Christmas for the Halfpenny Orphans

by Cathy Sharp

  ‘What about me? Doesn’t it matter what I feel?’ Jack demanded. His fingers tightened about her wrist. ‘I thought you loved me.’

  ‘I did, I do love you,’ she said brokenly, ‘but I’m not coming to Southend.’ She looked at him urgently. ‘You’ve got to get away; don’t you understand that, Jack? The gang think you’ve come back and they will kill you if they find you; they’ll make you give them what they want.’

  ‘And whose fault is it that they’re after me, Alice? I wouldn’t have tried to get out so quickly if it wasn’t for you. You were the one that wanted to get away from them. You made me break away from Lee.’ He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Alice sobbed as his fingers dug into her, but then he pulled her close and kissed her roughly. ‘You do care about me. I know you do,’ he said. ‘I’m telling you, Alice, I shan’t give you up—’

  He was interrupted by banging at the front door. Alice looked at him in fear, her heart thumping as she heard the voice calling to her through the letterbox.

  ‘They know you’re here, Jack,’ she said urgently. ‘You’ve got to go quickly or it will be too late.’

  Jack swore furiously. ‘Don’t bother with your things, Alice. I’ll buy everything you need. Bring the baby to the zoo – make it Sunday and I’ll meet you at the cafe. They will follow you for a day or two, so you can’t pick up the stuff from the locker yourself. Ask that friend of yours to do it for you. I’m relying on you, Alice. Now give me a couple of minutes to get away and then speak to them through the door – but don’t open it whatever you do.’

  ‘You’d better go, Jack. If I’m not there on Sunday you’ll know I couldn’t get away from them.’

  ‘You will come?’ His eyes lit with excitement, clearly thinking he’d won. He believed she would come and bring the jewels. ‘I love you, Alice. I’ll always love you until the day I die.’

  ‘Go now,’ she urged. ‘I loved you, Jack. I don’t want you to die …’

  In a moment Jack was gone. She stood at the window with the light off and saw his shadow scale the wall at the back of her yard. Then she walked into the hall and shouted through the door.

  ‘Go away, you’ll wake my baby. There’s no one here but me – and if you don’t stop making a noise, my neighbour will phone the police!’

  ‘We know Jack Shaw is in London,’ the voice said through the letterbox. ‘If we find out you’ve been helping him, you’ll be sorry, Alice Cobb.’

  ‘I’m not Alice Cobb,’ she said, and tears streamed down her cheeks. ‘Go away and leave me alone. I haven’t seen Jack Shaw and I’m not going to.’

  At least that last bit was true, Alice thought as she went through to the kitchen to make sure the back door was secure. She’d let Jack think she would meet him knowing he wouldn’t leave otherwise, but she wouldn’t go to him – and she wouldn’t fetch that stuff or ask Michelle to fetch it for her. She wouldn’t meet him; she knew Jack had lied to her about the man who had died at the factory. Arthur Baggins hadn’t killed him; Jack had. And that made him a cold-blooded murderer.

  For a moment when he’d kissed her, when he’d told her he loved her and wanted to see Susie, she’d almost believed him; she’d wanted to believe that he’d come back for her – and a part of her still did. But the sensible part told her that the only thing Jack wanted was the jewels. He was merely using her.

  Perhaps it wasn’t too late. She could meet him at the zoo with Susie and they could go away together, start a new life in America – but once Jack had what he wanted he wouldn’t want to be bothered with a child. No, he was a liar, a thief and a murderer, and even if a part of her longed for him, she knew she had to resist.

  She had loved Jack so very much and she’d kept his memory enshrined in her heart all this time, but now it would fade – it must, because he wasn’t and never had been the man she’d believed. She had to forget him … didn’t she?

  TWENTY-TWO

  Kelly finished washing the dishes and turned to look round the kitchen with a pleased smile. She’d been tired when she got home from work, but her mother was in bed again and the children had left their things all over the place, dirty cups and plates and bits of crust left from their thick slices of bread and dripping. Kelly couldn’t let her father come home to that after he’d worked all day. She had a fish pie in the oven for him with some mashed potatoes and a bit of cabbage, which she would chop up with margarine, salt and pepper when he got in. Hearing the sound of his boots on the cobbles outside in the yard, Kelly drained the cabbage and started to chop.

