The Orphans of Ardwick

by Emma Hornby

  ‘Grub all right for you, was it?’ At their nods, she lifted the empty dish and again wiped an arm across her glistening brow. ‘Right, back to the fray.’ She pulled a face, grinned, then was gone once more.

  Filling the washbowl midway with clean water, Pip and the lads washed their hands and faces as instructed then sat back on the bed, unsure what to do. When the doleful peal of St Silas’s bell from adjoining Ashton Old Road mingled with the toll of Ardwick Green’s St Thomas’s, they rose and crossed to the window. All along the street, residents, their servants in tow, were answering obediently the call to join as one to give thanks and celebrate Christ’s birth. Then their front door opened and there emerged the man they now knew to be Mr Philip, with a lady, her hand resting lightly on his arm – Miss Lucy’s mother Mrs Goldthorpe, they surmised.

  Another lady followed close behind. Miss Josephine? Pip asked herself, wondering why in heaven Cook had spoken of her so; she didn’t look very poor, not in any sense of the word. Then there appeared bonny Miss Lucy with the sour-faced nursemaid, Finch. Lastly, Hardman and Tabby took up the rear. She knew that later, as was customary, the domestics would enter the house the same way as they had left: through the main door with the family, it being a special occasion.

  Within seconds, they had merged with the high-spirited throng strolling leisurely through the crisp morning air.

  Some minutes later, footfalls, heavier than the scullery maid’s before, sounded on the stairs. The door opened and Cook appeared, face cherry red from the heat of the kitchen.

  ‘By, them rotten stairs shall be the death of me … Morning, lass, lads. Family are away at church; I’d have been up to youse sooner, only I had the master to see to, like.’

  ‘Morning, Cook, and a merry Christmas to thee,’ offered Pip, as she had to Tabby. The response she received now, however, was tinged with laughter.

  ‘Oh aye, for some, lass.’ Then her eyes flicked to the picture propped behind the mirror and her smile faded. She repeated, on a whisper this time, ‘For some.’

  Pip followed her gaze. Despite her curiosity as to the pretty girl frozen in time, whom she and the lads had wondered about last night, she knew better than to be bold enough to ask questions. ‘You look tired,’ she murmured instead. ‘We kept you from your bed last night, Tabby, an’ all … Sorry. And ta, ever so.’

  Cook’s face softened. She crossed the space and tapped Pip’s head. ‘Now don’t take on so. No thanks from you, for none are needed. I did only what anyone would with a beating heart in their breast.’

  Simon let out a snort. ‘Then the people of Manchester must be living miracles, passing their days with a hollow space where theirs should be, for we sure as hell don’t see much from most.’

  ‘There’s many a desperate soul beyond these walls, lad. Folk can’t give what they’ve not got.’

  ‘Aye, and I’ll tell you summat.’ Fixing the woman with a solemn stare, he nodded. ‘It’s them what has nowt or barely nowt theirselfs what give the most. Truly, aye. And that says a whole lot about the way of things and the world, its workings. Oh, it does.’ He breathed slowly then asked, ‘What’s the deal then, missis? Put us straight, eh? Why we still here?’

  Cook lowered her bulk into the chair opposite. ‘Well,’ she said, looking at them in turn, ‘I’m for offering youse a home if you want it.’

  A hot rush of something, as if a fiery river had burst its banks, flowed through Pip and she gasped. She became aware of Mack gripping her hand and she squeezed back. Simon’s face, however, showed none of the emotion they were feeling at this incredible offer; though there was definite shakiness in his next word:

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why, you ask?’

  ‘That’s right. And how; how are we meant to stay hidden? Surely it’d only be a matter of time—?’

  Cook cut off his questions with a chuckle. ‘Course it would, aye. You’d be sniffed out straight away. That’s why I intend on telling the master this evening.’

  ‘But …?’ Pip shook her head. ‘Happen you get the boot?’

  ‘Me? Huh! Never.’

  She didn’t know what to make of that statement – Cook had delivered it with such sureness. ‘He’ll not mind? He’ll not, really?’

