Erin’s Child

by Erin's Child (retail) (epub)

  ‘John!’ shouted Mrs Howgego as Lol, the towel slipping from his shoulders, danced naked to escape the manservant’s punishing hands. ‘Don’t you dare lay another finger on that boy!’

  ‘Did you see what he did?’ demanded John angrily.

  ‘I didn’t!’ yelled Lol. ‘I were just rubbin’ me nose.’

  ‘Give us it here, I’ll bloody-well rub it for yer!’ responded John noisily.

  ‘Will you get about your work an’ leave the lad alone?’ stormed Mrs Howgego. ‘Look at the width of him. The sound o’ your voice is nearly knocking him over. Use them saucepan lids o’ yours to carry' that tray o’ silver back upstairs, instead o’ laying into this poor mite.’

  ‘Poor mite? Puh! Anyroad, who’re you to give me orders?’

  Mrs Howgego adopted the stance that had put flight to many a door-to-door hawker and grabbed a posser. ‘I’ll tell you who I am! I’m Cook, that’s who I am, an’ when I say jump you ruddy-well jump lest you want your parting altered.’ She laid into him with the posser and continued to do so until he made for the stairs. ‘An’ don’t you dare come back to my kitchen till you know your place!’ she bellowed after him. ‘Jumped up nowt,’ she said to Lol and threw down the posser in order to wrap the discarded towel round his shoulders. ‘Cover your decency. My knives have a nasty habit o’ cutting off owt that dangles.’

  Lol grinned and sat down again. ‘Is he the butler that John, then?’

  ‘Huh. Likes to reckon he is.’

  ‘Don’t like him – but I like you, missus.’

  ‘Oh, do you? Well, we’ll see how you like me when I get you peelin’ spuds for tonight’s supper.’ But the childless cook was inordinately pleased at the compliment and reached for another titbit for the boy.

  ‘What’re these?’ Lol examined the round green things that hung in a little cluster.

  ‘Eh, haven’t you ever seen grapes before?’

  ‘No.’ He poked them. ‘What do I do with ’em?’

  ‘You eat ’em, soft article. Listen, I can’t leave you hanging round my kitchen half-naked. I’m off to see if there’s any o’ Master Nick’s old clothes up in the attic.’

  ‘Who’s Master Nick?’ Lol still rolled the grapes through his fingers.

  ‘He’s the master’s grandson.’ She moved to the stairs. ‘Sit there an’ don’t touch a thing. You’ve seen what happens to them as misbehave.’ She left him to ponder on the grapes.

  Lol stood, the towel slipping off yet again, and wandered about the kitchen, prying into cupboards. Finally he popped a grape into his mouth. It tasted good till his teeth crunched on the pip and he made a face. His normal reaction was to spit it out, then, after staring at the pip on Cook’s nice clean floor, he retrieved it and looked for somewhere else to put it. There was a bowl of slops standing on a shelf beneath the sink. As he devoured the grapes he spat the pips into it.

  After this he strolled about the kitchen lifting lids and peeping into more cupboards, helping himself to any food he came across. There was a sudden shriek as the tiny kitchen-maid returned to her base and was faced with his nudity. She stood there, hand over mouth, staring at him.

  ‘What’s up – haven’t y’ever seen one before?’ He grasped his penis and jiggled it at her. Whence she screamed again and ran for the stairs, crashing into Cook as she returned with a pile of clothes.

  ‘Right, where’s that knife?’ By the time Cook had thundered down the remaining stairs Lol had the towel wrapped safely round him again and was sitting crosslegged to protect his threatened manhood. ‘By, I won’t half give it you if I catch you frightening my staff again,’ she warned. ‘Vinnie, lock yourself in the larder while His Lordship tries these togs on.’ She thrust a pile of Nick’s clothes at Lol. ‘Well away, get ’em on! I haven’t time to see to you and get lunch ready.’ She went off to put a souffle in the oven. When she turned back he was attired in a sailor suit with a pair of black buckled shoes. ‘Oh, well,’ she nodded approvingly, ‘the proper gent – let’s hope you don’t spoil the effect by wagging your appendage at the mistress over lunch.’

