Sapphire Battersea

by Jacqueline Wilson

  I hesitated, blushing.

  ‘She does, she does – look at her cheeks! She’s gone scarlet! What is his name, Hetty?’ said Maisie.

  ‘Well, I have two sweethearts,’ I said.

  This made them both squeal.

  ‘Who, who? Tell us their names!’ said Charlotte.

  ‘Well, there’s Bertie … and there’s Jem,’ I said.

  ‘And which one do you like the best?’ Maisie asked.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I said truthfully. ‘I do like them both.’

  ‘So which one will you run off with?’ Maisie demanded.

  ‘I don’t think I’m going to run off with anyone. I shall stay in my coral palace, and Mama shall come and live with me, and I shall nurse her until she’s completely better,’ I said.

  I knelt there on the sand, my head bent so they should not see the tears in my eyes. Charlotte put her arm round me even so, and Maisie nestled close and took my hand.

  ‘Perhaps she really will be a little better today,’ Charlotte said.

  Every evening after supper the whole family walked with me to the infirmary. I was bolder now, but I still couldn’t get into her ward. Every time I tried to sneak in through the entrance and down the long corridor, a nurse caught me and marched me back out again. However, when the nurse in charge of the ward was having her supper in a side room, I could call softly through the open window. Mama would slip out of bed and come right up to the window, her hand clamped over her mouth to stop herself coughing. She’d reach through the gap at the bottom and we’d clasp hands tight. I’d pass her the long loving letters I wrote each night. I’d bring her tiny presents too: an embroidered handkerchief, a pretty shell I’d found on the beach, a plaited lock of my hair.

  Mama was so weak she’d often start crying. I was worried about her getting chilled if she stayed at the window too long, but her eyes shone whenever she saw me. She whispered feverishly that my visits meant the whole world to her. She couldn’t talk to me properly for fear of coughing and alerting the nurse, so I talked to her instead, telling her again and again that I loved her. I promised she was going to get better, and then we would live together. Meanwhile she mustn’t worry about me at all. I said I was very happy with my dear Greenwood family.

  I didn’t tell Mama they were only here for a holiday because I knew she’d fret over what would happen next. I tried to put it out of my mind myself, though I often woke with a start in the middle of the night, terrified.

  During the day I somehow managed to put most of my troubles out of my mind. The evenings were especially sweet. After seeing Mama I’d feel reassured, ready for the rest of our walk. Sometimes we promenaded on the pier, though Maisie was afraid of the gaps in the planks of wood and started whimpering. She worried that they would give way, and she would fall right through into the surging sea. Mr Greenwood had to give her a piggyback to get her to venture right to the end of the pier.

  I loved to go there myself. I’d clutch the railings and stare out to sea and imagine myself sailing away beyond the horizon. There was an advertising poster on a kiosk on the pier for Argosy cigarettes, with a bold woman in a white cap and navy nautical dress sailing her yacht with a triumphant look in her eyes. She wasn’t a woman who knew her place. She didn’t have a place – she was as free as the wind in her hair and the waves beneath her.

  There was a machine that told fortunes on the pier. Mr Greenwood paid a penny each for us all to have a go. Charlotte and Maisie got exactly the same fortunes, printed on little pink cards:

  You are fair of face

  A form full of grace

  Wedding bells chime

  True love divine!

  This made them both squeal and claim Michael Fairhill as their future husband.

  ‘Now it’s your turn, Hetty!’

  My fortune card was bright sapphire-blue and it said:

  You have far to go

  A life of woe

  But your wishes come true

  Happily for you!

  ‘Oh, Hetty, perhaps Bertie or Jem will marry you!’ said Maisie. ‘Then everything will end happily. Which will you choose?’

  ‘Neither! I know what I wish for,’ I said, clutching my little blue card until the edges cut into my hand.

  One evening we went to see the pierrots – a little troupe of performers in white clown outfits. The next day on the sands, Charlotte and Maisie and I gave our own ‘Pierrot’ concert to Mr and Mrs Greenwood. I even fashioned a tiny pierrot costume for little Flora. I held her in my arms and made her bob up and down, performing her own baby song and dance.

