by Linda Finlay
‘Not no more you ain’t, Kitty, ’cos I got you a job.’
‘I’m not old enough,’ the girl retorted.
‘That’s where you’re wrong, Kitty Bawden. Today is your tenth birthday, in case you’ve forgot, and at first light tomorrow you’re startin’ work, so come on.’
‘But she’s only little,’ Mrs Daws cried, wringing her hands together.
‘Not so little as she can’t have ’er ears boxed,’ the woman cried, making a grab for the girl. Kitty cowered into the corner, clutching her precious package tighter. ‘An’ you give that ’ere, an’ all.’
‘No,’ Kitty cried. ‘It’s a present for Mrs Daws.’
‘Well, it can be a present for your dear old mother now,’ the woman told her, grabbing at the parcel. As Kitty desperately clung on, the paper tore, spilling its creamy contents over the floor.
‘Me cheese,’ the girl sobbed. ‘It’s me first soft cheese. I made it at the farm with …’
‘Scoop the bloomin’ thing up then you can ’ave it for yer tea,’ the woman snapped impatiently. ‘But for Gawd’s sake ’urry up.’ When Kitty didn’t move, the woman stepped forward and ground the cheese into the floor with her heel. ‘So much for yer precious cheese, eh?’
Scarcely able to believe her eyes, Sarah turned to Harry. ‘You’re not going to let someone like that take the children, surely?’ she begged.
He crouched down beside them. ‘Can you confirm this woman is your mother?’
‘Worse luck,’ Kitty muttered, staring sadly at the mess on the floor in front of her. ‘Me first cheese and it’s ruined.’
‘You’ll make another,’ he assured her before turning to the boy. ‘Luke?’ he asked. The boy nodded. ‘That’s Muvver.’
Harry sighed, knowing his hands were tied.
‘Look, it’s nearly dark and freezing cold outside – why not let the children stay the night and come back for them in the morning?’ he appealed.
The woman shook her head. ‘Ain’t I just said, this one starts work tomorrow. So come on, move it.’ She pushed them towards the door.
Kitty stared desperately at Sarah. ‘Please let me stay. I’ll even do me blinkin’ sewin’, if you let me,’ she cried. Mrs Bawden glared at her and shoved her out of the room.
‘But they’ve not got coats on,’ Sarah shouted.
‘Well, they’ll just ’ave to walk quickly, won’t they?’ the woman laughed. Then she stopped and looked at Sarah speculatively. ‘Only jokin’. Where’s their things, then?’
Spotting the new donations box in the hallway, Sarah grabbed a couple of thick woollens and held them out. Mrs Bawden snatched them from her and ran her hands over the material, a greedy gleam in her eyes. Harry firmly took them back from her.
‘Let me help you,’ he said, bending and wrapping them around the children, whispering as he did, ‘You know where we are if you need us.’
‘They won’t,’ the woman snapped. With a triumphant look, she pushed the children out into the cold night. Harry signalled to Pip to let them out of the gate, then, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat, closed the door behind them.
‘I can’t believe you just let them go,’ Sarah cried.
‘He had no choice, Miss Sullivan,’ Mrs Daws whispered, wiping her eyes on her apron. ‘The law’s on the side of the parents. Soon as they admitted she were their mother, that was it. We’ve seen it all before, you see,’ she explained sadly.
‘I saw Pip letting them out of the gate,’ April cried, as she came into the room. ‘Poor little blighters looked so sad. That woman looks a bad ’un through and through. Oh, I’m goin’ to miss them little scamps.’
Sarah put her arm around the girl’s trembling shoulders. ‘It’s not going to be the same without them,’ she agreed. And goodness only knows what is going to happen to them, she thought, feeling they’d let Kitty and Luke down.
‘But we have to maintain normality for the rest of the children,’ Harry told them.
April nodded. ‘I know, and they’re getting impatient for their food. Shall I dish tonight, Mrs Daws?’
‘No, I’ll do it,’ the housekeeper murmured. ‘Best to keep busy. Ah, here’s Pip,’ she added as the boy hobbled into the room.
‘I was tempted not to let them out,’ he said, looking bleak.
