Clover Moon

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘I’m Clover Moon.’

  ‘Well, I suggest you mind your own business, Clover Moon! Who do you think you are, new girl? If you think the Millie-pig is so sweet, you go in the WC right this minute and breathe in her delightful fumes,’ she said, and she seized hold of me and started pushing me into the cubicle.

  I pushed back. She was a head taller than me, but I was stronger than I looked, and my arms were hard as iron from doing all the chores and lumbering little children about. I’d have pushed her in the water closet, but the others joined in and I couldn’t beat a whole bunch of them.

  I got shoved right inside. It was horrible. I put the hem of my dress over my nose and used the lavatory myself as quickly as possible. I pulled the chain and then attempted to open the door. It wouldn’t budge. I’d unbolted it but it was somehow stuck. I put my shoulder to the door and pushed hard, but it still wouldn’t move. Then I heard giggles. They must be leaning against it.

  ‘Go away, you idiots!’ I called. ‘Get out of the way!’

  More giggling.

  ‘Ah, don’t you like it in there, after all?’ said the princess girl. ‘Fancy that!’

  They muttered outside.

  ‘You show her, Mary-Ann,’ someone said.

  ‘Mary-Ann, Mary-Ann, I’ll stick her head down the lavatory pan,’ I chanted.

  ‘You’ll have to get out first,’ said Princess Mary-Ann.

  ‘I’m blooming well coming out now!’ I said, banging hard on the door. I tried another shove, but it still wouldn’t budge. ‘Oi, Mary-Ann, you with the long yellow hair! Let me out this minute, you hateful rat-face!’

  There was a gasp at that. It was clear that none of the others dared call her names. I tried kicking my way out, and the door did move an inch or so because I’d taken them by surprise. I kicked again, harder, but this time they held it firm.

  ‘This is ridiculous!’ I said. ‘Let me out!’

  More muttering. Someone said that perhaps they ought to let me out now or Miss Ainsley might hear, and then they’d all be in trouble.

  ‘I’m not letting her out ever,’ said Mary-Ann. ‘Not unless she truly grovels and begs me.’

  ‘Then we’ll wait till doomsday!’ I retorted through the door, though I was starting to panic now. It wasn’t just the smell, it was the lack of space. It was like being back in that dark cupboard again, as if the walls were gradually inching inwards against me, the low ceiling pressing right down on the top of my head.

  ‘LET ME OUT!’ I yelled again, hoping Sissy might hear me.

  ‘Oh, she’s getting really frantic now!’ said Mary-Ann triumphantly. ‘If we let you out you have to crawl on the floor and lick my feet, do you hear me, new girl?’

  ‘I’ll bite your toes off one by one and then spit them at you,’ I said. ‘Millie? Millie, are you there? Run and get Sissy!’

  ‘Oh, you’re set on snitching to Sissy, are you?’ said Mary-Ann. ‘Well, hard luck. Millie’s not going to help you, are you, Millie-pig?’

  ‘No, Mary-Ann,’ Millie muttered, sniffling.

  ‘Oh, Millie!’ I said. It was all her fault I was stuck in the wretched water closet.

  Then I heard gasps and a sudden scuffle of feet.

  ‘Whatever’s the matter, girls? Why are you being so tardy tonight? You should have been in your beds ten minutes ago. Get to your dormitory at once!’ It was the clipped tones of little, shrunken Miss Ainsley.

  ‘Sorry, Miss Ainsley,’ they all chorused as they went out of the room.

  I hoped she’d follow them, but I heard her stepping over to the water closet.

  ‘Who’s in there?’

  ‘It’s me, Clover,’ I said, feeling ridiculous.

  ‘Well, come out at once, Clover Moon!’

  I tried the door. It opened immediately. I stepped out and shut the door behind me, breathing deeply.

  ‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Miss Ainsley asked irritably.

  ‘I . . . I couldn’t get out,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t be silly, girl. It’s a simple enough latch,’ she said. ‘Now go to the dormitory, get changed into a nightgown, say your prayers and get into bed, quick sharp.’

  ‘A nightgown?’

  ‘A gown that decent folk wear at night,’ she said.

  I was clearly indecent because I’d never worn a gown in bed in my life. I just kept my shift on, and so did Megs and Jenny. Little Mary wore her vest and the boys their combinations. On washdays, when they were still damp and un-ironed, we wore nothing at all, and had great night games pretending we were naked savages on a desert island.

