Forgotten Children

by Cathy Sharp

  With that he flung out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Alice’s mother gave a scream of frustration and started banging pots on the old-fashioned stove.

  ‘There’s no tea for you at this time of night, nor anyone else if that pig doesn’t start givin’ me more money,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll swing fer that man one of these days …’

  ‘I’ve eaten,’ Alice said and escaped before she was on the receiving end of more of her mother’s vitriol. Going into the room she shared with her siblings, Alice stripped down to her petticoat and climbed into bed beside her sister, huddling up to her warm body.

  ‘What started it this time?’

  ‘It’s our Saul again. He pinched some fags from the tobacconists in the High Street and was smoking them with Bertie in the back yard. Ma caught them at it and gave him a good hidin’ but Dad came home in the middle of it and told her to leave the boy alone. She turned on him again then and they haven’t stopped since.’

  ‘Poor old Dad,’ Alice said. ‘He’ll never do right for her, Mave.’ She couldn’t help but feel sorry for her father, even though he undoubtedly deserved some of what he got. Instead of clearing off down the pub, he should have stood up to his wife and perhaps then she would respect him more. ‘I know he drinks but she would drive anyone potty.’

  ‘He should clear off and leave her,’ her sister said sleepily. ‘Talk about it in the morning. I’m bushed …’

  Alice nodded in the darkness. She was safe here in bed with her family around her, but she’d been very frightened when that man tried to snatch her off the street. Somehow they must have found out she’d been seeing Jack before he went off in a hurry. She couldn’t have told them anything even if Bob hadn’t turned up, but they might not have believed her and she would have been given a beating.

  Bob had promised she would be safe, but she wasn’t sure he was right. Yet there was nothing she could do, because she had to go on working at night and she had to walk home alone.

  Sighing, she closed her eyes. Another busy day was waiting for her tomorrow and there was little she could do to protect herself from bullies like that so she might as well forget it about it as best she could … because a black eye from Big Harry was no worse than her father would do once he found out she was having Jack’s baby, and her mother would kill her. Yet what choice did she have? She wasn’t going to kill her baby at a back-street abortionist, and she didn’t think any of the old-fashioned remedies really worked. Besides, if Jack was dead, then the child was all she would ever have of him. Her heart seemed to contract with pain, because she couldn’t bear that thought. She didn’t want to believe he was dead …

  Alice suddenly tingled all over, because she’d just realised that Butcher Lee didn’t believe Jack had been killed in that fire. He must be pretty certain Jack had got out alive or why was he bothering with her? If he thought Jack dead, he wouldn’t have sent Big Harry after her. So who had been burned that night? And why hadn’t he got out – unless he was dead before the fire?

  Whispers must have circulated through the criminal fraternity. Perhaps someone had seen Jack after the fire or someone knew that he wasn’t the body the police had found. The underworld would know details that neither the papers nor the police knew … and that meant the dead body could have belonged to anyone.

  It wasn’t the caretaker because he’d been outside the factory when he was knocked over the head – so if it wasn’t Jack, someone else had been inside when they broke in. One of the other workers or … but no one else had been reported missing … unless it was a tramp! Alice felt a shock run through her as she realised that she might just have stumbled on the truth. London had hundreds of homeless men who would not be missed. A shudder ran through Alice, because if the man had been dead before the fire then someone had killed him … but that was too horrible to think about.

  Sally had just finished putting up the last of the greenery in the large dining room. It was Friday morning and the preparations were nearly finished. She’d wanted it to look special for the Christmas period and it did. She’d hung a bunch of mistletoe over the doorway for fun, though she had no idea why. They didn’t get many male visitors at St Saviour’s, except for Andrew Markham and Mr Adderbury, and of course the caretaker who also did a little gardening, and an occasional visiting doctor.

  She was just looking up at her handiwork when she heard a noise behind her and turned to see Andrew smiling at her.

