Charlie looked about in amazement when he returned almost two hours later and a smile formed at the corners of his mouth.
‘Blimey, sis, someone’s been busy,’ he said approvingly, stamping the snow from his boots.
‘There’s a room upstairs under the eaves and another one through that door there that are quite dry,’ she informed him, as she took the basket containing the shopping from him. ‘Although that room through there can’t be used till the roof is repaired. But for now, come and sit by the fire and get those wet clothes off; you look frozen through and you’ll be ill next if you don’t do as you’re told.’
Charlie’s teeth were chattering and his hands and feet were blue as Opal searched through the cart for a change of clothes for him. Once she’d found them, he turned his back and quickly scrambled into them, then made for the fire, glancing anxiously towards the two little ones. ‘So, how are they this morning?’
Opal shrugged helplessly. ‘Jack hasn’t even woken up and Susie doesn’t seem well either, but there’s not much we can do apart from try to keep them warm for now.’
He sighed and took a good look around the room. ‘Aw well, it looks like we could be here for a while in that case,’ he commented. ‘But it won’t be so bad when I fetch our things from Mrs Kitely’s.’
Opal snorted as she glanced at the storm that was raging outside. ‘And how are you going to do that in this weather? You’d never be able to drag the cart through this.’
She began to knead the flour and yeast to make some bread on the recently scrubbed wooden draining board that was attached to the sink. Once it was ready, she wet a cloth to throw over the dough and put it on to the hearth to prove. She’d discovered a pump over the sink that she assumed must lead to a well outside. At first, the water it yielded had been brown and rusty-looking, but now it was crystal clear, so she no longer had to rely on melting snow for their water supply, which was one blessing. She had also found the precious jar of home-made strawberry jam that she had made in the summer so they were assured of eating for today at least.
Susie stirred at that moment and raising herself up on to one elbow she croaked, ‘Me throat is sore, Opal.’
It was so unlike the placid child to complain that Opal was instantly concerned. ‘I’ll make you a nice warm cup of tea; that’ll help it,’ she soothed, pushing the kettle into the heart of the fire again. Jack was stirring too, but one glance into his sunken eyes made Opal’s heart sink. His cheeks were rosy red and his clothes were plastered to his thin frame with sweat. Charlie had also noticed and he chewed on his lip worriedly.
‘He’s burning up. What can we do for him?’
‘Get me a bowl of cool water, I’ll try sponging him down,’ Opal answered and he shot away to do as he was asked. For the next few hours they took turns dripping water into the children’s mouths and sponging their feverish brows, but as the afternoon began to darken it was clear that their efforts had been in vain. Opal herself was feeling unwell by then and although she didn’t mention it, Charlie had noticed the tell-tale flush in her cheeks.
‘Why don’t you lie down and have a rest?’ he suggested kindly. ‘I can see to the children.’
He grew even more concerned when Opal agreed. Usually she would have just kept going, so he knew she must be feeling ill. Curling up on the blankets next to the children, she drew herself into a ball and slipped into an exhausted sleep.
Charlie divided his attention between the two children, trying hard to swallow the knot of fear in his throat. What would he do if anything should happen to Opal? How would he cope? She had kept the family together ever since his father had died and somehow they had all come to rely on her. He tried not to look too far ahead; the future looked bleak at present and it was just too frightening. He knew he should be out looking for work, any work that brought a little money in, but how could he leave his family when they were all so ill?
Eventually, as Opal tossed and turned restlessly he lit the candles and tried to tempt the children with some of the fresh bread his sister had baked, but they both turned their heads away, and now he was so worried that even he had no appetite anymore.
The snow continued to fall, and all he could hear was the spitting of the wood on the fire and the whimpers of the children. He had no way of knowing what time it was, but after what seemed like a lifetime, Opal stirred and painfully dragged herself up on to one elbow.
