Theo to get her,’ her mother called up the stairs, ‘and I’ll put the kettle on!’ A few minutes later Sarah heard her mum run lightly up the stairs. She was smiling and calm when she entered the bedroom. ‘How are the pains?’
Sarah grimaced. ‘My waters have broken, Mum. I think it won’t be long now …’
‘Well, don’t worry, love, I’m here,’ Gwen said. ‘And just scream if you want to, Sarah, there’s no one but me to hear!’ She nodded. ‘That water ought to be boiling now, I’ll run down and get it.’
Sarah gave what resembled a growl rather than a scream, angry with herself for giving in, but then the pain came stronger and she screwed up her face and gritted her teeth. She let rip when her mother had gone, grabbing hold of a towel she’d tied to the bedhead. Panting as hard as she could, she counted up to ten before the pain struck again and made her moan. She arched upwards as her mother came back carrying a kettle of steaming water and a bowl.
‘Those things on the towel on the dressing table – put them in hot water, Mum.’ Gwen picked up the stainless-steel objects and put them into the enamel bowl, pouring hot water on. ‘We’ll need them!’
‘Pant now,’ Gwen instructed. ‘I’m going to have a look …’ She pulled up Sara’s nightgown and looked. ‘I’m no expert but I’ve seen a few babies born to my neighbours when the midwife was late – and I think you should push now if you need to.’
‘I’m not sure I can …’ Sarah grimaced but did as she knew she ought despite the agony, which felt as if she were being torn apart. ‘Ahhh!’ She screamed out loudly as she felt the worst pain of all. ‘I think it’s coming! Is it, Mum?’
Gwen looked again and nodded. ‘Yes, love, the head is there; I can see it – you just need to do that again.’
‘I can’t!’ Sarah flopped back against the pillows but then as the urge came she pushed once more, panting and groaning as the pain intensified to an agonising peak and then her mother gave a cry of triumph and bent over the bed to receive the tiny, slippery little body. She deftly wrapped towels around it and looked at Sarah, tears in her eyes.
‘You’ve got a little boy, Sarah – but I’m not quite sure what to do now. I think I should tie a knot or something …?’
‘The things you scalded in the hot water on the dressing table, Mum. Clamps and special scissors. Bring them here and I’ll tell you what to do …’
Gwen obeyed after laying the baby in a nest of towels at the foot of the bed and then, gritting her teeth against the contractions that had started to expel the afterbirth, Sarah explained how to clamp the umbilical cord then cut it. Gwen followed her instructions and then picked up the baby and gave him to Sarah. On his head was an amazing thatch of blond hair, still stained with Sarah’s blood, but his eyes were open, staring at her and beautifully blue. Sarah smiled, feeling a flow of overwhelming love for the baby she’d just given birth to, comparatively easily compared to some births she’d seen during her nursing training.
‘He’s beautiful, Sarah, and you’re so lucky – getting a boy the first time. Not that I would have swapped you for half a dozen boys, but I know you wanted a son …’
Sarah looked at her mother with eyes brimming with tears of love. It was right, somehow, that they’d brought this child into the world together; they’d always been so close and it gave them another bond they would always share. Sarah kissed her baby and smiled at her mother as she sat on the bed beside them. It was a special moment. She could hear the sound of the kitchen door opening. The midwife would be here any moment to take over and do all the necessary things but for just these few seconds, mother, daughter and grandson were together in perfect harmony.
Gwen turned as the midwife entered the bedroom. ‘My clever daughter has managed most of it all by herself, but I’m sure you’ll want to take a look at the baby and her.’
‘Well, I can’t say I didn’t expect it,’ the midwife said with a laugh. ‘Sarah has a mind and a will of her own and I was prepared for this to happen – but since I knew she’d done the same training as me, I wasn’t too worried.’
She moved round the bed and took a peek at the baby, approving what they’d done and then went to Sarah. ‘I’ll just have a look at you, too, love, to make sure you’re all right.’
