Lizzie and the Lost Baby

by Cheryl Blackford

  “You can’t steal a baby!” The words burst from Lizzie.

  “What did you say?”

  Lizzie lifted her chin. Anger chased the fear away. “You shouldn’t make us tell lies. And you shouldn’t steal that baby! It’s a horrible thing to do.”

  “And you should mind your elders and betters.”

  Madge ripped the paper into tiny squares and dropped them into the stove. “There’ll be no more letters unless I read them first. It’s bad enough that we have to put up with strangers in our homes, without them causing a packet of trouble.”

  Elsie was waiting for Lizzie by the back door. “Is something the matter?”

  Lizzie pushed past her, ran upstairs, and banged the bedroom door closed. She threw herself onto the bed and pummeled her fists into the pillow. She hated this miserable, miserable place.

  The bottom of the door scraped against the floor as Peter pushed it open. He peeked around the edge. “Elsie sent me to see what was the matter. Are you crying?”

  “No,” Lizzie said, and wiped her sleeve across her face.

  He walked over to the bed. “You look like you’re crying. Are you sad ’cos we can’t go home?”

  “Aren’t you?” Lizzie asked.

  He nodded. “I want to see Mummy and Daddy.”

  “Me too. But Daddy’s in the army now, so we can’t see him.”

  Peter stuck his thumb in his mouth. He looked small, forlorn, and lonely—just the way Lizzie felt. She pulled him onto the bed and put her arms around him. The relentless wind and rain beat against the window. If only they could go home and leave all the problems behind, but they were trapped here in Swainedale.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ELIJAH

  RAIN POUNDED on the canvas above Elijah’s head. A blustery wind blew damp chilly gusts through the open entrance to his shelter. He huddled against Jack for warmth and chewed raw potatoes to quell his hunger. He thought of Rose hemmed in by walls and a roof—a prisoner in the stone house until he could rescue her.

  As long as Lizzie kept her promise.

  He’d have to trust Lizzie; he’d no choice, but trusting a Gorgio—he’d never thought he’d resort to that.

  Rain kept him imprisoned in the grouse blind for a day and a night, but the next morning, golden spears of hopeful sunlight streaked a blush-pink sky. Everything looked fresh and clean, even the sheep.

  He crawled out of the shelter, stretched his cramped limbs, and squelched through the boggy mud. Today he would rescue Rose, whether Lizzie helped him or not.

  “Stay close,” he told Jack. “And mind you keeps quiet.”

  As furtive as a cat on the prowl, he followed the sheep paths through the heather and bracken, skirted the Baineses’ farm, and then crossed open fields toward the neat gardens behind the houses.

  He smelled the rank stench of pig coming from a brick building about halfway along the row of gardens. After squeezing into a gap behind the sty, he squatted down and waited.

  The sun burned the early morning dew off the grass and made the steaming pig manure stink. Elijah shifted position, releasing a flood of pins and needles into his numb feet. Where was Lizzie?

  Jack pricked up his ears and thumped his tail. Elijah held his finger against his lips. “No barking.”

  “Elijah?” Lizzie’s exaggerated whisper came from the other side of the pigsty.

  He peered around the corner. “I’m ’round the back.”

  Her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, making her face look thinner than ever. The skin beneath her red-rimmed eyes was the color of a faint bruise.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You haven’t changed yer mind, have you?”

  “Of course not.” She rubbed at her eyes, leaving a smear of dirt across her cheek. “Madge didn’t go to the village today. She’s in the house. Do you think we should wait another day?”

  “Not bloomin’ likely. I won’t wait a minute longer to get Rose back. We’ll do it now.”

  He unlatched the gate to the pen. Then he pulled a leafy carrot from a nearby row and waved it at the pig. “Come on, piggy, piggy. Come and get it.”

  The pig planted his front trotters on the ground and pushed himself up. He yanked the carrot from Elijah’s hand and devoured the treasure with a greedy snuffle. Then he peered at the open gate with his beady eyes. With a surprising burst of speed, he galloped into the garden, trampling carrot tops as he went.

  The pig rooted up potatoes, stripped tender green pods from the runner beans, and tugged at the turnips. Soon the garden was strewn with the wreckage of Fred’s vegetables.

