Forgotten Children

by Cathy Sharp

  Michelle smiled as he retired to his bed, lying on top of it in the striped cotton pyjamas the home had supplied. She would find something for him to read if she had to send one of the carers out to buy him an adventure story.

  Sally entered the ward just as Michelle was looking in the cupboard for the promised comics. The nurse turned her head, giving her colleague a wry smile.

  ‘Are you furious with me for picking you to help?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Sally said. ‘I’ve rung my sister Brenda at her office and told her I shan’t be going dancing with them tonight. We can share the nursing.’ She looked at Dick as he flung out his arms and muttered something unintelligible. ‘Are they all ill?’

  ‘Jake says he is feeling all right,’ Michelle said, pouncing on a pile of comics and two much-read Biggles books in triumph. ‘I knew we had this somewhere. Give them to Jake; it will save him from being bored for a while.’

  Sally took the pile of comics and sat on the edge of Jake’s bed, smiling as he grabbed them eagerly. Clearly he’d been taught to read at school, even though he probably wouldn’t have had much help from his mother. ‘My brother likes these Biggles books. He still reads them even though he’s grown up and I bring them in for the children when he’s finished with them, though Sister would have my guts for garters if she knew …’ Sister Beatrice didn’t like books and comics brought into the sick ward, because of the germs they might hold. She thought the violence portrayed in some of the comics unacceptable.

  ‘I shan’t tell her,’ Jake said solemnly and drew a finger across his throat. ‘I’m awful thirsty, miss.’

  ‘Do we have any lemon barley in the rest room?’ Sally asked Michelle.

  ‘There’s bound to be something – and you can put the kettle on and make us a cup of tea …’ Michelle pulled back the covers and smoothed her cool cloth over Susie’s heated body, dried her gently and applied calamine lotion to the spots to help stop the itching.

  Sally went into the next room and filled a kettle for their tea, but when she looked in the cupboard there was nothing to make a drink for the thirsty little boy. Michelle looked impatient when she told her.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, can’t the kitchen staff ever do their job properly? You’ll have to take off your apron and wash your hands, then go down there …’

  Just as Sally was about to obey, there was a knock at the door. Discovering one of the kitchen girls with a loaded trolley, including a jug of iced lemon barley, some milk in a jug and a bottle of concentrated orange squash, she laughed.

  ‘You must be psychic,’ she said. ‘I was just coming to fetch some of this.’

  ‘Sister Beatrice told me to bring this to you – and I’m to bring another jug up before I go off for the evening.’

  Carrying the loaded tray to a table, Sally set it down and filled a glass for the thirsty child. Then she went through to the little room next door just as the kettle boiled. She made a pot of tea and took back two steaming mugs.

  ‘Fancy Sister Beatrice thinking of all this,’ she said as she put Michelle’s tea on a table and sipped her own.

  ‘She’s very efficient,’ Michelle said. ‘Just don’t get on the wrong side of her, that’s all …’

  ‘Well, I think she’s a brick,’ Sally said, sipping her tea, ‘but I wouldn’t dare tell her so.’

  Michelle smiled, finished her tea and went back to Dick, who was tossing from side to side again. Poor little boy, he was really feeling very ill and it was no wonder that Sister was worried about him. In cases where the patient was already weakened, chicken pox might lead to pneumonia, and Dick just wasn’t strong enough to go through that; none of them were.

  FIVE

  Alice left St Saviour’s at just after eleven that evening, shivering a little because it had turned colder and her coat was thin, almost threadbare in places. She was saving for a new one from the market, but there was always a crisis at home and her mother needed most of Alice’s wages. Although she didn’t really grudge the money, it made her as mad as fire when her father got drunk on pay night, having spent more than half of what he earned all week. The rows in their house on a Friday night were awful, and she was glad that she could get out of it because she was working the late shift.

