Monday's Child

by Linda Finlay

  ‘Torquay’s known for its equable climate and attracts visitors nearly all year round. It has become a health and pleasure resort, a sort of retreat for the elderly and playground for the young. Why, only this month they introduced mixed bathing, provided the all-concealing costumes from neck to knee are worn, of course.’ He frowned.

  ‘Don’t you approve, Uncle?’ Sarah laughed but he appeared distracted and didn’t answer. Suddenly he leaned forward, then pulled hard on the reins. As they jerked to a stop, she stared at him in surprise, but he was staring at a spot further along the beach.

  ‘Take these,’ he said, handing her the straps and jumping from the cart. Before she could ask what was wrong, he was darting between horses and carriages as he ventured across the highway. Then she saw him jump down onto the stones and crouch beside what appeared to be two piles of clothes fluttering in the stiffening breeze. He stayed liked that for what felt like ages. Worried he needed help, Sarah jumped down, tied the mare to a nearby lamp-post, then hurried to join him.

  ‘Oh,’ she gasped, her eyes widening in horror.

  ‘Stay back, Sarah,’ he ordered as she made to crouch beside him. She stopped, her hand flying to her mouth when she saw the blood-soaked pebbles upon which the body of a young woman was sprawled. As she stood there, her stomach churning, she heard a pitiful cry. Then, to her astonishment, the smaller pile of rags moved.

  ‘Gracious,’ she whispered.

  ‘Here, take this,’ her uncle urged. Automatically, Sarah reached out and took the trembling bundle from him. Gazing down, she saw terrified periwinkle eyes staring out of grimy skin.

  ‘Take her to the cart, while I get someone to attend to the …’ Her uncle’s voice tailed off. ‘Go,’ he urged before calling to two policemen who were parading along the front.

  Carefully cradling the little girl, Sarah cautiously made her way back across the road. As she placed her gently in the cart and climbed up after her, she saw those periwinkle eyes watching her warily. Pulling her onto her lap, Sarah couldn’t help wrinkling her nose at the dreadful smell. Then the girl cowered into her rags as if she was trying to hide, and Sarah’s heart went out to her.

  ‘I’m Sarah,’ she said. ‘What’s your name?’ The girl stiffened, twirled her matted hair around one finger, but remained silent. ‘You’re safe now,’ Sarah added just as the cart lurched and her uncle climbed in.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  He stared pointedly at the girl then shook his head. ‘I expect you’re hungry, little one,’ he said breezily. The girl studied him before nodding. ‘We’ll take you home with us, and Mrs Daws will find you some bread and broth. Would you like that?’ Again the girl nodded yet didn’t say anything. As if his exertions had tired him, Samuel sat back in his seat and closed his eyes.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ he assured her, but she could tell from the pallor of his skin, he was anything but. However, he picked up the reins and urged the pony on.

  When they pulled up outside Red Cliffs, the urchin Pip appeared and pulled open the gates.

  ‘Thank you, Pip,’ Samuel said. ‘You’ll see to the pony?’

  ‘’Cors, guv, you know you can rely on me,’ he grinned, looking curiously at the girl on Sarah’s lap. ‘Another waif, eh?’

  ‘Indeed, Pip,’ Samuel nodded, steering them around behind the house where steam was billowing from one of the brick outbuildings.

  ‘The wash-house,’ he explained. ‘Luckily for us it’s Monday, so Mrs Laver will be doing the laundry.’

  Sarah glanced down at the little girl, wondering why her uncle should mention this seemingly inconsequential detail now. Then the back door of the house opened, and Mrs Daws stood frowning in the doorway.

  ‘Another one, Doctor?’ she sighed.

  He nodded. ‘Found her on the beach. A rum business and no mistake. Will you take her please, Mrs Daws?’ But as the woman made to lift her down from the cart, the girl clung tighter to Sarah.

  ‘Now, come along, little ’un, you can see Miss Sullivan when you’re all clean,’ she said firmly, prising the girl from Sarah and leading her into the wash-house.

  ‘Why is she going in there?’ Sarah asked, making to follow.

  ‘She’ll be fine with me, Miss Sullivan,’ the woman told her. ‘She needs a good scrubbing.’

