by Sue Lawrence
But first, Jessie laid the knife and candle on the ground and examined the little woollen thing. She saw it was a tiny little sock, a knitted baby’s bootee, made from soft white wool. It had flecks of black on it, probably from the sooty coal below. She blew these away. The bootee had a little drawstring, a narrow ribbon, for tightening around a tiny ankle. Jessie pulled this open and poked her fingers around. She felt something inside. She pulled it out. Jessie’s eyes opened wide as she saw what she held in her hand.
Chapter 23
1982
Craig set down the teapot and pushed a mug of tea over to Rona.
‘Rona, love, we’ve been fully up and running, what, three months now? Are you happy with everything? It’s just, you seem a bit, kind of, stressed.’
Rona lifted her tea and sipped. ‘I’m fine. It’s just sometimes I wonder if we’ve taken on too much. Not just financially, but our workloads – I mean, it’s only eight weeks till the baby’s due and …’
‘I know. Great, isn’t it?’ He bent back down over his newspaper.
Was he actually looking forward to the baby coming along? Rona had no idea. He rarely asked her how she was feeling. She hoped he’d show her some more affection. Admittedly, she must look like one of the seven dwarves, with these ugly maternity dungarees taut over her massive tummy, but there was little choice – the flowing maternity smocks made her look like a marquee. A pregnant woman was never going to be attractive to someone who’d often stated how much he loathed the sight of a fat woman.
She sighed. ‘How on earth are we going to run this place if I’m busy in here with a little one? Mum can only come down from Stornoway for a couple of weeks. She can’t stay forever.’
‘I thought we’d agreed Martha would help more with the admin side of things?’
Rona glanced over the top of her mug at her husband. ‘I’m not sure about that now. I’m not sure about her at all, to be honest.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘We know nothing about her. Not a thing. She could be a crook or, I don’t know, a murderer or …’
‘What? She’s really efficient and gets stuff done and I think she’s probably lonely, living in that house all by herself.’
‘Mrs Bell reckons she’s hiding a big secret. Has a fancy man living with her.’
Craig laughed. ‘Ha, I don’t think so. Why on earth would Mrs Bell think that?’
‘She told Ian that Martha is flirty with every man she meets and she’s convinced there’s someone living there.’
‘God, Rona, how’d that be possible?’
‘Sometimes it looks like she’s flirting with you.’
Craig burst out laughing. ‘Don’t be bloody ridiculous. She must be twice my age!’
‘Hardly.’
Rona downed her tea and held out her mug for a refill.
Rona watched Craig head to the fridge for milk; she noticed two wine bottles in the fridge door. ‘Where did that wine come from?’
‘Oh, must’ve been Martha. She obviously doesn’t approve of our choice of wine.’
As Craig topped up her tea Rona said, ‘Why are there so many empty bottles out the back, by the way? The residents aren’t drinking in their rooms, are they?’
‘No idea. Ask the carers.’ Craig pulled back his sleeve to look at his watch. ‘God, look at the time, I said I’d help Mr Donaldson get dressed this morning. He doesn’t like the female carers doing it. Ian’s the only man on and Mrs Bell won’t let him out of her sight!’
‘Mrs Bell’s becoming a bit of a busybody. She told Ian we got the house cheaply as there were some dodgy goings-on last century.’
Craig chuckled. ‘Dodgy goings-on … the woman’s going a bit crazy, if you ask me.’
Rona wrapped her hands round the mug. ‘True.’ She glanced up at her husband. ‘Craig, what d’you do in here when I go to bed at nine o’clock every night? I have no idea even what time you come to bed.’
He shrugged. ‘Watch telly, read a book.’
Rona steeled herself. ‘You’re not drinking again, darling, are you?’
‘Don’t be daft.’ He bent over to kiss the top of Rona’s head then headed out of the room.
Rona gazed at the door Craig had just closed behind him. In the few years she had known Craig, she had never seen him read a book. Ever.