  * * *

  ‘Patrick, he can’t possibly stay to dinner,’ hissed Thomasin over her chicken and ham vol au vent. ‘We’ve guests coming.’

  ‘If they’ve anything about them they’ll hardly object to a starving child’s company,’ replied Patrick, smiling reassuringly at Lol who was seated next to Belle at the opposite side of the table.

  ‘But, our own grandchildren never dined with our guests when they were small – and just look at him.’ Lol was working his heavy way through a third helping of pastry. ‘It’s as though an express train’s hit the table.’

  ‘Tommy, the lad’s probably never seen so much food in his life. Ye can hardly blame him for taking what he can while he can.’

  The meal continued in oppressive silence. Thomasin, watching the half-starved child gorge himself, felt disgusted both at him and herself, and at the parents who had allowed the child to deteriorate to such proportions. Even when she and Pat had been poor they had always ensured that their children were fed.

  ‘I suppose you’ll think I’m being selfish,’ she said. Only his eyebrows moved; they were adequately expressive. ‘You’re right. I’m getting very hard in my old age.’ She forced herself to smile at the boy. ‘Well, Lol, and where do you live?’ He told her, spitting crumbs over the tablecloth. ‘And won’t your mother be worried as to your whereabouts?’ He shook his head.

  ‘Didn’t I tell ye?’ said Pat. ‘The kids get chucked out on a morning an’ aren’t allowed in before dark. I couldn’t eat dinner knowing he was wandering round the streets hungry.’

  She eyed the sailor suit. ‘Nicholas’s clothes fit you quite well, Lol. You must take them with you when you go.’ Thomasin had been acquainted with the reason for Lol being dressed thus. Pat, with assistance from Belle, had explained to her and Erin how they had seen Lol struggling in the Foss and had pulled him out. It was fortunate for them that Lol set little store by his bravery and did not mind his glory being purloined.

  ‘I still can’t understand how you came to be down Hungate,’ said Erin to her daughter, introducing a very dangerous element to the conversation. ‘It’s nowhere near the shoemaker’s.’

  ‘Oh, didn’t I mention it? I thought I did.’ Belle dabbed at her mouth, gaining time. ‘Well, while we were at the shoemaker’s the man asked if we might allow John to deliver a parcel of boots to the area as it was very close to where we lived. It was most urgent, he said, and as he was very busy in the shop he didn’t know when he’d be able to deliver them. Of course Grandfather said we would. It was hardly out of our way, was it?’ She looked over at Patrick. – What liars we are, her eyes said. ‘The street ran down to the river. We could see this person thrashing about in the water. Grandfather found a plank of wood and used it to pull Lol to the bank.’

  ‘Well, I trust he was suitably grateful,’ answered Erin, and to Lol, ‘You are a very lucky young man. I hope you thanked my father?’

  Lol glanced at Patrick. ‘Oh, he did,’ replied the latter hastily.

  ‘Ye wouldn’t’ve thought anyone down Hungate could’ve afforded to have a pair o’ shoes handmade, would ye?’ frowned Erin. ‘What street did ye say it was?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve forgotten. Mother, do we have to give you a step by step account of our movements?’

  ‘And that’s quite enough rudeness from you, young lady,’ warned her mother. ‘Don’t imagine that just because you’re going to university you’re too big for a thrashing.’

  University! Belle’s heart flipped over. With this morning’s excitement she had completely forgotten. Oh, what she would give for a little of Lol’s freedom. Then she looked at him and changed her mind. No, that was a stupid thing to think. How could she envy a child whose every bone showed through the material of the sailor suit, whose face was a mass of scabs and who crammed himself with food as if he thought every mouthful would be his last.

  During the afte
rnoon Belle found out all she could about Lol and what she heard added even further to her admiration of him. It was not simply a feeling born of compassion, for Lol’s cheeky, matter-of-fact nature defied pity; this street-boy was obviously well able to take care of himself. No, it was when she had given him an apple and the boy had said, ‘I like you, miss,’ as though she had given him the world, that the wheels in her mind began to turn.

  Came the evening and Lol, though still not totally at ease in these sumptuous climes, was showing signs that he could quite easily take to this life.

