Mothering Sunday

by Rosie Goodwin

  ‘So – you – are – telling – me – that – Daisy – is – carrying – a – child!’ she ground out.

  When Sunday nodded miserably, the woman exploded. ‘Then she’ll have to go back to the workhouse. I’ll not have her staying here. My poor dear husband would turn in his grave if he knew I had a girl like that beneath my roof. This is a respectable house!’

  To their surprise the door suddenly banged open and Annie, who had had her ear pressed to it appeared, her hands planted on her hips.

  ‘Why, Biddy Spooner, I’m ashamed of yer! Ain’t yer bin listenin’ to a word the girl has told yer? It ain’t that poor child’s fault she’s in the condition she’s in. That randy old sod forced hisself on her, an’ as fer your husband . . . Why, that poor dear man would give yer a swift kick up the arse if he knew how uncharitable yer bein’, so he would!’

  Mrs Spooner sniffed and hitched up her sagging bust, thoroughly chastised. ‘Well, what do you suggest we do about it then?’ she asked peevishly.

  ‘I suggest we get word to Lady Huntley. She’s the one to deal wi’ this, bein’ on the board o’ guardians. That man ’as to be stopped in ’is tracks afore he takes any more young lasses down. An’ if you can’t see yer way clear to lettin’ Daisy stop ’ere then she can bloody well come an’ stop wi’ me. I rattle round in my place like a pea in a pod now the childer have all flown the nest an’ I won’t see the child out on the street through no fault of her own, Bridget Spooner!’

  ‘Well, I dare say she can stop for the time being,’ Mrs Spooner said begrudgingly. ‘And you, Sunny, can scoot off to Treetops Manor an’ tell Lady Huntley that I need to see her at her earliest convenience. The sooner this mess is sorted the better as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Sunday flashed a grateful smile at Annie then shot from the room, already taking her apron off as she went. It was still quite early in the morning so if she hurried she should catch Lady Huntley before she went out.

  She reached Treetops Manor in record time, running all the way and only stopping now and then to grip the stitch in her side.

  As she pelted down the drive she saw a carriage pulling up outside and Lady Huntley just emerging from the house. Luckily the woman saw her and paused to wait. Lavinia had been just about to go into town to do a little shopping and visit her dressmaker, but as she saw the look on Sunday’s face she sensed an emergency.

  ‘What is it, my dear?’ she asked when Sunday panted to a halt in front of her.

  Sunday glanced uncomfortably at George the coachman, unwilling to say too much in front of him.

  ‘Mrs Spooner told me to ask you to call on her at your earliest convenience,’ she gasped.

  ‘I see, then your timing was just right. I can call in on the way. Hop in, Sunday. I may as well give you a lift back.’

  The girl did as she was told, sagging with relief as she sank back on the soft leather seat.

  Once the carriage was moving, Lady Huntley asked, ‘Can you tell me what’s wrong, my dear?’

  And so once again, Sunday slowly relayed the story. By the time it was done there were tears in the kindly woman’s eyes and she was furious. As far as she was concerned this was the final straw. But now at last she might have enough evidence to ensure that Albert Pinnegar was stopped once and for all.

  During her meeting with Mrs Spooner and Annie it was agreed that Daisy should stay where she was for the present at least. ‘Meanwhile I’m going to speak to Reverend Lockett and call for an urgent meeting of the board of guardians,’ Lady Huntley promised, and when Annie passed this on to Sunday later that morning she was full of gratitude. At last it appeared that Albert Pinnegar might get his just deserts.

  Later in the day, Lady Huntley sent word that she had written to each of the guardians, and her groom had personally delivered the letters, requesting an urgent meeting at the workhouse the following Monday morning. Now all Sunday, Daisy, Tommy and everyone involved had to do was wait for the outcome . . . something that proved to be a lot easier said than done.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  When Monday morning finally arrived, Lavinia Huntley turned up to the meeting looking pale and wan. Her pregnancy had now been confirmed and mornings were never a good time for her. Even so, she was determined that justice should be done.