  Miss Ainsley was delving in the astonishing cupboard, which seemed to contain enough linen for the whole of London. She took out a long, loose white robe, carefully ironed, with a white trim on the collar. If asked to guess I’d have identified it as a wedding dress.

  ‘I’m to wear this dress in bed?’ I asked.

  Miss Ainsley nodded curtly.

  ‘Do you wear one, Miss Ainsley?’ I asked, wondering if this were possible as she was so very small. Surely it would trail across the floor and bunch up unbearably under the covers?

  She went pink. ‘You must learn not to ask personal questions, Clover. Yes, of course I wear a nightgown – and a nightcap too.’

  I pictured this and had to press my lips together hard to stop myself sniggering.

  ‘Off you go then,’ said Miss Ainsley, making a little fluttering gestures with her tiny hand. ‘I’ll be in to check on all you girls in five minutes flat.’

  ‘Miss Ainsley, do I absolutely have to sleep in that dormitory? Couldn’t I possibly sleep in the nursery? I don’t need a cot – I will quite happily curl up on the floor. I could be very useful if Jane is upset or needs her sheets changing, and I could keep an eye on the other three girls. Sissy says I’m very good at looking after them,’ I said.

  ‘I dare say you are, but you must sleep in a proper bed in the dormitory with the other girls your age,’ she said firmly.

  ‘I don’t think they like me very much,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Miss Ainsley responded briskly. But when she saw my face she stepped nearer and actually patted my shoulder. ‘Don’t look so anxious, Clover. You’ll make friends soon enough.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to make friends.’

  ‘You must learn to get along with the others, dear. Mary-Ann is a very popular girl. I’ll ask her to keep an eye on you,’ she said.

  ‘Please don’t!’ I said, and hurried out of the washroom.

  16

  MY HEART BEAT fast as I walked towards the dormitory, nightgown in one hand, pillowcase in the other. I wasn’t used to being tormented by other children. I had grown up Queen of Cripps Alley. I was the one all the other children looked up to and admired. I sorted out the squabbles, chastised the bullies, dandled the babies.

  I was the oldest child in the alley apart from Daft Mo, and he didn’t count because he had the mind of a five-year-old. There were grown girls and boys of course, but they were all out at work at the sauce factory or down the market. A few boys were apprenticed as upholsterers or plasterers, or worked as pot boys in the tavern, and poor Georgie now worked with his pa in the night-soil business. Several girls were kitchen maids, and pretty Sarah worked in a grocer’s and sneaked all kinds of goodies home to her family.

  Of course they had once played in the alley, and they were all older than me, but because I’d always looked after Megs and the others they accepted me as one of the big ones, even though I was half their size.

  I’d never really had a friend my own age. I didn’t know how to manage it. I wanted to be with the four little ones or with Sissy in her private room. I did not, not, not want to be in a dormitory with Mary-Ann and all her hateful allies.

  I heard them chattering excitedly behind the door. I thrust it open, my chin in the air, determined not to let them see I was frightened. The girls looked eerie in the flickering candlelight, ghostly in their long white gowns. They were all gathered rou
nd one of the beds but their backs were to me and I couldn’t see what they were doing.

  ‘She’s here!’ said one, and they all sprang away, sly grins on their faces.

  ‘You took your time in the WC, Clover Moon,’ said Mary-Ann, and the others sniggered. She put a jug down on her bedside locker and started brushing her long hair.

  ‘Oh, let me brush your hair for you, Mary-Ann,’ said a dark girl with a short bob and fringe. ‘It’s so beautiful. I’d give anything to have hair like yours.’

  ‘Me too! Me too!’ said the others, even Millie. She seemed pathetically keen to praise Mary-Ann, in spite of everything.

  Mary-Ann smiled complacently and gave the brush to the dark girl, as if bestowing a very special favour.

  ‘You have the loveliest hair I’ve ever seen,’ sighed the dark girl, brushing slowly.

  ‘Your hair is lovely too, Julia,’ said Mary-Ann. ‘It suits you having it cut in that bob. Perhaps I might try my hair in that boyish style.’

  Julia and the others all protested, just as Mary-Ann had intended. I rolled my eyes.

