Afterwards Sylvia often tactfully worked the conversation round to talking about some of the things Cilla had told her and this embarrassed Trixie. Whenever possible she merely smiled in a non-committal way and tried to change the subject. Sylvia could be persistent, though, especially when Cilla appeared with bruises on her arms or weals on her legs where Daisy had hit her, and she would deliberately question Cilla to find out how she had come by them.
‘For poor little Cilla’s sake, you ought to get away from this Daisy,’ Sylvia admonished Trixie, her sharp blue eyes full of concern as she placed a cup of tea in front of her.
‘I know, and that’s what I’m trying to do. That’s why I’m working at weekends, to try and save up enough to rent a room for us well away from her and my dad.’
‘You’ll never be able to afford to support yourself independently on what you earn here.’ Sylvia frowned, wiping down the counter so vigorously that everything on it rattled.
‘No,’ Trixie sighed. ‘I’m beginning to realise that. I’ve tried to save every penny I earn, and I have, except for a few things that I’ve had to buy for Cilla, but it doesn’t add up to much.’
‘Of course it doesn’t! Why don’t you find yourself some other work during the week?’
‘It’s not easy. I dare not leave Cilla at home on her own because of Daisy, and no one’s willing to employ you if you have a young child with you all the time, especially one like Cilla. You and steve have been the exception to the rule,’ she added gratefully.
Sylvia smiled. ‘She’s no trouble at all and extremely obedient. I’m sure you could take her with you absolutely anywhere.’
‘Would you have taken me on if I’d said I had to bring Cilla with me if Jake hadn’t put in a good word for me?’ Trixie asked bluntly as she tidied the counter.
Sylvia looked thoughtful. ‘Probably not,’ she agreed. ‘I understand what you’re saying, so I think the answer is for you to find another job where someone can recommend you and explain to your new employer about Cilla.’
‘That’s not going to be easy,’ Trixie sighed. ‘I was very lucky over this job because you knew Jake well enough to trust what he said about me.’
‘What’s worked successfully once can happen again,’ Sylvia told her optimistically as she folded up the cleaning cloths and tidied them away.
It was almost a month later when Sylvia told Trixie that she had found the perfect job for her.
‘It’s a cleaning job, but you wouldn’t mind that, would you?’ she said forcefully. ‘It’s every evening from six o’clock till about eight. It’s at the chiropodist’s in Cazneau Street. That’s not all that far from where you live, but you must be on time because he would want to let you in before he left and then when you leave you slam the door behind you and it will lock itself.’
‘You’ve explained that I will have to take Cilla with me?’ Trixie asked tentatively. It sounded perfect, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up too quickly.
‘Of course! He said that will be no problem as there will be no one else there. You must make sure that she doesn’t touch anything, of course,’ Sylvia warned.
‘She won’t, I’ll make sure of that,’ Trixie promised earnestly.
‘That’s exactly what I said to Mr Browning.’ Sylvia nodded. ‘I also told him how good she is when she comes here at the weekends and he seemed to be quite impressed. I’ve said you will go along on Monday afternoon so that he can explain everything to you. He’s hoping you will be able to start right away.’
‘It sounds ideal,’ Trixie told her. ‘I’ll be there on time, don’t worry, and I’ll let you know next Saturday how I’ve got on.’
Mr Browning was a tall, thin man, meticulously dressed in a dark suit under a knee-length white coat. He wore glasses and his sparse black hair was receding rapidly from his high forehead. He had a nervous habit of rubbing his hands together while he talked. His fingers were so long that Trixie felt mesmerised by them.
Her list of duties was very explicit; he showed her where all the cleaning materials were kept and asked her to make sure they were stored away in precisely the same order when she’d finished using them and to lock the cupboard door.
‘I like order in my consulting room so I must ask you to make sure that when you do the cleaning you return every item to precisely the same place where you found it. When I am attending to my clients I want to be able to put my hand on instruments, lotions and everything else I use instantaneously. Do you understand?’
Trixie assured him she did and they agreed she would start work right away.
‘You will be bringing this little girl with you each time?’ he questioned.
‘Yes, Mr Browning. I have to bring my sister; I have no one I can leave her with, I’m afraid.’
He studied Cilla from over the top of his glasses. ‘Doesn’t she go to school?’
‘No.’ Trixie shook her head. ‘She can read and write her own name, though. I’ve taught her to do that at home. And she can count and add up,’ she added proudly.
‘Can you make her understand that she mustn’t touch anything here?’ he asked, frowning.
‘Don’t worry, she’s very well behaved,’ Trixie assured him. ‘I’ll bring some books with me and she’ll sit and look at those while I’m working like she does at the snack bar,’ she added.
‘I see!’ He pursed his thin lips thoughtfully.
Trixie felt her heart thumping as he rubbed a hand over his chin. She desperately wanted him to give her the job, especially after Sylvia had seemed so certain that it was right for her. She wondered if she ought to say something to try and convince him or whether it was better to stay silent and let him think it through on his own.