  Miss Frost met her at the door and greeted her dourly. Did the awful woman never smile? Lady Huntley wondered. But she herself wasn’t in the best of moods, knowing what lay ahead, so she said sharply, ‘I would like the meeting to take place in the day room, Miss Frost.’

  The woman drew herself up. She was matron here; she gave the orders. ‘But you usually have the meetings in the dining room,’ she objected stiffly.

  ‘There is more privacy in the day room, so see to it that it is prepared immediately, if you please!’

  The woman stared at her in astonishment. She had never seen Lady Huntley in this mood before. Turning about, she swept away to bark orders at anyone at hand, and once all the guardians were present, she showed them, unsmiling, into the room.

  They were all just getting seated when Mr Pinnegar arrived. Before he could sit down, Lady Huntley told him icily, ‘I’m afraid you cannot be present, sir. You may wait outside if you wish.’

  The unctuous smile slid from his face. ‘What do you mean?’ he demanded. ‘Of course I must be present. I am the housemaster of this establishment.’

  Miss Frost was standing at his side and her head bobbed up and down in agreement but Lady Huntley stood her ground. Quite admirably, as it happened. She had a bullying husband whom she was forced to put up with – but she’d be damned if she’d bow down to this deplorable little man and the shrew beside him.

  ‘The meeting that is about to take place involves serious allegations made against you,’ she told him with her chin in the air. ‘You will be called in at the appropriate moment.’

  ‘Involves me?’ he blustered as his insides turned to water. ‘But I—’

  ‘Please leave us.’ She cut him off, at which point Miss Frost stepped forward.

  ‘Then is there any reason why I may not be present? I am the matron, after all.’

  ‘You may stay if you wish,’ Lady Huntley conceded. Although you won’t like what you hear, she added silently to herself, having quickly deduced from her time here that Miss Frost was besotted with the vile creature.

  Miss Frost took a seat as Albert Pinnegar marched away in a temper. He had never been excluded from a meeting of the guardians before and something told him that there might be trouble ahead.

  ‘I have called this meeting today because of certain disturbing information that has been brought to my attention,’ Lady Huntley began, and as she told all those present of her findings, Miss Frost became agitated.

  ‘How dare you try to besmirch Mr Pinnegar’s good name!’ she cried. ‘That Daisy Branning I can tell you now has always been a troublemaker. She’s obviously lying because she’s got herself into this predicament!’

  ‘Miss Frost, I must insist that you do not interrupt,’ Lady Huntley said with authority as she glared in the woman’s direction. ‘You will have your chance to speak at the appropriate time.’

  Miss Frost’s mouth gaped open. She wasn’t used to being spoken to like this, but like all bullies she was easily cowed by someone stronger and so she remained silent.

  ‘As it happens I also have another young girl who is prepared to testify, in front of magistrates if necessary, that Mr Pinnegar got her with child too,’ Lady Huntley went on, ‘and yet another one who informs me that he interfered with her as well. I’m sure that if I got the files out and dug a little deeper, these unfortunate young girls may not be the only ones either.’

  Miss Frost sagged in her seat; the wind had well and truly been sucked out of her sails.

  ‘This is preposterous!’ she began but one more glare from Lady Huntley silenced her again.

  ‘I suggest you either remain silent whilst we decide what’s to be done about
this or leave the room,’ Lady Huntley told her with not a scrap of sympathy and for once the woman did as she was told.

  ‘So are you suggesting that we should report this matter to the police?’ one of the guardians asked then. Stephen Crowley was a highly respected member of the community who owned a number of businesses about the town and he was reeling with shock at what he had just heard. ‘After all, this is supposed to be a sanctuary for foundlings and families who have fallen on hard times.’

  ‘Perhaps at this point we should get Mr Pinnegar in to see what he has to say for himself?’ put in Arthur Trewitt, another of the governors and a well-regarded family man.

  Without a word Miss Frost rose to go and fetch him. He walked into the day room sweating profusely and looking decidedly uncomfortable.

  ‘Now then,’ he said jovially. ‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Miss Frost informs me there has been some misunderstanding.’