  Another evening Mr Greenwood paid for us all to sit before the big octagonal bandstand and listen to the music. I did not know any of the songs, but all the Greenwoods sang along while the band played. They were a military band in smart uniform with gleaming gold epaulettes. I hoped that Gideon might be able to join a similar band.

  We also went to see Mr Clarendon’s Seaside Curiosities. I had noticed a distinctive red-and-white striped tent pitched at the end of the promenade and had very much hoped it might be a circus.

  ‘No, no, Hetty, it’s not a circus, it’s a freak show,’ said Charlotte. ‘Oh, Papa, please may we go and see the curiosities?’

  ‘I’m not sure it’s suitable for young girls,’ Mrs Greenwood said quickly. ‘And please don’t use that word, Charlotte, it sounds unpleasant.’

  ‘What should we call the freaks, then, Mama?’ Maisie asked.

  ‘You shouldn’t call them anything. They’re poor unfortunate people who cannot help the way they look,’ said Mrs Greenwood.

  ‘Now don’t get upset, my dear,’ said Mr Greenwood. ‘I think Mr Clarendon’s folk rely on trickery and make-up. I’m sure there’s not a genuine freak amongst them.’

  ‘Please, what is a freak?’ I asked.

  ‘Perhaps we will have to show you,’ said Mr Greenwood.

  ‘It’s truly not a suitable show for children. I regret that we took Charlotte and Maisie last year. It is sad and tawdry and vulgar,’ said Mrs Greenwood.

  ‘Yes, and we loved it!’ said Charlotte. ‘Please let us take Hetty, Mama!’

  Mrs Greenwood weakened, but she wouldn’t come in with us. She sat on a nearby bench with little Flora, while the girls and I eagerly approached the entrance to the tent. Mr Clarendon himself stood there, bizarrely dressed in a bright scarlet suit with a bowler hat of the same hue tipped sideways on his head. He spoke into a loudhailer, instructing passersby to roll up and see the astonishing sights inside.

  ‘Prepare to be truly amazed,’ he said as Mr Greenwood paid for all of us.

  He tipped his bowler to Mr Greenwood and smiled at us girls. He gave me a particular wink which disconcerted me. I did not know if I would like Mr Clarendon’s freaks or not, but I decided I did not care for him.

  The tent was divided into little rooms, one leading to another. The first was a little disappointing. It consisted of a display of not-very-remarkable seaside objects: a very large preserved fish with doleful eyes; some fancy seashells; a crab with enormous claws; a display of stuffed seagulls suspended precariously on wires; and a moth-eaten stuffed seal with a woebegone expression.

  Charlotte and Maisie circled these exhibits a little impatiently. ‘Wait till you see the next room, Hetty – and the one after that!’ they said, taking my hands and hurrying me along.

  We moved through the flap to the next room. There was a real man sitting on a chair, wearing only his trousers, hoisted up with a pair of black braces. His entire body was covered in detailed blue pictures, as if he were a human comical paper. There were even pictures engraved up his bald head.

  There was a sign above him: HENRY, THE MAN WITH ONE HUNDRED TATTOOS. I stared at him, fascinated. I squinted very carefully at each picture. I tried counting, but there were too many, and perhaps there were more lurking beneath his trousers. I would never know if there truly were one hundred. Were they real?

  ‘Perhaps they are just painted on?’ I whispere
d to Charlotte.

  ‘Lick your finger and try to rub one off, missy!’ said Henry.

  I jumped, and declined his invitation – but I circled him several times, still marvelling. His arms bloomed with bouquets, his chest sported strange ladies and slithery snakes, and an eagle perched permanently right on the top of his head. Exotic wild creatures stampeded across his shoulder-blades: lions, tigers, even a great buffalo with a Red Indian warrior upon his back.

  ‘Come this way, Hetty – there’s lots more to see!’ said Charlotte.

  We encountered Pirate Pete, Scourge of the Seven Seas, in the next room. I studied him with great interest. He looked just like a storybook pirate, with gold earrings and a kerchief tied around his long coarse hair. He had a patch over one eye, a wooden peg leg, and a real parrot on his shoulder. Maisie tried to stroke the parrot but it pecked at her irritably.