‘She’d only have gone for the police,’ Mrs Daws sighed. ‘Now you’d best call the children down for supper. I don’t know, first me gong goes, now them kiddies. Is nothing sacred around here?’
‘I’m going to get on with some paperwork, Mrs Daws,’ Sarah said, suddenly wanting to be by herself.
‘I’ll explain to the children what’s happened, then come and join you,’ Harry replied.
The children listened to what he had to say, then took their places solemnly at the table.
‘Kitty were my friend,’ Edith muttered.
‘And mine,’ Monday whispered.
Seeing their sad little faces, Harry forced a smile. ‘Still, it’s good that her mother has found a new home for them,’ he said cheerfully. ‘We must be glad for them. Now enjoy your supper, everybody. Who knows, Mrs Daws might even find seconds for those who finish first.’
There was a buzz of excitement followed by the eager scraping of cutlery on plates.
‘Well done, Master Higgins,’ the housekeeper murmured, patting him on the shoulder as he passed. ‘There’s nothing like the promise of extra food to divert their attention.’
However, when he went through to the office, Sarah stared at him hopelessly.
‘Those poor children. I feel we’ve let them down. Couldn’t we have put up more of a fight? Is there really nothing we can do?’
Harry shook his head. ‘Believe you me, if I’d thought it would have done any good, I would have. However, we are a charitable institution, here to provide for those with no one to care for them. Whatever we might think of her, Mrs Bawden is Kitty and Luke’s mother and she said she’d found a home for them.’
‘And a new man,’ Sarah retorted. ‘She also said Kitty is to start work tomorrow. What about her education? How can we give them a good start in life if we let women like that …?’ Her voice trailed off as she felt tears pricking the back of her eyes.
‘Oh, Sarah, we can only do our best,’ Harry replied, automatically going to comfort her.
‘But it’s not good enough, is it?’ she cried, moving away. ‘Those children are vulnerable, especially Kitty, who needs the loving guidance of a woman. You can’t tell me she’s going to get that from her so-called mother?’
Harry shrugged helplessly. ‘We can only do so much, Sarah. I’m sad at the way things have turned out but we have to move on. There are the others to think about, too. Farmer Jim said we can bring the chooks back here on Wednesday and …’
‘Wednesday?’ she cried. ‘But you go to the farm on Saturdays,’ she said, looking at him sharply.
‘I know, but the poor man’s health is failing. He needs our help more than ever. They both do, in fact.’
Sarah stared into the dwindling fire. ‘I see. Well, in that case, it will be good for the boys to assist. My godfather would want that, wouldn’t he?’
Harry nodded. ‘I was thinking it might be a good idea for the girls to go along as well. It’s still too cold to take them swimming and they’d get some fresh air and exercise. I’m sure Bess would appreciate their help in the dairy.’
Sarah nodded. ‘That’s a much better idea. The sea will be perishing, she added, wrinkling her nose.’
‘Well, it’ll soon be spring and a dip in the briny is health giving. You can come along, too, Sarah.’
She stared at him aghast. ‘A woman swimming in public? How very improper, not to mention unladylike,’ she replied.
‘That doesn’t sound like the forward-thinking Sarah I know,’ he told her. Seeing his brow raised in question, she looked hurriedly away. There was no way she was letting him know she was scared of the sea. ‘Something worrying you?’ he asked, as ever pick
ing up on her thoughts.
‘I was thinking about the girls going to the farm,’ Sarah hurriedly replied, eager to change the subject from swimming. ‘When I took them for needlework this afternoon, I was disappointed to find they don’t appear to have made much progress on their new outfits. Apparently, Miss O’Reilly tells them stories about the little folk at the end of the lessons, would you believe?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘That time would be better spent on their schooling and I shall speak to her on Monday. She does seem to be a little flighty so I hope she listens.’ Even as she said it, she was aware of how petty she sounded.
‘High-spirited perhaps,’ Harry said, thinking of her laughing nature. ‘But flighty? No, I don’t think so. The children seem fond of her already and surely listening to a story occasionally is no bad thing?’
‘Really, Harry, I’m surprised at you. We are meant to be preparing them for life outside the school.’
