Let it Shine
Page 9
Chapter Seven
It was a week since the fire.
From every corner of the land, there was much talk and speculation, but no real answers as to what exactly had gone on in that house, or why. Rumour had it that a stranger had attacked the family; some claimed it must have been the same man who was loitering round the back yards some time before.
There was a fight, they said, when Sylvia Bolton fought for her life against the intruder. Apparently the Christmas tree had toppled over to start the fire, but more than that, nobody knew for sure.
The consequences however, were dreadful.
Sylvia and Jim, two good people, had perished in the fire. Grandad Bertie had suffered a breakdown and was in a nursing home. Larry was laid up in the Infirmary, both his legs broken, and his back so badly injured it was feared he might never walk again. The house in Buncer Lane was boarded up as it was now structurally unsafe and would eventually have to be demolished.
Sadly, because there were no close relatives to offer them a home, the two girls, Ellie and her sister Betsy, had been taken into foster-care.
Today, on the first day of January, 1933, their mam and dad would be laid to their rest.
* * *
As on every other night since the tragedy, Ellie had not slept. Instead she had lain awake, the haunting questions careering through her mind and breaking her heart. Why did it happen? What would she and Betsy do now, without their mam and dad, and what about Larry? And Grandad Bertie?
And who was the stranger who had brought such devastation into their happy home?
Deep in thought, Ellie was not aware that Betsy had climbed into her bed. It was only when a cold hand touched her shoulder, that she was jolted back into the present. ‘Ellie?’ Still in shock, Betsy was like an infant, afraid of everything and everyone except her twin sister. Ellie was her rock, the only person to whom she could open her heart.
Drawing her close, Ellie kissed her on the forehead. ‘What is it?’ she asked gently. ‘Did you have another nightmare?’ Not a night had gone by when Betsy didn’t wake up in a sweat, screaming and thrashing out, as if fighting off an attacker.
Moving away, Betsy sat on the edge of the bed. ‘I don’t want to go,’ she whimpered. ‘Don’t make me go.’
Clambering out of bed, Ellie came to sit beside her. ‘I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do,’ she said tenderly. ‘But where is it you don’t want to go?’
‘To the church,’ she whispered.
Ellie was shocked. ‘Are you saying you don’t want to go to the funeral?’
Nodding, Betsy couldn’t bring herself to look into Ellie’s face. She couldn’t bear to witness the pain in her eyes. She knew her twin was suffering badly. She had heard her crying in her sleep; she had seen how sometimes, she would go to the window when she thought no one was watching, and there Ellie would close her eyes and visibly tremble at the memories that tortured them both.
If Betsy had been able to console her sister, she would have, but it was not in her nature. And so Ellie silently suffered, while Betsy leaned on her, seeking solace, yet unable to return it.
‘I don’t want to see Mam and Dad in a coffin.’ Her voice broke and she could say no more. Instead she bowed her head into the palms of her two hands and wept.
A wise head on young shoulders, Ellie let her weep. She wrapped her loving arms round her sister and held her close until the tears subsided. ‘It would help you to go to church,’ she murmured. ‘You need to say your goodbyes.’ Swallowing hard she said huskily, ‘We both need to say our goodbyes, or we might regret it later. That’s what Peggy said, and I believe she’s right.’
Betsy shook her head. That was another thing. Peggy Walters was their foster-mother, and at present they were living with her and her husband Ted. ‘I don’t want to stay here. I want to go home.’
‘We can’t go home. You know that.’
‘Grandad Bertie will look after us.’
Ellie squeezed her hand affectionately. ‘You’re forgetting. Just now, poor Grandad can’t even look after himself. And our Larry is in hospital in a bad way.’
‘Ellie?’
‘Yes?’
‘That man… it was all his fault, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why did he come to our house?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did he mean to kill us all?’
‘I don’t know, Betsy.’
‘Will the police catch him?’
‘They have to!’ Whenever she thought of him, Ellie wanted to hurt him, like he had hurt all her family. ‘We’ve told them all we know,’ she said. ‘What he looks like and everything. It’s up to them now.’