  In the next room we gazed upwards in awe at Fantastic Freda, the Female Giant. Her placard said she was seven foot high, but she was standing on a large upturned bucket, which added many inches to her height. Her girth was impressive too.

  She was wearing a vast blue-and-white striped bathing dress, straining at the seams. She struck several poses, miming swimming, while a little gang of boys clapped admiringly. Some shouted rude comments, and Fantastic Freda smiled and rattled her collecting cup in a saucy fashion – but her eyes looked very sad.

  ‘My, I’d forgotten all about Fantastic Freda,’ said Mr Greenwood, blinking up at her. ‘Amazing woman!’ He pulled Maisie’s hair. ‘See what happens when you eat too many hokey-pokeys!’

  Charlotte had already rounded the corner to observe Harold, the Two-Headed Marvel. I took a deep breath when I saw him. He wore a full cape with two identical heads poking out at the top. He stared at me with four eyes – but as I tiptoed nearer, I saw that only one pair of his eyes swivelled in my direction. The second pair shone like glass and did not move. The second nose was as large and smooth as its twin, but the nostrils didn’t quiver. The second pair of lips were slightly open, but they didn’t smile. The second head was a perfect wax model stuck through a hole in a cape and set fair and square on the shoulders. The real head was carried at an angle, leering at us in a disconcerting fashion.

  Maisie laughed a little hysterically, convinced that both heads were real. She declared she loved the double-headed phenomenon best of all the curiosities, but in the middle of the night she woke up screaming.

  ‘The man with two heads is looking at me!’ she shrieked, loud enough to wake the dead.

  Charlotte and I tried to comfort her, but she didn’t calm down until Mrs Greenwood came running in from the next room. Maisie slept in her parents’ bed that night, but woke up cheerfully enough in the morning – and that evening begged to view Mr Clarendon’s Curiosities all over again!

  TIME SEEMED SUSPENDED during that first strange seaside week with the Greenwoods. The second week hurtled by in a flash. Suddenly it was Friday, their last day. We went to the beach as usual, but we came back early in the afternoon so that they could start packing their trunks. I helped Charlotte and Maisie collect together their under-things and stockings and fold all their dresses. I took off the pale primrose dress and put on my own grey print with a sinking heart.

  I heard Flora fussing in the next room, so I went to see if I could hold her and keep her quiet while Mr and Mrs Greenwood did their packing.

  ‘You’re such a good helpful girl, Hetty,’ said Mrs Greenwood. ‘I don’t know how we’re going to manage without you.’

  ‘You’ve almost become a part of our family this holiday,’ said Mr Greenwood.

  I bent my head over little Flora and clutched her tightly to stop myself crying. I took her back to the girls’ room and walked her up and down. She relaxed against me, making contented little sucking noises. I rubbed my cheek against her downy head and patted her back.

  ‘Dear little Flora,’ I whispered.

  I heard Mr and Mrs Greenwood talking to each other earnestly next door, but their voices were lowered so I could not hear what they were saying. After a few minutes they came in the room together, looking solemn.

  ‘Hetty, dear, we’ve been conferring together, Mr Greenwood and I,’ said Mrs Greenwood.

  ‘We were wondering … how would you feel about coming home with us to Arundel?’ said Mr Greenwood.

  ‘Oh, Papa, what a wonderful idea!’ said Maisie.

  ‘Oh yes, Papa, it would be lovely to have Hetty for a sister,’ said Charlotte.

  I burst into tears now, still clutching Flora, but shaking uncontrollably.

  ‘There now, Hetty, I’ll take baby,’ said Mrs Greenwood gently.

  ‘Don’t cry so, Hetty. Don’t you want to be our sister?’ said Charlotte.

  ‘I – I want it more than anything,’ I sobbed.

  ‘There, then! It’s settled,’ said Mr Greenwood, clapping his hands. ‘You will be like another daughter to us.’

  ‘I would like that tremendously, but – but I am already a daughter to dear Mama. I have to stay here and see her every day at the infirmary,’ I said.

  ‘I understand, Hetty – but I think it would ease your poor mama’s suffering to know that you are safe, with a good family to care for you,’ said Mrs Greenwood.