‘I realize that, but children need a bit of fun as well as lessons. Besides, Miss O’Reilly admitted she’s keen for the children to have their new outfits. She’s just worried about having them ready in time for Easter. Perhaps if you sit down together and look at what needs to be done, you can work out a schedule. I’m sure she’d appreciate that.’
‘As it’s obviously important to you, I will do that on Monday,’ Sarah conceded, anxious to atone for her earlier pettiness. ‘After which, it is my intention to leave her in charge of the girls while I attend regular meetings of the National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies. Mrs Bawden’s ignorant and ill-mannered outburst this afternoon highlighted the fact that most women still have to rely on a man to provide for them. It certainly strengthened my belief that we civilized women should have more of a say in how this country is run. We simply must ensure that future generations of girls are educated to the same level as boys in order that they can earn their own living and not be beholden to men.’
‘I do understand, Sarah,’ Harry replied. ‘However, as I’ve said before, not all men expect or even want a woman who will run around after us or …’
‘Sir, miss, we can’t find Solomon,’ April cried, bursting into the room. ‘One minute he was at the table, the next his dish was empty and he’d gone.’
13
Could this day get any worse, Harry wondered, as he followed April through to the dining room. He stared around the tables where the children sat, unusually quiet and looking glum.
‘Right, everybody, who can tell me when they last saw Solomon?’
‘He were here when Mrs Daws brought out pudding ’cos he said spotted dick was his favourite,’ Bunter volunteered.
The housekeeper smiled wryly. ‘Though it was more dick than spots.’
‘He told me he were goin’ to speak to ’is father when he’d finished it,’ Brown added.
‘Speak to his father?’ Harry repeated. Surely the boy hadn’t gone in search of his father’s grave, he thought, recalling the earlier incident on the farm.
‘Yeah, ’e said Miss O’Reilly told ’im ’e could speak to him anywhere an’ ’e ’ad somefink urgent to tell ’im,’ Black said importantly.
‘When did Miss O’Reilly say this?’ Sarah asked, frowning.
‘She came to the farm with us earlier,’ Harry replied. ‘One of the pigs died and we helped bury it. Poor Solomon didn’t realize that’s what happened when people died. Apparently he thought his father was still lying in the hospital.’
‘Oh, the poor child,’ Mrs Daws cried.
‘But what was Miss O’Reilly doing at the farm? Saturday is not one of her working days,’ Sarah frowned.
‘I’ll explain later. It’s freezing outside and I need to find Solomon before he catches a chill or worse.’ Harry went over to the dresser and lit the candle in the lantern.
‘Yes, of course. I’ll get my coat and come with you,’ Sarah replied.
‘No, you stay here and help Mrs Daws make some hot drinks. Those children look as though they need something comforting, and Solomon certainly will.’ Before Sarah could respond, he was hurrying out of the door.
So Miss O’Reilly had been to the farm, had she? Obviously she had filled Solomon’s mind with more of her fancy thoughts, and it seemed Harry had gone along with it. Well, for the boy’s sake, Sarah hoped Harry found him soon.
Where could the child have gone, Harry wondered, swinging the lantern this way and that as he made his way carefully down the icy path. What was it Miss O’Reilly had said about communicating with a dead loved one? You could mark a certain spot as their special place then go there and talk to them at any time. That was it. Now where would Solomon choose as his particular place? She’d told him it needed to be somewhere close by so he could go there whenever he felt the need.
Harry swung the lantern again and this time the flickering light illuminated the shadow of the big tree right at the bottom of the garden. They’d buried the piglet under the old oak tree on the farm. The prickle at the back of his neck told him he was on the right track and, taking care not to slip on the frost, he made his way across the grass.
Sure enough the boy was crouched on the ground beneath the elm. He’d made a cross out of twigs and was talking to it. Not wishing to make him jump, Harry crept slowly forwards.
‘So you see, Father, it were me an …’ Solomon was saying when a twig cracked beneath Harry’s shoe. The boy stopped mid-sentence and turned abruptly. ‘I were just speakin’ to Father. Miss said it would be all right,’ he said, his dark eyes luminous in the light of the lantern.
‘It is all right, Solomon,’ Harry murmured, hunkering down beside him. ‘Carry on, old fella.’
‘Nah, can’t now.’
‘Of course you can.’
The boy shook his head and remained silent.