‘Thank you.’ Sarah smiled at her and then looked at her mother. ‘I think Steve has just come in, Mum – take William and show him.’
‘That was your dad’s middle name,’ Gwen said looking pleased. ‘I’ll show little Will to his father and then I’ll put a kettle on again. I’m sure we could all do with a cup of tea!’
It was more than an hour later, when the midwife had gone and Gwen had returned home to the boys who waited for her, that Steve brought a cup of milky cocoa to Sarah and sat on the edge of the bed.
‘I’m sorry I left you alone, love. If you’d told me I wouldn’t have gone.’
‘You had a job to do and Mum came,’ Sarah told him smiling. ‘I was all right with her and Theo fetched the midwife. He was very good, Steve. I’m glad she has him as her friend now – and if they get together, I’ll be pleased for her.’
‘He’s certainly a decent chap,’ Steve agreed, ‘and I’d like to think that Gwen has someone in her life. I know she has the boys and you, but she needs someone to look after her too.’
‘I know, and I think he will,’ Sarah smiled. ‘He spoils her, Steve, and I don’t think she’s ever had much of that. Dad was never able to do it but Theo can.’
Steve nodded and smiled as he kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you for my beautiful son, Sarah. I’m so proud of you.’
‘Thank you, darling,’ Sarah replied. ‘He is lovely, isn’t he?’
‘Beautiful!’
‘We’re so lucky – but tell me, please. Did you manage to do anything to help Sister Rose?’
‘Yes, I’ve put the chaps on full alert – and I rang a friend of mine at Ale Lane Station to put the word out further and he told me they’d had a report of a man abducting a boy he claimed to be his son, whose name was Danny Bryant!’
‘Danny! So, someone saw it and reported it?’
‘Yes, a man and a boy of about fourteen. The man’s name is Ted Phillips and the boy’s called Ron.’ Steve frowned. ‘I can’t help wondering if Ron is the lad that was with Danny when we found them in that warehouse – but as far as I know he didn’t have any family.’
‘Did your friend know where they were staying?’
‘Yes, they gave their address as a hostel,’ Steve said. ‘Sergeant Bryan Marshall thought they were either brothers or perhaps uncle and nephew, something of the sort, because the younger one called the older man Ted.’
‘You think it’s the lad you’ve been looking for because he knew it was Danny and was concerned for him?’ Sarah frowned as her husband nodded. ‘Are you worried about Ron as well?’
‘I’d like to make sure he’s all right and hear what he saw,’ Steve said. ‘So, I’ll go over to the hostel in the morning and see what I can find out.’
‘Yes, that would be a good idea,’ Sarah agreed. ‘If it is Ron, he might be able to help – Danny may have told him places his father frequents.’
‘You would make a good detective,’ Steve said and leaned forward to kiss her. He took her empty cup from her. ‘Go to sleep and rest now, my darling. Your mum will be here in the morning after the boys go to school and I’ll be here until then. If you want anything just wake me.’
‘I love you,’ Sarah said sleepily and closed her eyes.
Steve smiled and went quietly from the room. He would sleep next door with both doors open for tonight to let Sarah get some proper rest, but if she woke and called out, he knew he would hear her, because his mind was too active to sleep much.
Was Ron with someone he could trust? And was Danny being ill-treated and in actual danger of his life?
CHAPTER 24
D
anny shivered with cold as he lay on the ground, wrapping his arms about himself to try to keep some warmth in his body. He had no idea where they were, except that it was some kind of derelict building; he thought it was in a back alley not far from the docks, because during the night he’d heard the sound that the barges made when they were warning others to stay clear. However, now that his father’s bit of candle had burned out, it was so dark in here that he couldn’t see anything, even though a glimmer of light was coming between two boards blocking out what must have once been windows.
His father was drunk and sleeping. He’d brought Danny here the previous day and given him a hiding before settling down on some old sacking to start drinking. He was surrounded by empty bottles, food waste and rubbish and it was obvious that he’d been living here for a while. Danny could hear an occasional grunt and snore from him but hardly dared to move.