  Pulling her aching body from the chair with a groan, Cook turned for the door. ‘Don’t youse fret about a thing. Now, sit tight a while longer. Best for now that you stop out of the road and from under my feet. There’s work enough still for ten down in that kitchen and unless I shift myself back to it and lively, I’ll be terrible behind and there’ll be merry hell to pay upon the family’s return. They’ll be wanting their grub after that long sermon – a simple luncheon it is today, mind, thank the Lord. Aye, oyster patties and cold beef, bread and cheeses, mince pies and the like. ’Ere, and my spiced punch …’

  Again, the children shared a disbelieving stare. It was a wonder these rich hadn’t split their bellies before now.

  ‘By, puts heat right through your innards, that does,’ Cook was saying now, ‘and a good thing, too, on a winter’s day like this ’un. I’ll be sure to save youse a half-glass each for later. How’s that hoof of yourn bearing up, little one?’ she asked, motioning to Mack.

  ‘Only a bit sore today, missis.’

  She nodded. ‘I’ll apply another dose to it when I’ve a minute to catch my breath. Now, youse good kiddies rest easy, get back in the bed awhile and give your bodies some kip. You’ll see me again soon, God willing. I just pray them bleedin’ soufflés rise …’ she grumbled to herself, hurrying from the room.

  Alone again, the children sat staring at each other, neither moving nor speaking, for a good minute. For all that was swirling around each of their brains, Pip knew, was the magical, unbelievable, glorious words that mammoth-hearted woman had uttered. A home? For them? Here?

  ‘Oh, lads … lads …’

  Pip’s words came on a shuddering breath. At Mack’s watery grin and Simon’s wink, she dropped her face into her hands and sobbed her soaring heart out.

  The ringing of the church bells, announcing the end of service, carried to the children some time later but now, none stirred. They had taken Cook’s advice. Snuggled up to Mack beneath the blankets, Simon beside them, Pip blinked lazily then closed her eyes once more.

  It felt queer doing nothing. Not having to worry where the next morsel was coming from, tramping the cobblestones looking for shelter for the night or fretting how they would keep warm. But nice, aye. Wonderful nice.

  ‘Right, luncheon’s finished,’ Cook’s voice sounded, making them start. They sat up rubbing their eyes and she jerked her head. ‘Come on down to the kitchen while we’ve got five minutes. We’ll not be disturbed. The household have took to their rooms for a nap afore dinner.’

  ‘Oh, Tabby will be glad of that,’ said Pip. ‘She looked fit to drop earlier.’

  Amusement rumbled up from Cook’s stomach and burst from her mouth in a hearty guffaw. ‘Not the servants, lass. By, could you imagine the like – God alive! Nay, it’s the family I speak of. By!’ she said again, shaking her head.

  Pip didn’t think that was fair; after all, the domestics were the ones who had done all the hard work, with more to come. All the family had done was visit church and eat themselves silly. Dirty work was done by unseen hands; the middle class wouldn’t dream of sullying theirs … However, hers wasn’t to reason the rights and wrongs of matters, so she didn’t. She slipped from the bed and she and the lads trotted behind Cook down to the kitchen.

  Through the entrance leading to the scullery they saw Tabby standing with her back to them washing up a mound of pots in scalding water, her mottled hands and forearms redder still from the heat. Yet she was bearing it well, must be used to it after all. The housemaid, to Pip’s relief, wasn’t present.

  ‘Hardman’s clearing the dining room,’ offered Cook, as though seeing her thoughts. ‘Now, when she enters, you let me do the talking. Best she’s told first. We’ll deal with the master and hi
s family later, after dinner.’

  Mack, young as he was, appeared unfazed at this, didn’t really understand the enormity of the situation. Simon, however, was biting his lip; seeing this, nerves twisted Pip’s stomach. If the older lad was apprehensive, then she too had cause to be. Simon always knew best.

  Besides the table, piled with vegetables ready for peeling, the room had been scrubbed and tidied and amber light from the fire’s glow gave the space a comforting feel. Delicious smells of sage and onion and cranberries mingled with that of the roasting bird and despite their good breakfast, Pip’s stomach rumbled. She was certain Cook could read minds when, again, she seemed to hear her musings:

  ‘My spiced punch and some gingerbread for youse in a minute, my lovies. First things first … Prop your hoof on t’ chair beside you, young ’un.’