  ‘I know that’s exactly what Mama would want, but even so, I have to stay and see her, because … because she might not be here much longer.’ I said the words in a whisper, hardly able to bear to say them aloud.

  ‘You poor dear child,’ said Mrs Greenwood. ‘But where will you stay if you won’t come with us?’

  ‘I have a little money to see me through a few days, and then I shall look for work here,’ I said resolutely.

  ‘Then we will give you a character reference. I will write it this very minute. I shall say you are the most excellent little nursemaid,’ said Mr Greenwood.

  ‘And we will give you our address,’ said Mrs Greenwood. ‘If you need a home when – when the time comes, then promise you will come to us.’

  I promised and thanked them fervently. I was so overcome that I could scarcely eat my supper. I could not believe that they could be so good and kind and generous. There was a part of me that wanted to seize this extraordinary opportunity right away. I was aware that it was a spur-of-the-moment offer. If they reflected on matters back in their own home, they might well change their minds, albeit reluctantly.

  They weren’t a wealthy family and I knew they lived in a modest house. Charlotte and Maisie had described it to me in detail. I would have to share a room with the girls and it would be a terrible squash for them. What would they do with me? Would they send me to school with Charlotte or send me out to work? I wasn’t a real daughter, and yet I was too close to them now to be a proper servant. I was always being told I didn’t know my place. I could see that I didn’t really have a place in the Greenwood family, though we might all wish I did.

  In any case I couldn’t go with them now and leave Mama. I packed my suitcase too, because I couldn’t stay on at their lodgings. The Greenwoods begged Mrs Brooke to let me have a room there for a few nights, but she said she had a new family with six children and a nursemaid coming on Saturday afternoon and there wouldn’t be room for even a mouse to bed down.

  So on Saturday I walked with the Greenwoods to the railway station, the summoned porter pushing all their luggage. I hugged them all in turn and we said our goodbyes. Mr Greenwood was the only one of us who didn’t cry – and even he seemed more moist-eyed than usual.

  I waved to them until the train had chuffed its way out of the station. When the white smoke cleared, I looked around the platform hurriedly, seeking out arriving holidaymakers with small children.

  There were several families travelling first class, but they all had their own nannies and nursemaids with them. I hastened to the guard’s van, where they were unloading all the trunks and cases, and sought out less stylish families without travelling servants. There was one family with three little fair children who loo
ked promising. The youngest was wailing dismally while its mother patted it in-effectually. I darted forward.

  ‘Excuse me, ma’am. I don’t want to seem forward, but I’m very good at handling babies. May I quieten the little one for you?’ I asked eagerly.

  The mama looked horrified and backed away from me, acting as if I were about to snatch her ewe lamb away for ever.

  ‘I don’t mean any harm, ma’am. Please let me offer my services as a nurserymaid while you are on holiday. I have an excellent character reference.’

  ‘Will you go away at once and stop pestering my wife or I’ll be forced to call a policeman,’ said the father, looking fierce.

  I sloped off, humiliated, and approached another family with twin boys, but they seemed equally suspicious. When I started talking to a third family, a station porter came up and seized hold of me by my collar, practically choking me.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re playing at, miss, but there’s no hawking or begging allowed on this station, so I must ask you to move on,’ he said firmly, and dragged me outside.

  I still didn’t give up. I watched for families making their way to lodging houses near the promenade and offered my services to each one, but they all regarded me with suspicion. I tried again when the next London trainload arrived, with equal lack of success.

  I tried another tactic, walking up and down the streets of Bignor, knocking on every likely door, begging for work.

  ‘I will turn my hand to anything. I am an excellent nursemaid, but I am an experienced parlourmaid too, and a competent cook – I’m particularly good at pastry. Please may I work for you? I have a good character and I’ll be content with the smallest of salaries. Oh please, will you take me in?’

  I gabbled some version of this spiel again and again. Folk frequently shut the door in my face. One kindly cook let me sit in her kitchen and made me a cup of tea, but then even she sent me on my way. By mid afternoon I was exhausted, but I wouldn’t give up. I tried the shops instead, seeing if any might be willing to take me on, but people shook their heads again and again.