‘How are you feeling now?’ Even as the words left his lips he realised how inadequate they were. Any fool could see that his sister was very poorly indeed. Beads of sweat were dripping into her eyes and yet she was shivering uncontrollably.
Rising hastily, he fetched her a cup of water but, after gulping at it greedily, she leaned over and vomited it back on to the floor.
‘I . . . I’m sorry,’ she croaked. ‘But I . . . I’m not feeling so good. Can you manage if I go back to sleep?’
‘Of course I can,’ he assured her, but inside he was quaking. Suddenly, he had to accept that he could well be about to lose the rest of his family, and it was a terrifying thought.
The night that followed was one of the longest Charlie had ever known as he ran amongst the invalids, offering cool drinks and whatever comfort he could. And when another eerie grey morning finally dawned, Charlie knew what he had to do; it was not going to be easy and he doubted that Opal would ever forgive him.
If she recovered, that was.
Chapter Three
With a heavy heart, Charlie laid a blanket in the bottom of the little wooden cart, then gently lifted first Jack and then Susie into it. They stirred before snuggling together, and he covered them with yet more blankets and made them as comfortable as he could. There was no way he could carry both of them, so the cart was the only option, and in the thick snow even that would not be easy. Even so, he knew that he had no choice. Both of them were seriously ill and there was a good chance they would die if they didn’t get the medical attention they both so desperately needed.
Next, he pulled his outdoor clothes on and, glancing towards his older sister, who was still curled into a ball, he whispered, ‘Forgive me, Opal. I don’t know what else to do.’
He opened the door, dragged the cart outside, and struggled away into the swirling snow.
‘Ah, you’re awake at last!’ Charlie sighed with relief as Opal opened her eyes and blinked up at him. He had sat beside her, sponging her brow and wetting her lips all night and now he was so tired he felt as if he could have slept for a month.
‘Wh-what time is it?’ she asked hoarsely.
He grinned. ‘Well, I’m not sure what time it is but it’s two days since the last time you asked,’ he told her.
Confused, she frowned. ‘What? I’ve been lying here for two days?’
He nodded as she took the cup of water he was holding out to her. She took a long drink and he was relieved to see that she kept it down this time. And then, what he had been dreading happened – she looked towards the fireside and asked, ‘But where are the children?’
He gulped. ‘They weren’t getting any better,’ he told her defensively. ‘So I did what I had to do . . . I admitted them into the workhouse two days ago.’
‘You did what?’ She gaped at him in disbelief, her lovely brown eyes huge in her pale face. ‘But why, Charlie? How could you?’
He stuck his chin out stubbornly. ‘What else could I have done? I was afraid they were going to die and I was at my wits’ end. I told you we might have to resort to that. It was the only place I could think of where they could at least get seen by a doctor and be looked after.’
‘But I never dreamed it would come to that. I need to go to them . . . they’ll be so frightened.’ She gasped as she struggled to sit up, but she was so weak that she soon dropped back on to the blanket.
‘Just lie still,’ Charlie told her, gently taking control again. ‘As soon as you’re feeling better, we’ll see what we can do about getting them out of there, but for now you need
to get your strength back.’
He moved to the table and sawed off a wedge of the bread she had baked a few days ago. It was slightly stale but better than nothing and, seeing the sense in what he said, Opal tried to chew on it. She didn’t feel hungry at all and the bread tasted like sawdust, but she forced herself to swallow it, knowing she needed to get her strength up – not just for herself but to get the children back.
Charlie nodded approvingly and moved to place another log on the fire.
‘Where did those come from?’ she asked, pointing at the pile of kindling by the fire. She could see that they had used all the old broken bits of wood that had been scattered about the floor when they first arrived.