  ‘Your mammy not well?’ he asked with a slight frown as he glanced about the kitchen. ‘You’ve got this place decent again, girl. I don’t know what we’d do without you.’

  Kelly shook her head as her brothers came bursting into the room, fighting over a ball and throwing their coats on the floor as they quarrelled over whose ball it was.

  ‘Anythin’ to eat, our Kelly?’ Michael said and helped himself to a cup of water from the tap. ‘That smells good …’ He looked enviously at the pie, mashed potatoes and cabbage she placed before her father. ‘Ain’t yer got a bun or anythin’?’

  ‘You had your tea earlier, Michael. You can have some bread and dripping if you want?’

  ‘You can have a bit of my pie,’ his father said. ‘Bring your plate here, lad.’ He cut a wedge of the pie and slid it on to the boy’s plate. ‘What about you, Robbie?’

  ‘I had bread and jam for tea – and they gave us minced-beef pie at school today.’

  His father nodded, but Michael was growing fast and he wolfed down his share of his father’s meal, wiping his hand across his mouth afterwards in satisfaction.

  ‘Off with you now, I want to talk to your sister,’ he said, and the boys left the kitchen without protest.

  ‘Is something the matter, Dad?’ Kelly asked, sitting on the chair next to him as she poured tea for them both.

  ‘I might be on short time after next week,’ he told her. ‘You mustn’t say a word to your mammy, love, but if it happens we’ll be a bit short in the rent. I don’t suppose there’s any way you can do extra hours at your job?’

  ‘I’ve offered to go in in the evenings to make up for being late sometimes when I have to get the children off to school,’ she said and bit her lip. ‘I’d like to be one of the carers; they’re always taking on new girls – but I don’t think they would trust me.’

  ‘Why not, may I ask? You’ve had plenty of experience with your brothers and your sister,’ her father said. ‘Cate is nearly ten and it’s high time she helped her mother more. I’ll speak to her and tell her she has to help in the mornings. You ask Sister Beatrice if she’ll give you some extra hours – as a carer or in the kitchens.’

  ‘Sister Beatrice is ill – I might ask Mrs Morton,’ Kelly said slowly. ‘She’s been kind, bringing the doctor here and putting our name on that list for a better house …’

  ‘No news on that, I suppose? If we had a decent place to live your mammy might not be sick all the time.’

  ‘I’ll ask Mrs Morton tomorrow,’ Kelly said, smiling at the father she loved. ‘And I’ll see if there’s any chance of being taken on as a carer – but I don’t think I’ve much chance.’

  ‘Well, maybe I shan’t get put on short hours,’ her father said. ‘I’ll find a bit of labouring or something if all else fails …’

  ‘I know it’s a lot to ask,’ Kelly said when she spoke to Angela the next day. ‘I was taken on as a kitchen girl but I’m good at looking after kids. I have been late a few times, and taken days off, but only because Mammy was ill. I promise I’ll work hard – and I’m happy to do nights or evening shifts. Some of the girls grumble about being on nights, but I wouldn’t mind what I did so long as I can earn a bit more while my dad’s on short time.’

  ‘Yes, I do understand why you’ve been late, and hopefully your mother will improve if we can get you that new house, though I still can’t promise anything,’ Angela said. ‘But I don’t know about making
you a carer, Kelly. I should have to talk to Sister Beatrice first …’ she hesitated, then, ‘I’m going to take some of the children to the zoo one Sunday soon – would you like to volunteer to come with us? It will mean being here earlier in the morning to get your work done first, and it will be a long day …’

  ‘Me, come on the trip to the zoo?’ Kelly stared, hardly believing her ears. ‘I’d love the chance, miss.’

  ‘Well, it would give us an opportunity to see how you are with the children,’ Angela said. ‘There are no guarantees, but I shall put your name on the list for the trip. Now you’d better get back to work or Cook will be cross with me for keeping you talking.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Morton. Thank you so much,’ Kelly said, feeling slightly dazed as she hurried back to the kitchen. It wasn’t a promise, but there was a half-chance she would get to go on the visit to the zoo and then, if she could prove herself and be made a carer, her wage would go up by at least a pound a week. Yet she hardly dared to hope, because things like that didn’t happen to girls like her – did they?

