She took the short cut, haring through the narrow walkways that led off to the kitchen and the washrooms, and skidded into the chilly refectory, managing to slow to a more dignified pace just as the final strike rang out. With chin lowered, she walked over to her usual place at one of the long, bare trestle tables, sat down, put her hands together and began to speak the familiar words of the grace. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the glare of Matron Sully burning into her, knowing she would be thinking what a sight she looked with her wet hair stuck to her head and her grey serge uniform dress clinging in sodden folds to her legs.
The matron was sitting alongside Walter Thanet on a dais at the far end of the room at the high table, which, as always, had been draped in freshly laundered, crisp white napery. But knowing that even a quick peek in their direction while they were eating could provoke rage in the matron, Nell knew better than to return the woman’s stare. She really didn’t know why, but no matter how hard she worked, punishments came too easily these days for her to risk doing anything that could be construed by Matron as showing even the slightest hint of insolence. So, instead, just as all the older children did each evening, Nell lifted the lid off the earthenware pot that had been set out earlier by the cook, and began ladling out the thin, watery stew for the younger children seated at her table, only serving herself when everyone else had a full bowl.
As the children ate their supper – mopping up every last morsel of gristle and pearl barley with the slab of dry, greyish bread they had each been given – and as the matron and governor savoured their mutton chops, parsnips and crisply roasted potatoes smothered in thick gravy, a girl stood at a lectern and read out improving verses from the Bible. Nobody else in the cold, draughty room spoke except for the two adults at the high table, who were engaged in what sounded to Nell’s ears almost like an argument.
‘Oh no, Matron Sully,’ said the governor firmly, with a rather superior look on his face. ‘I really don’t think it would be sensible to allow that.’
‘So you said, Mr Thanet.’ The matron paused, building up to her trump card. ‘But we can’t keep young people here against their will once they have reached a certain age, now can we? How would that appear should the board come to hear of it? People might start making enquiries into the way the place is run.’
Walter Thanet put down his knife and fork, dabbed his lips with his napkin, and sipped from his glass of water.
With the youngsters’ meagre meal over, and the tables cleared, Nell walked towards the door, looking forward to the blessed relief of being able to sleep at last.
Just as she was about to enter the dormitory, already unbuttoning the cuffs of her dress, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She half turned to see Matron Sully standing behind her, grease from her rich meal still glistening on her lips.
‘I want to see you in the office. Now. So don’t just stand there staring at me, girl, come along. And dress yourself properly. Do up those cuffs.’ She looked Nell up and down. ‘I really fail to understand how, after all my hard work, you have learned nothing about the manners and the behaviour of decent people.’ She sighed disapprovingly. ‘I suppose it was always too much to ask, turning a child from the gutter into a person of propriety.’
The matron thumped away along the corridor with Nell following at a respectful distance; she could only wonder what she was supposed to have done wrong this time. She was sure she had done the laundry as well as humanly possible, especially considering that she had had to do it all alone, and there was nothing else she could think of that might warrant a punishment. She hadn’t even been late for supper.
As Nell entered the little room, Matron Sully was already sitting at her desk with her back to the door. ‘Mr Thanet and I have decided,’ she said, flicking through a pile of papers, ‘that the time has come for you to leave.’
Nell didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t have been more shocked if the matron had reached out and hugged her to her bosom. And although she couldn’t see the woman’s face, and it was hardly in the matron’s nature, Nell could only think that she was playing a trick on her, that she was teasing her for some reason. There was no other explanation.
‘The usual firms will be contacted, and enquiries made regarding opportunities for employment, although I can’t think of many positions you’d be fit for, not with your attitude.’
‘I’m very sorry, Matron Sully, but I don’t understand.’
‘Don’t play the fool with me, girl. You heard what I said – the time has come for you to leave.’
‘Leave? Leave where? Not here? I can’t. I’m not old enough.’
‘Of course you are, you ridiculous girl.’
‘But I’m not, I’m—’
‘Fifteen,’ the matron interrupted her. ‘Almost sixteen, in fact. So rather than argue with me, you should be grateful you weren’t asked to leave some time ago. Although even that’s too much to expect from the likes of you, I suppose.’
Nell wasn’t listening to her any longer. ‘How do you know how old I am? I don’t even know that.’
She had never dared speak to the matron in such a way before, but fear and confusion were making her reckless.
Matron Sully inhaled deeply and noisily through her nostrils, more a whinny than a breath. ‘Because I know everything about every child in this place.’
‘No.’
‘Oh yes.’ She stabbed a dimpled finger at the rows of leather-bound ledgers stacked neatly on the shelves above her desk. ‘And that’s how. From those books. Those books that cannot lie because I wrote every one of the words within them. Not that it’s anything to do with you, of course. And from the way you’ve begrudged doing every little task ever asked of you, I’d have thought you’d be glad to leave here. You are a stupid, ungrateful girl. You’ve been fed, sheltered, and educated – even taught how to use a typewriting machine.’
‘Only so that I can do your and Mr Thanet’s chores in the office.’
That had the matron turning around all right.
Nell took a step backwards, terrified by what she had just done, but knowing she had to carry on. ‘I want to speak to him, to Mr Thanet.’