  She walked quickly, wishing that she could have afforded to catch the tram that would take her to the end of their road, which was not far from Commercial Street. She had to cross over the wide thoroughfare, which, during the day, was always choked with traffic, horses and carts, buses and lorries, delivering goods to the shops. Her way took her down Brushfield Street towards Gun Street and Artillery Lane, where her family were housed in part of an old town house that had been turned into multiple dwellings by the landlord. To reach home she would have to pass the ugly building that served as a night refuge for women; these destitutes were always poorly dressed and often drunk, their faces grey with the exhaustion that came from poverty. Nearby was what Alice knew to be one of the finest Georgian shop-fronts left over from a grander past, because this area had once been most respectable. London was such a hotchpotch of the ugly and the beautiful, sometimes standing side by side.

  As she turned the corner, Alice thought about the home she shared with her parents and brothers and sister, which was within walking distance of Halfpenny Street. The house had once been a large property but was now partitioned off with entrances to the front and rear; the latter reached through a narrow passage at the side. All six of her family were crowded into three rooms, with a tiny scullery; the only toilet was in the back yard and shared by two other families. The stench from the old-fashioned closet on a warm night was almost unbearable and Alice never used it, preferring a pot behind the screen, which she emptied in the morning before leaving for work, averting her head and trying not to breathe as she did so. She and her sister Mavis, who was just a year younger and working in the cardboard factory, shared one half of the front bedroom. Behind a curtain hung from a thin brass rail her two younger brothers, Saul and Joseph, slept in one small bed, head to tail. If Alice woke in the night it was usually to the sound of her brothers quarrelling.

  Her parents had the smaller bedroom at the back, and since the walls were painfully thin it was possible to hear what went on when they retired for the night. If they weren’t shouting at each other the bed springs would be pounding, Alice’s mother protesting unfairly at what she termed her lout of a husband’s brutality, because he wasn’t a violent man. To Alice’s knowledge, he’d never hit her mother and it was more likely that she would use her rolling pin on him.

  Sometimes, Alice wished that her father would leave home again, for his sake, because she couldn’t bear to see him looking so miserable. He wasn’t all bad; she knew it was her mother’s tongue that drove him to the drink and wondered why he stayed, yet she knew his leaving would not improve her mother’s temper. Mrs Cobb was a scold with a nasty tongue and she used it on her family and neighbours, quarrelling regularly with everyone that shared the crumbling building.

  Houses like theirs ought to have been pulled down long since. The council had talked about it long before the war but nothing was ever done. Even Hitler hadn’t obliged them by dropping a bomb on the place, though his Luftwaffe had left gaping holes everywhere you looked.

  Why couldn’t her family be moved to one of those smashing new council houses like Sally Rush’s lived in? Alice envied them their warm home – and it wasn’t just the lovely new stove that made Sally’s home seem warm. Her parents didn’t row all the time.

  If only she could find somewhere else to live, Alice thought. She’d asked Sister Beatrice if she could have a room in the Nurse’s Home, but had been told that she lived too close to need it. It wasn’t the walking she minded, though on cold nights it was far enough, but she longed for some peace and privacy.

  ‘Where are you off to at this hour, then?’ Accosted by a voice she knew, Alice refused to turn round, though she fluffed up her hair, wanting to look her best even though she o
ught to ignore him. She didn’t want anything to do with Jack Shaw, because he was no good. He might have film star looks with his black hair, slicked down with Brylcreem, and bold blue eyes, and he always had money in his pocket to spend, but that was only because he ran with the local bad boys. Alice’s father had warned her when he’d seen her talking to Jack once, and since then she’d tried to avoid speaking to him.

  ‘Aw, don’t be like that, Alice luv,’ Jack said, coming up to her and swinging her round to face him. ‘Why are yer avoiding me these days?’

  ‘I don’t want anything to do with the likes of you, Jack Shaw. I keep meself out of trouble – and you’re bad news.’

  ‘Now where did you get that idea?’ Jack said, grinning at her. They were standing in the light of a street lamp, giving him a yellowish and slightly malevolent look as he gazed down into her face. ‘I could be good news for a girl like you. I’m going places, Alice, and I might take you with me if you’re nice to me.’

  ‘Go away and leave me alone,’ she said sharply. ‘I’ve asked you politely, but if you persist I’ll scream.’

