Never Look Back

by Lesley Pearse

  ‘The little ones will get sick this winter if they stay here,’ she said, pointing to the tots at the front of the group. ‘Even if you think there’s nothing in it for you, let them have a chance to be fed and mothered.’

  Knowing she’d said enough to make him think, and any further attempts to tempt him might create suspicion, she turned to go.

  ‘Just think, warm beds, big hot dinners and proper clothes,’ she said as she clambered up the wobbly stairs behind her master. ‘No more old ’uns to push you about. No rats climbing over you!’

  An hour later Giles and Matilda had both washed and changed back into their own clothes, and were sitting with the doctor in his consulting room having a cup of tea and discussing what they’d seen.

  Dr Tad Kupicha was from Poland, a slender, frail-looking man of over sixty with sad blue eyes and thinning white hair. He had come to America some thirty years ago with his young wife Anna. They had three daughters; one had died from measles as an infant, then ten years later he lost the other two and his wife in a cholera epidemic. Losing his entire family had turned him into something of a crusader for the poor.

  Giles had been introduced to him through Darius Kirkbright, and in just a few weeks they had become close friends through their shared interests. Kupicha was one of the few doctors in New York who ran a free clinic, and he campaigned tirelessly against slum landlords and the lack of sanitation in the city.

  ‘Do you think this boy Sidney will get the children to come?’ Giles asked him.

  The doctor shrugged. ‘I can’t say, Giles. They learn at an early age never to trust adults. But I’m hopeful from what you’ve told me. It was a stroke of luck Matty had met the boy before, I daresay he was impressed by her bravery at going in there, and felt he could trust her. But we’ll just have to wait and see.’

  ‘Could we manage them all, if they do come?’ Matilda asked with some eagerness. The room in the basement where she had changed had been prepared already with two large tin baths, innumerable pails standing in readiness, and enough children’s clothes donated by church people to dress them all. But eighteen children, each one lousy and possibly some of them sick too, was a tall order to deal with all at once.

  ‘Of course we’ll manage.’ Kupicha smiled at her. ‘And when we see them clean, and their bellies full, with hope in their little faces, the struggle will all have been worthwhile.’

  It was only later that evening that Matilda became aware that by entering into this clandestine act of mercy with her master, her relationship with him had changed irrevocably. While she saw nothing heroic about climbing into that cellar, he did. On the journey home he falteringly tried to tell her that if she hadn’t gone in there first, he would have made some excuse and turned tail. He also said that he could never have put his plan to the children as succinctly as she had.

  While she didn’t believe that, she was aware the children might have bolted if he’d gone in alone, and it made her glow to think she’d been so useful to him. Then when they reached home, she found another surprise waiting for her. Lily had the evening meal all ready, the table laid, and she almost waited on Matilda. Later, while they were washing the dishes together, Lily confided in her that she felt terribly ashamed that she hadn’t offered to go with her husband, but talking to children who had just lost their mother was so desperately sad, and she knew she’d be more of a hindrance than help. She tentatively asked what the children were like and what age they were. Matilda said they were little raggamuffins, aged between three and seven. She even told her the eldest was called Sidney, with red hair, and that they would be calling to collect them in two days’ time to take them out to New Jersey. She hoped that omissions weren’t as bad as lies.

  Late that night as Matilda lay in her warm bed, listening to the rain hammering down, she found she couldn’t sleep. It seemed so shameful to be lying in warmth and comfort while those poor little waifs were huddling together like piglets in a sty, and her conscience was pricking her at entering into a plan with her master which involved deceiving her mistress.

  She tried to reconcile herself to her present comfort by telling herself that it was because she had experienced the hopelessness of poverty, cold and hunger herself that she wanted to help these children. Yet for some reason her mind kept throwing up memories that reminded her she wasn’t so very noble.

  Hadn’t she always insisted on sleeping in the middle of the bed during the winter, so her brothers’ bodies kept her warm? Then there were the times when she hadn’t enough money to buy all three of them a hot pie, so she’d bought just one for herself, eaten it before she got home, and let them eat the stale bread left from the morning.