‘Try running away again and I’ll kill yer,’ he’d warned Danny the previous day. ‘You’re me son and you’ll do as yer told. I need ter find work ter get me drink and food – and yer can ’elp me.’
Danny hadn’t answered him. There was no point, for Jim Bryant wouldn’t have listened. Danny knew that he would be forced to do whatever his father told him until he found the opportunity to run away, but that might not come for days. If he’d known how to get out of wherever they were, he might have tried while his father slept, but he had no idea where the door was and he thought his father had some means of blocking it because he’d heard the sound of something heavy being dragged into place the night before and his father had muttered about keeping the buggers out. If someone was being kept out, then Danny was shut in and he had to wait until his father opened the door.
Lying there on the hard floor, cold, hungry and miserable, Danny thought about the wonderful life he’d had at Beattie’s. It had been his dream of a home and a loving mother come true and he felt the tears on his cheeks, knowing it was lost to him forever. Beattie would think he had run away and perhaps she wouldn’t want him back, even if he managed to escape.
Scuffing the tears from his cheeks, Danny knew he had to stay strong inside, just like Ron had told him.
‘When they beat us and do things we hate, we just have to shut it out,’ Ron had confided. ‘Some men are bullies and beasts, Danny, but if we don’t let them, they can’t touch the real us inside – no matter what they do to our bodies.’
‘I wish I was wiv you, Ron,’ Danny whispered. Together they’d been strong. They’d managed to fight off the bullies who had tried to hurt them at that warehouse and then the police had come. Danny prayed that the police would come for him and take him somewhere safe, but he knew it was unlikely to happen again. No one knew where he was and his father said he had a right to do what he liked with his own son. Perhaps he was correct, but when a man beat and starved his son, that couldn’t be legal, surely? If that nice Constable Jones knew what was happening, he would look for Danny.
The thought made Danny feel much better. Beattie and Sister Rose loved him. Perhaps they would go to Constable Jones …
Danny froze as he heard the sounds of his father stirring in the gloom. He coughed, farted and then spat. A few moments later a match flared and a candle was lit and held over Danny. He felt a drop of hot wax on his hand and flinched. Then his father’s boot connected with Danny’s side.
‘Get up, you lazy little bugger. We’ve got ter go ter work if we want ter eat.’
‘Where are we going?’ Danny asked as he got to his feet and stood shivering.
‘If yer want ter ’ave a piss do it over there in the bucket,’ his father ordered, pointing with the candle.
Danny could now see enough to make out some broken crates lying around and some of them had been used as a table and a seat. He saw the bucket behind one of them and went to use it. The smell made him recoil because it had been used for excrement and not emptied for days. Taking a deep breath, he relieved himself and went back to his father.
Jim Bryant laughed. ‘You’ll get used to worse than that,’ he sneered. ‘You wait until we finish cleaning the lorries from the boneyard – that’s where the animal carcasses are brought when the meat’s been stripped off. The stink makes yer sick ter yer guts – but it’s the only work they’ll give me. I can’t do it fast enough to earn much, so you can help me and I’ll earn plenty for my whisky.’ He nodded. ‘That’s not all yer can do fer me either – I’ve got another job in mind but we’ll do the cleaning first so it won’t look strange when I don’t turn up.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Mind yer tongue or yer’ll get me fist in yer mouth!’
‘I’m hungry,’ Danny said, ‘and thirsty.’
‘Drink this.’ His father pushed a bottle at him. It was a whisky bottle and Danny shook his head. ‘It’s water in it, I wouldn’t waste good whisky on you, runt.’
Danny took the bottle and wiped the top with his hand before lifting it to his lips and sipping. It was water and it tasted awful, but he swallowed just enough to help his throat and wet his mouth.
‘Is there any food?’
