I sat down on the step, wondering where I could go. I longed to take refuge with Mr Dolly, but Mildred and Pa would guess I’d gone there. They’d come after me and drag me home – and hurl abuse at poor Mr Dolly too. I couldn’t do that to him.
I could try and get a job on one of the market stalls, but they’d find me there too. I’d have to go further, where no one knew me. How would I earn enough for my keep? I knew that thousands of children younger than me managed to scrape a few pennies together each day by selling flowers or matches. If they didn’t have proper beds to go to at night they curled up in doorways, with sacking for blankets. I’d seen them myself and pitied them.
I’d also heard lurid tales of what could happen to these children. Whenever I particularly annoyed her Mildred said I’d go to the bad. I didn’t want to be bad. I wanted to be good. I simply wanted a different life. But if I ran away from home I’d be destitute.
Miss Sarah Smith’s Home for Destitute Girls!
Mr Rivers’s words suddenly echoed in my head. I sat there, hugging my knees. I could walk there right this minute. My heart beat hard beneath the black cotton of my dress.
‘Clover? What you pulling that funny face for?’ Richie called.
‘What?’
‘Aren’t you playing? You’re tops at hopscotch,’ he said, sitting beside me.
‘I can’t, not in these boots. I don’t want to spoil them,’ I said.
‘Take ’em off then. And all that other stiff black stuff. You don’t look like you any more,’ said Richie.
‘If I do then Mildred will snatch the lot and take it up to Monmouth Street where all the second-hand clothes shops are. I’m keeping everything on, thanks very much! Here, give us that chalk and I’ll draw you a picture on the paving stones.’
If I really was going to make a run for it I wanted to play with the children first and leave them with a happy memory of me.
First I drew a big animal with a wolfish grin and a wagging tail because I knew that Richie was desperate for a dog of his own.
‘Oh, I love him! He’s mine, isn’t he, Clover?’ he said.
‘No, he’s my dog and I’m calling him Tiger,’ said Pete.
‘You can’t call a dog Tiger, daftie! He’s mine and he’s called Savage, and he’ll bite all the other dogs but he’ll lick me,’ said Richie.
‘I don’t like dogs,’ said Mary. ‘They bark and they hurt you.’
‘I know what you like,’ I said. I drew a big plate of buns – cream buns and cherry buns and iced buns.
‘Oh, buns!’ said Mary, laughing as she recognized them. She reached out and pretended to pick one off the plate. ‘Yum yum, all mine!’
‘Don’t be silly, Mary – you can’t eat chalk buns,’ said Jenny.
‘Shall I draw something for you, Jenny?’ I asked.
She shrugged. ‘I’m busy with Bert,’ she said, holding him up so that just the tips of his toes touched the ground. ‘Come on, Bertie, walk for Jenny!’
Bertie kicked his legs in the air but let his knees buckle whenever Jenny lowered him.
I drew a girl with long curly hair a little like Jenny’s, wearing a fancy dress and a hat with flowers.
‘Yes, I want a dress and a hat just like that,’ said Jenny, smiling in spite of herself.
‘I want one too,’ said Mary, still munching pretend buns. ‘But I want it all pretty colours, not black like yours, Clover.’
‘Yes, but mine’s black for Megs’s funeral,’ I said.
‘Was it very sad?’ said Jenny.
‘Yes, dreadfully,’ I said.
‘Did you see her go up to Heaven?’ asked Mary.
I shook my head.
‘Did you see her dead in her coffin? What did she look like? Did she turn into a skellyton?’ asked Pete.
‘Stop it. No!’
‘But she’s in the ground now, isn’t she? That’s what buried means, isn’t it?’ said Richie.
‘I’m not being buried ever,’ said Mary. ‘I wouldn’t like it.’
‘Perhaps it’s just like being tucked up in bed at night,’ I said. ‘Let’s think about Megs like that.’
‘I don’t want to think about her at all, not if she’s a skellyton – she’ll frighten me,’ said Pete.
‘I keep telling you, she’s not a skeleton,’ I said. ‘Think of her in a nice clean nightgown, her hair brushed, her eyes closed, a little smile on her face because she’s having a happy dream.’
I tried desperately hard to conjure up this picture of Megs too. I imagined kissing her. Then I gave each of my siblings a real kiss.