  Yet if she hadn’t eaten those pies, or been unable to sleep for the cold, she wouldn’t have had the strength or will to get up and sell flowers the next day. Likewise, nothing good would come of telling Lily the whole, unvarnished truth, however much it appeased her conscience. Giles’s plan was a truly honourable one, and if it succeeded, by the end of the week those children would be properly cared for, well on their way to a new happy life. Wasn’t that more important than a neurotic woman’s sensitivity?

  ‘Of course it is,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Now, stop agonizing about it.’

  Two days later, at three o’clock in the afternoon, Matilda and Giles were back outside Rat’s Castle. The rain had stopped on the previous day, blown away by strong winds, but there was a distinct autumnal nip in the air, and no sign of any children.

  ‘They’ve decided not to come,’ Giles said gloomily as he paced up and down anxiously.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Matilda replied. ‘I doubt if any of them can even tell the time. We just have to be patient.’

  His frown was swept away by a grin. ‘I suppose you learned your patience selling flowers?’

  ‘You don’t need patience for that, just persistence,’ she laughed. ‘But I’m not a patient person anyway. I want everything to happen immediately.’

  Just then Sidney came around the corner, alone. ‘There you are,’ she said in triumph to her master. ‘I expect he’s come alone with the idea of negotiating some new deal for himself, probably money.’ She waved at Sidney and walked towards him.

  As she got closer, she could see by the boy’s stance that he was very unsure of himself. He was shifting from one foot to the other, and clutching at a piece of old sacking he was wearing like a cape.

  ‘Hullo, Sidney,’ she said, wondering what she should do if it was money he wanted. ‘Where are the others?’

  ‘Back there.’ He waved one arm vaguely towards an alley. ‘The old ’uns threw us out of the castle last night.’

  ‘Well, you won’t need that place any more,’ she said with a smile. ‘A real bed for you tonight.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘What’s in it for you?’ he almost spat at her.

  His cynicism reminded her of Luke. He had never understood that some people did things without thought of personal gain.

  ‘To see you all happy and well cared for,’ she said, trying not to get angry.

  ‘Why?’

  Matilda shrugged. ‘Because I had a hard life when I was a little girl,’ she said. ‘It didn’t get better until I met him,’ she said, pointing back to Giles who was watching them from a few yards away ‘He took me off the streets and back to his house to look after his little girl. Now we want to make things better for all of you too.’

  Sidney’s taut expression marginally softened, but it was clear he needed more persuasion.

  ‘I told you one lie when I first met you, when I said my father was a policeman. That was just because I was scared and lost,’ she admitted. ‘But Sidney, I promise you faithfully that little fib was the only one I will ever tell you,’ she went on. ‘Reverend Milson is the kindest, most honest man I’ve ever met. Believe me, you can trust him. He’s been working for some time getting this Home ready for you all. It’s the best chance in life anyone’s going to offer you.’

  Again Sidney di
dn’t reply for a moment, he shifted from foot to foot, and clutched at the sacking around his shoulders. ‘Yeah, but he won’t be at the place he’s going to take us to,’ he retorted eventually. ‘Nor you.’

  All at once Matilda guessed he’d consulted someone else, perhaps even an adult, and they’d filled his head with nasty ideas. She remembered how when Mr and Mrs Milson had been talking to her that first day in the parlour at Primrose Hill she’d suddenly had that fear about the white slave trade. Sidney knew even less about her and the Reverend than she had about the Milsons. It showed he was more intelligent than she’d imagined, to be so cautious.

  ‘Reverend Milson will be checking on the Home all the time,’ she said. ‘And there’ll be nobody wicked working there, if that’s what you think, because he’s helped pick them all. But Sidney, whatever nasty suspicions you might have, use your brain. Could anything be worse than how you live now?’

  The hard expression on his face melted and all at once she saw just a confused little boy. He’d taken on the role as leader of the children, but he was too young for such responsibility. Instinctively she stepped closer to him and drew him to her, just as she so often had with her brothers.

