The Street Orphans

by Mary Wood

  A flurry of snow landed on her face as she turned towards Clitheroe. Getting back to Pradley meant she had to get back over the Bowland Hills. The thought of the journey brought her to the point of wretchedness, with her whole body screaming against ever going near those bleak highways again, but then determination came over her. Come on, lass, you’ve to do this. Oh, aye, there’s a chance of me starving or freezing to death, but there’s also a chance I can make it. And then, at the end of the day, what other choice have I?

  8

  Amy Dovecote

  Young Shoulders Bear the Unbearable

  Amy sat on the dank floor of the prison cell, her skirt soaked through with Elsie’s urine.

  Quiet now, Elsie had screamed till her lungs must have been sore, then sobbed till she was weary, with very little sleeping time since the cell door had banged closed behind them two days ago, leaving them in the dark. And now, as she slept, Elsie’s body heaved a sob every few minutes, but worse than that was her coughing. Even in her sleep a croup nearly took her breath away. And, to compound Amy’s worry, Elsie’s little body felt hot and yet shook with shivers. Elsie had clung onto Amy, sitting on her knee for most of the time, and had reverted to wetting herself as if she were a babby again. Her cries for their mammy were pitiful, and ground into the open sore of grief that was clogging Amy’s every thought. To her it felt as if everything had been ripped from her – even her tears, as she hadn’t cried many. But then she had to be strong for Elsie and the lads.

  Neither Seth nor George had spoken much, though she’d heard the odd sniffle. She’d not let on that she knew they cried – that would’ve embarrassed them.

  Shifting her position to ease the aching of her body, Amy’s mind turned to Ruth. How will she ever get out of that place they took her to? And then in her despair, even though she knew it impossible, she begged, Oh, Ruth, please come and get us. Please!

  A picture of Ruth as she’d last seen her came to her, compounding her despair. Ruth had been exhausted by the time the policeman questioned her, and she had begun to make little sense as she attempted to make their story sound convincing. With that and her affliction, they must have thought her mad. When they’d dropped Ruth off at that frightening, huge dark building, Amy had been glad that the lads and Elsie had fallen asleep and hadn’t seen what she had. She hadn’t dared to ask questions, but had looked on in terror as the officer had manhandled Ruth and shoved her through the door of the building when it opened. As the horses pulled the cart back through the gates, she’d seen the sign that had told her what the place was. Her heart had pounded with the fear this aroused in her. Didn’t they put loonies into workhouse hospitals? Ruth had often been called one of them, because of her affliction, but she wasn’t a looney, she wasn’t!

  It had been a good while before the horses were halted, and she and Elsie and Seth and George had been pulled off the cart. Amy had looked up at the building they were being ushered into, and had seen an old house, large and rambling, with a sign that said ‘Police Station’, lit by a burning flame inside a blue glass lamp.

  No one had talked to them to explain anything. Their names had been given by the officer who’d brought them in, and were written down by a clerk sitting behind a desk that was so tall, Amy could hardly see over it.

  In the cellar where they’d been led, she’d seen several heavy doors leading off a dimly lit corridor. One stood ajar, and it was into this room that they had all been shoved.

  It was then that all hell broke loose, as one of the officers had tried to take Elsie from them, saying something about her going to an orphanage. Elsie had clung onto Amy’s legs and screamed and screamed. And a din like none Amy had ever heard started up, as other prisoners cat-called, swore or banged on the bars of their cells, yelling at the officer to leave the kid alone. The officer had given up and growled at her that the magistrate would decide, when they came up before him.

  ‘Is our Elsie alreet, Amy?’

  ‘Naw, she ain’t, Seth. Her cough’s bad.’

  ‘Aye, I don’t like the sound of it.’

  ‘Happen they’ll get help for her, when they come next.’ These words had hardly died on Amy’s lips when she heard keys jangling. ‘Eeh, someone’s coming. D’yer reckon as it’s for us?’

  The murmur of noise, as other prisoners awoke, gained momentum as they reacted to the presence of the jailer and yelled and banged on the bars of their cells once more. Part of Amy wanted it to be their door that was opened, but most of her didn’t, as she feared what would happen next.