Rona emerged from the annexe to find Mrs Bell, leaning both hands on her stick, standing by the cellar door.
‘Ah, Rona, just the person I’d hoped to find.’ She pointed to the painting. ‘I’ve just worked out who this portrait is of. Have you read the chapters on the original owners of the house yet?’
‘Sorry, Mrs Bell, I meant to read it all last night but I had to go to bed early – I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I plan to have a good look tonight.’
‘Well, when you come to the part about the family, see if you agree: I think this is one of the daughters. I seem to recall they both liked to paint. Perhaps one of them painted this portrait. I’ve forgotten their names. Was one a Eugenie or something noble like that? Quite a grand family, well respected. Until the scandal, of course, then everything changed.’
Still unsettled by her conversation with Craig, Rona wasn’t in the mood for one of Mrs Bell’s stories. She heard the coffee trolley. ‘Can I take you to the lounge? Would you like to sit there for your morning coffee?’
‘Yes, that would be fine, thank you.’
Rona walked her to the lounge door and ushered her in. Betty Chalmers was already in the chair Mrs Bell liked to sit in, by the window.
‘Ah, Mrs Bell, will you join me for morning coffee?’
Mrs Bell bristled. That woman with her airs and graces was sitting in her seat. She tapped her stick over towards the window. ‘Thank you, Mrs Chalmers, I can allow myself a quick cup and a biscuit then must return to my knitting.’
‘What are you knitting?’
‘Baby bootees. I just started last night and they are coming along.’
‘Bootees?’ Rona asked.
‘Yes, Rona. Someone must knit things for your baby’s arrival, surely?’
Rona smiled then headed for the trolley. Ian was lifting up a piece of home-made shortbread with tongs outside Mr Burnside’s room.
‘Ian, you’ve still not given me that reference from your last job. We’re really pleased with your work obviously, but I still need it for the admin file.’
‘No problem, Rona, I’ll get onto them again. I wonder if they’ve changed address, though. Maybe they’re not getting my letters.’
‘I see. Ian, I wanted to ask you something else.’ She leant towards him and whispered, ‘Have you noticed any of the residents drinking in their rooms? I mean, alcohol. There’s an awful lot of empties round the back.’
Ian concentrated on pouring coffee. ‘No, I don’t think so. I thought it wasn’t allowed?’
‘It’s not, really, which is why I was asking.’
‘Apart from the sherry most of them have at supper, I haven’t noticed any of them drinking.’
He stirred a teaspoon of sugar into the coffee and lifted the cup and saucer with the plate of shortbread. ‘Mustn’t let Mr Burnside’s coffee get cold.’
Rona walked back along the corridor to the office, frowning. What on earth was niggling her? Craig was right, she was stressed about something but could not pin down what it was.
Chapter 24
1899
‘Bertha, what were you speaking to Annie Rae about?’
‘Nothing, Jessie.’ Bertha looked away.
‘Why did she have a pile of rags in her hand?’
‘She was asking me why I don’t need them any more.’
‘And what did you say?’
Bertha hung her head low and mumbled something.
‘Don’t say anything to her, ever. She’s trouble, Bertha.’ Jessie patted her friend’s chubby arm and handed her the soap. They were washing their faces at the basin of cold water. ‘You didn’t tell her why I told you that you don’t nee
d the rags any more, did you? You never mentioned a baby, did you?’
Bertha shook her head then splashed her face over and over with the water.
Jessie leant in towards her. ‘I’ve got a plan, Bertha. I’ll tell you about it once we’re in bed.’ She handed her the towel and turned round to find Annie Rae right behind her. She must have crept up when Bertha was splashing noisily in the water.
‘What plan have you got, Winzie?’ Annie Rae smirked.
‘None of your business, Annie,’ she said, trying to get past.
Annie Rae grabbed Jessie’s wrist and leant in towards her. Her rotting breath made Jessie want to gag. Annie Rae sneered and tightened her grip. ‘I don’t think Matron would want to hear about your plan, would she?’