  ‘Just caught you,’ he said and suddenly took hold of her by the waist, pulled her in close, and kissed her under the mistletoe. Sally was surprised but went into his arms willingly, and a lovely warm feeling curled through her. ‘I couldn’t resist. You looked so charming …’

  Sally’s heart was thudding and she felt short of breath, her body tingling with the desire Andrew’s kiss had aroused, but she managed to say, ‘It’s what mistletoe is for, isn’t it?’ Yet the look in his eyes made her want to melt into his arms, because there was such need and longing that it shocked her; she hadn’t known he felt like that about her.

  ‘I’ve been longing to see you, thinking of you all the time, Sally,’ he said and his expression made her heart catch and then jump about like giddy lambs in spring. ‘I shall see you at the party, of course – but I wanted to make a firm date for dinner, as soon as I return to London after Christmas?’

  ‘Yes, I should like that very much, Andrew,’ Sally said. ‘I shall look forward to it …’

  ‘Good, because I can’t wait. I wish it could be before – but my aunt would be disappointed if I didn’t go and she was good to me when my mother died. I would rather be with you, Sally, but we’ll make up for it next year, I promise.’

  ‘Of course you mustn’t disappoint your aunt,’ Sally replied and smiled up at him. ‘My parents expect me to be with them too – but perhaps things will be different another year.’

  ‘If I have my way they certainly will,’ he said. ‘I shall have to go, but I couldn’t resist popping in on my way to the hospital …’

  ‘I ought to get off too. Mum will be wondering where I’ve got to. I stopped late to finish the decorations in here, because this is where the party food will be set. I’ve made some pretty paper tablemats and there are homemade crackers for the children to pull on Christmas Eve. All the carers got together to buy some small trinkets to fill them. It’s going to be so exciting for the kids. The tables will look so special on the day, and for Christmas Eve – though the carols will be in the hall where the tree is …’ She stopped, realising that she was babbling, because she was just so happy.

  ‘And up in the wards I think?’ His smile was a caress. Sally’s heart seemed to turn over and she was aware of a new sensation low in her abdomen … a feeling of aching need, a burning desire that she’d never experienced before. For a moment all she could think about was his arms about her and lying in sheets that smelled of lavender … Sally recalled her thoughts quickly as she became aware of his quizzical smile as he waited for her answer.

  ‘Yes, the singers will go there first,’ she said, a flush in her cheeks. ‘Father Christmas is going to pop in there to say hello. Have you been visiting the children in the sick wards?’

  ‘I called in to see them yesterday and thought I would come back this evening. I wanted to see little Johnny as well. He doesn’t seem to get any better whatever we do. I’m not sure he will see Christmas.’

  ‘I know. It’s so sad – we all love him.’ Sally smiled at him tenderly. ‘Michelle told me how much it meant to him that you carried him down to see the tree.’

  ‘It was all I could do, but I was glad I could at least make him smile.’

  ‘It’s so sad, because he was always such a happy little boy despite his illness …’

  ‘Yes, very sad, because he is a loveable child. He managed a smile for me, but he is very poorly. Sister is praying for him and perhaps her prayers will be answered, who knows.’ He looked anxious, upset, but then the smile returned to his eyes. ‘Well, we must do w
hat we can for all of them – and if Sister’s prayers prevail he may rally. I must go, I’m sorry.’

  ‘I must go too. My mother will be expecting me …’

  They parted and Sally hurried to get her coat, because she would be late for her evening meal and her mother worried unless she knew why. She was thoughtful as she ran to catch her bus. It seemed as if Andrew really cared for her, wanted them to be together, but that didn’t mean it would happen. The gap between them was so wide. Andrew didn’t realise how bad things were at home now that her father wasn’t in regular work. He tried, taking any dirty job that was offered, but they could hardly pay the rent and put food on the table some days.

  Her parents would never understand; they would think she was getting too big for her boots, trying to be something she never could … betraying her class. Yet Sally knew it would break her heart to walk away from what Andrew was offering.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Michelle looked down at Johnny’s face. He was flushed and she had noticed a change in him the moment she came on duty that Monday morning. He had been fretful all day and now he was sweating. She was worried and she knew it was time to ask for Sister’s opinion again.