  Jack laughed, seeming delighted with her resistance. ‘A fat lot of good that will do you round ’ere,’ he teased. ‘There’s girls screamin’ all the time, most of ’em because they like it – they make out they don’t want it, but they do … just like you do, Alice Cobb.’

  ‘You just shut your filthy mouth,’ Alice said fiercely. ‘I know how to protect myself and I’ll kick you where it hurts if you touch me.’

  ‘She’s a feisty one,’ Jack said and his grin broadened. ‘Maybe that’s why I like you, Alice. You ain’t easy. I know you ain’t been with anyone and that’s why I’m interested. If you went out with me, you’d soon see I’m a proper gent. Jack Shaw knows how to treat a girl right. I’ll give you a good time, and I’m not talking about a quick one up against the wall either. I’ll take you to a dance or a nightclub and dinner – and then we’ll go back to my place. I’ve got somewhere really cosy but I only take special girls there.’

  ‘I don’t want to be one of your special girls,’ Alice said. She glared at him as he edged closer and then made a grab for her. Even though she tried to escape, he had her in his arms, pressed hard against him as his mouth closed over hers. His kiss surprised her, because she’d expected the kind of slobbery mess that some of the lads at school had tried on with her; instead his mouth was firm but soft, exploring hers sweetly in a way that made her heart jerk with fright because it aroused new feelings. His tongue explored the shape of her lips, trying to force entry but she kept it firmly shut and suddenly brought her knee up sharply. He yelled as she made contact with him and jerked back, clearly hurt and shocked. ‘I warned you. Just stay away from me, Jack. That was just a friendly reminder, next time I’ll really hurt you.’

  Alice walked away swiftly, knowing that he was watching her. She half-expected him to run after her and give her a good hiding but he didn’t, though after a moment he called out, ‘I’ll have you begging me yet, Alice Cobb, and you just see if I don’t. I’ve got something you want even if you don’t know it yet.’

  Alice didn’t dare to answer in case he changed his mind and decided to punish her for daring to protect herself. She knew that some of the gang he ran with would have slapped her about if she’d done the same to one of them, and a little shiver went through her as she wondered whether he would take his revenge another time.

  He was mixed up in bad things, Alice knew he was, and she wasn’t going to let the sweetness of that kiss blind her to his character. Alice had no intention of ending up like her mother, tied to a smelly house with four children, no money, a drunken husband and no prospects of a better life. When she got married, if she did, she wanted to live in a decent place – perhaps out of London, in the suburbs. She wanted no more than two children and the money to raise them properly … but in her heart she knew that life wasn’t so simple. Girls like her too often gave their hearts to the wrong men and ended up having to get married to a man who would make them miserable – or even worse, ending up having a backstreet abortion in one of those filthy houses everyone knew existed but pretended they didn’t. Alice didn’t want that. No sweet-talking charmer was going to do that to her. She had too much of her mother in her.

  Alice smiled as she recalled an incident from her childhood when her mother had chased her father up the lane with a rolling pin, and she’d battered him when she caught him. Sid Cobb went off for a while after that but in the end he’d returned to his wife and family. If she’d been him she would have stayed away, but it seemed her mother had something he liked even if he did drink half his pay every Friday night. Alice wasn’t sure whether it was her cooking or what they got up to in bed; they made enough noise to waken the dead sometimes.

  She was still thoughtful, torn between anger and the memory of that sweet kiss, as she paused outside the house where she lived. The smell of stale cooking, the stink from the back yard and the odour of mildew greeted her as she opened the front door and went in. Immediately, she heard her mother screaming abuse at someone, but this time it didn’t seem to be her father. As she hesitated in the parlour that led in off the street, the kitchen door opened and a woman with long, straggling dark hair and a filthy apron came storming out.

  ‘I’ll swing for your ma one of these days, Alice,’ she said. ‘I swear I’ll take the meat cleaver to her if she clouts my Bertie one more time.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Matty,’ Alice apologised, because she liked the woman, despite her frowsy appearance. Matty Carter cared about her children and did her best to keep them clean, though she was losing the battle in this awful place, which three families shared, because her husband drank more than Alice’s father. In Mr Cobb’s case, he’d been driven to it by his nagging wife, but Matty never nagged her husband; he was just a bully and a brute. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He was fighting with your Saul as usual, and she waded in and gave Bertie a black eye.’

