by Maggie Hope
‘Why, you impittent beggar, we’ve every right. We’re her legal guardians and she’s under age. You’d better be off with you or it will be the worse for you and the worse for her.’
‘Don’t you touch her! Don’t you dare –’ Tom burst out in fury, but his only answer was a jeering laugh as Doris went away from the door. He stood, frustrated and fuming, irresolute. He banged again on the door to no response. Should he call the police, he pondered, would it do any good? Maybe the woman was within her rights.
‘Come on, Tom,’ Virginia said at last. ‘We’ll go and tell Father. He’ll know what to do.’ In the end it was Virginia who had to think for them both and decide on a course of action. ‘It’s no good going to the police if they really are her legal guardians. No, Father is the best person to deal with this. He’ll know exactly what to do.’
Reluctantly Tom had to return to the trap and set off on the journey back to Durham – a journey which seemed a great deal longer than the one in the opposite direction that morning.
Ada heard Tom banging on the door as she was thrust into her room and the door banged shut behind her. She heard him shouting through the front door as the key turned in hers and Auntie Doris answering him, her voice raised as high as his. And she heard the shouting die down as Tom went away. He wouldn’t just give up, would he? She sat on the bed in the little room in the attic and stared at the locked door in disbelief. This had to be a nightmare, surely it was? But she knew that what was happening was something she had feared all summer long. She moved restlessly and felt her cheek, gingerly touched her bruised eye, frantically wondering what to do.
They couldn’t keep her here a prisoner, it just wasn’t possible, she would get away. What good would it do Auntie Doris to keep her a prisoner in this room? And if she let her out to work, she would surely run away. She walked over to the skylight, which was a couple of panes set in the roof, and stood on a chair to look out. She could only see the tops of the houses opposite, no one she could call to. There was no way of getting out through the skylight and even if she could, how would she get down from the roof? Disconsolately rubbing her bruised arms, she sat back down on the bed.
The initial shock and fright were beginning to wear off and in their place came a rising anger. She would get away. She would refuse to work for Auntie Doris ever again. Why do they want to keep me? she reasoned. Her thoughts were repeating themselves over and over. Auntie Doris wants an unpaid skivvy. As soon as I’m loose in the house, I’ll tell the boarders. No, it won’t work, she must be doing it out of spite.
And Uncle Harry? The shutters closed down on her thoughts of why Uncle Harry might want her. Swiftly she took the lone chair and propped it hard under the doorknob. If she couldn’t get out, Uncle Harry would not get in, either.
‘Ada?’ It was Auntie Doris banging on the door that roused her. Ada had dropped into a light doze on the bed. The room was in half darkness for the days were getting shorter. Jumping up as she heard the voice, she was instantly on the defensive.
‘Ada, do you hear me?’ Auntie Doris tried the door again, then there was a thumping sound as Uncle Harry put his shoulder against it but the door held. Ada, who had been watching it with bated breath, breathed her relief.
‘Ada! Let me in, I’ve brought you some supper!’
‘You let me out! I’ll open the door all right when I go free and not till then!’
There was a whispered conversation outside the door which Ada couldn’t quite make out. Then the key turned again, locking the door.
‘Right then, madam!’ said Auntie Doris. ‘We’ll see who tires first and it won’t be me!’
‘You can’t keep me here! And if I hear Harry Parker on the landing again I’ll scream the house down! Don’t you let him near me! He can keep his filthy hands to himself.’ Ada was beside herself with rage. The thought of that man being so close to her made her flesh creep.
‘What? What did you say?’ Auntie Doris’s tone altered, she sounded uncertain of what Ada meant.
‘You heard what I said! You keep him away from me or by God I’ll swing for him!’
There was the sound of furious whispering outside the door, intensifying, then dying away, accompanied by retreating footsteps. Ada sat down on the bed, shaking uncontrollably. After a while, as the darkness deepened, she rose and went to the door, making sure the chair was firmly in place. She lay down on the bed and tried to relax. She needed all her strength for what lay ahead.