  ‘Why are you pulling that silly face, Clover Moon?’ she asked. ‘I think you’d better see to your own hair. If you’ve come straight off the streets you’ll have lots of little creepy crawlies hopping about in that tangled black mop.’

  ‘My hair’s as clean as clean. I washed it here this very evening. You’re the little creepy crawly, biting and stinging. Do you know what you do with creepy crawlies? You take a cake of carbolic and you go thump-thump-thump until they’re squashed to a pulp. And watch out for your hair. How do you know I won’t go looking for a pair of scissors? When you’re fast asleep I might creep over to your bed and go snip-snip-snip, and then you’d have a boy’s haircut, like it or not!’

  The other girls squealed.

  ‘Don’t think you can threaten me, Clover Moon!’ said Mary-Ann.

  ‘I shall threaten you all I like,’ I told her.

  ‘So that’s the way you want to play it, is it?’ she said, grabbing her brush back from Julia.

  ‘I’ll play any way I want and I’ll make sure I win.’

  I wasn’t sure at all. Mary-Ann was a head taller than me. I wasn’t sure I could hold my own in a fight, especially if she used her hairbrush as a weapon. And it wouldn’t be just Mary-Ann. All the other girls would wade in on her behalf, even Millie. I would be flattened before I could tug one lock of her long hair.

  But I couldn’t back down now. I made myself march right up to her, hands on my hips, looking as fierce as I could. Mary-Ann tossed her hair back elaborately. It gleamed in the candlelight and crackled slightly from all the brushing.

  ‘I think it’s time you were put in your place, new girl,’ she said, and she raised her arm, gripping her hairbrush tightly.

  But then the door opened and Miss Ainsley stepped into the room. The girls scurried over to their beds.

  ‘What on earth is the matter with you tonight, girls? Why are you being so disobedient? I might have to report you to Miss Smith in the morning.’

  ‘Oh, please don’t, Miss Ainsley. We’re so very sorry. I promise we’ve said our prayers – and now, look, we’re in bed already,’ said Mary-Ann, and she jumped straight into her bed, all the other girls copying her.

  ‘Very well. I will give you just one more chance,’ said Miss Ainsley. ‘Come along, Clover, you’re not even undressed. Get into your nightgown immediately!’

  Reluctantly I started unbuttoning my dress and wriggling out of it. I heard smothered giggles.

  ‘No, no, under your nightgown, you silly girl,’ Miss Ainsley hissed. She clearly cared for modesty more than Sissy did.

  I had to use my nightgown like a tent. It was incredibly difficult getting changed that way but I managed it at last.

  ‘Now say your prayers,’ Miss Ainsley commanded.

  ‘You mean the ones we said at supper?’ I asked.

  ‘No, we said grace and then we gave thanks. I had better teach you the Lord’s Prayer in Bible Study tomorrow morning. But for now, simply put your hands together, kneel down by your bed, shut your eyes and pray to our dear Father to teach you to be a good kind hard-working girl,’ said Miss Ainsley.

  I knelt down by the unoccupied bed – the one the other girls had been gathered round, giggling. I clasped my hands. I shut my eyes. The room had gone very silent around me.

  ‘Dear Father,’ Miss Ainsley prompted.

  ‘Can’t I talk to him silently inside my head?’ I asked.

  ‘Very well,’ she said.

  At least this wouldn’t give the other girls another reason to laugh at me. Dear Father, I said silently. I didn’t know how to continue. Father? I thought of Pa in his work clothes, with his muffler round his neck and his old cracked boots; Pa sleeping in the only armchair, snoring with his mouth open; Pa having a good scratch with his shirt tails flapping and his braces down; Pa leering at Mildred, patting her big behind in a way that made my stomach turn.

  I didn’t need a Miss Ainsley to tell me that these weren’t holy images. I tried to think of a truly kind pure man. I thought of Mr Dolly in a long white nightgown to make him look more holy.

  Dear Father, I thought I was a good kind hard-working girl, though Miss Ainsley clearly thinks otherwise. I don’t like her. I especially don’t like Mary-Ann. But Sissy is lovely, and I quite like Jane, for all she’s so wild, and I want to get to know little Pammy properly because she reminds me of Megs. Oh, I miss my Megs so much. Will you please look after her if she’s up in Heaven with you, and tell her that I love her dearly and always will and miss her so terribly.

  I found there were tears trickling down my cheeks.

  ‘Into bed now, Clover,’ said Miss Ainsley quietly.