  Lizzie gaped at the sudden devastation. “I’ll get Elsie before he ruins anything else. You hide in the coal shed.” She pointed to a single-story whitewashed addition at the back of the house.

  When Elijah pulled the door shut behind him, the darkness inside the coal shed was absolute—a dense clinging thing that pressed on his eyes and interfered with his balance. He stumbled against a mound of lumpy coal. Jack snuffled and wheezed beside him.

  Elijah heard a woman’s voice right outside the shed. “Oh, my Lord! What a mess!”

  He hardly dared breathe.

  A door creaked. A different woman spoke. “What’s going on, Elsie?”

  “The pig’s out, Madge. He’s in Fred’s garden.”

  Coal dust tickled Elijah’s nostrils. He twitched his nose. “Schnzzzzz!”

  He pinched his nostrils and held his breath.

  A flurry of sneezes erupted outside the shed. “Atchoo! Atchoo! Atchoo!” Then Lizzie’s voice. “I think I’m catching a cold. I’m sorry, Madge. It’s my fault the pig got out. I tried to stop him, but he ran away.”

  “You should be more careful. Whatever will Fred say?”

  Their voices faded. Elijah counted to a hundred before he opened the door a crack.

  All clear! He and Jack ran into the house.

  A pile of nappies teetered on the kitchen table. Rose’s horseshoe lay beside them. Elijah stuffed it into his pocket, thrilling at its familiar cool curves. A narrow staircase led upstairs. Was Rose up there? Or was she in the room at the front of the house—the one behind the closed door?

  He heard a soft chortle. Abandoning all caution, Elijah opened the door into the front room.

  Lizzie’s brother stood beside a blue pram. And in that pram sat Rose. She opened her arms to Elijah and smiled the most delicious smile he had ever seen. Elijah’s heart melted in a river of molten joy.

  The boy squinted at him. “I’ve seen you before. Why are you here?”

  Every nerve in Elijah’s body told him to grab Rose and run. But he coaxed his mouth into a smile and spoke quietly. “Lizzie sent me. She said you’re to come and help catch the pig.”

  The boy put a protective hand on the side of the pram. “I’m not s’posed to leave Alice.”

  Elijah edged closer to him “The missus said you could leave . . . Alice . . . with me.” His tongue tripped on the unfamiliar name.

  “Oh, goody,” the boy said. “I want to chase Curly too.” He ran through the kitchen and out the back door.

  With trembling fingers, Elijah unbuckled the harness holding Rose in the pram. He pressed her to his chest and stroked the soft skin on the back of her neck. “You’re safe now.”

  Then he ran.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  LIZZIE

  THE PIG LOWERED his snout and munched his way along a row of floppy turnip tops.

  “Shoo! Get away from there.” Madge flapped her hands. “You go ’round the other side, Elsie. Make sure he doesn’t get past you.”

  Madge poked the pillaging pig with a broom. “You daft bugger, get in that sty!”

  The pig squealed once and complied.

  Madge shut the gate and tugged on the latch to make sure it was secure. She dabbed her face with her apron. “I’ll enjoy every bite of that animal.”

  Squashed plants, half-eaten turnips, and chewed carrots littered the ground. “I’m sorry I didn’t l
atch the gate properly,” Lizzie said. She felt like a traitor.

  “Don’t worry, pet. You didn’t do it on purpose,” Elsie said, pressing a loose plant back into the soil with her heel.

  But Lizzie had done it on purpose.

  Peter met them at the garden gate. Disappointment clouded his face. “Did you catch Curly already? The boy said I could help you.”

  Elsie frowned. “What boy?”

  Peter looked as if he’d been caught sneaking a biscuit from the tin. “He said he’d look after Alice while I helped you catch Curly.”

  Elsie shoved Peter out of her way and barged through the back door. Her harsh scream sliced through the quiet. “Nooooooooooo!”

  Madge hurried into the house. Lizzie and Peter followed.

  In the front room, Elsie scrabbled through the bedding in the pram. She heaved the blankets and mattress onto the floor. Then she tore the cushions from the sofa and tossed them aside, knocking a china bowl off a table. The bowl shattered on the floor in a shower of pottery shards.

  They watched, speechless, as Elsie ripped the blackout curtains from the rods and upended the overstuffed armchair.