  Warmth enveloped her as Seth and George crept towards her and clung onto her, edging themselves as near as they could, giving her strength, as now she wanted to protect them all. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be reet.’

  Brave words, but not heartfelt, as Amy’s heart dropped with the turning of the handle to their cell and a man’s voice shouting, ‘Get up out of there, you. Come on. There’s someone here to see you.’

  Ruth! Eeh, our Ruth’s come to get us! I knew as she’d find a way. Amy’s heart sang with hope, but it was dashed at his next words, aimed at Seth and George, ‘Not you two, just the girls. You’re to face the magistrate this afternoon, and will be up in front of the high judge on the morrow, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘Naw! I’m not going without Seth and George. Naw, get off me. Seth! George! Naw-w-w-w. Naw!’

  ‘By, you’re a feisty one. Come here when I tell you!’

  Amy’s head stung as the jailer grabbed her hair and dragged her to the door. Her screams rasped her throat and burned her chest. The slab-stone floor smacked the breath from her body as he flung her as if she were nothing. Oh God, Elsie! Elsie . . . In the moment he’d grabbed her, she’d let go of Elsie. Where is she? Where’s Elsie? ‘ELS-S-IE!’

  A hand grabbed Amy’s arm and yanked her up. The sound of Elsie’s crying brought her some relief, as the cry was pitiful, but not one that she would give if she’d been hurt. Looking around her, Amy caught sight of Elsie leaning against the now-closed cell door. She reached out to Elsie, taking her hand in her own. Drained of strength, Amy knew she wouldn’t be able to lift Elsie, even though she now held her little arms up towards her.

  ‘You stink, the pair of you. Not fit to be in the presence of the gentleman who has come to see you. Though why he has, I’ve no idea. The likes of you scum, having visits from an earl!’ His spit landed on Amy’s shoulder, and sprays of it hit her face. Her stomach retched, but the reaction halted as the guard grabbed her hair again and yanked her head backwards, ricking her neck. Dragging her into a cold room, he lifted his lamp high and sat it on the sill of a small window near the low ceiling. The glow from it showed her that they were in an annexe, covered from floor to ceiling with dark-green brick-shaped tiles. From a slab in one corner protruded an iron pump. Under this stood an enamel bowl, dented and with large lumps of its white coating chipped.

  ‘Pump some water into that bowl and wash the kid and yourself. Here, you can use that to dry on.’ Amy caught the rough piece of hessian that he’d thrown towards her.

  How she managed to pump some water through, she didn’t know, but as she began to peel Elsie’s clothes from her to prepare her for a wash, her earlier fear gripped her. Elsie’s body was hot and clammy, and yet still she shivered. Her face had blotches of red standing out against the otherwise stark white of her skin.

  Cleaning Elsie as best she could, Amy took a larger sheet of hessian from the pile on a shelf next to her and wrapped it around her sister’s body, before sitting her on the slab. ‘Sit still, our Elsie, there’s a good lass. I’ll just wash meself, then I’ll dress you.’

  ‘Take your clothes off. Go on! You need more than a wipe-down.’

  ‘Naw, I’ll not. Not while you stand there gawping. I can manage with them on.’

  ‘I said: get your clothes off. Do it, and be quick about it. We can’t keep that gentleman waiting, can we? He’s brother to that one as you murdered. No doubt come to spit on you and revel in whatever y
our fate is; but whatever he wants, he commands respect and you’re not going up stinking like that.’ Turning and opening a cupboard, he pulled something out. ‘Here, put this prison gown on when you’ve washed, and wrap this one around the nipper. You can tie it around her with the belt.’

  ‘Turn around then, Mister. We can’t get past you or owt, so you’ve no need to watch.’

  ‘I decide what happens down here.’ The vicious swipe he aimed at Amy knocked her into the wall, banging her head and rocking her vision. But still she held her defiant stance. ‘Naw, I’ll not. Not whilst you’re looking, I’ll not!’

  Reaching out towards her, the jailer grabbed her arms. Struggling and kicking didn’t help Amy. His hands tore the thin rag of her frock from her, leaving her standing in her petticoat. But that didn’t stay in place for long, as it went the same way as her frock had.