Jessie yanked her arm away and stomped off towards the mattress, turning to mutter to Bertha, ‘Hurry up.’
Later, when the candle had been blown out and Jessie was sure Annie Rae was on her mattress at the other end of the dormitory and couldn’t hear, she nudged Bertha. ‘Right, are you listening?’
‘Yes, Jessie.’
‘I explained about how the baby is growing inside you and how Matron will send you to Leith to work down at the docks which would be the most horrible thing in the world. I’ve told you what happens to girls who end up there.’
Bertha started to snivel.
‘So we’ve got to get you out of here.’
‘But how can we? The gates are all locked, the wall’s too high and … Anyway, where would I go?’
‘Just listen. There’s a tunnel from the coal cellar; it goes all the way down to the beach. I’ll tell you where to go to get to my house. I’ll give you a note for my sister Dorrie and …’
‘No, Jessie, you have to come. I can’t go all that way on my own.’
‘But I’ll give you something, something to tell Dorrie all about you. She’ll see you all right and—’
‘I can’t go on my own,’ Bertha hissed.
‘Quiet.’ Jessie put a hand over Bertha’s mouth. ‘This is what’s going to happen. You’ll go down the tunnel. I’ll tell you exactly where to go once you’re through the end.’
Bertha’s hot breath puffed against Jessie’s palm. She was panting fast. Jessie released her hand.
‘Can’t do it alone, Jessie, I can’t.’
Jessie sighed. Bertha’s narrow grey eyes were filled with tears. Bertha was right, she could not do this herself. Jessie would have to go with her. ‘All right, Bertha, it’s all right, we’ll go together, but you know you have to leave, don’t you? Otherwise you know what Matron will do to you?’
Bertha nodded.
‘It’s got to be soon. In the next couple of days. The coalman doesn’t come till Friday so we’ll get down the tunnel all right. I’ll take you to Dorrie then I’ll have to get back here.’ She patted her friend’s hair. ‘It’s going to be fine. Just don’t say a thing at work tomorrow and if Annie Rae speaks to you, ignore her. D’you understand?’
‘Yes, Jessie. I won’t say a thing.’ She yawned. ‘I’m awful tired, Jessie. Can we go to sleep now?’
Jessie was at the kitchen sink, her back to the door, when she heard a noise. She turned round to see Matron standing there, a stern look on her face.
Jessie continued washing up while Molly put down the onion she was peeling. She and Jessie had just been joking about how onions always make you cry.
‘Is there anything I can get you, Matron?’ Molly wiped her hands on her apron.
‘No, thank you, Molly.’ She coughed. ‘It is Jessie Mack I wish to speak to. Send her along to me, please.’
Jessie swallowed and lifted her wet hands from the washing-up water. She had just finished the last plate and still had to dry them all.
‘You’ve not done anything wrong, Jessie?’ Molly frowned.
Jessie shook her head. ‘No. I’ve done everything properly since that last time. It’s maybe news from home.’
‘I hope it’s not bad news again, Jessie. Off you go.’
Jessie walked along the corridor, gazing up through the bars in the high windows. She saw a cloud gust past in the fading early evening light. It didn’t look like rain, but she could hear the wind getting up outside. As usual, inside was dingy and dim.
She knocked on Matron’s door and waited.
‘Enter.’
Jessie walked towards Matron who, unusually, was not at her desk but stood by the fire which was blazing in the grate. Apart from the Governor’s room, this was the only room that had a fire in its grate. The kitchen was usually warm because of the stove, but everywhere else was frigid.
Matron examined Jessie who, even though only fourteen, was as tall as her. Despite the meagre food, she had grown much bigger since she had been here.
‘Jessie Mack, I have heard some rumours about Bertha which have not pleased me. Before I speak to her, I need to know if there is any truth in the matter, which seems so improbable. For such a simple thing.’
Jessie gulped and fixed her gaze on the flickering flames by Matron’s side.
‘Do you know if Bertha continues to use rags every month?’
‘No, I don’t know. Sorry.’
