The Boy With the Latchkey

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The Boy With the Latchkey Page 9

by Cathy Sharp

‘Got a sister, ’ave yer?’

  ‘She’s the nun in charge of St Saviour’s orphanage.’

  ‘Never ’eard of it,’ Bella said. ‘I’m from Bermondsey, ain’t I? Bloody nosy Social lot runs things there … always bleedin’ interferin’ …’

  ‘That’s what I’m afraid of … in case they get fostered out …’

  ‘We’ll be gettin’ letters today,’ Bella said. ‘Mebbe your son will send a letter or visit you …’

  ‘No talking,’ the warder snapped. ‘Move up the line, Bella, or I’ll have you on latrine duties …’

  Sandra nodded at her and Bella moved on. The woman winked at her and, despite the horror of it all, Sandra felt a little better. Perhaps she would get a letter from Archie today. She’d had one but it was weeks ago and she couldn’t stop worrying, especially about June, who was so sulky and inclined to get into trouble if she didn’t watch out for her … If anything happened to her kids she didn’t know what she would do, because they were her reason for living …

  Ruby replaced the receiver and smiled. It was all in place. Miss Sampson would be here at eight thirty in the morning to take June Miller into custody. She’d decided to come in person in case Sister Beatrice tried to stop her officers taking the child.

  ‘I’ll leave it to you to notify her,’ Miss Sampson said. ‘I’m sure you’ve made her aware that it’s happening so it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise.’

  ‘I didn’t actually say, because I wasn’t sure,’ Ruby confessed. ‘I’ll go and tell her this evening.’

  ‘Make sure you do. I would’ve written to inform her myself, but I thought we’d arranged it would be best coming from you.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Ruby agreed hastily. ‘I’ll make sure she knows.’

  She felt a bit apprehensive as she went next door to inform Sister Beatrice of the arrangements. Knocking twice at her office door, she opened it gingerly and saw no one was there. It was past six so perhaps Sister had gone home. Ruby felt it wasn’t appropriate for her to wander about St Saviour’s looking for its Warden. She would write a note and leave it on Sister Beatrice’s desk, she decided. Yes, that was a good idea. Obviously, she would have to face up to Sister Beatrice at some point in the future, but once the child was in the custody of the Children’s Welfare officers, it wouldn’t be worth arguing over. Surely Sister would see that? Of course she would, because Ruby knew she was right …

  Hastily scribbling a note, she folded it and left it on the desk, then left. Sister Beatrice would find it in the morning when she arrived. She was sure to be in early and she could tell the children what was happening. It was far better that June should be fostered, because she was still running wild and her mother had obviously never taught her how to behave …

  ‘Have you got all your things, Archie?’ Beatrice asked as she went to wish him well and remind him of her promise. The small group of children were gathered in the hall with their bundles of personal possessions and suitcases, some of them laughing and chattering, but Archie was standing silently on his own looking serious. ‘You are going to the station with the others and Jean. She is taking the boys down to Halfpenny House, where you will be met by one of the carers there. June is coming down by car with Nancy. She’s driving all the girls down and will take them directly to Halfpenny House herself.’

  ‘Why can’t June come on the train with us?’

  ‘For one thing you have too much to carry on the train. Some of your things have to travel in the car; it isn’t just you, Archie. There are seven children leaving us today.’

  Archie nodded, looking rebellious. ‘June won’t like it. She’ll scream and kick up a fuss if I’m not with her …’

  ‘There isn’t room in the car for you as well. Now go with Jean. She’s taking you all on the bus to the station …’

  Archie went down to the hall and spoke to his sister. June shook her head violently and clung to him, but Archie pushed her away and walked off with the other boys. Satisfied, Beatrice returned to her office. She had that wretched report to write this morning, and then … Seeing a folded piece of paper lying on her desk, she picked it up and stared at it, hardly taking in what she was reading. This was impossible, ridiculous! It couldn’t be right?

  At first she was too stunned with disbelief to react and then the anger rippled through her. How dare Ruby Saunders behave in such a cavalier fashion – leaving a scribbled note as if a child were a mere commodity to be disposed of on a whim?

  Oh no! June and Archie! Sister Beatrice realised what this news would do to the children. She’d given her word to Archie that his sister would meet him at Halfpenny House and now she had to tell him that it wouldn’t happen – but it might be too late to let him know before they left. She walked swiftly down the stairs and out of the front door. A bus was just leaving from the stop and there was no sign of Jean or of the children so they must be on it. Her heart sank, because she had no way of stopping them from leaving, even if she dashed off to the station. Besides, what could she do?