The boys grimaced and rubbed their cheeks but I knew they didn’t really mind. Mary smiled and gave me a rather wet kiss back.
Jenny kissed me warmly. ‘Do you want to hold Bert now?’ she offered.
‘Just for a minute.’
‘Here, Bert, go to Clover.’
I took him, and this time he didn’t wail. He grinned at me too, dribbling down his chin. ‘Co-va,’ he said. ‘Co-va! Co-va!’
‘Oh, Clover, he’s saying your name!’ said Jenny.
‘Yes, he is! Oh, Bert, bless you! Clever boy! I’m your Clover. Don’t forget me, will you? Clover!’
‘Co-va!’ Bert repeated.
I gave him one last kiss and squeeze and then set him back on Jenny’s lap. ‘Bye then,’ I said softly.
‘Where are you going?’ Jenny asked.
‘Oh, just for a walk,’ I said.
‘You’d better not go back to Mr Dolly’s. Ma will beat you if you do,’ she warned.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not going there,’ I said. I gave them a little wave.
‘You won’t be long, will you?’ Mary asked, helping herself to another pretend bun.
‘I might be quite a while,’ I said, and then I started walking quickly away.
I heard them calling after me but I didn’t look back, or I knew I’d weaken. I hurried down the alley.
Old Ma Robinson was sitting on an upturned orange crate, smoking her pipe. She waved to me. ‘Well, don’t you look a little Miss Fancy Pants,’ she said, chuckling.
I ignored her – but then Peg-leg Jack caught hold of me. He was only just out of bed, smelling strongly of sleep and last night’s beer, his hair tousled and his eyes barely focusing – but they filled with tears at the sight of me.
‘My Lord, it was your little sister’s funeral today,’ he said, looking me up and down. ‘I meant to go and pay my respects. Dear little kiddie, though she would never say boo to a goose. You’ll be feeling bereft without her.’
‘I am, oh, I am,’ I said, wondering that the only person who seemed to understand and show true sympathy was this drunken old sot.
‘Bless you, dear. Well, may the little one rest in peace. I shall drink to her today. Little . . . what was she called now – Peg?’
‘Megs. Her name was Margaret Anna, but we all called her Megs, Mr Jack,’ I said. ‘Thank you for asking after her.’
I detached myself gently from his grasp and got to the end of the alley. I heard the high thin voice of Jimmy Wheels behind me and the grind of his wheels on the cobbles, but I didn’t hang around to speak to him in case Mildred was up again and looking for me.
I was halfway along Winding Lane, walking quickly, when I heard Jimmy’s voice again, and a rush of wheels. There he was, bowling along like the wind, a small parcel balanced on his board.
‘Lord’s sake, Clover, are you deaf?’ he yelled.
I stood still so he could catch me up.
‘Where are you off to in all your black finery?’ he asked breathlessly, rearing up as far as he could to see the expression on my face. ‘Are you going to see Mr Dolly?’
‘I daren’t. Mildred’s threatened me,’ I said.
‘She’s a right one, your stepma. So, where are you going then?’ he demanded, his face pink from hurrying, though his hands were black from bowling himself along the grimy streets.
‘I – I just thought I’d take a walk. Get a bit of fres
h air,’ I said.
Jimmy said a very rude word. ‘You lying toad, Clover Moon – you’re running away!’ he said.
‘All right, maybe I am. But don’t you go back and blab on me,’ I said.
‘What do you take me for? I’m on your side. Hey, you’d better have this. It’ll keep you warm at night.’ He pulled something blue and woolly out of his shirt, folded small.
‘What is it?’ I shook it out and saw that it was a beautifully crocheted shawl. ‘I can’t take your ma’s shawl!’
‘It’s my shawl. She wants me to put it round my shoulders because she’s scared I’ll get a chill. Only I’d look a right berk, wouldn’t I? You take it, Clover. I want to give you something. You’ve always been good to me,’ said Jimmy earnestly.
‘Oh, Jimmy, you’re the best.’ I knelt down and gave him a big hug.
‘Watch out, you’ll squash me to bits,’ he said, laughing. ‘Go on, get off then! Good luck!’
I gave him a last kiss, clutched the shawl and ran off. I followed my usual route down Market Street because I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to Mr Dolly.