  ‘I do hope he’ll behave himself at dinner,’ worried Thomasin. It was quite an important occasion. Among the guests would be a young man whom Thomasin hoped would take the place of Patrick’s ex-labourer in Rosie’s affections.

  ‘I’ll take care of him,’ promised Belle. ‘You’d like to sit beside me again, wouldn’t you, Lol?’

  ‘Yes, Aunt Belle.’

  Aunt Belle, muttered Erin to herself, and shook her head. Lol behaved impeccably, the pounding he had given the table at lunchtime serving to put a brake on his voracious appetite. This evening his table manners – gleaned from watching the others – were much more acceptable. The guests, a Mr and Mrs Eyeington and son, were most taken with the story of Lol’s reclamation from the drink and sympathised with his homelife.

  ‘The poor child,’ sighed Mrs Eyeington. ‘One thanks God one’s own offspring will never suffer such deprivation.’ She inserted a sliver of lemon meringue between her lips and ate genteelly, until her teeth happened loudly on a grape pip. Similar sounds began to emanate from the other diners as each encountered the pip-laced meringue. Lol, blissfully unaware that his earlier action was the cause of such puzzlement, extricated a pip from his own mouth and wiped it on the tablecloth. It seemed as though everything he ate in this house was full of these unpalatable things.

  Belle, trying to consume her own portion without incurring too much damage to her teeth, looked across at Rosanna, clad in the dress that Josie had bought her in Leeds – pale-green figured silk, trimmed with russet ribbon and cream lace, the square-cut neck revealing a sculptured clavicle. Belle couldn’t help the comparison with her own outfit. She did not favour the modern fashion which only made her deformity more pronounced. Instead, she wore loose-fitting jackets over all her gowns. Her hair was never chignoned but worn free to cover the undulating spine. When left naturally straight it only emphasised the deviation, but with the aid of rags and crimping irons she and the maid had coaxed it into a bushy wildness that served its purpose well – though to others it made her appear very Bohemian. Mrs Eyeington, for instance, was most gratified that her son had been selected to partner the other grand-daughter and not this rather outlandish young woman. Belle, still watching Rosie make smiling conversation with her selected beau, could not help a twinge of anger. All that fuss her cousin had made over Tim when she had thought Belle wanted him and now look at her making sheep’s eyes at another. Rosie caught the hostile look and it made her want to laugh. If Belle was convinced that she was interested in this young man then they all must be… she only hoped she hadn’t made it too convincing for the young man.

  Belle was wondering how often Rosie had been kissed, and hung briefly on the idea of what it would be like to have someone kiss her properly, but then just as soon dismissed the thought. She would never know – did not even care. Let Rosie have her romance, for Belle had decided this afternoon what course her own life would follow. The moment when Lol had said, ‘I like you, miss,’ that was when her plan had been forged. A plan to help all children like Lol, to save them from their poverty, their ignorance, their parents… but first, that dratted university.

  Part Four

  1892

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Belle’s movement through London University was so socially unobtrusive that if it were not for her brilliant scholastic achievement – a first-class Honours degree in mathematics – it would have been hard to find one person who could remember her. True to her character she mingled rarely, preferring to lock herself away and study alone. None of her contemporaries would confess to liking her. Most, if asked, would have said, ‘Belle who? Oh, you mean the crippled girl.’ Yet it was undeniable that by the time she graduated Belle had made more of a mark on this university than any student for a long time.

  University life made little impression on Belle. She simply viewed the period as biding time until she could embark on her more worthwhile project. Though she was now almost an adult, to Belle’s great annoyance her mother still insisted on travelling all the way down to London in order to transport her daughter safely home. ‘Really, Mother!’ Belle tipped the porter who had put her trunk on board the train. ‘It isn’t necessary for you to come all this way just to go straight home again. I could quite safely see to myself.’

  A young man in his twenties occupied the compartment they had selected. He smiled and stood at their entry. Erin nodded politely, Belle ignored him.

  Erin seated herself by the window, facing homewards. ‘Well, I don’t suppose ye’ll have to suffer the embarrassment for much longer if ye put the same amount of effort into getting your Master’s degree as ye have to this one. I trust you’ve given some thought as to what use you’re going to make of it?’ She turned from the window to see that Belle had opened a magazine on her lap. ‘Please don’t be so ill-mannered as to do that while I’m speaking.’