  Seeing her puzzled look, her uncle sighed. ‘Goodness knows what she’s harbouring. We have to make sure all the children are disinfected and deloused before they can come inside the house.’ Seeing her shocked look, he smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Daws will ensure Mrs Laver is gentle with her. We built the bath-house next to the wash room for a reason, you know. Come along, let’s go indoors,’ he said, jumping down on to the path.

  ‘What happened on the beach?’ Sarah asked, not really wanting to hear yet needing to know.

  ‘Looks like the woman, presumably her mother, died giving birth. I think the baby was stuck.’ He sighed. ‘Not particularly unusual, yet harrowing to think it might happen in broad daylight.’

  ‘But there were all those people walking along the front. Surely someone must have seen something?’

  ‘If they did they would have turned their heads away. Folk don’t want to get involved in anything that’s not nice, my dear. It’s harsh but a fact of life, I’m afraid,’ he added, seeing her horrified look. ‘Come along.’

  She followed him into the kitchen, ready to pursue the subject, but before she could say anything else he was overcome by a bout of coughing. Collapsing into the nearest chair, he fumbled in his jacket pocket, and as he brought out the little bottle of pills, Sarah hurriedly filled a glass from the jug on the table.

  ‘Stupid chest,’ he rasped, his eyes looking large in his gaunt face. Sarah was dismayed to see how much weight he’d lost in the short time since she’d last seen him. ‘Well, don’t stand staring,’ he muttered. ‘The kettle’s boiling, and I’m dying for a cuppa.’

  Sarah set about making the tea, glad of something to do. While she waited for it to brew, she stared around the room. The range was spotless, and a pot simmering gently on top wafted a savoury aroma her way. Despite the recent traumas, her stomach rumbled in hopeful anticipation, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since snatching a hurried breakfast at first light. Assorted crockery, with its various patterns, was neatly stacked on the old dresser alongside pots that gleamed in the sunlight filtering in through the window. The large deal table was scrubbed, and even the flags on the floor looked freshly swept.

  ‘Mrs Daws runs a good household,’ Samuel wheezed, following her gaze. ‘Been here nearly as long as I have, bless her, yet will she think of taking things easier?’

  ‘Like you, Uncle?’ she replied, pouring tea into cups. ‘Do you take sugar?’

  ‘At the price they charge, not likely,’ he retorted, and she was pleased to hear the strength returning to his voice.

  The door opened, and Mrs Daws bustled in carrying the little girl wrapped in a towel. Her matted hair had been shorn, and her face shone pink where it had been scrubbed. There was a defiant look in her eyes as they sought and found Sarah’s.

  ‘Right then, we’ll put you in this,’ the housekeeper said, pulling a dress from the pulley above the range and pointing to the number on the back. ‘You’ll be number eighteen.’

  ‘She’s to be known as a number?’ Sarah gasped.

  ‘Yes and no,’ the housekeeper replied, helping the girl into the garment. ‘She’ll be called by her name when we find out what it is. However, all the children have numbered clothing and towels so they don’t spread anything nasty. Right, that looks better,’ she said to the girl. ‘Now, come and stand on the mat by the door and let me check your scalp.’

  As Mrs Daws ran a closed-tooth comb over the girl’s head and inspected it closely, Samuel turned to Sarah.

  ‘Don’t look so horrified, it’s not as bad as it sounds. We don’t know where the girl’s come from, and we need to observe scrupulou
s hygiene otherwise we might do more harm than good by spreading disease.’

  ‘Good, all clean,’ Mrs Daws pronounced. ‘Now, come and sit at the table. I suppose you’re hungry?’ The girl nodded.

  ‘Well, you’ve missed luncheon but you can sup some broth with the doctor and Miss Sullivan, how about that?’ The girl nodded again. ‘Where’s your father, dearie? Does he live near here?’ The girl looked glum and shook her head. ‘Cat got your tongue, eh? Well, let’s see if some food will help you find it. How about you, Miss Sullivan? Did you have a good train ride?’ she asked as she bustled about setting the table and cutting wedges of bread.

  ‘Call me Sarah, please, and do let me help,’ she replied.

  ‘Time enough when you’ve eaten. You look a bit peaky, if you don’t mind me saying.’

  ‘Sarah had her bag stolen on the journey, Mrs Daws,’ Samuel explained.