The sun was streaming in through the skylight when Ada awoke. She must have slept for the whole night, and she was incredulous that she could do so in her present predicament. She felt stiff and uncomfortable after sleeping in her clothes and she badly needed to pass water. She found a chamber pot under the bed and so was able to relieve herself, but when she looked in the jug on the washstand there was no water.
A glance in the looking glass showed her hair was tousled about her ears; she took out the hairpins and tried as best she could to comb it with her fingers before pinning it back into place. Sitting down, she considered her position.
She was no longer frightened of Harry Parker, she decided. Not in the daylight. Somehow or other she would make her escape and she would never come near Bishop Auckland again. She walked over to the door and took away the chair. Next time they came to open it she would be ready to get out.
Ada had not long to wait. Her straining ears caught the sound of footsteps on the stairs and she moved to the door and put her hand on the knob. She was all ready to fling open the door as soon as the key was turned and dive past whoever it was. The key did turn in the lock and she was away, pushing past Auntie Doris and taking both flights of stairs two at a time till she reached the hall. The front door was open but there was someone standing in the way of her headlong rush. She thrust out her hands to push whoever it was out of her path.
‘Ada!’ Strong arms grabbed her and she struggled frantically. ‘Ada, it’s all right, it’s me! Ada …’ Ada looked up into the smiling face of Dr Gray. All her nervous energy drained from her and she collapsed against his chest.
Travelling back to Durham, Ada felt as though a great shadow had been removed from her life. She sat in the trap beside Tom, who held a protective arm around her, his face full of concern. She was light-hearted, almost dizzy with relief. The scene around her was unreal to her eyes for she couldn’t believe she was out of that room.
‘How?’ she asked at last as they turned the corner at Neville’s Cross. ‘How did you do it?’ And Tom told her.
‘We went straight home, Virginia and I. Oh, I’m so sorry we couldn’t do anything yesterday – we thought about the police but we didn’t really know if they could do anything, if that pair were your legal guardians. We told Father everything, all about those awful people – we knew we had to get you away but we didn’t know how and Father said we knew you were older than fifteen and how could they keep you if you didn’t want to stay? And I said we’d come straight away in the new motorcar – oh, Ada, Father’s bought a spanking new Riley, but he said it was too late and anyway he had to practise driving first and me too, I’m going to learn – then in the end we waited until today and brought the trap. It was the safest.’
‘Tom, if you don’t pause for breath you’ll die from lack of oxygen.’ Dr Gray laughed, for Tom was going on as he had done as a boy when presented with an unexpected treat. Tom blushed and fell silent; he realised his words had been falling over themselves in his eagerness to tell Ada. Ada took his hand and squeezed it encouragingly.
‘Oh, do go on! How was it that Auntie Doris gave in so easily?’ For this was the question which had been puzzling Ada the most. Why take her at all just to give her up without a fight?
‘It was strange, very strange,’ Dr Gray remarked, nodding thoughtfully. ‘Why did they give you up so easily? I simply knocked on the door and said that I wished to see you. I said if I didn’t see you I intended to get legal advice on their right to hold you and also that if you were hurt
in any way I would bring in the police. The woman looked an absolute fright, her hair was all over the place and her eyes were red with weeping. She just stood there, listening to me, then she stumped off up the stairs.
‘“Take her! Take her!” she cried over her shoulder and the next thing you were flying down the stairs and nearly knocked me off my feet, and that was that. It’s a wonder you didn’t break your neck.’
‘Oh!’ Ada said quietly. She remembered the previous night, how she had shouted about getting the police to Uncle Harry, telling Auntie to keep him away from her, she had been beside herself. And so, when she thought about it, she had a fair idea now of the reason for her aunt’s sudden change of heart. Whatever had passed between her aunt and uncle, she would have liked to have been there to hear. She felt a rush of happiness: she was free now, both mentally and physically. It could never happen to her again.
‘Never mind why the old harridan let Ada go, it’s just a jolly good thing it’s all over and done with,’ said Dr Gray.
‘Yes, indeed.’ Tom was emphatic in his reply. He took Ada’s hand and held it firmly in his own for the rest of the journey. He never wanted to spend another night like the one he had just gone through.