‘What if they don’t catch him?’ Betsy’s voice was becoming hysterical. ‘What if he comes after us again?’
Ellie stiffened. ‘Let him. I wish he would.’ Clenching her fists she saw his face in her mind as clear as day. ‘If he came after me, I’d kill him!’
Betsy was shocked rigid. In all her life she had never known her sister to be violent. ‘Don’t say that, Ellie. You’re frightening me.’
Regretting that she had let her deeper emotions show, the other girl regained her composure. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you,’ she said contritely. ‘I was just thinking out loud.’
‘You didn’t mean what you said, did you?’
‘I think you’d best get back in bed now, love, or you’ll be so tired later on.’
‘You didn’t mean it, did you, Ellie?’
‘Ssh. Get back to sleep. We’ve got a hard day ahead.’ As for her need to kill that man, yes, she had meant every word. He had taken her parents, and crippled her grandfather and brother. She wanted to hurt him in the same way. If ever she got the chance, she would take it, right or wrong, and may God forgive her.
Betsy was watching and saw the hatred in Ellie’s face. ‘You did mean it!’ she cried. ‘If you say it again, I’ll tell our Larry.’
‘Listen, Betsy. You mustn’t talk about that man to our Larry, nor to Grandad Bertie. We mustn’t do anything to upset either of them.’
A pause, then: ‘Will Larry get better?’
‘I pray every night that he will. Grandad too.’
‘Will we have to stay here until they get better?’
‘Would it be so bad?’
‘Yes.’
‘But Mr and Mrs Walters are nice people. We should be glad we weren’t put with somebody who was unkind to us.’
‘I don’t like being here.’
Ellie sighed. Sometimes Betsy was so difficult. ‘Nobody could look after us better than they do,’ she answered. ‘We’re in a nice house, Stephen Street is a lovely little street, and people are being really kind.’
‘It’s not as nice as Buncer Lane, and the house isn’t as big, and this room is too cramped. I don’t like it, Ellie. I don’t want to stay here!’
‘We’ll have to stay here.’
‘I’ll run away.’
‘If you do, they’ll only fetch you back and then you might be put into the council home. You wouldn’t like that, Betsy.’
‘I might!’
‘You should remember what Larry told us. He said we were lucky to have found Mr and Mrs Walters, and that they were good to have us. If we went into a council home we’d have to share a big room with lots of other girls, and it wouldn’t be like a proper family. This nice couple treat us like their own.’
‘They’re old!’ Betsy wept.
‘No, they’re not, or they wouldn’t be allowed to look after us.’
‘Well, they look old!’
Sighing, Ellie took her arm away. ‘Don’t be unkind, Betsy.’
Walking across to the window, Ellie gazed unseeing at the morning sky. In her mind’s eye she could picture her mam and dad in the scullery; her mam was up to her armpits in soapy water, laughing at something Dad had said. Then he tickled her under the arms and she flicked the soapy water at him. The memory brought a sad smile.
Gently, her sister drew the clothes over her. ‘We’ll be all right,’ she murmured. ‘You’ll see.’
Going to the other narrow bed, she climbed in and covered herself over. She was so tired. But, unlike Betsy, she found that sleep did not come easy tonight.
* * *
When Peggy peeped in some two hours later, both girls were fast asleep. A plump little soul, with tiny face and feet the same, she had a mess of brown hair that stuck out like string on a mop, and a face that resembled that of a squashed-up teddy bear. But she had a heart of gold and a pantry always filled with goodies with which to delight her visitors.
Now, as she stood at the foot of the two beds, her heart went out to these lost orphans. ‘Bless their little hearts, I thought I heard them talking in the early hours. Couldn’t sleep, I expect, and who could blame them?’
Having had a sheltered upbringing with parents who lived until she was well into her forties, Peggy Walters couldn’t begin to imagine what Betsy and Ellie must have been through. ‘I’ll let them sleep for another half hour,’ she decided. ‘There’s time enough before we need to set off.’