  Finally, with the room in shambles around her, Elsie sank to her knees and wailed—a thin, wretched, heart-piercing sound.

  Peter stuffed his knuckles into his mouth and pressed up against Lizzie. Shaking, Lizzie put her arm around his shoulders.

  Madge knelt beside Elsie and held one of her hands. “What’s happened, love? Where’s Alice?”

  “Gone. She’s gone.”

  Madge grabbed the side of the pram and pulled herself up. She faced Lizzie, her expression chiseled from stone. “You’ve got something to do with this. Where’s the baby?”

  Lizzie shrank away from her. “I don’t know.”

  That was true; she didn’t know where Elijah had taken his sister.

  Elsie stood. Ignoring them all, she walked out the front door.

  “Wait! Elsie, where are you going?” Madge hurried after her. But she stopped at the door long enough to glare at Lizzie. “I’ll deal with you later, when we’ve found Alice.”

  Lizzie had never dreamed they’d go after the baby; that wasn’t part of the plan. If they found Elijah’s family, what would they do? Would Madge try to take the baby back?

  Lizzie took Peter’s hand and pulled him out of the house. Ahead of them, Madge half walked, half ran down the lane beside Elsie.

  Lizzie heard the squeak of Fred’s bike before she saw him riding over the crest of the hill. He stopped when he saw Elsie and Madge, and lowered his foot to the ground.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, puzzled.

  Elsie paid no attention to him as she continued on down the lane. Her apron strings trailed behind her like streamers as she hurried toward the village.

  “What’s up with Elsie? Where’s Alice?” Fred asked Madge.

  Madge jerked her head at Lizzie. “Ask her.”

  Lizzie gripped Peter’s hand. “The baby’s gone back home. Her brother came for her.”

  “How do you know that?” Fred asked.

  Lizzie looked into his kind eyes. “Because I helped him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ELIJAH

  ELIJAH TUCKED ROSE into his jacket and held her tight against his chest. She reached up, pulled his nose, and giggled. He thrilled at the weight of her bouncing against him as he ran back home. His feet flew over the ground.

  He paused at the edge of camp, savoring the moment. Granddad Ambrose sat on his steps, oiling the chain of a bike while Angela draped damp clothes over the hedge to dry.

  Elijah grinned and stepped into view.

  Angela’s earsplitting screech startled a crow from his perch in a nearby tree. “Mammy! Elijah’s got Rose!”

  Granddad Ambrose’s head snapped up. Angela’s yell brought Mammy out onto their porch. An onion fell from her hand and bounced down the steps, rolling to a stop in the long grass. She leaped off the steps and ran across the meadow, her loose hair flying around her face.

  Lifting Rose from Elijah’s arms, Mammy covered her in a storm of kisses. “Oh, Rose, my Rose.”

  Rose buried her chubby hand in Mammy’s tangle of hair and snuggled her face into Mammy’s neck. Elijah drank in their happiness.

  Granddad Ambrose’s smile was so wide that his pipe fell out of his mouth. He hugged Elijah and thumped him between the shoulder blades. “Kushti, lad. Kushti.”

  As the girls and Granddad Ambrose gathered around Mammy and Rose, Bill watched them from beside his wagon.

  A voice from behind interrupted their celebration. “Alice!”

  Elijah whipped his head around. A wisp of a woman stood by the gate.

  “Alice,” she said again, and hurried toward them with her eyes fixed on Rose.

  Mammy pointed an accusing finger. “You’re the woman had me babby in that pram. You stole our Rose.”

  Angry exclamations from Elijah’s family peppered the air. Elijah moved to stand between Mammy and the woman.

  “Elsie!” The village policeman leaned his bike against the gate and strode into camp as if he were the lord of them all. “Elsie, this is no place for you.”

  He took the woman’s arm, but she shook him off. She never took her eyes off Rose, not even when Lizzie, her brother, and a second woman arrived.

  The policeman pointed at Rose. “That baby is a ward of the court. Hand her over immediately.”

  Granddad Ambrose faced the huge man. “The babby’s me granddaughter. We’ll not hand her over!”

  “That baby was abandoned, and whoever stole her from our care was trespassing. Those are criminal offenses,” the policeman said.