Chapter Fourteen
The house was very quiet when Tom went back to medical school and Virginia to her boarding school. Ada helped Mrs Gray around the house but still found she had time on her hands, something that was a completely new experience to her. She spent a lot of time reading books, some which Mr Johnson lent her and some from the Grays’ library. She was also doing mathematical exercises which Mr Johnson set her each week and she really enjoyed doing them. Mr Johnson seemed to enjoy teaching her, too, he was always waiting for her when she paid him her once-a-week visit.
‘It’s a pleasure to teach such a quick mind, my dear,’ he said when she thanked him for his help one day. Ada supposed he just liked to keep his hand in with teaching; after all, it had been his life’s work.
One morning, as she dusted the furniture in the hall, she caught sight of her hands in the looking glass above the hallstand. They were so white, almost like a lady’s hands, she thought, with a start of surprise. What a difference it made not having to immerse them in hot soapy water every day! The skin was white and soft, the nails no longer brittle and broken but a smooth oval like Virginia’s. Despite all the years of hard work in Auntie Doris’s boarding house, they had not been spoiled altogether.
Absent-mindedly Ada rubbed the already shining hall table. Why had Auntie Doris been so determined to keep her in the house in Auckland? she wondered. She must have known it couldn’t last for ever, that she could not get away with telling Ada she was younger than she was when Ada knew it was a lie. But then, she decided, Auntie Doris was like that. A lot of folk were, it was just putting off the day, as they say. Eliza had said she could get her birth certificate from the register office, she remembered now. She glanced at the clock: it was almost noon. She would ask Dr Gray about that when he came home for lunch, it would be best to have it anyway.
‘Why, yes, Ada,’ Dr Gray replied to her query. ‘The register office is in Old Elvet. If you go down there you can get a copy of your birth certificate.’ Dr Gray paused for a moment before going on. ‘There is a small fee, sixpence I believe. Do you have it?’
Ada blushed. She did have a small amount of money, but she didn’t actually get a wage from the Grays; after all, she didn’t really do enough work to pay for her keep in her own estimation. She had thought she could begin doing the washing and ironing again for the household, but Mrs Gray wouldn’t hear of it.
‘No, no, Ada,’ she had said when Ada suggested it. ‘I’m perfectly satisfied now I send it out to that new laundry in the marketplace. The work was too hard for you in any case. It’s better for me too, no clothes about the place on wet days or lines cluttering up the garden.’
Ada knew she would have to find a way of making some money, even though, for the time being, she had her home and food with the Grays. She needed extras, and she wanted Christmas presents for Virginia and the others … And shortly she would have to find a home elsewhere, and for that she had to earn. Still, she could manage sixpence for her birth certificate.
‘Oh, yes, I’m all right, doctor,’ she answered now. When she first came to the house Ada had thought that the Grays must be very rich to live the way they did, but now she knew they had to be careful with their money. There was rich and rich and it all depended on whether you were looking at it from a labourer’s point of view or someone’s further up the scale.
Ada was given the idea for a solution the very next time she went to see Mr Johnson, a visit she meant to combine with going to the register office. They sat in the deep leather armchairs in his study, a fire blazing in the hearth for the day was cold and dark. Mr Johnson was opposite Ada, the firelight glinting on his snowy hair, his face animated as he talked of his favourite subject, history, in particular, local history. Today he was telling her of the battles against the Scots.
‘A warrior race, the people of Durham,’ he said. ‘Independent and brave. You can be proud of your ancestors, Ada.’
Ancestors, thought Ada. If only she knew her immediate family, let alone those who lived centuries ago, the ones Mr Johnson was talking about. He fell silent, staring into the fire, and Ada looked around the room. It was obviously a man’s room, with its leather chairs, dark wooden furniture bought for utility rather than elegance, and a faded carpet on the floor. Books were everywhere and she noticed most of them were covered in a film of dust. Mr Johnson had a woman coming in a couple of times a week, Ada knew, but the house had an air of neglect. Ada had an idea; she put it to Mr Johnson before she could think twice about it.