  Holding her arms across her chest, she could feel the fleshiness of her soft breasts, which had begun to emerge a year ago at the same time as her monthly bleeding had shown. She did all she could to hide them, but her thin arms would only cover her nipples. The jailer was still close to her, his breath panting a foul smell in her face.

  ‘Nice. Now, get washed down, and I might take a bit of you afore I take you up.’

  She knew what he meant. Growing up on a farm didn’t leave any gaps in knowing how the world went around. The animals were always at it and, if they weren’t, then they were helped to, at breeding time. And she knew the look he had in his eyes – she’d seen it in her da’s, when he courted her ma before bedtime. And always on those nights she’d heard the squeaking of the bed and the moans of pleasure coming from her da as he took her ma. Her ma would be shushing him, but giggling as she did so, and making her own noises that showed she were enjoying it. Amy had tried to block out what was happening, but being in the same room as them, it hadn’t been easy and she’d got used to it. Though of late she’d felt a funny feeling down below, whenever it happened, and this had her touching herself and then feeling a deep shame. Now she could see that same lust in the jailer’s eyes, and it terrified and disgusted her. She went to turn towards the basin, but he stopped her. His hands grabbed her arms and forced them down. His eyes insulted her body. She lashed out at him, but he caught her and twisted her arm behind her. Pressed up against the slab, Amy couldn’t move. The muscles in her arm burned. She bit back the moan that tried to escape from her, as his body jarred her into the slab.

  ‘Leave go of me, you pig! I’ll tell the gentleman, if you touch me.’

  ‘Ha! He’ll not believe you over me.’ This in a harsh voice gave way to a softer, hoarser tone. ‘Nice. Eeh, lass, you feel nice.’ His hips gyrated against her, his hardness rubbing up and down her buttocks. Dampness seeped through her knickers.

  With all she had in her, Amy twisted around and, ignoring the agony this caused to her arm, lifted her knee. His holler increased her fear. His body doubled over and the cheeks of his face reddened as he looked up at her, and tears filled his eyes. As he sank to his knees, she grabbed another large piece of hessian, wrapped it round herself, seized Elsie and pushed past the jailer. Where her strength came from she didn’t know, but to the background of the catcalls of the other prisoners, she ran across the stone floor and climbed the stairs as if she were an athlete. The door at the top stood ajar. She pushed against it. Its weight resisted her and bruised her shoulder, but on her second push, it opened. Before her lay another flight of steps. Her fear compelled her forward and stopped her from noticing Elsie’s weight. At the top, she found another door. Despair nearly undid her as she discovered it was locked. Banging on it with her fist, she screamed till her throat was scorched. When it opened, she fell through it and landed on the floor.

  ‘Good God! What the devil?’

  ‘It’s all right, M’Lord. I’ve got her. Here, lass, what are you doing? How did you get up here? Where’s Constable Brown?’

  Conscious that the towel had slipped from around her, Amy tried to pull it up to cover her bare breasts, but it was trapped beneath her. ‘He were trying to . . . he were going t – to rape me!’

  ‘Eeh, I doubt that. He’s a married man, our Constable Brown, and an honourable one. By, lass, what game were you playing, eh? Did you egg him on or sommat? What have you done to him, you dirty little scum?’

  Elsie cried out at that moment – a throaty sound that set off a fit of coughing, causing the sergeant to step back from them. ‘Eeh, lass has got the croup. Keep away from her, M’Lord. Give you all sorts, these scum do. Excuse me whilst I go and wash me hands.’

  ‘Send for a doctor at once, Sergeant! What goes on here? Look at them. These are children, for God’s sake!’

  The gloved hand of the gentleman took hers. With his help, Amy rose. He kept his head turned away from her. ‘Wrap yourself up, girl.’

  Amy wrapped the hessian back around her body, grateful that the gentleman showed her some respect.

  ‘That’s better. I’m the Earl of Harrogate. I believe you were involved in the killing of my brother?’

  ‘Naw. We didn’t kill anyone, M’Lord. It were an accident.’ Pictures of Ruth bashing the young man with his pistol turned Amy’s stomach with repulsion and fear. Needing a distraction, she looked around for Elsie, who was huddled on the floor, her breathing laboured, her face burning a bright red. Amy went to her and picked her up, fear for her sister gripping her heart.