‘Is this not the kind of information you share, as bed-mates?’
Jessie shook her head. Matron’s expression was still stern.
‘So you have never discussed this matter with her?’
‘No, Matron.’ Jessie clasped her hands together tightly round her back.
‘I see. Annie Rae believes you have some information on this subject and also have formulated some, as she calls it, “plan”, to help Bertha.’
‘I don’t know anything about that.’ Jessie’s fingernails dug into the palms of her hands. ‘Sorry, Matron.’
‘I see. Well, since Annie Rae is not the most reliable of informants, I shall interview Bertha myself as soon as possible.’
There was a knock at the door.
‘Wait!’ she bellowed, before drawing closer to Jessie. ‘If, however, I find out that either you or Bertha have been lying or covering something up, then I do not need to spell out the consequences, do I?’
There was another knock.
‘Come in,’ Matron shouted crossly.
Molly stood there, a tray in her hands. ‘Sorry to bother you, Matron, but it’s liver and onions tonight and I don’t want it to get cold. Doesn’t taste nice cold. I’ll set it up in the Governor’s room as usual, shall I?’
‘Thank you, Molly.’ Matron turned to Jessie. ‘One more misdemeanour, Jessie Mack, and you know what will happen.’ She stood up and swept off along the corridor, leaving Jessie standing all alone.
Jessie wiped down the table at the end of her long day and ran her forearm over her brow. She kept thinking of Matron’s talk with her and was mulling over whether she should risk everything by trying to get Bertha out. If she did manage to get Bertha down the tunnel to Dorrie for help, that would be the best solution for Bertha. Her belly was beginning to bulge so Matron would soon notice, even if Bertha managed to lie about the rags. But what would happen the following day when Matron realised she was missing? She would surely blame Bertha’s only friend, Jessie. And how could Dorrie help Bertha? Perhaps Bertha could stay down in Newhaven and see if Dorrie could find her somewhere to live. Dorrie had that friend along in Granton. Maybe Bertha could go there, find a job. She could learn to gut fish, though she probably wouldn’t be as fast as the other girls. Or Dorrie might come up with another plan, to send her somewhere far away.
A sound outside the door broke Jessie’s train of thought. There was no one else around. Everyone was finishing their evening work in the workrooms and Molly had two hours off, having been allowed out to visit her sister who was ill. Jessie tiptoed towards the door and peeked out. In the dim light she could see two figures whispering. As her eyes adjusted to the light she saw that the one with her back to her had a long pigtail. Effie stood by the wall, scratching at it with her long fingernails, and Matron stood opposite her, one ha
nd at the pearl choker at her neck and the other removing Effie’s hand from the wall and placing it by her side each time she scratched.
‘I’m not going to ask you again. Where is it? Tell me, where did you hide it? Surely you must remember.’
Effie said nothing, just shook her head, her plait quivering down her back.
Matron grasped Effie’s hand as she tried to claw at the wall and leant in towards her. ‘He is not going to hurt you. All we need is for you to tell me where you have hidden it.’
There was another noise at the far end of the corridor and Jessie peeked out to see the Governor storming towards them. His footsteps resounded loudly as he strode along. He stopped abruptly when he saw Effie standing behind Matron. The Governor stroked his pointed grey beard and Jessie noticed, not for the first time, how red and bulbous his nose was. Effie began to shake. Her entire body trembled.
‘Euphemia, my dear, how are you tonight?’
Jessie’s eyes widened. She had never heard the Governor speak in such a gentle manner, nor had she ever seen him smile. And why did he call her that name and not Effie? He stretched out his hand to her but Effie shook her head again, her pigtail swinging as she continued to stare at the floor.
Matron turned to him. ‘She will not say. Perhaps you have forgotten where you hid it, Euphemia? Shall I fetch you some of Cook’s tasty cake? Would that help your memory?’
There was a loud thud as Molly came crashing through the front door, locked it and placed the huge key in her apron pocket. She looked round. ‘Oh, excuse me for interrupting.’