  Reaching for the in-house phone, she dialled a number and sighed with relief when it was answered, ‘Sister, could you come please? I think Johnny seems worse. He’s fretful and he has a temperature.’

  ‘I shall come immediately.’

  ‘Thank you. I wouldn’t ask but I’m worried.’

  Michelle replaced the receiver and went back to Johnny’s bed. She wrung a cloth in cool water and bathed his forehead, because he was complaining of being hot and kept throwing back his blankets. It was not like Johnny to complain, which meant that he had to be feeling very unwell.

  The door opening made her turn as Sister entered and came to look down at their patient. She took Johnny’s limp hand and checked his pulse, shaking her head as she glanced at the little watch pinned high on her chest.

  ‘He isn’t at all well. Keep him as cool as possible. I’ll make a soothing drink that may help him sleep for a while, but otherwise there isn’t much …’ Sister’s eyes met Michelle’s. ‘We’re doing all we can, Nurse. Just trust in your instincts. Who is on duty this evening?’

  ‘Nurse Anna …’ Michelle hesitated, then, ‘I could stay if you thought …’

  ‘Anna is a competent nurse,’ Sister said and frowned. ‘You cannot get too involved, Staff Nurse Michelle. Do what you can for him, but you must take your time off. Otherwise you will become too tired and then you may make a mistake.’

  Michelle nodded as Sister went off to arrange the drink, and continued bathing the child’s forehead. Sister returned just as Michelle had finished. Johnny cried when she took his temperature and blood pressure, but then he calmed down after he’d managed the drink Sister prepared for him.

  ‘You may call me if you need me again,’ Sister said and went out.

  Michelle glanced down at the little boy, who had closed his eyes now. He would sleep for a while, and Sister was right; she must not become too attached to sick patients. Yet Johnny was special and Michelle knew that everyone at St Saviour’s would be thinking about him, because they would all know that he was terribly ill. No one ever told the children these things, but they always knew somehow.

  Billy had been pronounced better and allowed back to his dorm. He was waiting for Mary Ellen when she came in for breakfast, with Sally and Marion just behind, and waved to her to join him.

  ‘I’m glad you’re better,’ Mary Ellen said, and brought her loaded plate to the table. ‘Have you heard about Johnny? He’s poorly, so Sally says, and they’ve sent for the doctor.’

  ‘That’s rotten luck just at Christmas,’ Billy said. ‘They wouldn’t let me visit him in case my cold was still catchin’ but you could perhaps get in to see how he is after tea.’

  ‘I’ve got something to do for Sally this evening. She’s … well, I can’t tell you ’cos it is a surprise, but I’ll pop in before I go to the dorms. Here’s Marion. She says they’ve got the curtains round Johnny’s bed and they’ve moved her into my dorm.’

  Marion came to join them. She couldn’t carry her plate and use her crutches so Sally carried it for her. All the children looked at their favourite carer anxiously as they begged for news of Johnny.

  ‘He is very poorly today,’ Sally said sadly. ‘You all know that Johnny’s illness has left him with a weak heart?’ They nodded in unison and she smiled. ‘Everyone is doing what they can for him and there is always hope. You must all pray for Johnny to get better.’

  They solemnly promised they would and Sally went away, leaving the three together. Her words had made them subdued, because they were all looking forward to Christmas and it seemed entirely wrong for Johnny to be ill at such a time.

  Mary Ellen wiped a tear from her cheek, and Billy’s hand reached for her other hand beneath the table, giving it a squeeze. None of them was a stranger to death or tragedy, all having experienced it at least once in their young lives, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept – and they all liked Johnny.

  Billy cleared his throat and sniffed hard, because boys didn’t cry. ‘I suppose the old dragon will ’ave it in fer me ’cos o’ what I did,’ he said, trying to change the subject.

  Marion giggled uncomfortably. ‘You ought not to say things like that about Sister Beatrice,’ she said. ‘She ain’t that bad, honest.’

  ‘I don’t mind if she canes me,’ Billy said. ‘I just ’ope she won’t send me packing. I like it ’ere.’

  ‘I’m sure she won’t,’ Marion said but Mary Ellen wasn’t so confident.