  ‘She looks very poorly. How long has she been like this?’

  ‘It started soon after they put us in that cell. She’s been through a lot, for a bairn. We all have. Afore me da died a few weeks back, we were a settled, hard-working family; now we’re orphans and—’

  ‘I know. I met your sister.’

  ‘Ruth? Where is she? What did you do to her? She didn’t mean to—’

  ‘What? What didn’t she mean to do?’

  ‘Nowt. She never means to do owt. It’s others as goad her, cos of her affliction.’

  ‘I see. Look, I want to help. I’m not here to persecute you. From what I have heard from Ruth, you all tried to help my mother as best you could. Yes, you were partly to blame, as you should never have been on the highway, but I understand why you were. Ruth told me that, too.’

  ‘We had no choice, M’Lord. And . . . and me ma—’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Is – is our Ruth still in that asylum?’

  ‘Asylum? Is that where they took her? Good God!’

  Amy could only nod. The enormity of their plight hit her, as if the shock shown by the Earl had brought it all home to her for the first time. It was too much to bear. ‘You said you wanted to help. Please get her out of there, please.’

  ‘She is out.’

  Listening to the Earl tell her what had happened to Ruth, Amy felt her despair deepen. Ruth has near killed another man! Kind, gentle Ruth. None of it seems real. But where was Ruth now? And why was this gentleman so concerned? Something about him seemed nice, and she wanted to trust him.

  ‘I took your sister to a guesthouse for the night, but when I called there, before coming here this morning, they told me she’d gone. Climbed through a window and disappeared. Where do you think she would head for? And why would she leave like that? I only wanted to help her.’

  The gentleman sounding so desperate as to where Ruth might have gone made Amy wary. Why should he care? He could only want to hand her in. What other motive could he have?

  ‘I don’t knaw where she’d make for. She knaws no one hereabouts, and she can’t walk far.’ This last thought compounded her fear. If Ruth tried to get back to Pradley, she’d never make it. Not on her own, she wouldn’t, but where else would she go? None of them knew where their ma’s cousin lived. Amy’s mind went from one conclusion to another, as she thought of how Pradley held nothing but fear for Ruth. The folk there looked on her as evil. But what about Whalley Bradstone? No, Ruth wouldn’t go to him. She’d said she found him repulsive. Oh, Ruth, where are you?

&nbs
p; ‘Look, you’re all in. Come and sit on this bench. I’m going to get you and your sister out of here.’

  ‘But what about me brothers? They did more than any of us to try and save your ma. Our George stopped them horses from pulling the carriage over, whilst Seth unhooked them. It were very dangerous. They could have been killed, but they didn’t care, they just wanted to save your ma.’

  ‘But Ruth said the carriage did go over, and that you all managed to get my mother out, but it went over with my brother still inside when you unleashed the horses. Is that right?’

  Shocked at how easily she’d forgotten to stick to the story, Amy could only nod her head.

  ‘I have to know the truth, girl. I can’t protect you and get you out of here if it isn’t true that you tried to save my brother. Now, what exactly happened? Was my mother out of the carriage before you unleashed the horses?’

  ‘She were, M’Lord.’ This time, in her telling, Amy told it how they’d planned to tell it – well, how she’d planned it. It had been their only way. Ruth didn’t mean to kill the Earl, she didn’t!

  ‘Right, if that’s the truth, then I will help you. And we must find Ruth. I can’t bear to think of her out there . . . I – I mean, well, in her condition she is in danger. She may fall prey to the likes of those in that house I saw her in, last evening.’

  Still unsure whether she could trust this toff, Amy said nothing.

  ‘Please think. There must be somewhere!’

  ‘I’m sorry, M’Lord, but I don’t knaw. I’m worried sick over her. And over me brothers. Please help them.’

  ‘Well, look, I’ll try. I’ll get a lawyer, but the sergeant was only willing to turn you and your sister over to me. He said they must be seen to make someone account for the accident, so that people will feel they do aim to keep the highways safe. The public still haven’t much faith in the idea of the county having a police force. It is early days, and so far the police seem to be costing the country a lot of money and not getting many results. They are anxious to show that they are protecting us, especially those in the upper classes, as it is us who pay our taxes, and it is us who are making the most fuss about their worth.’