  Angela sighed as the door closed behind Kelly. She’d asked about being made a career and the rise in wages would undoubtedly help at home, but would it be wise to go out on a limb for the girl? She’d been late so often, and yet Angela knew that Kelly had tried much harder lately and she’d put in extra hours at night to make up for any lateness in the morning. After all, everyone deserved a chance in life and they did need good carers, especially one happy to work at night …

  The telephone shrilled beside her and she answered it to hear her father’s voice.

  ‘Angela, are you too busy to talk?’

  ‘No, I always have time for you. How are you, Dad?’

  ‘Not too bad, my love; much better for the sound of your voice. I’m coming up to town on Friday. Would you be free to have dinner with me?’

  ‘Absolutely. Will you be staying in London for the weekend? I’m taking a party of about twenty-five children to the zoo – a few of the carers will be coming too, of course … I don’t suppose you fancy joining us?’

  Her father hesitated for a moment, then, ‘Do you know, I should enjoy that, Angela. What a splendid idea. I think the weather is set fair for a few days.’

  ‘And how do you know that?’ she teased. ‘Have you been consulting your seaweed?’

  ‘I don’t need seaweed; my arthritis is a far better barometer,’ her father said. ‘You sound happy, Angela.’

  ‘Yes, I am. I’m feeling better in myself than I have for a long time – although it’s difficult here with Sister Beatrice in hospital.’

  ‘Yes, it means more work for you …’ A sigh escaped him. ‘I was going to break the news on Friday, but I may as well tell you now: I’ve had another letter from your mother. She wants a divorce.’

  ‘A divorce! Daddy, she can’t,’ Angela cried, distressed. ‘It isn’t fair to you. What have you ever done to deserve being treated like that?’

  ‘According to your mother, my sins are many and varied. I shall have to engage a solicitor to sort this mess out – which is why I’m coming up to London. I don’t feel my firm should handle it. No, I shall speak to an old friend of mine and let him deal with your mother’s solicitors – though I’m not going to argue with her unless she demands too much. I want you to have your share when I’ve gone, Angela.’

  ‘Please, don’t. I’ve no interest in money. I want you to live for ages – and I don’t think this is fair of Mum. If she knew you weren’t well, she wouldn’t do this to you, Dad.’

  ‘Wouldn’t she?’ Angela’s father sighed deeply. ‘I’m not sure what I did to make her hate me, but it seems she does. Apparently, everything she did when she was suffering from strain was my fault. It’s my fault she ran up bills and my fault she stole things …’

  ‘I think I should talk to her,’ Angela said, feeling angry and protective. ‘How could it be your fault? You’ve always been good to us – both of us.’

  ‘Not in your mother’s opinion,’ he said. ‘Please, my love, don’t try to interfere. I don’t want to make your mother unhappy – or rather, more unhappy than she already is. I would prefer to settle this through a third party. Whatever the law says she is entitled to, she must have – but I don’t want to give up the house. I would prefer to sell the practice and pay her out of the proceeds.’

  ‘But being a family solicitor is your life, Dad.’

  ‘I don’t think I can go on for much longer in any case, love. I was thinking of selling up – and that’s what I’ll do if need be. I’ve had a couple of offers but I wasn’t quite ready. However, I think it may be for the best – rather than leave it all for you to sort out when I go.’

  ‘Daddy, darling …’ Angela’s heart felt as if it would break as she heard the tiredness and the sorrow in his voice. It wasn’t fair on him. Of course she didn’t know all the details of her parents’ lives. Perhaps something had happened years ago that had caused the slow parting of the ways, but all her sympathy belonged with her father. ‘Do what you have to – but don’t consider me. You know John provided all I need for myself and more.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but you’re a generous woman and you give much of your income away to others,’ her father said. ‘I would never interfere – but promise me that you won’t give away your home. I want you to have security, somewhere to go if you ever need it.’

  Again, Angela’s eyes were wet with tears. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the phone, but she kept her voice steady as she promised.

