From then on, the days and nights blended into one, and life felt like a never-ending nightmare. After being confined in the dark, the men’s tempers grew short and Charlie was sure that had they not all been kept in chains fights would have broken out. As it was, all the men could do was give out verbal tongue-lashings. And each day, when they were allowed a short break on deck for a shuffle about, the men were blinded by the bright light and had to squint to see where they were going. It was only thanks to these trips on deck that Charlie was able to keep a sense of how long they’d been at sea.
Charlie had thought conditions on the ship couldn’t get any worse – but almost two weeks into the voyage they sailed into a storm and the men below were tossed about their prison quarters like corks. Charlie managed to wedge himself against the hull, where he lay steeped in misery; he tried to conjure up the faces of his beloved family to keep him going, but it proved impossible, and his despair deepened. Now it felt like even his memories were being stripped from him, and hopeless tears leaked from his eyes.
Some of the men were thrown so violently about the room that they suffered broken bones and were taken away to the ship’s doctors’ infirmary, and Charlie knew he wasn’t alone when he found he was envious of them. To Charlie and those left below, it felt as if they were in a living hell and only the thought of returning home one day kept him going. For Opal’s sake, he was determined to survive!
‘At least they get to see daylight,’ one of the prisoners grumbled, and a murmur of agreement rippled amongst them. They were surviving on almost starvation rations, though, and soon even talking took too much energy, and the men lay groaning, each lost in their own miserable world, as they gradually grew weaker and more of them fell ill.
Then one morning, there was a cry of disgust from one of the men. ‘’Ere, I reckon this chappie next to me is dead. A bloody rat was gnawin’ on ’is feet and ’e didn’t move an inch.’
Someone went to hammer on the door, but it was a few minutes before a guard shouted, ‘What do yer want? What’s goin’ on in there?’
‘We’ve got a body ’ere,’ the man answered. ‘An’ it’s going to begin to stink like ’igh ’eaven!’
‘Leave it where it is. We’ll move it when yer come up fer yer exercise,’ the guard answered nonchalantly. ‘We’ll lob ’im over the side o’ the ship then.’
The man at the door gritted his teeth with frustration, but there was nothing he could do, so he shuffled back to his place and sank down again.
Charlie stared dully at the dead man’s motionless body and wondered whether this would be his fate too. To his surprise, the prospect didn’t worry him, because right now the thought of being released from this torment and floating freely in the ocean seemed like heaven.
Chapter Thirteen
Two days after arriving at Mrs King’s, Opal was summoned to the day room, where she found the old lady waiting for her with her dressmaker.
‘Mrs Compton is here to take your measurements, Opal,’ Mrs King advised her. ‘Kindly take her to your room where it may be done in privacy.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Opal turned to lead the woman away, but then, remembering what she had been told, she hastily turned to dip her knee. The lessons on good manners and etiquette that Mrs King was determined to teach her had begun, and there was so much to remember that Opal’s mind was reeling.
Her duties began at seven o’clock each morning when she rose, washed and dressed; then it was her job to go down to the kitchen and prepare a breakfast tray for her employer. It had to be set just so with a pretty, crisp, white tray cloth and a single bloom in a bud vase. She would then add the cup and saucer, sugar, milk and teapot and make the toast, which had to be just very slightly browned on the fire. The first morning she had been scolded and sent back to the kitchen to try again because the old lady insisted the bread was burned. She had clearly never known what it was like to be hungry, Opal had thought, for there had been times over the last months since the death of their parents that she and Charlie would have been glad of it. Thoughts of her brother had started the tears falling again.
Following breakfast, her next job was to sort out the clothes Mrs King wished to wear that day, lay them out for her and then help her to wash and get dressed. Opal had found this quite embarrassing as Mrs King had no qualms about her seeing her undressed, but then Opal supposed she was used to people helping her and so she had just got on with it.
Finally, Opal had to dress her hair, and she was somewhat struggling with that.