Charlie smiled. ‘Ah well, we dropped lucky there. I went to have a root about outside and found a log store almost full. How lucky was that, eh? Whoever lived here last must have left them behind and there’s enough to keep us going for quite a while, so we have water and warmth at least. Now that you’re awake again, I’m goin’ to take the cart an’ fetch some of our stuff from Mrs Kitely’s an’ all. If I fetch our mattresses, we can put ’em on the beds you found and at least sleep a bit more comfortably. I’ll bring a couple of chairs as well, an’ we can use that table in there if we carry it through. It only needs a good scrub. I was going to do it but I’ve been too busy looking after you.’
Opal was still heartbroken at the thought of the little ones being in the formidable workhouse, but deep down she understood why Charlie had done it and now all she cared about was being able to get them out of there again.
‘You’ll never be able to drag the cart through that lot,’ she told him, glancing at the snow through the window.
‘Of course I will.’ He was already dragging his boots and outdoor clothes on. ‘I’ll just bring back what I can for now. But will you be all right on your own while I’m gone?’
She nodded wearily. She still felt as weak as a kitten, but was much better than she had been. ‘I shall be fine. But mind how you go.’
Charlie dragged the cart to the door and was soon lost to sight, so she turned on her side and sank into sleep again.
The next time she woke, she found that not only was Charlie back but that he had been very busy indeed. He had dragged the table from the next room into the kitchen and two of her mother’s sturdy, ladder-back chairs now stood at either end of it. He had also brought in the iron-framed beds and laid their mattresses on them to one side of the fire and in the flickering candlelight, the room looked almost cosy.
‘Mrs Kitely sent us a pan o’ stew for our tea,’ he informed her gleefully, pointing to a pot that was simmering on the fire. ‘An’ she’s getting her Stan to bring the rest of our stuff on the horse an’ cart tomorrow. We can really start to make this place into a proper home then, an’ when you’re better an’ we’ve both got a job, we can get the children back. We might even manage it in time for Christmas. I mean, I know this place ain’t ideal but it’s better than nowt for now, an’ at least we’re warm an’ dry.’
Opal managed to raise a weak smile, although her heart was breaking as she thought of Jack and Susie. They must be so afraid surrounded by strangers in such a forbidding place, but there was nothing she could do about it for now; she knew Charlie had only resorted to such desperate measures because he was worried about them.
Charlie filled a bowl with the stew and carried it to the table, saying, ‘Come on, sis, if you want to get your strength back, you have to eat. Dip some bread in it – then we might be able to make the stew stretch to two days. I’ll help you to the table, then when you’re ready we’ll get you into a proper bed.’
When Opal tried to rise, the room swam about her. She felt as if the floor was rising up to meet her and she had to cling to her brother. She knew that every day she lay about would be another day she would be forced to be away from Jack and Susie. Even so, it was an effort even to lift her spoon; but with Charlie’s encouragement she managed to swallow a few mouthfuls and found, surprisingly, that she did feel a little better with something in her stomach.
‘Right, it’s into bed with you,’ Charlie said bossily when he could see that she was struggling, and she went willingly. It was nice to be lying on her own mattress again and she was soon fast asleep once more.
Charlie stared at her approvingly. He felt that she had turned a corner and for now, sleep was the best medicine she could have – but knowing her as he did, he had no doubt she would soon be up and about again.
As promised, Mr Kitely arrived mid-morning the following day with the rest of their possessions on the back of his cart.
‘Had a right old game gettin’ here, I did,’ he told Charlie when he hurried out to meet him. ‘I didn’t think the old mare were goin’ to make it across the fields in all this, but here we are.’
He jumped down from the wooden seat at the front of the cart. He was surprisingly lithe for a man of his size; Mr Kitely was well over six foot tall and almost as broad as he was high, with a ruddy complexion and a thick thatch of silver-grey hair, which was now covered in a cap. Thankfully it had stopped snowing, and the fields around them sparkled like shattered glass in the weak winter sun.
Taking off his cap, he scratched his head as he surveyed the old cottage. ‘By ’eck, lad, looks like you’ve got your work cut out if you’re plannin’ to stay ’ere,’ he commented, gazing at the gaping hole in the roof. ‘Could yer not find somewhere a bit better?’