  ‘What a dreadful thing to have happened. Mrs Laver was just saying she heard there’s a gang operating on the trains travelling to holiday resorts. Don’t know what things are coming to, and that’s a fact.’ The housekeeper shook her head. ‘Heard them new-fangled iron horses travel so fast they can fair shake the womb out of a woman.’

  ‘I told Sarah you would find her some suitable clothing until she gets sorted,’ Samuel said quickly.

  ‘Of course, Doctor. That new verger called around with a large basket full of things just yesterday. We can sort through them. First, though, you both look filthy so get those hands washed while I dish up,’ she said, ladling savoury liquid into their bowls. ‘Now then, nipper, you need any help?’ The girl looked affronted and snatched up the spoon in her left hand.

  ‘Other hand,’ she began but Samuel shook his head.

  ‘Not now. She’s had a harrowing experience.’

  ‘Doesn’t seem to have affected her appetite,’ the housekeeper snorted as the girl lifted the dish to her mouth and gulped down the contents. ‘I expect you’ll want to check her over before she mingles with the others?’

  ‘Indeed, Mrs Daws,’ Samuel nodded.

  ‘It’s lucky for us we have Dr Lawrence to give them the once-over, Miss Sullivan. Couldn’t afford the fees of the local GP, we couldn’t.’

  ‘I do hope this morning’s experience hasn’t put you off staying with us, Sarah?’ her uncle asked, staring at her anxiously.

  Sarah stared down at her dish, for in truth she’d been wondering if she was strong enough to cope. Then she felt the girl staring at her and, looking up, saw the silent pleading in those periwinkle eyes.

  4

  The room fell silent, and Sarah could feel three pairs of eyes staring intently as they waited for her answer.

  ‘I promised I would stay to help, and that’s what I intend to do,’ Sarah replied firmly.

  ‘Well, I’m very pleased to hear it,’ Samuel said, relief replacing his worried look. ‘I can’t work out if there’s more to do these days or if it’s me taking longer to get things done, but there’s no denying we need your help, is there, Mrs Daws?’

  The housekeeper smiled warmly at Samuel. ‘You do a marvellous job, Doctor. Why, those children are blessed with a roof over their heads and wholesome food in their stomachs thanks to you. But I agree, there’s always more jobs to be done than hours to do them in. Suppose you’d like another slice of bread?’ she added, turning to the child, whose eyes widened in disbelief.

  There was a bang as the door flew open and a young girl of about thirteen, weighed down with a load of dirty bedding, staggered into the room. Her mop cap had slipped to the back of her head revealing a short crop of red curls which contrasted against the drab beige of her coarse cotton dress.

  ‘The dormitories are spick and span, and this is the last of the washing for Mrs Laver. Shall I take it out to her?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes please, April, quick as you can, then you’d best tidy yourself up before I introduce you to Miss Sullivan here.’ With a curious glance at Sarah, the girl nodded and hurried out to the wash room only to reappear almost immediately, smoothing down her dress with one hand whilst attempting to tuck her hair back under her cap with the other. It was then Sarah noticed the jagged scar running down one cheek.

  ‘I was quick like you said, Mrs Daws,’ she grinned.

  ‘Good girl. This is April, Miss Sullivan. She finished her schooling here earlier this year and has stayed on as our scullery-come-maid-of-all. I don’t know where I’d be without her, and that’s a fact.’ The maid beamed delightedly.

  ‘Well, it’s good to meet you, April, and what a delightful name you have.’

  The girl grinned again. ‘The doctor give it me ’cos it was the month he found me,’ she said proudly. ‘What job have you come for?’

  ‘Manners, April,’ Mrs Daws admonished.

  ‘Miss Sullivan is going to help me with my paperwork,’ Samuel explained.

  ‘Hallelujah! ’Tis a nightmare trying to dust round all them letters and things,’ April said, shaking her head.

  ‘That’s quite enough, young lady,’ Mrs Daws said with a click of her tongue. Sarah turned away, trying to hide a grin at the girl’s incorrigible nature. ‘Now, I want you to take our new little friend here upstairs to show her where she’ll be sleeping.’

  April nodded. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked softly, bending down to the girl’s level. ‘Cat got your tongue, eh? Well, never mind, until you find it I’ll call you Monday seeing as how that’s what day it is. You come along with April now, and I’ll show you where everything is.’ She held out her hand but the girl refused to take it and stood looking at Sarah.