She was about to leave, when Ellie stirred. ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised, her voice thick with sleep. ‘Is it time to get up?’
‘It’s all right, lass,’ the little woman assured her. ‘You go back to sleep. I’ll call you in a while.’
‘No, Peggy, thank you all the same.’ Ellie was already out of bed. ‘But if it’s all right with you, I think we should leave Betsy for now. She’s been really upset.’
‘Very well, dear. You get washed and dressed. By the time you come down, I’ll have your breakfast on the table.’ And off she went, like a mother hen minding her chicks.
Deeply moved by the woman’s kindness, Ellie lingered a moment. What Peggy had said just now was what her mam used to say whenever she and Betsy overslept. ‘Get washed and dressed, and I’ll have your breakfast on the table by the time you’re ready.’ She could almost hear Sylvia saying it.
When the tears threatened, she took another long look at Betsy who was sleeping peacefully. ‘Get hold of yourself, Ellie Bolton,’ she told herself firmly. ‘Betsy needs you to stay strong.’ But it was hard. So very hard.
Going into the bathroom, Ellie thought she had never seen such luxury. In Buncer Lane, they’d had to wash at the sink in the scullery, but here was a bath in the corner, a toilet under the window and a basin against the side wall; all of it stark white and sparkling clean.
Peggy had told her that, before too long, every house in Blackburn would have a bathroom and inside toilet. Recalling how Sylvia had nagged at Jim to get a bathroom put in, Ellie believed it was so. All the same, seeing it for herself was a real surprise.
Betsy, however, had not been impressed. ‘I still don’t like it here,’ she had declared, and nothing Ellie said would change her mind.
While Ellie was washing upstairs, Peggy made herself and her husband Ted a cup of tea. ‘I want to ask you something,’ she said. Sitting before him at the table, she crossed her arms and looked at her husband with a gravity of expression he had not seen in many an age.
‘Best get it off your chest, my dear.’ Ted Walters was a good man, content with his lot. Long and skinny, with a balding head and bright blue eyes, he had the exact opposite appearance of his wife. In fact, when they were younger, people used to call them ‘the long and short of it all’.
Taking a deep, noisy breath, his wife burst out, ‘It’s them poor lasses upstairs.’
‘Go on.’ Peering at her from beneath dark, hairy eyebrows, Ted urged, ‘Say what’s on your mind, then we can get on and enjoy our tea.’
‘Well, I… I mean… I think…’ She stuttered and sighed and started again. ‘I think we should ask to keep them with us long-term. I don’t just want them here for a month or two, love, like the others. I’d like them to stay until they’re grown and can spread their wings. It’ll give them that measure o’ stability. What d’you say?’
He stared at her for what seemed an age. ‘So we’d have ’em with us for several years… three at least?’
‘That’s right, Ted.’ Having got over the first hurdle, Peggy gained a degree of courage. ‘They’re two lovely girls. They’ve lost their mam and dad; their grandad has gone out of his mind from the shock of losing half his family, and their only brother lies in the Infirmary, nearly every bone in his body broken in the fall. The lasses don’t seem to have much of a future. We could give them security, right here with us, if only you’ll say yes.’ Allowing that to sink in, she went on, ‘We’ve always wanted a family, Ted, but the childer never came along. Why don’t we ask the authorities if we can keep the twins? We’re in a position to give them a good home, a new start after what they’ve been through. It’s the least we can do.’
When deep in thought, Ted Walters had a habit of pushing out his thin lips and working them backwards and forwards, as though chewing. To his wife it was a sign that he was at least considering her suggestion. ‘Can we, Ted?’ she asked eagerly. ‘Can we?’
‘We’ll see.’ And that was all he was prepared to say, except, ‘We have a funeral to attend in a short time, m’dear. Don’t you think we should pay mind to that before we go making other plans?’
‘Yes, you’re right.’ She became flustered. ‘But don’t forget what I said.’