  Lady Huntley stared at him coldly. ‘There has been no misunderstanding I assure you, sir, and I have at least three young people who are prepared to stand before the magistrates and say as much.’ She then went on to detail what Cissie, Daisy and Sunday had bravely written in their statements and he began to tug at the collar of his shirt as the colour drained from his face.

  The Reverend Lockett, whom Lavinia had also asked to be present, then stood up and told the guardians that he was happy to testify to the girls’ good characters.

  ‘It’s all lies, I tell you,’ Albert Pinnegar gasped.

  ‘I believe a court of law will be the judge of that,’ Lavinia told him. ‘And now if you will leave the room we shall decide what should happen next.’

  Obviously deeply distressed he backed away, with Miss Frost in hot pursuit.

  ‘I quite agree that this man should be punished – but the workhouse is funded mainly by donations,’ Mr Trewitt pointed out. ‘And should the donations dry up, it would have a bad impact on the rest of the inmates, so perhaps we should find a solution to ensure that this doesn’t happen?’

  A ripple of agreement went around the room and a long discussion ensued. It was almost two hours later when they called the man back in to face them. It had been a great ordeal for Lavinia Huntley. She firmly believed that Pinnegar should go before the magistrates and answer for his crimes, but the board of guardians were concerned about what people would say should it become publically known that the housemaster of Nuneaton Union Workhouse was a defiler of children, and she understood their reasoning.

  ‘We have reached a decision,’ she told him with eyes that were as hard as pebbles as he stood quaking like the coward he was in front of them. Like Miss Frost, he was a bully with the young people in his care but not so brave when faced with a room full of very angry adults.

  ‘Personally, I believe that you, Albert Pinnegar, should be locked away for the wicked things you have done,’ she told him sternly. ‘Unfortunately, not everyone here agrees with me so we have been forced to reach a compromise. The guardians are concerned that it would be very bad for the workhouse’s reputation should this matter become public knowledge, so you will not go before the magistrates. However, you must realise that you can no longer reside here, so I must ask you to go and pack your things and leave the premises immediately. It goes without saying that there will be no references given. In fact, should we ever – any of us – discover that you are working anywhere near children or young people again, we will instantly inform your employers of what you have done and why you were dismissed. You will also forfeit any pay due to you. Now please leave.’

  Panic swept through him as he saw his comfortable way of life slipping away from him and he looked around at all of them – only to be met by a sea of hostile faces. Many of the men in the room had children or grandchildren of similar ages to those he had despoiled and abused, and they were sickened and appalled.

  ‘B-but it’s all a terrible m-misunderstanding,’ he spluttered desperately.

  ‘Then perhaps we should place it before the magistrates after all.’

  ‘Oh no, no, no – there will be no need for that,’ he gabbled and then, defeated, he turned and left the room with Miss Frost hot on his heels.

  When they arrived back in his office, Mrs Frost told him loyally, ‘I don’t believe a word of what they’ve said, Albert. Those wicked girls are out to tarnish your good reputation. But where will you go?’

  He was already collecting his personal possessions from the desk. ‘I have recently bought a small cottage in Coton in readiness for my retirement,’ he told her in a daze. He could hardly believe that his secret sins had finally caught up with him – and he had a very good idea who would have brought it about. It must be that little trollop Sunday Small. And she was the one he had bought the cottage for!

  ‘Then I shall come with you. You must know that I love you. I’ve always loved you and I feel now is the time to declare it,’ Miss Frost told him dramatically.

  The man stopped dead in the act of what he was doing and stared at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. ‘You? Come with me?’ His lips curled back from his teeth in a sneer. ‘Why would I want to take a wizened-up old hag like you with me? No, I like my girlies young and fresh. I would never look at you if you were the last woman on earth!’

  She stepped back in shock as if he had slapped her as all her hopes and dreams crumbled around her. ‘But-but I always thought we had an understanding – that one day . . .’

  ‘Get out of my way, woman!’ He pushed roughly past her with his arms full of papers, sending her stumbling against the wall. ‘That’s the one good thing about leaving this place. At least I’ll never have to look at your ugly face again.’ And with that he was gone, leaving Miss Frost sobbing uncontrollably as he made his way to the little cottage at the back of the building that had been his home for more years than he cared to remember.