  ‘I like the idea of a country retreat,’ she said, trying to sound upbeat, ‘but I prefer that you’re there when I come down, dearest. And I’m definitely coming for Christmas. I’ll give you a list of what we need and I’ll be down late on Christmas Eve, as I was last year.’

  ‘Goodness, I hadn’t started to think about that yet.’

  ‘It’s creeping up on us,’ Angela said and laughed. ‘I’ll see you on Friday – and don’t work too hard. I don’t want to lose you, Dad.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve no intention of going anywhere yet,’ he said. ‘This is all just so that you know what’s going on, my love.’

  ‘Yes, I see,’ Angela said. ‘I still think you should tell Mum that you’re not too well.’

  ‘Please promise me you won’t.’

  ‘You have my word.’

  ‘Good. I shan’t keep you any longer. I’ll see you on Friday.’

  ‘I shall look forward to it – and our day at the zoo.’

  ‘That will be like old times, when you were young, Angela.’

  ‘Yes, it will …’ Angela replaced the phone, her eyes stinging as she fought to hold back her tears. Sometimes, it hurt to think of her father living all alone, but at least she would be joining him for Christmas, and the thought of cooking him dinner banished the tears. Her father had always been special to her and she couldn’t forgive her mother for hurting him the way she had.

  She picked her telephone receiver up almost immediately and asked for Mark’s office number. He might be at the hospital or one of the clinics, but she needed to hear his voice. A surge of relief went through her as she heard his voice at the other end.

  ‘Mark, can you come over to mine this evening? I’ll buy some steak or chops or something and we’ll have a salad …’

  ‘Yes, lovely,’ he replied. ‘Is anything wrong, Angela love?’

  ‘I’ll talk to you this evening. I’d rather not discuss it on the phone.’

  ‘Then I’ll be there,’ Mark said. ‘Tonight you can tell me everything.’

  Replacing the receiver, Angela sat very still as Mark’s reassuring words sank in. She’d told him she needed him, because her father’s phone call had left her wanting to weep on someone’s shoulder and she’d known that Mark was the only one she could turn to …

  TWENTY-THREE

  Wendy looked at the child sitting forlornly on the side of her bed; it was a bright morning and she ought to be outside, running about with the other children, gettin
g some fresh air, but she looked so pale and distressed that Wendy couldn’t chide her. Instead, she sat down beside her.

  ‘Something is wrong, isn’t it, Sarah?’ Wendy asked and reached for the delicate hand, cradling it in her own. ‘Can’t you tell me?’

  ‘Sarah want Samantha,’ she said and two tears welled and spilled out of her wide eyes.

  Wendy wiped them away with her fingers, longing to cuddle the child, but knowing she wouldn’t be helping. Unless they could get Samantha back, Sarah was going to have to learn to cope without her twin.

  ‘Samantha can’t come love; your aunt won’t let her, but I’m sure she will one day …’

  Sarah shook her head and then clutched at her tummy. ‘Hurt bad,’ she said, ‘Samantha not well.’

  ‘Do you mean you’re not well?’ Wendy asked, looking at her in concern. ‘Do you have a tummy ache?’

  Again Sarah shook her head. ‘Not Sarah, Samantha hurt bad … hurt all over like when Pa beat Sarah. Samantha crying.’

  ‘Samantha is crying because she’s hurt?’ Wendy looked into the wide innocent eyes and felt a jolt when she saw the utter despair there. ‘How do you know? Have you seen her?’ Sarah’s head shake was angry, impatient. ‘Then what makes you so sure, love? Perhaps you don’t feel well and you think it’s your sister?’

  ‘No!’ Sarah jumped to her feet in sudden temper and gave Wendy a look of what could only be disgust. ‘Wendy not understand. Sarah feel Samantha’s pain always!’

  Then, before Wendy could answer, she ran out of the room.

  Too stunned to think, Wendy was slow to follow and when she did there was no sign of the child. Frustrated and distressed, she’d run off somewhere. Wendy’s heart went out to her; Sarah had seemed genuinely in pain, but how could it be possible that the hurt she was feeling was actually her twin’s? That wasn’t possible, was it? She’d heard stories about a kind of telepathy between twins, but this seemed so far-fetched. She wondered whether she might have misunderstood; Sarah was a bit backward, which made it difficult to be sure that she knew what she was saying.