He smiled. ‘As if you’d allow me to.’
By half-past eleven, they were ready to leave. Neither Betsy nor Ellie could do more than nibble at their fried breakfast. ‘I’m sorry, Peggy.’ Ellie spoke for them both. ‘It’s a lovely breakfast, but we’re just not hungry.’
‘Not to worry yourselves.’ Considering what lay ahead of them, the little woman was not surprised they had no appetite. ‘Happen you’ll have something later.’
Betsy made no comment. She was happy to let Ellie speak for her.
A knock on the front door told them the woman from the authorities had arrived. ‘I’ll get it.’ Ted went smartly down the passage, a moment later reappearing with a prim little woman of pretty features and sympathetic expression. She spoke to Ellie and Betsy with kindness. ‘Are you all right?’ As a mother herself, Mrs Potton felt the urge to hug them, but the uniform of authority held her back.
‘Right then, it’s time we were off.’ Peggy had on her new belted brown coat and her best brown hat – the one with the little feather that hung over her face as if it had just dropped from a flying duck. ‘Are you sure you’ve got everything?’ She looked from Betsy to Ellie. ‘Because once we get in the cab, it’ll be too late to come back.’
‘Thank you, we’ve got all we need.’ Betsy carried the flowers for Larry. Ellie had the two smaller bouquets for the church; the wreaths were already there. ‘Have you got Grandad’s chocolates?’ Ellie asked the little woman.
‘In my bag, quite safe.’ Peggy urged them to hurry. ‘It’s time to go now.’
In his dark suit and bowler hat, Mr Walters looked splendid. ‘If it’s all right with you,’ he told Mrs Potton, ‘when we get to the church, I’d like the girls to walk between us.’ Like his wife, he knew it must be a shocking thing for these two innocent lasses.
He wouldn’t tell his wife until he had made up his mind properly, but already he was beginning to think of the girls as family, especially Ellie. He had taken a real liking to her. The other one was a selfish little devil, all take and no give but then, in view of what had happened, they must make allowances.
The journey to St Peter’s was not a long one, but to Ellie it seemed to take a lifetime. Even now, she could not believe where they were going, or the reason for it. Inside she was shaking, and though she wo
uld keep them in for Betsy’s sake, the tears were never far away.
Betsy sat beside her, stiff and still, except for her hands which were trembling. Ellie reached out to hold her, but Betsy shook her off. ‘No!’ That was all she said, but her rejection cut Ellie to the core.
On arrival at the church, Ellie arranged with the driver to leave Larry’s flowers on the seat until they returned. ‘That’s no problem at all,’ he said, and took them gently from Betsy.
Handing her sister one of the smaller bouquets, Ellie told her quietly, ‘You’re not to worry. Just follow me when we get inside.’ They had already been instructed what to do, first by Mrs Potton and then by Peggy Walters – though each time Betsy chose not to listen.
Afterwards, they walked up the path, just as Ted had requested: he and his little wife on the outside and the girls between them. Mrs Potton walked ahead.
The path was lined with people from all over Blackburn town, all weeping, all murmuring their endearments as the girls went by. ‘God bless you,’ they said. ‘You’ve a lot o’ friends, should you ever need them.’
Her dark blue eyes bright with tears, Ellie acknowledged their blessing with the twitch of a smile and the slightest nod of the head. Betsy, however, looked straight ahead, her grief already giving way to crippling bitterness. She didn’t want to look at any of them. They had no business being alive, not when her mam and dad were lying in that church!
Mick was waiting in the doorway. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked softly, kissing them one after the other. He had wanted to escort them all the way here, but the authorities in their wisdom had decided otherwise.
As they entered the church, the people from outside followed them in, until the place was full to overflowing.
On a gentle prompting from Mrs Potton, Ellie walked to where her mam and dad lay, surrounded by winter flowers at the foot of the altar. With immense tenderness, she laid her bouquet on her mam’s coffin; Betsy followed to lay hers on their dad’s. Heads bowed, they made their way back.