  I sniffed and got into my strange new bed. It felt . . . wet. Soaking wet, right through to the mattress. So that’s what they’d been doing. Mary-Ann had poured water from her jug into my bed.

  She was staring at me. They were all looking at me, waiting. I opened my mouth to tell tales on them, but in our alley sneaking was the worst crime of all. Besides, I couldn’t prove it was Mary-Ann. Miss Ainsley might not believe me anyway. Someone else would get the blame – probably poor Millie.

  So I said nothing at all and lay still in my cold, soggy bed.

  ‘Blow out your candles,’ said Miss Ainsley.

  There was sudden darkness and the smell of burned candlewicks.

  ‘Goodnight, girls,’ said Miss Ainsley.

  ‘Goodnight, Miss Ainsley,’ they chorused.

  She went out of the room, her long skirt sweeping the floor as she went.

  I waited in the dark. The other girls waited too, until the sound of Miss Ainsley’s boots had receded.

  ‘I hope your bed is comfortable, Clover Moon,’ Mary-Ann called, and they all spluttered with laughter.

  I said nothing.

  ‘It’s a good job you were so long relieving yourself in the WC. You wouldn’t want to accidentally wet your bed in the night, would you?’ said Mary-Ann.

  I put my hands over my ears.

  ‘Miss Ainsley comes and inspects our beds in the morning, you know. Oh, the shame of any of us ever having a wet bed. You have to parade up and down the dormitory with your stinky wet sheets over your head as a punishment,’ said Mary-Ann.

  I didn’t know whether she was making it up or not. I didn’t have the heart for a further slanging match. I was exhausted after my long, sad, adventurous day. I lay shivering in my soaking sheets, half dozing, while Mary-Ann’s voice droned on like a mosquito.

  I slept for an hour or so and then woke up, shaking. I thought I’d had the most terrible dream. I reached for Megs but I couldn’t find her. My hands scrabbled over my icy soaking sheet – but there was no one there.

  No Megs. I gave a great sob, but then I heard someone turning over restlessly in another bed. I remembered I was in a dormitory of hateful girls. I put my fist in my mouth and choked back my sobs.

  I ached for Megs. I ached in my
head and I ached deep in my bones. I’d hoped the sheets might dry from the heat of my body but they seemed wetter than ever. They would still be sopping in the morning. I thought of a bed inspection, the public humiliation, the sniggerings of Mary-Ann and the others. They’d spread the news that the new girl had wet her bed all round the home. Sissy might get to know. She wouldn’t laugh or mock, she was far too kind, but she might suggest putting a napkin on me, and then I’d truly die of shame.

  I curled into a tight ball, desperate for some kind of comfort. My precious pillow of possessions was stowed in my bedside locker. I wanted Anne Boleyn. She was too small and stiff and spiky to cuddle closely, but I longed to hold her, to stroke her shiny head and touch her little wooden limbs. Did I dare fumble in the locker for her?

  But what if Mary-Ann spotted her in the morning? She’d laugh her head off at a girl my age owning a doll. Maybe she’d snatch her from me. Maybe she’d play catch with her, throw her around the room, tear her clothes, even stamp on her. I’d better keep Anne Boleyn hidden in her pillowcase no matter what.

  The pillowcase made me think of the linen cupboard in the washroom. If they stored pillowcases there they might store sheets too. Clean dry sheets.

  I sat up and peered around the dark room. I could just about make out each bed. The girls seemed to be lying still now. Several were snoring, and Millie was murmuring something but seemed deeply asleep nevertheless. I slid my legs out of bed and stood up slowly, praying the bed wouldn’t creak.

  I waited, holding my breath. Then I folded the blanket and put it on top of my locker, and felt the top sheet. It was a little damp – and the bottom sheet was wringing wet. I stripped them off as silently as I could and felt the mattress. Oh thank the Lord, it had a rubber sheet wrapped round it. There was a little pool of water but I mopped it with the top sheet until it was dry. Then I bundled both sheets up into my arms and crept as quietly as possible out of the dormitory.

  The door had been left ajar so it was easy enough to slip outside. It was even darker in the hallway, but I remembered how to get to the washroom. There was no lamp there, but I felt my way to the cupboard and then explored the linen with quick hands. I found two clean sheets easily enough, and then another nightgown, because mine was clinging damply to me.