  The young woman sighed and closed the journal. ‘I’m sorry, but do you think we could open the dialogue beyond the bounds of my education?’ Erin’s chastisement for her rudeness coincided with a jerking movement as the train’s pistons started to propel it northwards. Soon it was emerging from King’s Cross, though it did not leave the outer limits of London for some time.

  Belle, her expression still pained, happened to catch the young man’s bespectacled eye – he was hoping for this – as she turned back to her magazine. He smiled his sympathy. Disregarding him she went on to wonder what her mother would say when she broke the news that this was not merely a holiday: she had no intention of ever taking her Master’s degree.

  She allowed the printed word to permeate her reverie and, like her mother, settled down to the long journey ahead. During this time their travelling companion made attempts at conversation, introducing himself as Brian Dyson. Only Erin responded to his small talk, polite but cool. She had noticed his eyes moving in fanciful admiration over Belle’s face and had no wish to encourage him. Belle had better things to do than to dally with empty young men.

  Primarily Brian thought it was simply shyness that forbade the young woman from answering his queries, but when Erin fell asleep with the motion of the carriage and he tried to press his suit he was left in no doubt as to Belle’s opinion of him. He leaned over with outstretched palm. ‘Would you care for a peppermint, Miss… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’

  ‘Hardly surprising when it wasn’t donated,’ she replied, refusing the mint.

  He shrugged inwardly, sat back and slipped a mint onto his tongue. ‘Are you going all the way to Edinburgh?’

  ‘No.’ She continued to read.

  ‘Is your destination a state secret? Perhaps you are on a mission of world importance?’

  ‘I really don’t see how it could concern you if I were.’ She flicked at the corners of two pages to separate them.

  ‘If you don’t like me why don’t you just come right out and say it instead of hiding behind a book?’ replied Brian.

  ‘Very well, I don’t like you. Is that sufficient to still your tongue?’

  Brian laughed his amazement, infuriating her. ‘You know, you really are the most rude person…’

  ‘Yes, I do know, having been told on numerous occasions by other interfering busybodies. Mr Dyson, did I ask for your company?’ He mouthed a no. ‘Then it is hardly surprising that your attempts to curry favour are met with rudeness, is it?’

  She was such a pretty creature, thought Brian. What a shame her persona
lity did not harmonise. He wondered how old she was. Belle finished the magazine and, not wishing to sit looking at the young man opposite for the rest of the journey, decided to employ one of the books that was stashed away in her portmanteau. Rising, she stretched her arm up to the luggage rack. So that’s it, thought Brian as her bushy hair swished to one side. He briefly inspected her ill-shapen form before leaping to assist. That was why she was on her guard all the time.

  ‘Thank you, I don’t require your assistance.’ Belle snatched the bag’s handle and swung it down, forestalling him.

  Brian formed his mouth into a knowing – but not mocking – smile at her independence and sat down again. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing,’ he began again after a short interval. ‘You’ve just graduated.’ Belle rolled disdainful eyes from the book. More interruptions! ‘Did you do well, may one ask?’

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ muttered Belle.

  ‘Actually, I’ve not long graduated myself,’ said Brian. ‘At medical school, that is. I’m a fully-fledged doctor now. I’m off to join a practice in York.’ It obviously gave him great pride.

  ‘How wonderful,’ murmured the young woman. ‘If my mother happens to have an apoplexy when I tell her my news at least we shall have a member of the medical profession on hand.’

  Brian’s forehead wrinkled quizzically. ‘It must be very startling news to have such a profound effect.’ Belle was silent. ‘But not for my ears, eh?’ Brian smiled and fished another mint from his pocket. The whole compartment hummed of peppermints now. Belle’s mouth felt like a redundant washleather. She wished she hadn’t refused his previous offer. As if guessing her thoughts he proffered the mints again. When she hesitantly reached for one he drew back his hand a little. ‘First you must tell me your name. Fair exchange, I think.’

  ‘How tiresome,’ she sighed. ‘If you consider it a matter of life and death, which apparently you do, then I must tell you. It’s Belle Teale.’