  Even as she hesitated a car drew up and Miss Ruth Sampson got out, looking very officious in her dark-grey suit and sensible black shoes. She was clutching her cardboard folder and clearly in no mood to brook an argument.

  ‘You know why I’ve come?’ she said and handed Beatrice an envelope. ‘These are all the relevant documents. I believe Miss Saunders informed you of our decision?’

  ‘I received a scribbled note when it was too late to tell Archie. His sister is in the hall waiting for Nancy to take her and the others to Halfpenny House.’ She was opening the envelope, scanning the documents inside, but she’d known it would all be official; Miss Sampson wouldn’t leave anything to chance. ‘I consider that both you and Miss Saunders have acted in a high-handed manner, going behind my back and interfering in the work of St Saviour’s. I shall be speaking to the Board about this and I intend to lodge an official com-plaint.’

  Miss Sampson frowned. ‘I understood Miss Saunders had discussed the girl with you?’

  ‘She spoke of fostering but I disagreed. In my opinion the sister and brother should have been kept together. I shall be protesting in the strongest terms about the way both of you have acted – and it is my intention to have your order overturned if at all possible …’

  ‘Come now,’ Miss Sampson argued mildly. ‘We have proceeded in the best interests of the girl. Under your care she has been getting into more and more trouble. She needs a loving family and it is my opinion that her mother had no control over her – and she is clearly not fit to have the care of her children …’

  ‘Because Mrs Miller was found guilty of stealing it doesn’t necessarily mean she is a bad mother,’ Sister Beatrice argued. ‘I think you have been hasty, Miss Sampson. You should have consulted me, asked for my opinion before applying for this order.’

  ‘Miss Saunders contacted us, Sister Beatrice, and I trust her judgement. She was concerned about the moral welfare of June Miller, and I agreed with her. While you have the day-to-day care of St Saviour’s, you now come under our jurisdiction at the Children’s Department, and my decision is final. Therefore, I have acted properly in asking for an order to take her into our care. However, she will be fostered and not sent to the remand centre for bad girls …’

  Beatrice felt the frustration building inside her, because she hated the bureaucracy that had overtaken the Children’s Welfare services these days, but she was bound by red tape and a stone wall that she could only rail against. Miss Sampson was just one of many officials who believed they knew best in all situations and refused to take the advice of someone with years of experience. However, Beatrice wasn’t going to give in without a fight.

  ‘So I should hope. I do not believe either you or Miss Saunders has acted well. I should have been consulted from the beginning and I think this is all highly improper, if not to say illegal. As June’s temporary guardian I should have had the opportunity to put my point of view before this order was sought or granted and I would n
ot have agreed to such ill-thought-out action. June believes she is going to join her brother. When she learns she is not she will naturally be very upset …’

  ‘Well, I shall not tell her the details just yet. Mr and Mrs Bailey are coming to my office this morning and will sign the papers for the charge of June.’

  ‘Who are these people? Are you certain they are proper persons to have the charge of a young girl?’

  ‘They have been checked and verified as respectable people,’ Miss Sampson said. ‘While I should perhaps have written to you earlier apprising you of our intention, I believed Miss Saunders was keeping you in touch with our plans and that you were broadly in agreement. I have the authority to act when I believe it in the best interests of a child and I am at fault only in not informing you myself.’ Beatrice shook her head grimly. ‘I shall reprimand Miss Saunders for her neglect in keeping you informed and you have my apologies for the oversight on my part – but surely as a caring woman, you must believe the girl will be all the better for a family to look after her?’

  Beatrice hesitated, knowing that Miss Sampson had reason on her side – calm, cold reason – while Beatrice’s own feelings were compassion and sadness for June’s distress.

  ‘She has been getting into bad company – but if your department hadn’t taken over our wing, she would never have met that girl …’

  ‘Yes, well, that has been taken care of,’ Miss Sampson shrugged. ‘I have a busy day ahead. I should like to take the girl with me now …’

  Beatrice felt trapped, knowing that she couldn’t prevent her from taking June. The paperwork was in order and she had the legal authority to remove the girl from St Saviour’s care.

  ‘Very well, since I cannot stop you, but allow me a moment to speak to the child.’

  She went ahead of Miss Sampson and saw June sitting on her case, a teddy bear clutched close, apart from the others and desperately lonely. Clearly she had no friends here. Perhaps after all it would be better for her to make a new life with a new family.