‘I think I shall wear it in a French roll today,’ the woman had told her on the first morning as she sat at her dressing table and Opal had stared at her blankly. What was a French roll?
Seeing her hesitation, Mrs King had tutted irritably.
‘You twist the hair like so and pin it into place,’ she had told her, trying to demonstrate and eventually Opal had managed it, but it brought home to her just how much there was to learn.
‘There is much I need to teach you if you are to take your place in genteel society,’ Mrs King had warned her, and so the lessons continued.
Once Mrs King had had her breakfast and was dressed and settled in the day room, Opal was free to enjoy her own meal in the kitchen with the servants, where she felt much more at home.
Mrs Tranter the cook was a kindly soul and Belle, the young maid who had first showed her to her room, went out of her way to be friendly to her. There was also Tilly, the general maid, whose job it was to clean and light the fires each morning before anyone rose, and Nancy, the kitchen maid; and then there was Ned, who tended the horses and did the outside work. Finally, there was Mrs Deep, the housekeeper, but she dined in her own rooms.
‘We used to ’ave a butler an’ all, but when ’e retired last year the mistress didn’t replace ’im,’ Belle had informed her with a giggle, her mouth full of scrambled egg. ‘It’s just as well cos he were very strict.’
After breakfast, Opal would then attend Mrs King to see if she had any visitors planned for that day for morning coffee. Visitors would leave little cards telling what day and time they would be calling and it was Opal’s job to prepare a small tea trolley that Belle would wheel in when the visitors were seated.
‘You will sit quietly to one side of the room,’ Mrs King informed her. ‘And you will not participate in the conversation unless you are spoken to, but sit with your hands folded neatly in your lap like so.’ She had demonstrated and Opal had nodded. ‘When I give you a slight nod, pour the tea or coffee for myself and the visitors. Remember, first you pour the tea or coffee, then add a little milk and offer the visitor the sugar bowl so that they may help themselves. White sugar for tea, brown sugar for coffee, and never splash any into the saucers! And then you will offer whatever biscuits or pastries Cook has sent in and ensure that their cups are refilled should they wish them to be.’
‘Yes, Mrs King,’ Opal had answered, feeling daunted. The cups and saucers were so delicate that she hardly dared handle them and she was afraid that her hands would shake so much she would slosh the drinks everywhere.
Now, Opal led the dressmaker up to her room and stood patiently while the woman seemingly measured every inch of her.
‘Right, I think I have everything I need now,’ the stout little woman informed her eventually. ‘Let’s go back down and see what Mrs King has in mind for you.’
In the day room, they found Mrs King inspecting the fabric samples Mrs Compton had brought with her.
‘You will need two nice day gowns,’ Mrs King commented. ‘I quite like this navy material; it would look very smart trimmed with white. What do you think of it, Opal?’
‘I-it’s lovely,’ Opal gulped. It looked very expensive, but that didn’t seem to trouble Mrs King at all.
‘And this silvery grey is nice also,’ the woman went on as she fingered the material. ‘Perhaps that one could be trimmed with black. She will also need a selection of petticoats and underwear and perhaps two lawn nightdresses. Oh, an
d of course a warm cloak. Perhaps in a dark grey with a fur trimming to the hood.’
‘No trouble at all,’ Mrs Compton crooned. They discussed styles, although Opal left that to them. She had no idea what was fashionable and what was not and truthfully would have been more than happy with the cast-off gowns she was wearing at present.
‘And what about an evening gown?’ Mrs Compton asked. ‘Should you entertain guests at night, the day gowns would not really be suitable.’
‘Hm, I dare say you’re right.’ Mrs King narrowed her eyes and stared at Opal for a few moments before asking, ‘What colour would you suggest for her?’
‘I think with her black hair and those lovely brown eyes she would look quite delightful in a sky blue,’ the woman answered. ‘Perhaps in a nice heavy satin, slightly off the shoulder and not too low cut as would befit her age? I could trim it with silk roses, perhaps in a nice pale pink colour, but keep it fairly simple, tight to the waist with a wonderful full skirt.’