‘Aye, I could if I paid the rent wi’ brass buttons,’ Charlie answered wryly. ‘But it’s not as bad as it looks. There’s only that one room with a hole in the roof an’ now we’ve got our stuff we’ll be a lot more comfortable.’
‘If you say so.’ Stan Kitely thought otherwise, but wisely kept his opinion to himself as he and Charlie began to unload the cart. As far as he was concerned, it was a crying shame that the Sharps had come to this. Both their parents had been good, hard-working, God-fearing people, and to see their children in such a plight almost broke his heart.
‘The missus sent another pan o’ stew an’ some fresh bread,’ he remembered, once the cart was unloaded. He lifted a basket from beneath the seat and handed it over. ‘An’ ’ere . . . it ain’t much but happen it’ll get you a bit o’ food in till yer get some work.’ He pressed a shiny silver shilling into Charlie’s hand and the lad felt himself flushing. He wanted to refuse it – he still had his pride after all – but there was Opal to think about as well, and he could buy a fair bit of food with a bob.
‘Th-thanks, Mr Kitely, I appreciate it,’ he stammered. ‘But can we consider it a loan? Just till we get back on us feet, like.’
‘If that’s what yer like, son.’ The kindly man slapped him on the shoulder. ‘But I’d best be off now, afore it starts snowin’ again.’ Even in the short time he had been there, the sun had disappeared and the sky was low and grey again. ‘Take care o’ yourselves an’ keep in touch.’ He touched his cap and geed the horse up. ‘Ta-ra fer now.’
‘Ta-ra . . . an’ thanks again,’ Charlie shouted, as the old horse dragged the cart back the way it had come. He stood there for a time, staring down at the money in his hand and wondering how they had come to this, before turning and wearily making his way back inside the little tumbledown cottage.
Three days later, Opal was feeling strong enough to get out of bed again, although she still tired very easily and had to take her time. Even so, she managed to hang some curtains at the small window and set out the rest of their furniture – not that there was much, just a small dresser, their beds and two fireside chairs. The effort had taken it out of her small frame, and as her brother looked at her, his heart was heavy as he realised that, although she had taken on responsibility for them all, she was little more than a child herself.
‘It’s lookin’ more like home now, ain’t it?’ Charlie said, hoping to lift her spirits, but she merely nodded.
Her head was still full of thoughts of Susie and Jack and she felt frustrated that she still did
n’t feel strong enough to go and see them at least.
Now that Opal was up and about again, Charlie had spent most of the last couple of days going out to search for work. One big house near the town centre had paid him to clear the snow from their drive, which, added to the money Mr Kitely had given him, would provide them with enough money to eat for the next few days, but as yet he’d found nothing full-time and he was growing increasingly frustrated.
‘I don’t know why the farmer couldn’t have kept me on,’ he grumbled to Opal.
‘It was probably because if he had he would have had to let us stay in the cottage,’ she responded bitterly.
He nodded glumly. He’d worked on the farm with his father since leaving school and wasn’t skilled at any other work, which limited his chances of finding another job.
Christmas was now just three days away, and Opal was eager to have the children home, although it was looking increasingly unlikely that they would be able to.
‘I wonder how they are,’ she fretted, as they sat either side of the fire that night.
Charlie quickly averted his gaze. He had been very careful to tell her as little as possible about how he had been treated when he delivered the children to the workhouse.
Miss Frost, the matron, had been a cold, hard woman who had stared at him as if he was so much muck on the bottom of her shoe, but he hadn’t dared to tell Opal that. Tall and well made, she had steel-grey eyes that seemed to be able to see into his very soul, and grey hair that she wore in a tight bun in the nape of her neck. This, added to the plain, grey dress and the heavy chatelaine she wore about her waist, made her a formidable sight.
Once he had carried the children inside, she had looked at them with disdain.
The Winter Promise Page 2