‘Mr Johnson, couldn’t you do with someone to help out in the house?’
He looked up in astonishment, his thoughts had been elsewhere. He glanced around him. It seemed all right to him.
‘I don’t know, Ada. I have someone coming in. I don’t want a stranger disturbing my things.’
Ada saw his surprise and realised she might have sounded a bit cheeky. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Johnson, I just thought, if you needed someone I could –’
‘Oh! You mean yourself?’ He bit his lip as he thought about it. ‘I couldn’t afford to pay you, Ada. And I couldn’t expect you to do it for nothing.’
‘I didn’t mean I wanted paying, Mr Johnson,’ Ada replied quickly, though in truth she had been hoping. ‘I could come anyway. I wouldn’t disturb your things but I could come over a little earlier than I do now and maybe just do a few jobs.’ After all, she thought, he was so good to her, helping her to educate herself.
‘That would be very kind of you, Ada,’ he said. ‘But I do think you should give some thought to your future. Have you thought any more of becoming a nurse?’
‘Not really, I don’t think I know enough yet.’
‘Nonsense, Ada, you have a fine mind and you’re learning fast. I’m sure you could pass an entrance examination. Of course, it would mean you would have to leave the Grays: probationer nurses have to live in, I understand. Would you mind that?’
Mind it? Ada saw this was just the solution to her problems. She could be independent again. ‘No, I wouldn’t mind at all, Mr Johnson.’
‘I think you should ask Dr Gray to find out for you when you should apply and what it will entail,’ Mr Johnson was saying.
‘Yes, of course, he’ll know, won’t he?’ Ada was getting excited at the thought. ‘Bye, Mr Johnson, wouldn’t it be grand if I could be a nurse?’
‘I don’t know about grand,’ he said and laughed. ‘It will be hard work. But of course you can do it, Ada, if you set your mind to it.’
Ada left his house feeling quite hopeful: she would have a career, she would be independent. She would ask Dr Gray to look into it for her as soon as she saw him that evening. Now, however, she had to go to the register office before it closed.
Ada sat on a bench by the river and stared at the envel
ope containing her birth certificate. As the doctor had foreseen, she had had no trouble, all she had needed to do was give her mother’s name and the house where she was born, her grannie’s house in Gilesgate. And now she had it, here in her hand. Slowly she drew it out of the envelope and opened it up. She was born on 20 May 1894. She had been right about her age and Auntie Doris must have known it. She read on: ‘Child’s name, Lorinda, Mother’s name, Ada Leigh, spinster.’ The place which should have contained her father’s name was blank. Well, of course she had known it would be, but still, seeing it like this … Ada stared out at the river, running high now, grey and icy-looking. She shivered and stood up, carefully putting the birth certificate back in the envelope. She walked back along the riverbank, feeling the shame which Auntie Doris had instilled into her as a small girl because she had no father.
As she walked she wondered about her mother. Why had she not come back for her? Was she dead? Or was she married now with a new family? Ada resolved to try to trace her mother. Perhaps the doctor could help her with that too.
Ada knocked on the door of Dr Gray’s study after supper that evening. At least, Ada still called it supper in her mind though the Grays called the evening meal dinner; to Ada’s mind, dinner was eaten at midday. Whatever the meal was named, Dr Gray usually retired to his study afterwards to catch up on paperwork.
‘Hello, dear, have you something on your mind? Do sit down and tell me what it is.’ Dr Gray leaned back in his chair, glad of the break. He had been working on the household bills.
‘I was wondering, doctor …’ Ada hesitated. Perhaps he would think she was aiming too high; after all, it was a long jump from an illiterate washerwoman to a probationer nurse.
‘Yes?’ he prompted.
‘I was wondering, do you think I could train as a nurse?’ It came out in a rush in the end.
Dr Gray considered the question. Ada was going to have to do something, he hadn’t thought of nursing but now he realised it was perhaps just the thing for her. He was quite pleased: it showed she had been influenced by the caring image of his own profession. Then, too, it would mean she would live in at a hospital. Not that he was sorry he had asked her to stay, but it would be nice to have just the family at home again.