  Mammy glowered at him. “She were lost, not abandoned. What right do you have to take her from us?”

  The policeman clasped his hands behind his back. “The right of the law.”

  Lizzie stepped forward. “Rose is their baby, Fred.” She looked up at him. “You can’t take her away from her real family. It’s wrong.”

  Lizzie’s words hung in the air. No one spoke.

  The wispy woman blinked and stared at Lizzie. Then she reached out a hand as if to touch Rose. Mammy recoiled and moved away from her.

  “I think I knew she wasn’t Alice right from the start.” The woman’s voice cracked. “Losing a child is the worst pain there is.” She looked at Mammy. “I’m sorry.”

  Longing and loss were written in the lines on her face. Elijah should have hated her, but he felt only pity as the woman turned and walked out of the field.

  The policeman looked down and brushed imaginary fluff from the front of his jacket. Then he cleared his throat and spoke to Granddad Ambrose. “I want your lot gone by tomorrow. Clear off and don’t come back. You’re not welcome here.”

  The other woman grabbed Lizzie’s brother’s hand and said, “Come along.”

  “What about Alice?” he asked.

  “She’s staying here,” the woman said, and dragged him through the gate.

  Lizzie, her face pale and pinched, watched them leave. She stood alone, looking miserable.

  Elijah gently took her hand. “Come and meet me family. They’ll want to thank you.”

  He led her to his grandfather. “Granddad, this is Lizzie. She’s the one as found our Rose and helped me get her back.”

  Granddad Ambrose clasped Lizzie’s hand. “We’re grateful to you, lass.”

  Mammy nodded in agreement.

  But then Bill limped toward them. “It’s time you heard what the lad’s been up to, Ambrose. This un’s another of his Gorgio lasses. He collects them every place he goes. He’s a wrong un.”

  Before Elijah could object to Bill’s accusation, Granddad Ambrose said, “We’ll settle this bad blood between you two once and fer all. We’ll have a council, and the girl can join us.”

  He spoke to Lizzie. “There’s been trouble twixt Bill and Elijah, and mebbe you can help us find the truth of it. Will you sit with us fer a spell?” He pointed to a lopsi
ded wooden chair by the burned-out fire.

  Hugging her arms to her chest, Lizzie sat on the chair. Uncle Jeremiah and Aunt Lilah perched on other chairs by the fire pit while Elijah’s cousins stood behind them, arranged in order of height. Mammy sat on a log and cuddled Rose while Elijah stood on one side of Granddad Ambrose and Bill stood on the other.

  “Elijah speaks first,” Granddad Ambrose said.

  Bill scowled.

  “I took Rose with me when I went to check the snares, but Bill stopped us in a field by the beck. He said I had to leave Rose behind and go rabbitin’ with him.”

  Mammy leaned forward and focused her eyes on Elijah, as if she could search out the truth. He thrust back his shoulders and stood upright under her scrutiny.

  “Bill found out a secret about me, summat I didn’t want you all to know. He kept on threatening to tell it. I shouldn’t have left our Rose in yon field, but I were scared he’d say what he knew.”

  Elijah faced Granddad Ambrose.

  “When we was in Malton, I used to meet a girl there, a Gorgio. Bill saw me with her.” Elijah looked at his feet—if he saw disappointment, or worse, reflected on his grandfather’s face, he’d never be able to finish. He spoke in a rush, running the words together as if saying them fast would make them sting less. “Bill said you’d shun me fer going with one of the settled folk. He said you’d send me packing, and now that me dad’s gone, he could have Mammy fer himself.”

  Bill shook his head. “You can’t believe a word the boy says.”

  Angry lines creased Granddad Ambrose’s forehead. “Did you do owt to be ashamed of with this girl?”

  Elijah swallowed and answered. “No, Granddad. I kissed her once, that were all.”

  His grandfather’s face softened. “Foolish lad, we’d never shun you fer one kiss.”

  Relief flooded through Elijah. But Mammy looked up at Bill. “Did you make Elijah leave our Rose in that field?”

  “The lad’s lyin’ to you, Vi. He dun’t want to get in trouble fer meeting this girl.” He jerked his head at Lizzie. “I bet she’s the reason he left the babby in the first place.”