  Sarah knelt beside her and said gently, ‘Would you like to stay here with us?’ The girl nodded. ‘Well, you go with April, and I promise I’ll see you later.’ The girl studied Sarah intently, then took April’s hand and allowed herself to be led from the room.

  ‘Has a way with the little ones, does April,’ the housekeeper said. ‘Course, she’s not really more than a child herself, bless her. Now, let’s get you some clean clothes sorted.’

  ‘Please, there’s no need, I can see you’re busy,’ Sarah said, as she began stacking their dirty dishes.

  ‘April will see to those, and there’s every need for you to change, my dear,’ she replied, pointing to a dark stain on the front of Sarah’s dress. ‘Blood if I’m not mistaken.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Sarah exclaimed. ‘And that’s my only dress.’

  ‘Nothing Mrs Laver can’t fix, I’m sure. We’ll go and see what the good ladies of St Nicholas’ have given us. I dare say you’ll be needing to look through your paperwork, Doctor.’

  ‘Indeed I will. There’s so much that needs attending to,’ he said, rubbing his hand across his brow as he got to his feet. ‘I’ll leave you in Mrs Daws’ capable hands, my dear. She’ll see you have everything you need and show you where you’ll be sleeping. I’ll be in my study when you’ve got yourself sorted.’

  ‘I’ll bring you through a nice cup of tea when we’ve done, Doctor,’ Mrs Daws called as she led Sarah through to the front room where the chairs were piled high with clothes, shoes and all manner of paraphernalia.

  Ten minutes later, holding two dresses, an apron, a woollen shawl, two towels and a bag containing things for her toilet, she was following Mrs Daws up the stairs. Although she’d pointed out an apron was unnecessary for paperwork, the housekeeper had insisted she’d need one. As they approached the girls’ dormitory, the housekeeper put a finger to her lips and beckoned. Peering through the door, they saw April cradling the girl in her lap and crooning to her softly. It was obvious the girl was sobbing her heart out, but as Sarah went to help, Mrs Daws shook her head.

  ‘Let April look after her,’ she whispered, walking further down the hallway and into the small room that was evidently hers. ‘The poor little thing needs to let out her sorrow, and she might hold back if we interrupt.’

  ‘I do hope I’m not inconveniencing you,’ Sarah said, staring at the two narrow beds placed side by side, the small
closet in the corner and the washstand with its flower-patterned jug and bowl.

  ‘Don’t worry about me, my dear. I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. Now, I asked Mrs Laver to bring up some warm water,’ she said, pointing to the basin. ‘You get washed and changed then bring that dress down for laundering. Just remember your towel number is twenty. It won’t do to get it muddled with the children’s. Which reminds me, school will be finishing soon, so I’d best get on.’

  ‘I couldn’t help noticing the scar on April’s face,’ Sarah said.

  The woman’s expression darkened. ‘That were a rum do. The doctor heard pitiful squeals early one morning ten years back or more, went out to investigate and found her battered body by the gate. Someone had vented their spleen on the poor mite before dumping her and scarpering. Although the good doctor reported it, no one came forward, and, well, she’s been here ever since. Happy little soul she is, but scared to leave here, which is understandable. Sleeps in the girls’ dorm and takes care of the little ones, she does. Pip does the same for the boys. Of course, with his deformed body, nobody would employ him, so the doctor insisted he stay on and put him in charge of the gardens. Well, must get on. The doctor will be ready for his cup of tea. You get settled in and come down when you’re ready.’

  ‘Thank you for everything, Mrs Daws,’ Sarah smiled, but the woman shook her head.

  ‘No, thank you, Miss Sullivan. The doctor’s not a well man. He needs to take things easy. You’ve come just at the right time.’

  ‘I think what you are doing here is wonderful, and I’ll do everything I can to help,’ she assured her. The woman nodded then disappeared back down the stairs.

  Sarah peered around the room, which was basic but adequate. Like the rest of the house, everything was shabby but spotless. Staring down at the things she was holding, she sighed. It wasn’t wearing second-hand clothes that worried her or having to share with the housekeeper, much as she liked her privacy. It was the realization that the promise she’d made to help her uncle was going to have farther reaching effects than she’d envisaged. Come along now, Sarah, she chided, squaring her shoulders. Since when have you shied away from responsibility?