  What am I going to do? he was asking himself. If any of this was ever to leak out, he would be shunned and run out of town – and what would he do for a job now? He had his cottage admittedly, but the cost of it had sadly depleted his savings; there was nowhere near enough money left for him to live on for long. All that would be open to him now was manual work and Albert Pinnegar didn’t like the thought of that one little bit! He had never had to get his hands dirty in his whole life, but now that looked set to change. And all because of Sunday Small, that sanctimouious little tease.

  Dragging a carpet bag from the bottom of his wardrobe he began to shove his clothes inside, cursing all the time. One day he would make the little chit pay for this if it was the last thing he ever did!

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  By the time Lavinia Huntley arrived back at the Spooner residence her nerves were in shreds and her face was the colour of putty.

  She found everyone waiting for her, anxious to hear the outcome of the meeting. However, Annie took one look at her and told Sunday, ‘Go an’ make a nice strong pot o’ tea, lass. It looks like Lady Huntley could do wi’ one!’

  They all sat down in the drawing room and when Sunday had fetched the tea and passed cups round to everyone, along with a slice of Bakewell tart to keep them going as it was nearly lunchtime, Lady Huntley began to tell them all that had gone on.

  ‘So the swine denied it then!’ Annie said in her usual forthright way.

  Poor Daisy was wringing her hands but Lady Huntley smiled at her kindly.

  ‘Only until I told him that we would put the case before the magistrates. He left quietly enough then, and now we’ll never have to set eyes on the despicable man again.’

  She reached out and patted Daisy’s hand. ‘I do, of course, realise that this still leaves you in a terrible position through no fault of your own, my dear, and I said as much to the guardians.’ She reached into her reticule and withdrew a small, clinking pouch. ‘They thought that this might see you over the coming months at least and took it from the safe. The sum is nowhere near enough to compensate for what you’ve been through, but use it wi
sely.’ She placed the pouch in Daisy’s hand, saying. ‘There are twenty gold sovereigns in here.’

  Daisy stared down at the money in her hand. To the girl it seemed like a fortune, but Biddy Spooner wasn’t so impressed.

  ‘What we have to decide now is what’s going to happen to her,’ she said gruffly. ‘Young Daisy can work for some weeks longer, admittedly – but then where will she go?’

  ‘I’ve already given that some thought,’ Annie butted in with a smile at Daisy. ‘She can stay here until she gets too big to work, then she can move in wi’ me. By then Sunday will have taken over all the cookin’ – yes, you will, my girl – so I’ll not be needed. Then when Daisy has had the babby I’ll take care of it durin’ the day while she comes back to work. How does that sound?’

  ‘It’s a lot for you to take on at your age,’ Biddy commented but Annie grinned.

  ‘I ain’t past it yet, thank you, Biddy Spooner, an’ it’ll be quite nice to ’ave a little ’un in the house again so don’t get writin’ me off just yet. The way I see it, this is the best solution fer all concerned.’

  ‘It does sound viable,’ Lady Huntley agreed. ‘But are you prepared for the gossip, Annie? People can be very cruel and it won’t be easy for you or Daisy, especially as they won’t know the circumstances.’

  ‘It’ll be a nine-day wonder,’ Annie said airily. ‘Daisy ain’t the first unwed mother an’ I’ve no doubt she won’t be the last. Let ’em gossip, that’s what I say. It’ll be like water off a duck’s back as far as I’m concerned, an’ while they’re talkin’ about her they’ll be leavin’ some other poor bugger alone.’

  ‘Well, that seems to be that then,’ Mrs Spooner said grumpily. ‘Though I still think the swine has got off too light.’

  ‘We’re all in agreement, I’m sure,’ Lady Huntley answered. ‘But had word got round, it would have been as awful for Daisy as it was for the workhouse and we all wanted to protect her – and all those who live within the workhouse – as much as we possibly could. But never fear, Mr Pinnegar will suffer, don’t you doubt it. He has been unmasked and humiliated, and he will find it hard to find a new job. And he knows that we are watching him.’