‘You were telling your father it was you …’ Harry encouraged.
To his surprise, Solomon jumped to his feet and glared down at him. ‘It ain’t none of your business,’ he cried.
‘No, fair enough,’ Harry said, surprised at the vehemence in the boy’s voice. He stood up, careful to stand a few paces away. ‘I was only trying to help. I’ll wait by the vegetable plot for you. Mrs Daws is making us a nice hot drink.’
Solomon’s eyes lit up but he didn’t move.
Slowly Harry made his way up the garden. An owl hooted and swooped down from the coal house roof. It was a clear night, with myriad stars, and looking up at the sky Harry was reminded of the evening he’d walked the new schoolmistress home. She was certainly lively and enthusiastic about life, but flighty? No, Sarah was wrong about that.
Remembering the way in which she’d comforted Solomon and helped him to bury the piglet, he felt a glow. And if she told the children stories about the little folk from Ireland, well, surely that livened their dreary lives. Children needed nurturing as well as nourishing.
Lost in thought, it was some moments before he realized Solomon had caught him up.
‘All right?’ he murmured.
‘Yeah,’ the boy sighed. ‘I’m thirsty so I’ll talk to Father in the morning.’
‘Good idea,’ Harry murmured, patting his shoulder. ‘Now let’s see if Mrs Daws has our hot drinks ready.’
‘What a bloomin’ day,’ Mrs Daws said, easing herself into the chair beside the range.
‘You’re telling me,’ Sarah agreed.
‘At least the children have finally gone to bed,’ Harry yawned. ‘I’ll just finish my tea and then I’d better be making tracks myself or Mother will think I’ve got lost.’
‘Solomon didn’t look quite as sullen when you came in,’ the housekeeper added. ‘Never seen a child generate so much anger in all my time here.’
‘I think Miss O’Reilly’s idea of him having somewhere to talk to his father has helped. Although I could have cursed when I trod on that twig and interrupted what he was saying. He was really opening his heart and I’m certain I nearly got to the bottom of this load he’s carrying.’
‘Talking of Miss O’Reilly, yo
u were going to explain why she was at the farm this afternoon,’ Sarah reminded Harry.
‘When I escorted her home the other evening, she happened to mention she used to live by a farm and missed the animals. It seemed only natural to invite her along,’ he replied, avoiding her gaze and staring into his cup.
‘Seems to have done young Solomon good,’ Mrs Daws commented. ‘He was telling the others how upset he was about that runt and the farmer explaining it was better for it to die naturally than a rat getting it by the throat and …’
‘I think we get the idea, Mrs Daws,’ Sarah interrupted with a shudder. ‘Well, she certainly seems to have made an impression all round. But I still can’t help worrying about poor Kitty and Luke.’
‘Edith will be lost without her friend,’ Harry said. ‘Those two were good for each other.’
‘Uncle said we shouldn’t get too attached, but the more you get to know them the more difficult it is, I find,’ Sarah said, referring to her godfather by the affectionate title she used for him.
‘I agree with you, Miss Sullivan. Even after all the comings and goings I’ve seen, it still upsets me when they go. Especially in circumstances like these,’ Mrs Daws sniffed.
‘This is not the outcome any of us wanted for them, is it?’ Harry said dejectedly. ‘Which reminds me, I must make a report on Kitty and Luke’s record cards tomorrow. I also need to check, but I’m pretty sure Kitty should be attending school until she is twelve, and not ten as her mother said. The law changes so quickly, which is why I didn’t say anything before.’
‘Even so, it doesn’t mean she has to attend lessons here,’ Sarah replied.
‘True. However, as Sergeant Watts brought Kitty to Red Cliffs in the first place, it would be only courteous to let him know her mother has removed her from our care. I’m sure he will want to keep a weather eye on both children.’
‘You could have told us all this earlier,’ Sarah berated him.
‘Like I said, I need to check my facts,’ he replied.
‘You’re a dark horse, Master Higgins, and no mistake,’ Mrs Daws chortled, getting to her feet. ‘Well, I’m for my bed. Praise be, the good ladies are preparing the soup for the Sunday luncheons. I’m not sure I’d have had the strength to chop all those vegetables tonight.’