  ‘Sidney, this is an evil place,’ she said softly, holding him tight. ‘But the whole world isn’t like it. Just trust me to show you and your friends a better place.’

  His hair was crawling with lice, but she averted her eyes from them. Lifting his chin with one hand, she looked right into his eyes. His face was so dirty it was difficult to see beyond the grime, but his eyes were amber-coloured and very lovely. ‘Trust me, Sidney!’ she implored him.

  He leaned his face into her breast and she knew he was crying. ‘I need you with the little ones to help them get used to it,’ she said, aware she mustn’t let him lose his position of authority. ‘You must go and get them now, tell them there’s nothing to be scared of. In just a short while you’ll all be sitting down to eat the best soup you’ve ever eaten.’

  He turned and ran from her without another word.

  Matilda looked back at Giles and shrugged her shoulders. ‘I guess I said something wrong,’ she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

  ‘We’ll wait anyway,’ he said, coming closer and patting her shoulder. ‘From where I was standing, I don’t believe you frightened him off.’

  They waited and waited. The wind was cold, and people came shuffling by eyeing them balefully. One man came right up to Matilda and spat a great brown glob of chewed tobacco at her feet. He said nothing, but the offensive act suggested he was telling them to push off or else.

  Then just as they were looking despairingly at one another, Sidney reappeared, and following him was the little band of children. Neither of them was prepared for such a distressing sight. They had only seen these waifs in semi-darkness, when the full extent of their physical condition could only be guessed at. They were almost naked, filthy with matted hair, limbs so thin it was difficult to imagine how they could walk, faces taut with fear and gaunt with hunger.

  ‘Suffer little children to come unto me,’ Giles said softly, and when Matilda turned to him she saw he had tears running down his cheeks.

  The basement kitchen was so hot with the stove fired up to heat the hot water that at times Matilda thought she would pass out, yet each time she looked around her she managed to find a little more energy. Two children in each bath, the already scrubbed ones wrapped in a blanket on one side of the room, the last two dirty ones on the other waiting patiently for their turn. All of them had been given a bowl of good soup and bread before the bathing began. Clean or dirty now, they were content to be in the warm and dry with a full belly.

  It had been necessary to shave all their heads, their hair was too matted to deal with the lice any other way, and they couldn’t be dressed until the doctor had examined each of them. But shaven as they were, at last they had distinct, individual faces. Four of them were black children, three with perhaps one black parent, the rest ghostly white. Every one of them was badly bruised, scarred and had evidence of rat bites, and it was apparent when one five-year-old squatted down in the corner of the room to relieve herself that none of them had even the most basic idea of personal hygiene.

  Dr Kupicha’s housekeeper, a stout German woman called Eva, couldn’t bring herself to help wash the children, so Matilda had to do it alone, while Giles shaved heads with the doctor. But Eva did keep the hot water and soap coming, and as real children emerged from under the caked filth, she did agree to dry them, even going as far as sitting the youngest ones on her knee.

  Sidney was the first to be bathed, picking his second in command Oz to join him. Matilda had laughed aloud to see the surprise on the others’ faces as Sidney’s face came clean to reveal a crop of freckles, and when they saw him nimbly jumping out of the bath when he was finished, their relief that he was still all in one piece was palpable.

  ‘Your turn now.’ Matilda beckoned the last two small boys into the bath, and smiled to herself as she saw Eva whisk up the blanket they’d been sitting on to take it outside.

  Eva spoke only a few words of English, and Matilda could only guess at the meaning of some of the exclamations she’d made during the afternoon’s work. She suspected they ran along the lines of ‘How will I ever get my kitchen clean again?’ and ‘Has the doctor lost his mind bringing this rabble in here?’

  But rabble or not they were docile, several had cried in the bath, but before long the tears had turned to timid smiles. Matilda was pretty certain they wouldn’t stay this well behaved. She hoped the helpers they’d got at the home had plenty of patience, because she had a feeling they’d be tried and tested in the next few weeks.