‘Well, I think we’d better agree to a week’s trial and see how things work out,’ he agreed at length. ‘You’ll be here at six o’clock this evening, right?’
‘Yes, and thank you, Mr Browning. I’ll do my best to give complete satisfaction.’
Trixie went home feeling elated. The wages were not very much but they would be regular. If she saved every penny and added it to what she earned at Steve’s place then, in about three months, time, she was confident she would be able to afford to finally leave Virgil Street and rent a place for herself and Cilla.
She wondered how long it would be before Daisy found out that she was working. So far her weekends at the snack bar seemed to have passed unnoticed.
Fortunately, whenever Daisy asked Cilla where they’d been she never answered. Her behaviour annoyed Daisy and often resulted in her calling Cilla a ‘daft little idiot’ but, as a result, so far she’d never found out the truth about what they were doing.
Leaving the house at half past five every evening and not coming home again till after eight o’clock, was another matter, though, and Trixie realised that sooner or later Daisy was bound to notice and start asking questions.
Furthermore, Trixie mused, she’d have to give Cilla her tea before they went out and the fact that she was doing this earlier than usual would arouse Daisy’s curiosity if she was at home.
It also meant that although she left Sam and Daisy’s meal ready Daisy would have to take it out of the oven, and if they still weren’t back when Daisy and Sam went off to the pub that was going to make her suspicious when it happened every night of the week.
She wondered whether it was best to wait till Daisy or her father said something or whether to be up front and tell them that she had an evening cleaning job, but if she did tell them about it, then they would expect her to hand over whatever she earned towards the housekeeping and that would defeat her plans.
The first couple of weeks went well. Mr Browning confirmed at the end of the first week that he was very satisfied with her work and that he wanted her to continue. Sylvia was delighted that it had all turned out so successfully and Trixie felt that at long last she was getting control of her life and could start to plan for the future.
Now that Andrew had finished his course an
d was home again they could plan things together and she hoped he would be as enthusiastic and encouraging as Jake was when she talked to him about her hopes of leaving Virgil Street.
As the days began to get shorter and it was almost dark by teatime Daisy started asking pointed questions about where they were going, especially when it was cold or raining.
Trixie shrugged and tried to make light of it but she was afraid to openly lie and say she was going round to see Ivy in case Cilla might say something to the contrary. Also, she knew it would look strange if she went to see Ivy every night.
For a time she managed to fend off Daisy’s prying with one excuse or other, but how long she would manage to go on doing so she wasn’t sure. She narrowly avoided everything coming out into the open when Cilla had an accident.
The normal routine was that each evening, the moment they arrived at the chiropodist’s, Cilla climbed up into the big leather chair in which Mr Browning’s clients sat while he attended to their feet, and sat there till Trixie had finished her work and they were ready to go home.
Usually she sat perfectly still but on this particular evening she had started playing with the lever which raised, lowered and tilted the chair to the angle Mr Browning wanted. Somehow she managed to get her arm pinioned between the mechanism and the main body of the chair.
For a long time she sat there with her arm trapped, but not saying a word. When Trixie was ready to leave she held out a hand to her, but Cilla remained where she was.
‘Come on, time for us to go home,’ Trixie called as she walked towards the door.
When there was no response she turned round and was surprised to see that Cilla was still sitting in the chair.
‘Hurry up,’ Trixie urged. ‘My feet are killing me and all I want to do is get home and take my shoes off.’
Cilla still didn’t move so she went back and took her by the hand to pull her from the chair. Then and only then did Cilla let out a sharp cry of pain and Trixie realised that her arm was stuck.
Trixie tried everything she could to free it but it was stuck fast. She was afraid to put too much pressure on it, or to move the lever at all, in case she made matters worse or even broke Cilla’s arm.
After a moment of panic she tried to reason out the best thing to do. She needed to get help but who could help in such a matter? she asked herself. The only person she could think of was Jake but it would take too long to go all the way to Horatio Street to fetch him and she couldn’t be sure he’d even be there.
If she left Cilla trapped in the chair and on her own then she would probably become distressed and frightened because she might think Trixie had gone away and left her. She tried to think of some other way of getting help. In the end it seemed that the only thing she could do was to go down into the street and see if she could find a policeman.
She tried to explain to Cilla what she was about to do and although she nodded her head and seemed to understand, Trixie could see the scared look in her eyes when she went towards the door.
She propped the door open so that it wouldn’t lock behind her, and was lucky in that the moment she went out into Cazneau Street she found a patrolling policeman. He listened to her story and agreed to come with her to see what he could do.
As he walked into the room with Trixie he removed his helmet and then knelt down by the side of the chair and talked to Cilla. In a quiet, reassuring voice he tried to find out how she had managed to trap her arm.
Cilla was unable to tell him. She was now sobbing noisily and Trixie tried her best to calm her down and explained that she wasn’t in any trouble and that the policeman was only trying to help her to get free from the chair.
Even with his help it was impossible to free Cilla’s arm. ‘It’s been trapped so long that it’s become very swollen and that is making things more complicated,’ he said as he stood up and replaced his helmet. ‘Try and quieten her and I’ll fetch some more help.’