11
IT WAS A little foolhardy because it was the first place Mildred and Pa would look for me, but I couldn’t just disappear. Mr Dolly would think that something bad had happened to me. Maybe he’d even think I’d got the fever after all.
I went bursting into his shop, making him jump as he sat behind the counter, stitching a tiny doll’s nightgown. He gave a double take at my appearance.
‘Clover! My dear, you look splendid, even if I do say so myself!’ he exclaimed. ‘The clothes fit you perfectly. I take it you attended your sister’s funeral after all?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘And it all went well? Your stepmother wasn’t too vexed?’
‘Well, she was, but she couldn’t do anything in the church. It was a very quiet funeral, and I wish Pa had purchased flowers for Megs’s coffin because it seemed so bare, but there were the most beautiful lilies and they made the church look lovely,’ I said.
‘Oh, I’m so pleased,’ said Mr Dolly.
There was something strange about the way he said it, and the smile that flickered on his lips.
‘Mr Dolly! Did you send those lilies?’
‘I wanted to send a wreath but I thought that might not be wise. Your parents would be curious, and if they thought it was from me they would doubtless be indignant. Then I had the idea of sending two bunches of lilies for church decoration. I do hope that was the right decision.’
‘Yes, it was a wonderful idea. Now whenever I think of Megs I shall remember those lovely flowers and fancy I’m breathing in their sweet smell,’ I said, my voice wobbling a little.
‘It must have been such an ordeal for you today,’ said Mr Dolly. ‘Come into the back room and I’ll make you a cup of tea – and I dare say a slice of plum cake wouldn’t go amiss? I bought some specially, just in case you decided to pay me a visit.’
‘Oh, I’d love a cup of tea and especially some cake, but I’m afraid I daren’t stay long. I’ve come to say goodbye,’ I said, clasping his hand.
‘Goodbye? Oh, Clover, have you been forbidden to visit me?’ asked Mr Dolly, looking stricken.
‘Well, Mildred has long since forbidden it, but that’s of no import,’ I said. ‘I never mind what she says. I hate her. I’m not going to be her little drudge any more. And I’m not going to start at the factory either.’
‘Of course not! You’re just a little child!’
‘I’m eleven now, and the girls in our alley generally start there at twelve. You start on the vegetables because there’s no skill and you don’t need any strength. You just cut up onions and tomatoes all day long,’ I said.
‘But you’re such a bright girl, Clover! You can read and write beautifully. If you have to work you could surely obtain a junior position in an office or shop, where there are some prospects.’
‘I don’t think Mildred and Pa want me to have prospects,’ I said. ‘They want me to be the same as them.’
‘But we aren’t all the same. That’s the point. Look at my dolls. If you give them a cursory glance they all seem the same. They all have wooden heads, painted faces and jointed limbs, but we both know there are so many differences. Some are bold little creatures who want to run and dance and kick. Some are shy, retiring girls who like to sit demurely. Some are little beauties with big eyes and glossy rosebud lips. Some are dear Plain Janes with sensible, homely heads on their shoulders,’ said Mr Dolly.
‘That’s me. I’m a Plain Jane all right,’ I said.
‘Nonsense. You’re the pick of the bunch, the cleverest, sweetest, most dazzling lily in a field of brassy dandelions,’ said Mr Dolly. ‘Please have some plum cake.’
I couldn’t resist, though I kept glancing round anxiously whenever I heard footsteps passing the door. ‘I’m so scared Mildred will come for me,’ I explained.
‘Perhaps it would be a good thing. I could try to persuade her to see common sense,’ said Mr Dolly.
‘The Queen herself couldn’t make Mildred listen,’ I said. ‘That’s why I’m running away.’
Mr Dolly choked on his own slice of cake. ‘You can’t run away!’
‘I have to. I hate it at home. It’s never going to be the same without Megs.’
‘I know you feel like that right this minute. It’s only natural on such a sad day. But don’t forget you have all those other brothers and sisters – and I hear from my little pal Jimmy that half the children in your alley depend on you,’ said Mr Dolly.
‘They don’t really need me any more. And I won’t be there for them anyway if I’m stuck in the sauce factory. I have to leave,’ I said resolutely, finishing my cake.