  ‘You are very late,’ Lily exclaimed when they arrived home after ten at night. ‘I’ve been so worried. Where on earth have you been all this time?’

  She was in her night-gown with a shawl around her shoulders and her hair unbraided. Clearly she had attempted to go to bed but was unable to sleep for worry.

  ‘It took longer to get to New Jersey than I anticipated,’ Giles said. Matilda was astounded he could lie so glibly. ‘And we didn’t feel we could just turn around and leave without seeing the children settled in first. I’m afraid we’ll have to return tomorrow again too, as we’ve heard there are another group of children to take. I’m so sorry you’ve been worried, my dear, but these things happen.’

  The anxiety left Lily’s face. ‘I’m just glad you are both safe. But you look exhausted,’ she said, putting one hand affectionately on each of their cold cheeks. ‘What a trial you must have had! I’ve left you some bread and cheese in the kitchen, and there’s some hot coffee in the pot, but I’ll go on up to bed now, if you don’t mind.’

  Matilda didn’t dare catch Giles’s eye until she had heard the bedroom door shut upstairs and the bed creak. She uncovered the bread and cheese and poured them both coffee.

  ‘I seem to learn something new about you every day,’ she said at length. ‘I never imagined back in Primrose Hill that you could shave children’s heads. Or tell lies to your wife.’

  ‘I didn’t either,’ he said, and grinned weakly. ‘You know what I was really frightened of?’

  ‘What?’ Matilda asked, putting the coffee down in front of him.

  ‘That she’d say she could smell something funny on us. I can still smell that stuff we painted on their heads.’

  ‘Me too,’ Matilda smiled. ‘I guess it’s just in our noses for all time. A penance for telling fibs.’

  They ate their bread and cheese in companionable silence.

  ‘The doctor thought they were robust little devils in the main,’ Giles said at length. ‘But he didn’t like the look of the one they called “Injun” or one of the youngest girls, they’d both got badly infected chests. I hope they all behave tonight. It would have been much better if they’d gone straight to New Jersey.’

  When it was decided it was too late to take the children there, they’d made a makeshift bed of straw a
nd blankets for them in one of the other cellar rooms next to the kitchen. Eva had not been pleased by this development, and Matilda had offered to stay all night with them, but the doctor had said that was unnecessary.

  ‘I just hope they use the pails we put in,’ Matilda said with a sigh. She had lectured them all on the subject before she left, but though the older ones understood and seemed to want to please her, she didn’t think the little ones had taken it in.

  ‘Sidney’s a bright lad, he’ll keep them in order,’ Giles said with a smile. ‘It was a stroke of luck you’d met him before, and I think he’ll prove very useful in helping us track down more children.’

  Matilda laughed.

  ‘What’s amused you?’ Giles asked in surprise.

  ‘Sidney. He reminds me of my brother Luke in many ways. I think he’ll need watching like a hawk.’

  She hadn’t told either Giles or Lily much about her brothers, but now, after such a day, she wanted to, if only to make Giles see that for every three or four children who could be helped, there would be one whom no amount of tender care would save. ‘I think we can inherit badness, just as we can looks and brains,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘I don’t believe it’s all down to our upbringing.’

  ‘Maybe Sidney will be gone by the morning then.’ Giles shrugged. ‘I just hope he doesn’t take the doctor’s silver with him.’

  ‘I only said he reminded me of Luke,’ Matilda said, trying to make him understand. ‘It’s just his colouring and his quickness. But I don’t think he’s a bad lad. If he was, he would have demanded money before bringing the children to us. And he wouldn’t have cared where we were taking them. I think we’re going to find him quite an interesting character.’

  Her words were proved quite true the next day. All the children were still fast asleep when Giles and Matilda got back to the doctor’s house at eight the next morning, except for Sidney who leaped up the moment they came through the door of the basement room.

  ‘I was scared you wasn’t coming back,’ he said, his amber eyes lighting up with relief to see Matilda again.