  ‘I expect it depends on what the police have to say. Give them details so that when they catch Arthur he goes down the line for a long time. You can say you saw someone throw them petrol bombs but you needn’t tell them what else you know about Arthur pinchin’ Butcher’s stuff unless you like.’

  ‘I ain’t a snitch …’

  ‘Of course you’re not – but he’s bad, your Arthur is. Look what he threatened to do to us. And it was wrong to set the factory on fire like that … even if Arthur did pinch their stuff; those people should be in trouble too.’

  Billy studied her thoughtfully. ‘You think I should tell them everythin’?’ If he did that he would have to say about the man at the bottom of the stairs – the man who was dead before the fire … the man that either Arthur or Jack Shaw had killed …

  ‘Yes – and Marion does too, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I do, Billy. If you do as they want, Sister will be pleased and then she’ll let you stay here with us.’

  ‘A’right, I will then,’ he said, realising that the police ought to know. People thought Jack was dead, but if Billy told what he knew they would cotton on as he had and guess that Jack Shaw had escaped somehow, perhaps an upstairs window at the back or maybe a fire escape. Billy didn’t know if there was one, but he did know that dead man wasn’t Jack Shaw. If Arthur had killed that man he should be punished for it, and if it was Jack, why should he just get off scot-free? ‘Long as you both think I should.’

  That agreed, the atmosphere lightened a little but there was still a feeling of things not being right, a shadow at the back of all their minds, and when they parted after tea to go their various ways, Mary Ellen’s thoughts were of little Johnny in the sick ward. It wasn’t fair that he would miss all the fun and excitement of Christmas and it made her eyes sting with tears.

  She’d made a card for him and decided that she would sneak into the ward and give it to him before she went to bed, even if she got into trouble for it …

  It was eight o’clock when Mary Ellen reached the door of the sick ward. It was slightly open so she was able to go in without making a sound, her heart beating as she walked softly towards Johnny’s bed, which had curtains pulled round it. Mary Ellen couldn’t see a nurse, though she could hear the murmur of voices from the rest room next door, which was between the two wards. There was
a smell of disinfectant and carbolic that made her wrinkle her nose.

  Tip-toeing, she pulled the curtain back just enough to squeeze through and went to the bed, her hand reaching for Johnny’s, which lay on the sheet. She touched it and discovered it was ice cold and then she looked at his face. His eyes were closed and his skin was as white as the sheets. His eyelids didn’t stir as she touched his cold cheek and then she knew that he was dead. She was too late to say goodbye to him and that made the tears start to trickle down her own cheeks.

  Poor, poor Johnny, she thought. Mary Ellen bent over him and kissed his face, and then she stroked his head and laid her cheek next to his.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I wish I had come earlier. I wish I could make you better …’

  Hearing a rustling sound behind her, Mary Ellen glanced round and saw Sister Beatrice looking at her oddly. She drew away from the bed, her heart racing. She was in for it now, because she was not supposed to be in here without permission from a nurse.

  Sister came to the bed, looked down at Johnny and nodded gravely. She placed a hand on his brow and said something that sounded like a prayer to Mary Ellen. Then she looked at her and seemed to hesitate for a moment.

  ‘Nurse Anna and Nan were with him when he died,’ she said. ‘Nan is making some arrangements, but she will return in a moment to sit with him for a while, and Anna came to fetch me. You mustn’t think that he died alone, Mary Ellen. I’d seen him just a few minutes before, and he was very peaceful at the end.’

  ‘I’m glad but I wanted …’ She stopped tearfully.

  ‘Did you come to say goodbye to your friend?’

  ‘Yes, Sister.’ Mary Ellen’s voice was breathy and scared. ‘I wasn’t doing any harm. I’d got a Christmas card for him and I just wanted him to know he wasn’t forgotten, up here all on his own, but he’s … why did he have to die, Sister? It isn’t fair. Johnny never hurt anyone; he never did a bad thing in his life.’ A sob burst from her and she swiped her face with the back of her hand, trying to wipe away the tears. ‘I know I shouldn’t be here …’