  As promised, the woman tended Mack’s foot and applied a fresh bandage. Then she ladled from a huge silver bowl a dark and delicious-smelling drink into three glasses and passed them across, followed by a plate of still-warm biscuits. Their eyes continually flicked to the green baize door as they ate and drank, knowing Hardman’s return was imminent yet willing her not to appear. Lord above, when she discovered them sat here … She was a vicious piece and no mistake. She’d run to spill their guilt to the master in a heartbeat, surely. Then where would they be? Back on the streets, scratching by as ever, all this lot snatched from under their noses. Tears thickened Pip’s throat, making it impossible to swallow another morsel. She returned the gingerbread to the plate and folded her hands in her lap, eyes downcast.

  From a small wooden barrel in the corner of the kitchen the cook had filled a glass of beer for herself; sipping this, she watched them as they ate. Now, she addressed them quietly. ‘There’s things need speaking of if you’re to stop on beneath this roof. Now I’m not one for shoving my nose into other folks’ affairs, but well … If I’m to fill the master in on the situation, make him see this is for the good of youse, I’ll need to know a few things.’

  Simon’s eyes narrowed. ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like just who youse are. Where you’ve sprung from. How in God’s name you’ve ended up in this sorry position. Now I ain’t blind to the needy – by, there’s many a poor soul what calls those streets out there home. It’s a sad state the world’s in, it is. But youse … three siblings adrift, with no one to offer a kind hand? No family, at all? How’s that come to be?’

  Pip spoke first: ‘We ain’t siblings, Cook. In fact, we ain’t related at all, not none of us.’

  The woman’s eyebrows stretched to meet her hairline. ‘Then how did youse …?’

  ‘He don’t really recall.’ Simon nodded to Mack. ‘I stumbled upon him living in a ginnel up Deansgate some year and a bit since, in a state of collapse from the hunger.’ The older lad shrugged. ‘I took pity on him, took him along with me.’

  ‘You’ve looked after him ever since?’

  Simon nodded.

  ‘Providing for yourself must have been struggle enough?’

  Again, he shrugged. ‘I sometimes sold newspapers when I were able, or shined shoes when I’d the tools. Otherwise … You allus find a means to an end when you’re that needing of a crust. I did what I could to get us by.’

  ‘You’re a good boy, and you yourself no more than a babby—’

  ‘Bread might be a babby yet, can’t be more than four year old I reckon, but I ain’t, missis. I’m twelve – or thereabouts.’

  Pip was surprised. She’d thought Simon older. They were in fact the same age.

  Cook cast him a soft, sad smile. ‘Aye. Aye, lad. And the lass, here?’

  ‘She met Bread and me coming up a year ago, now.’

  Pip looked over the boys with gentle eyes. ‘They let me go along with them and I were more than a bit grateful of it.’ She cocked her head to Cook. ‘Safety in numbers, you know?’

  ‘Aye. Eeh. I don’t know what to say to this. A crying shame, it is, and no mistake. Another thing while we’re about it: why do you, Simon, address the mite here so?’

  ‘Bread were all he whined for night and morning in t’ beginning – fair drove him mad, had the hunger. Me an’ all, aye, his crying. It sort of stuck.’ The older lad threw a thumb towards Pip. ‘She don’t like it, mind, gave him his new name. I don’t reckon he even recalls, now, what name he were given at birth. Be it Bread or Mack, suppose any’s better than none, eh?’

  Another sad smile touched Cook’s mouth. ‘And thee? When did you find yourself destitute? I must know the ins and outs, lad, you understand?’ she added when Simon hesitated.

  He flicked his gaze to the fire. ‘Father wed again barely a month after Mam died and the piece he chose … I’ve called the streets my home for half my life, now, and never regretted forra second bolting from that house. She were the divil’s own spawn, made my life hell. She never wanted me, see, only Father. He couldn’t see it, believed it were me being difficult. In t’ end, he wanted nowt to do with me, neither. She saw to that, turned his thinking. I couldn’t bear it, nay, had to get away, for her cruelty …’ He paused, cleared his throat. ‘I’d have finished up in a box afore much longer, else.’

  The room was silent. Sorrow filled everyone’s eyes, none more so than Pip’s. She’d never heard Simon speak of his past before; and no wonder, she realised now, watching him fiercely trying to bite back tears. Oh, but she was sorry for him. What must he have suffered; not to mention afterwards, too, since making his escape. Six. Half his life! The poor, poor lad …

  ‘Then I’d say you’re well shot of them, love, the pair.’ The woman patted his hand twice then turned to Mack. ‘You, young ’un. Where’s your mam and father, your family? Come on, now, you can tell Cook.’