‘Here, let me cut you another slice! Where are you planning to go then, Clover? You’re still a little girl. You can’t just walk off into the streets of London with no one to take care of you,’ said Mr Dolly.
‘There are many children who find themselves in that situation,’ I pointed out.
‘And look what happens to the poor mites! They are preyed upon by brutal adults and end up in the gutter,’ said Mr Dolly. ‘I couldn’t bear it if you suffered the same fate.’
‘I will be properly looked after, I promise you. I have a plan. I am going to seek out a lady called Miss Sarah Smith.’
‘The Sarah Smith who writes children’s books?’
‘Yes – have you heard of her? She runs some sort of home for girls in need. I’m sure she will take care of me.’
‘You have her address?’
‘It’s just off the Strand,’ I said.
‘So who told you about this benefactress?’ Mr Dolly asked, still doubtful.
‘Mr Rivers. You know – he bought Marigold for his little girl.’
‘Oh, that gentleman,’ said Mr Dolly, looking a little reassured.
‘Yes – he told me to seek her out if I ever felt the need. You know what swell gentlemen are like. He fussed because he saw that my head was cut,’ I said.
‘Badly cut too. You’ll have a nasty scar,’ said Mr Dolly sadly. ‘I should have confronted the wicked soul who did it.’
‘Then you’d have ended up with a matching blow or worse, so what would have been the point?’ I said.
He flinched, and I realized I hadn’t been very tactful.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Dolly, but you know it’s true. But anyway, we don’t have to bother about it any more because I’m going to see Miss Smith and she’ll take me under her wing,’ I said. ‘Mr Rivers assured me that she’d look after me.’
‘Well, she certainly has a reputation for protecting children. I read an article about her in the newspaper. You know the exact address?’
‘Yes, of course,’ I said, not quite truthfully. ‘I dare say it’s only half an hour’s walk,’ I added, guessing wildly.
‘I think it’ll take longer than that. Are you sure you know the way?’
‘Yes! Well, if I get lost I’ll ask. Don’t
worry, Mr Dolly, I’ll be perfectly fine,’ I assured him. ‘I must be off now or Mildred will be out looking for me. Thank you very much for the plum cake, it was delicious.’
‘You must take the rest. I’ll wrap it up for you. Wait just one moment.’ He wrapped the cake in paper, and then added a large wedge of cheese too.
‘No, Mr Dolly! Surely that’s for your supper!’ I said.
‘You can have a little munch on your journey to sustain you. And you’ll need something to drink too. Ah, I believe I have a stone bottle of ginger beer in my larder!’ He bustled about collecting my feast together and put it in a small sack. I put Jimmy’s blue shawl inside too, and slung the sack over my shoulder.
‘There! I feel like one of the fairy-tale heroes, off to seek my fortune!’ I said. ‘A sack is much more practical than a red spotted handkerchief on a stick.’
Mr Dolly fetched the little embroidered purse containing my five shillings. ‘This is your money, Clover.’ Then he emptied his cash box of coins and tipped them into the purse too.
‘No, Mr Dolly, I can’t take all your money!’ I protested.
‘I absolutely insist. I wish I could give you more, but I’ve already banked Mr Rivers’s five-pound notes. Still, this will be more than enough for a hansom to the Strand. You’ll find the cab stand up the street, then turn left and go round the corner. It’ll save wear and tear on those boots – they’re not made for walking.’
‘You have been truly good to me, Mr Dolly. Now that Megs is dead I think I love you more than anyone else in the world,’ I said solemnly.
‘Dear child,’ said Mr Dolly, his blue eyes watering. ‘I love you very much too. I shall miss you dreadfully. I do hope we can meet again one day.’
He held out his hand. I shook it solemnly – but then put my arms round him and hugged him hard. He patted me a little awkwardly, sniffing.
‘Clover, I know you’re a very grown-up child, for all you’re so little. I wonder . . . you’ve never asked, but would you perhaps like a doll as a small companion in your new life?’
I breathed in sharply. ‘Oh, yes please, Mr Dolly. Are you sure? You’ve already been incredibly generous.’
‘I’ve fashioned an outfit from several scraps, given you a few morsels of food and a handful of change. Hardly lavish. Clover, it would give me immense pleasure if I knew that one of my doll daughters was living with you,’ said Mr Dolly. ‘Which will you choose? Hyacinth or Violet?’
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