‘That sounds quite satisfactory,’ Mrs King told her with a smile.
‘In that case I shall get started on the order immediately.’ Mrs Compton began to gather up her samples and once she had departed Opal hurried off to the kitchen to prepare the tea trolley in readiness for the visitors Mrs King was expecting for morning coffee.
This would be her first experience of waiting on visitors and she was feeling nervous.
‘Don’t worry,’ Belle said kindly as she noticed Opal’s hand shaking. ‘Just relax and you’ll be fine. Oh, hold on, there’s the door. I bet that’s them now.’ She rushed away to answer the door.
After a final glance at the trolley to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, Opal hurried back to the day room where Mrs King was waiting.
‘Now, just remember, follow my lead and only speak when you are spoken to,’ Mrs King warned her, as Opal took her place at the side of her chair.
Opal nodded just as Belle opened the door to announce, ‘Miss Partridge and Mrs Partridge to see you, Mrs King.’
‘Ah, Esther and dear Dorothy, do come in,’ Mrs King said as a pair of enormously fat ladies waddled into the room. Opal assumed they were mother and daughter as one was an older version of the other, and she was proven to be right when they took a seat on the small sofa opposite Mrs King and removed their gloves.
‘How are you both?’ Mrs King asked when the greetings had been dispensed with.
‘Oh, I am quite well, dear,’ the older woman said with a curious glance at Opal. ‘But my poor Esther has had a dreadful cold, the poor child. But then she has always been a delicate girl, as you know.’
Opal had to press her lips together firmly to stop herself from giggling. The younger woman was far from being a child. Opal judged her to be in her late twenties to early thirties and she was so solidly built that she looked the total opposite to delicate.
‘But now tell me do, dear Winifred, who is this young lady?’
‘Ah, this is my new companion, Miss Opal Sharp.’ Mrs King introduced Opal.
She instantly stood and dipped her knee as she had been told to and said politely, ‘How do you do, Mrs Partridge, Miss Partridge?’
‘Really?’ The older woman looked astounded while the younger eyed Opal coldly, although Opal had no idea what she might have done to offend her. ‘Whatever made you choose one so young?’
‘I happen to like having young people around me,’ Mrs King informed her, and glancing towards Opal she told her, ‘Perhaps you would like to ring the bell for the maid now? I’m sure our visitors will be ready for some refreshments.’
Opal quickly did as she was asked, before taking her place discreetly beside Mrs King’s chair.
Belle appeared wheeling the trolley. ‘Will that be all, ma’am?’
‘Yes, Belle, for now. I shall ask Opal to pour the drinks.’
As Belle turned, she gave a sneaky grin and a wink towards Opal who stepped forward to ask the visitors, ‘Would you like tea or coffee?’
Somehow, she managed to pour all the drinks and offer round the tiny pastries Cook had made without mishap and then, as she had been directed, she took a seat herself, listening with half an ear to the women’s idle chatter as she looked longingly towards the window.
Somewhere out there in the big wide world were her brother and sister, but would she ever see either of them again or was this to be her life from now on? Admittedly she was aware that she was lucky to have a warm roof over her head, nice clothes to wear and food aplenty to eat, but she would gladly have returned to being poor and living in the derelict cottage if she could only have had her family back.
‘Opal . . . did you hear me, child? Mrs Partridge is waiting for another drink!’ Mrs King’s voice brought her thoughts sharply back to the present and she started guiltily.
‘I’m so sorry, what may I get for you?’
The younger woman glared at her, and the reason why became apparent when she asked, ‘And how is dear Henry, Mrs King?’
Once more, Opal had to stifle the urge to laugh. So that was it: Esther was sweet on Mrs King’s son and saw her as a threat.
Well she has no need to worry on that score, Opal thought as she again passed the pastries to the woman. I have no designs on Henry King whatsoever; why he’s almost old enough to be my father and if she wants him she’s welcome to him. As if he would ever look at a girl from the slums like me anyway!