The matron smiled unpleasantly. ‘Think you can get round him do you, you with your pretty face? Well, that’s where you’re wrong. You’re far too old to hold any appeal for the governor. And, while we’re on the subject, when you were younger it was only because I protected you from him that you were left alone. I thought that that in itself might warrant some gratitude.’
Nell frowned. ‘I don’t understand what you mean by that either, but if you ever protected me from anything, then I know why. It was because of that.’
She pointed at the gold and pearl N pinned on the bib of the woman’s apron, struggling, as she always did when she dared to snatch a look at it, to catch the memory that flitted around in the shadows of her mind. The memory was of someone so kind and beautiful she was more like an angel from the books that they let her read at Sunday school than an ordinary woman. And she was sure that the woman had cared about her, maybe had even loved her; but then there was something else, something about a fire, and a man who had hurt the lovely woman. But it was a memory she could never quite grasp.
Nell dropped her head and stared down at the floor, feeling the familiar confusion of loving warmth and fear. She then lifted her chin slowly and stared directly at the woman. ‘My brooch,’ she said quietly. ‘And because I work harder than anyone in here – Mr Thanet always says so. And I don’t know why but that seems to make you angry with me.’
‘Oh he’s always telling you that, is he? That he thinks you’re such a hard worker.’ Her voice was low, menacing. ‘How charming. So I suppose you’re planning to steal my job from me, are you?’ She rose to her feet and took a step towards Nell. ‘And that’s why you’re so keen to stay.’ She poked Nell hard in the chest. ‘You want my job.’
‘Matron Sully, I promise you, I don’t want to cause any trouble for you. I just want to
ask Mr Thanet if I can stay here. Ask him to go to the board and see if they can find me a proper job in the home so I can stay. Not your job, of course. Truly, not yours. I would never be able to do what you do. But whatever job I’m given, I’ll do it however you tell me to, honestly I will. And I’ll do anything. Please. I’ve nowhere else to go.’
The thought of having Nell hanging around the place, continuing to cast her furtive little glances at the brooch, had been almost too much for Matron Clara Sully. Now that she had been so insolently open about it, actually talking about the thing, well, the situation had become intolerable. Worse, if Mr Thanet really did think that the girl was capable of doing her job, what would that mean for her, a woman who had given her life to the home? Employing someone like this troublemaker would certainly be cheaper for the board, and as the girl had no idea about the governor’s ‘special interests’ in the younger ones he’d probably be doubly keen for her to take over.
It all made her resolve even firmer. She’d been right all along, she had no option; she had to get rid of her, and now she knew it had to be without delay. It was that little witch or her.
‘Matron Sully, about the brooch—’ Nell was about to say that she could keep it if it meant so much to her, and if she could stay in the home, stay there with the other children who were her only family, then she would do anything. But the matron didn’t let her finish, wouldn’t even listen.
‘For God’s sake girl, if it’s so important to you, just take the damned thing will you.’ She fumbled around unpinning the brooch, not even noticing that she had taken the Lord’s name in vain. ‘This thing has caused me nothing but misery from the day I set eyes on it. Just like you and your conniving ways. Well, let me tell you, you won’t get the better of me.’
She thrust the brooch at the now totally amazed Nell, who, without thought, immediately put it deep into her pocket, her fingers outlining the unfamiliar feel of the bumps of the pearls, the curling shape of the gold N, the sharpness of the pin.
‘Now get out of my sight. You will leave here first thing in the morning, before breakfast, and I’ll hear no more about it.’
She would have sent her away there and then, but she had to be careful: if she did so and Mr Thanet were to hear about it, she’d have some explaining to do. It was going to be tricky as it was. He’d already taken some persuading on the matter when the matron had told him over supper that it was Nell who had asked to leave the home. He’d actually come close to accusing her of lying, had even raised his voice to her. So, for her own peace of mind – and for her reputation – Matron Sully had to put a stop to all this nonsense right now. Just in time, before things got out of hand, and her position was jeopardised any further.
‘But, Matron, please.’
‘Get out’ were the final words that Nell would ever hear the matron speak.
Chapter 7
When Nell heard the sounds of the children assigned to early morning cleaning duty sweeping and polishing in the corridor outside the dormitory, she was already sitting fully dressed on the edge of her neatly made bed, having barely slept all night. She had been scared to leave any earlier, but was even more scared to wait any longer. Obeying Matron Sully had become too much of a habit to shake easily.
She stood up, her legs feeling unsteady, and went downstairs to the older girls’ washroom to get ready to leave the only home she could ever remember.
As she stood at the sink and washed her hands and face, Nell wondered if she would ever see young Sam again. How would he ever manage without her looking out for him? How would any of the little ones manage?
She sniffed quietly, dried her face and her tears on the rough towel that hung from the peg behind the door, and put on her coat.
Nell left the building by the side door where the tradesmen delivered their goods, so avoiding going past the matron’s office – not that she’d be out of bed at this early hour – and stepped out into the cold and misty morning. She gripped the brooch tightly – her one and only possession – and pushed it deep down in her coat pocket. She had somehow always known it was hers, this brooch that was in the shape of the letter that began her name – N for Nell.