He was away for about ten minutes and Trixie was beginning to get very worried. When he returned there were two other uniformed men with him but they were firemen, not policemen.
Once again Trixie tried to explain what she thought must have happened. When she saw the tools they’d brought with them she was also rather concerned that they might cause some damage to Mr Browning’s chair.
‘We’ll do our best not to do any damage, Miss,’ the one in charge assured her, ‘but our main concern is to free this child’s arm.’
Trixie hovered, keeping a watchful eye on what was happening and at the same time trying to comfort Cilla.
Almost a quarter of an hour elapsed before they finally managed to free Cilla, who by this time was screaming with pain.
‘Her arm is crushed and needs medical attention,’ the senior fire officer insisted as he carried her out to where an ambulance was already waiting to take them to the hospital.
Cilla became almost hysterical as they attended to her arm and her terrified screams upset Trixie who was unable to calm her. They all did their best to try and explain to Cilla what was happening but it seemed to be impossible to make her understand.
When they’d finished dressing her arm the staff nurse said that they would be keeping her in overnight and told Trixie to come back in the morning. ‘By then we’ll be able to decide if she’s well enough to be discharged.’
Trixie begged to be allowed to stay with her.
‘That’s not necessary,’ the staff nurse told her firmly. ‘She will be in good hands, there’s no need for you to worry.’
‘She’s not like other children, she doesn’t always understand what is happening,’ Trixie pleaded. ‘If I walk out and leave her—’
‘Yes, I understand what you are saying.’ The staff nurse frowned. ‘She has already disrupted the entire ward with her screaming. In fact, she can be heard all over the hospital.’
‘Perhaps I could take her home and bring her back in again in the morning so that you can see if her arm is all right,’ Trixie suggested hesitantly.
‘Wait here and I’ll see what Sister thinks about it.’
‘We wouldn’t normally permit you to do this,’ the sister told her severely, ‘but since the only alternative will be to sedate her—’
‘No, please, that’s not necessary,’ Trixie protested. Cilla was already tense with fear and exhausted by all she’d been through and Trixie knew that what she needed more than anything else was the reassurance of her own bed and familiar surroundings. Once they were home she was sure she would calm down.
‘If you take her home then you must bring her back tomorrow so that we can look at her arm again after the swelling has gone down and make sure that there’s no hidden damage. Whatever you do, don’t unwrap the bandages or let them get wet. The desk clerk will tell you what time we will want to see you, so make sure you’re punctual, understand?’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was almost ten o’clock by the time Trixie and Cilla reached Virgil Street. Trixie was hoping there would be time to make something to eat and get Cilla off to bed before Daisy and her father came in so that they wouldn’t see her heavily bandaged arm and start asking questions.
She felt utterly exhausted and wanted to get to bed herself. She also wanted to be on her own to try and work out what she was going to tell Mr Browning. She decided she’d have to go along there first thing in the morning and explain to him what had happened before he heard it from someone else.
Cilla was restless and kept Trixie awake for most of the night. The following day it was still quite dark when she pulled herself out of bed and started to dress. As she peeped out of the window at the miserable grey October morning she shivered not only with the cold but also with the thought of the meeting with Mr Browning that lay ahead.
She waited till she heard her father leave for work before she roused Cilla. She wanted to get her dressed so that they could be on their way before Daisy was up and started asking questions about Cilla’s bandaged arm.
Af
ter a hurried breakfast, Trixie cleared away their dishes as quickly as possible. She was anxious to be at Mr Browning’s before he saw his first client.
By the time they were ready to leave it had started to rain and there was such a high wind that she didn’t think it was any good taking an umbrella. Yet, if she didn’t do so then Cilla would get wet and if she arrived at the hospital with her bandages all wet they were bound to be told off by the sister.
As she had foreseen, they were turning the corner into Cazneau Street when a sudden gust caught the umbrella and swept it from her hand and she knew it was useless to try and recover it.
If only Jake was there he would have chased after it and he would probably have offered to carry Cilla as far as Cazneau Street, she thought mutinously.
Why did she always think of Jake whenever she had a problem when she ought to think of Andrew? she wondered. It was probably because Andrew was never there to help her like Jake was and he didn’t have much time for Cilla either. How on earth would she manage without the O’Malleys – especially Jake, who was always so kind and understanding to Cilla as well as to her?
They were both soaked through by the time they reached Mr Browning’s. His response when Trixie told him what had happened the evening before was not very understanding.
‘I thought you said that your sister would sit quietly while you got on with your work?’
‘She was sitting quietly in the chair; it was where she always sat,’ Trixie explained.
Mr Browning frowned heavily. ‘You should never have let her sit there in the first place. If it is damaged in any way then I shall hold you responsible.’
‘The fireman was very careful to make sure that it wasn’t. Only my sister’s arm came to harm,’ Trixie defended. ‘She had to be taken to hospital and I am on my way to take her back there so that they can make sure that there is nothing broken. It was so swollen last night that they were unable to examine it properly.’
Love Changes Everything Page 24