  He screwed his eyes, as though trying to remember. Then his face cleared and his bottom lip trembled. ‘Granny,’ he whispered.

  ‘You lived with your granny, lad?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘And where’s she now?’

  He lifted his small shoulders in a shrug. ‘She went. The house got shut and I couldn’t get in.’

  Cook’s brow furrowed. ‘Your granny shut you out of the house?’

  ‘Nay. The man.’

  ‘The man …? The landlord? Is that who you mean?’

  Mack nodded. Cook shared a look with Pip and Simon. ‘She had it away on her toes without him, and the landlord took the house back, leaving the lad destitute?’

  They didn’t have an answer.

  ‘Is that what occurred, young ’un?’ Cook pressed Mack gently.

  He blinked a few times in confusion, not understanding. Then: ‘Granny coughed and then she went.’

  The three of them nodded slowly as realisation dawned. The youngster hadn’t been abandoned at all – at least, not intentionally. His granny had grown sick and passed away. Clearly, there had been no one else, or perhaps nobody willing, to take the boy in. He didn’t seem to remember his parents; had they died much earlier and his granny had taken him on? It made sense, explained the situation he found himself in once she was no longer here. He’d simply fallen to a life on the streets, just like that, alone and forgotten. Eeh, the poor babby.

  ‘Well.’ Cook’s eyes were suspiciously bright. ‘How about this: you can look upon me as a new granny, if you’d like. What says you to that? That do thee?’

  Slowly, Mack’s face spread in a smile. ‘Aye, missis. Ta, missis.’

  Nodding, Cook cleared her throat a few times. ‘Same goes for the two of youse, an’ all,’ she told Pip and Simon, who cast her shy looks, smiling, their pleasure evident. ‘Now, we’ve heard the lads’ woeful tales … What’s your story, lass?’

  Panicked tears immediately sprang to Pip’s eyes. Sensing her reluctance – speaking of her mam hurt too much – the woman nodded understandingly.

  ‘I know, lass, I know; memories can be both a blessing and a curse, it’s true. But just maybe, you’ll feel the better for putting words to it. Unburden that mind of yourn, you’ll see.’r />
  Nay, nay, you don’t understand … what she did … How can I utter it? Pip agonised, almost tasting the shame of it. She took a shuddering breath. Then her lips parted – and in the same instant, the green baize door opened too and the housemaid appeared.

  Chapter 6

  JESS HARDMAN STOPPED dead in her tracks.

  After scanning the three faces at the table with bemusement, she turned her gaze to Cook. ‘What’s this, then?’

  ‘Sit down a minute, Hardman.’

  The housemaid looked as if she’d ask more of the older woman; then silently, she crossed to a chair.

  She didn’t recognise who they were; their introduction to soap and water had clearly had a bigger impact on their appearance than they believed, Pip realised, then terror-filled dread returned to her, pushing out all else. Under the table, she felt for Simon’s wrist and squeezed.

  ‘You cleared the dining room?’ asked Cook.

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Proper, like?’

  ‘I said, didn’t I?’ Hardman retorted but her words were tinged with distraction rather than irritation. Eyes creasing thoughtfully as they settled on the orphans once more, she folded her arms. ‘I’m sure I …’ Suddenly, recognition finally dawned – her head snapped back on her shoulders. Mouth settling in a thin line, furious disbelief blazed from her eyes. ‘I don’t … What are these doing in here?’

  Cook’s voice was even. ‘I’m for letting them dwell here. You gorra problem with that?’

  The loud squeak, as the housemaid scraped back her chair, rent the air. She jumped to her feet. ‘Too bleedin’ right I’ve a problem! That, that …’ She thrust a finger towards Simon’s face. ‘That gutter rat, there, shamed me in front of Mr Philip and the others yesterday. Fortunate it is for thee, an’ all, that they were witness to your performance, for I’d have cuffed your head from your neck if they hadn’t been there!’

  ‘You swindled me.’

  At Simon’s quiet response, she made to lunge across the table. The slap that Cook delivered to her face before she could reach him brought her up short. Holding her glowing cheek, she gazed at the older woman open-mouthed.