Before that day, Nell had only ever left the home on Sundays, and then only to go just around the corner to the meeting hall to attend the religious services that were held in the mornings, and back again in the afternoon for Sunday school. And so she certainly wasn’t prepared for the crush, noise and bustle of weekdays in Whitechapel High Street. It wasn’t quite eight o’clock and yet the place was already heaving, crowded with people who all seemed to be hurrying somewhere – unlike Nell, who had nowhere to go and who had just been wandering aimlessly through the maze of unfamiliar back streets, until she had stepped out into this bedlam.
There were horses pulling carts stacked high with hay, market stalls being set out with displays of shiny fruit and colourful vegetables that looked far nicer than any she had ever seen the cook cutting up in the kitchen, and motor buses packed with passengers. Trying to walk along the pavement felt just like the dream she sometimes had about being a tiny child carried by a huge man. In the dream she was cold and wet, and there were crowds and crowds of people, and whoever was holding her couldn’t force his way past them and it made him angry. She didn’t like the dream, but at least it wasn’t noisy. Out here on the street, it was the noise that alarmed her most of all. After being in the home where Matron had insisted that all conversations should be conducted at little more than a whisper, and where everyone had been ordered to walk through the dun-coloured corridors at a ‘decent’ speed, it was like being in a madhouse.
Everyone seemed to be shouting, calling out to one another, issuing instructions, laughing as though they would never stop. Horses whinnied and motor vehicles roared, horns were sounded and wagon drivers hollered.
Nell, with her chin down, eyes lowered and shoulders hunched against the already wintry October weather, walked along the pavement keeping close to the wall, not wanting to be seen, and definitely not wanting to cause a fuss. She had learned from her life in the home that silent invisibility was always the safest option – as had been proved last night when she had been foolish enough to answer back to the matron.
She was shivering; her dress hadn’t dried out properly from working in the laundry the day before, and the thin serge of her overcoat did little to keep out the piercing wind. She was used to never being really warm in the home, but this was different. If she didn’t find somewhere to dry off, she thought she might die from the cold. Nell was beginning to panic: what if she couldn’t find anywhere? What would become of her then?
As a feeling of sickness rose in her empty belly a man absorbed in reading his morning newspaper walked straight into her, sending her stumbling backwards.
‘Watch where you’re going, will you?’ he barked, striding off without even offering to help her.
Nell tried to save herself, but the thin soles of her shoes slipped on the damp paving stones and she lost her footing, finishing up almost sitting on top of a petite, red-haired young woman who was kneeling on a coconut mat, scrubbing the front step of a pub.
‘Oi! Look out you dozy ha’p’orth,’ she yelled. ‘You’ve knocked my bloody hat right off my flipping head, and soaked my sleeve all the way up to my blooming elbow.’
‘I’m very sorry, miss.’ Nell was now round-eyed with fear. Would the woman attack her? ‘I didn’t mean to. Honestly I didn’t.’
She bent down to right the woman’s bucket, but her frozen fingers had no grip and the pail went crashing to the pavement, sending what water there was left all over Nell’s already chilled bare legs. She burst into tears of miserable self-pity.
Getting to her feet, the red-haired young woman sighed loudly. ‘All right, don’t make such a bloody fuss. It’s only a drop of water. And it was your own fault. I didn’t chuck it at you. Not like you chucked it over me.’
She put her arm around Nell’s shoulders. ‘I’m probably going to re
gret ever doing this, cos you might be a mad axe-murderer for all I know, but look at you, I can’t leave you out here, you’re trembling. Come on, come inside and we’ll get you all dried off.’
Nell resisted for a brief moment – she had never seen anyone with so much powder and lipstick plastered on her face – but not knowing what else to do, she gave in and let the woman usher her inside the pub.
As she pushed her way past the folds of a heavy red velvet curtain that hung the full length of the doorway, Nell gasped. She had never seen anything like it.
The place was glittering with ornate bevelled mirrors and burnished brass rails and gasoliers. There were rows of variously sized and coloured bottles on glass shelves, polished wood and ceramic pumps on a curving mahogany bar that was divided up by etched-glass snob screens.
Nell thought it must be one of the most beautiful places in the world.
And it was so warm. The heat was coming from what looked like a freshly set fire that was blazing away in a tiled and blackleaded grate, and the air was thick with heavy scents that she couldn’t recognise or name, but which reminded her of Mr Thanet.
‘So, what do they call you then, sweetheart?’ said the young woman, peeling Nell’s coat from her drooping shoulders. ‘They call me Sylvia.’
‘Nell, miss,’ she said, making sure her brooch was safely tucked into her fist, a memory flashing into her mind of being told to keep it safe in her mouth before the man came.
‘That’s a nice name; I had a friend called Nell once.’ Sylvia pulled a chair close to the fire and draped the coat over it to dry. ‘But she got married and moved over to south London. Gawd knows why she did that.’ She turned back to face Nell. ‘And I’m not Miss, I’m . . . Here, hang on a minute. Your dress. Isn’t that one of them they wear in that home that’s off the back of the high street?’
Rough Justice Page 4