‘We’ll get bread when yer’ve earned yer keep!’ He aimed a blow at Danny’s ear, but the boy jerked back. ‘Little bugger – try to run and I’ll kill yer next time!’ He grunted. ‘Yer can help me move this …’
By the light of the candle, Danny could see a large piece of wood had been pushed in front of the door to stop it coming open because the lock had been broken and there was nothing to stop it blowing back in the wind unless the wood was lodged behind it. Most men would have fixed up a lock if they’d wanted to use the derelict shed but his father hadn’t done even that.
‘How long have you been here?’ he asked his father as they shifted the wood.
‘Since yer went orf like that,’ Jim grunted. ‘The soft bugger landlord allowed us ter stay there when yer were wiv me ’cos he liked yer – and yer mother. Had a soft spot fer her I reckon. Well, the bitch died and left me ter look after yer – and now yer goin’ ter earn yer keep.’
Danny kept his angry protest inside. He hated his father so much and couldn’t bear to hear the mother he’d loved spoken of as a bitch. It was as if his father resented her for dying, as if it were her fault. Mum hadn’t wanted to die and leave them. Tears were burning his eyes but Danny wouldn’t let them fall. He had to stay strong the way Ron had told him and as soon as the opportunity came, he would take the chance to run.
‘Ted Phillips? Yes, I know him and his apprentice well,’ Mr Samson the hostel manager said and smiled. ‘A decent man and I was sorry to lose them. They always kept their room clean and neat – and there was nothing funny going on. I’d swear to that, Constable. You can always tell that sort – no, they had separate beds and both were slept in. They couldn’t afford two rooms but now they can and they’ve moved to new lodgings – two rooms in a private house.’
‘Very informative,’ Steve said writing it all into his little notebook. ‘Can you give me their address, sir?’
‘Unfortunately, I didn’t ask. They never have letters so there was no forwarding address. I’m sorry …’
‘That’s a nuisance,’ Steve said frowning. ‘They may have important information that could be very helpful in tracing another young lad who has been abducted.’
‘Mr Phillips wouldn’t have anything to do with something like that!’
‘No, I’m sure he wouldn’t – but they were witnesses.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Mr Samson’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, well, in that case I can tell you where they work.’
‘I should be very grateful, sir. I can assure you, they are not in any trouble.’
‘Good, I shouldn’t like to think that,’ Mr Samson took a deep breath. ‘They work for the Reynolds Woodyard at the East India Docks.’
‘Good.’ Steve nodded and wrote it down. ‘You’ve been very helpful, sir. I can tell you that I am hoping that we can save a young lad from a life of brutality, and perhaps a violent death.’
Mr Samson tutted and shook his head. ‘We live in terrible times, Constable.’
‘I’m afraid this sort of thing never changes,’ Steve said. ‘We condemn the Victorians for turning a blind eye, but there’s just as much evil goes on now, though much of it may be in the home and unseen.’
‘Dear, dear me,’ Mr Samson muttered and went inside.
Steve turned away. It was time for him to be at the station, but before he went home this evening, he would make time to call in at the Reynolds Woodyard and ask Ted Phillips and Ron to tell him what they knew.
‘They weren’t much help at the police station, were they?’ Ron said to Ted as they worked on the new shed for Johnson’s the Baker in Still Street. ‘I know they took all the details down – and that Constable Howarth was all right, but they didn’t seem to think there was much they could do unless they got more information.’
‘Well, police work is twenty-five per cent deduction and seventy-five per cent luck.’ Ted grinned at him and winked. ‘If they get a tip-off it helps them catch the criminals and that is likely what will help them find Danny and the man they believe may be his father.’
Ron looked puzzled. ‘Why do you think he snatched him and took him off like that?’
‘I doubt it was for love or worry over his son – it must be something Danny can do he needs.’
‘You mean help him with work, like I help you?’
‘If it was something like that I wouldn’t worry,’ Ted replied and looked thoughtful. ‘Is Danny a big lad like you?’