  ‘Oh dear, she shouldn’t have done that – I’m sure it was half a dozen of one and six of the other.’

  ‘Alice, you’re a treasure and that vixen doesn’t deserve you,’ Matty said and smiled at her before going out of the door and banging it behind her.

  ‘Alice, is that you?’ her mother’s voice screeched at her from the scullery. ‘About bloody time too. Where the hell have you been to until this time, girl?’

  ‘I worked late at the home, Ma. I told you this morning,’ Alice said. ‘You shouldn’t wait up for me, just leave the key on the string and I’ll let myself in.’

  ‘I’m waitin’ up fer yer father and he’ll catch it when he gets back, I’m tellin’ yer.’

  ‘It’s not Friday night …’ Alice said.

  ‘I bloody know it’s not and I want ter know where he is.’

  ‘Perhaps he had to work late?’ Alice suggested, though it wasn’t likely.

  ‘He’s took money from my pot to go drinking, that’s what he’s done. Saul give me half a crown from his wages from the delivery round and that bugger’s took it. I’ll teach him when he gets back, you see if I don’t …’

  Alice sighed, because she could smell the beer on her mother’s breath and knew she drank whenever she got the chance; it was a case of the pot calling the kettle black, but she wouldn’t dare to suggest it.

  ‘Why don’t you try understanding him for once? Perhaps you wouldn’t quarrel so much then.’ Alice wished her father didn’t drink so much and would stand up to her shrew of a mother sometimes, but a part of her still remembered the man he’d been before his wife’s nagging drove him to despair.

  ‘You’ll feel the back of me ’and if you cheek me, girl. Get through to yer room or I’ll give you a hiding an’ all!’

  Alice sighed as she went through to the shared bedroom. She tried not to disturb anyone but she knew almost at once that they were all awake, the boys lying in their beds and giggling, waiting for Pa to come home with bated breath. Alice sometimes wondered what sort of men
they would turn into; their parents’ example certainly wasn’t a good one.

  ‘Listen to her,’ Mavis whispered as Alice undressed and crawled into bed beside her. ‘Rantin’ and carryin’ on. I shall be glad when I can get out of here. I’ve had enough.’

  ‘You don’t earn enough to get your own place.’

  ‘Who says I’ll need to? I’ve got a lad and he wants me to get married – and I’m goin’ to as soon as we can.’

  ‘Mavis! You’re only seventeen. Surely you want a bit of fun before you get married – besides, who is he? You haven’t brought him home.’

  ‘Bring Ted Baker here? You must be mad,’ her sister said. ‘I don’t want him to run a mile before he even gets the ring on my finger. His father owns a small newspaper and tobacconist shop and there’s a flat over the top. It’s in Bethnal Green – and Mr Baker says we can have the flat and I can work in the shop until we have kids. He’s all for it, says he likes me.’

  ‘Keep him away from Ma then,’ Alice advised and yawned. ‘I’m so tired. Go to sleep, Mavis. We’ll talk about it another time …’

  Closing her eyes, Alice remembered the way Jack’s mouth had tasted, not beery and foul like so many of the lads she’d met at the local dance, but pleasant. He’d had a faint taste of peppermint about him, and he smelled nice too – but he was a bad one. Her father had warned her, and she knew she mustn’t let the memory of a kiss break down her reserve, even if it had been sweet …

  SIX

  ‘Yes, how can I help you?’ Sister Beatrice looked up as the woman entered her office. She was elegant in a pale grey fine wool dress and darker grey suede court shoes with a matching belt around her waist. Her short blue jacket had a fashionable pleated swing back, and she carried a small clutch bag in her hand. ‘I don’t recall – did we have an appointment?’

  ‘Well, I was told to report to you as soon as I arrived.’ The young woman offered her hand, from which she had just removed her leather glove. ‘I’m Angela Morton.’