As Opal patiently waited for the woman to load her plate yet again, she smiled sweetly. It was no wonder she was the size of a house, she found herself thinking, before resuming her seat. Once more her eyes strayed to the window as she again thought of Susie and Charlie, and unbidden tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She blinked them away, knowing crying now would not please her new employer.
The day before, Mrs King had told Opal that Belle would be giving her lessons on how to set a table correctly and then Mrs King would be instructing her on deportment.
‘A young woman should never appear to walk into a room,’ she had told her. ‘She should appear to glide . . .’
Opal secretly wondered how learning all these useless things could ever be of any use to her, but she was there to please the old lady so she raised no objections, even though she found the majority of what she was being taught extremely boring. At least the lessons helped to pass the time – and time couldn’t pass quickly enough for her, because in seven years Charlie would hopefully come home again and they could be a family once more.
Chapter Fourteen
The body had still not been removed when Charlie became aware that the boy sitting next to him was crying. Charlie had made an effort to keep his head down and had barely spoken to anyone since he’d been on board, but even so he had noticed the boy before, because he always put himself forward when the guards chose two prisoners to empty the buckets. Due to his small size, though, he was never chosen. He looked to be no more than eleven or twelve years old and Charlie’s heart went out to him. He asked compassionately, ‘Are you all right, matie?’
‘I wants me ma,’ the boy whimpered.
Charlie was at a loss for words. ‘How come you ended up here?’ he asked eventually.
The boy sniffed, wincing as he lifted his arm to wipe his nose along the sleeve of his tatty shirt. The skin on his wrists and ankles was red raw where the chains had rubbed them. ‘I stole a loaf o’ bread. Me ma and the kids were starvin’, see? Me dad cleared off long ago an’ I couldn’t get no work an’ I couldn’t see ’em go ’ungry, could I?’
‘Course not.’ Charlie couldn’t believe that a young boy should be punished so severely for such a trivial crime. Stealing was stealing, admittedly, but a loaf of bread? It wasn’t as if the poor little mite had robbed a bank!
‘Look, stay by me, and I’ll try to keep an eye out for you,’ he said encouragingly. ‘What’s your name anyway?’
‘Jimmy . . . Jimmy Bennett, mister.’
Unable to place an arm around his shoulders thanks to the chains, Charl
ie nudged him gently. ‘I’m Charlie and I want you to try and cheer up. They’ll be bringing our food soon, I reckon, such as it is, and you need to eat so’s you can keep your strength up.’
The words had barely left his mouth when the door was unlocked and two guards appeared with a large basket of food, which they threw on to the floor before disappearing again. There was a mad scramble as Charlie and the other men made a rush for it and, as always, the weaker amongst them stood no chance. Most of it was gone by the time they even managed to get near the basket. It was survival of the fittest down there.
Charlie returned to his seat with a chunk of bread and a lump of salted beef and saw instantly that Jimmy hadn’t managed to get anything.
‘Here.’ He broke his meagre rations in half and handed half to Jimmy. ‘You’ll feel better when you’ve got something inside you. How long is it since you last ate?’
He felt Jimmy shrug his slight shoulders. ‘A couple o’ days I reckon . . . fanks.’
Charlie sighed. ‘I bet they feed the beasts they brought on board better than they feed us,’ he remarked in disgust, as he forced himself to chew on the tasteless lump of meat, which he discovered very quickly was mainly gristle and fat. Jimmy nodded and they ate the rest of the meal in silence.
They were starting to get used to the stench, but after being on deck they always realised how truly dreadful it was. Thankfully, because of their meagre diet, the men’s need to use the buckets had lessened, for they had so little in their stomachs; but it was still hard to force themselves to eat anything with the rancid stink all around them. And so it seemed to be proving for Jimmy, because not long after they’d finished their food, Jimmy leaned forward and vomited it back up again.
The Winter Promise Page 10