  ‘Come along, June dear,’ she said. ‘Miss Sampson is waiting to take you.’

  Some of the others stepped forward but Beatrice shook her head and took June by the hand. The girl pulled back and looked tearful, but Beatrice clasped her hand and led her to Miss Sampson.

  ‘I’m sorry, this wasn’t my idea,’ she said. ‘You’ve been taken into care, June, and you will be meeting your new family later this morning …’

  ‘I want Archie – will he be there?’

  ‘No, Archie has gone somewhere else,’ Beatrice said. ‘You will no doubt be allowed to see him sometimes. Go along now …’

  ‘No! I’m not going,’ June screamed and kicked out at Beatrice, catching her ankle and making her let go of her arm. June ran towards the door, but Miss Sampson grabbed her by her arms, holding her in a tight grasp. June screamed again and kicked at her, but Miss Sampson shook her, looking angry. ‘Let me go. I want my mum. I want to go home …’

  ‘This behaviour will result in your being disciplined,’ Miss Sampson told her. ‘Be silent or you will feel the back of my hand – and I shall shut you in a dark cupboard until you calm down.’

  June looked back at Beatrice, accusation in her eyes. ‘I hate you for doing this …’ she cried, and struggled as she was propelled towards the open door and then out into the street, still struggling and screaming.

  Drawn by a compelling need to watch, Beatrice went back outside and saw another woman get out of the car. She took hold of June’s arm and thrust her into the back seat of the Morris car and then got in beside her. Coldness settled at Beatrice’s nape and she felt distressed. She disliked both Miss Sampson and the large woman who had handled June so expertly and yet so harshly. The child must be frightened and in great distress and Beatrice was consumed with guilt that she hadn’t been able to stop them taking her.

  Ruby would not escape lightly from this! She should have kept Beatrice informed of every step. She might then have tried to prevent the order being granted or at the very least warned the brother and sister of what had been decided.

  Beatrice was so very angry. She would certainly com-plain of the way this affair had been handled, because it was irregular to say the least, and in her view improper. Yet once the order had been obtained, it would be difficult to overturn it. Beatrice needed help – and the only people she could think of who might know what they could do were Angela and Mark. She would telephone immediately, and then she would be paying Miss Ruby Saunders a visit that she would not soon forget.

  Yet even as she battled with her own indignation over the way she’d been overruled and ignored in this matter, she knew that it would affect Archie so much worse – and she dreaded to think what poor little June was feeling now. Even if the Baileys were perfect parent material, she had been torn away from her mother and now her brother and she must be terrified.

  Archie would think she had lied to him deliberately. She would have to telephone Halfpenny House later and try to apologise to him in person … though whatever she did he would be angry and distressed …

  ‘Welcome to Halfpenny House,’ Gerald Smith said as he opened the door of his battered old shooting brake for the boys to emerge, after fetching them from the railway station. ‘It’s a bit different to what you’re used to, I know, but you’ll soon settle down and find it comfortable and better too. I’m here for you boys to come to when you need help, and I supervise games. We’ve got our own playing fields behind us and there is a large gymnasium, where you can play in the evenings, climbing and stuff …’

  Archie listened to the man’s bluff, hearty talk about becoming part of a family and enjoying life in a better environment. He couldn’t see what was better about this place, except that it was set adjacent to playing fields and had bigger gardens, which smelled strongly of the horse manure dug in round the rose beds.

  The home itself, a long and square-looking building with a flat roof, was unlike the crumbling grandeur of St Saviour’s; it had started life some fifty years ago as a grammar school and had undergone extensive renovations to turn it into what it now was. The local authority had handed the building over to the Board of St Saviour’s charity to run as a children’s home, being partly funded by the state and under their control.

  Archie noticed that it smelled different, a strong odour of disinfectant coming from the toilets mixing with new paint. Immediately, he missed the comfortable shabbiness of St Saviour’s, the imposing staircase with its mahogany banisters and the shining wood floors. Here it was all metal and stone, tiles on the floor, lacking the feeling of permanence and age that St Saviour’s had. He could hear voices from somewhere overhead and it sounded hollow, making him feel awkward and ill at ease.

  The boys’ dormitories were at the back of the home, he discovered as Gerald Smith led the way inside, and faced the playing fields and a magnificent oak tree that must have been there for hundreds of years. The rooms at the front of the ground floor had big, wide windows and were set up as the gymnasium, another recreation room for the children, and various offices, toilets and the dining room. At the back was what looked like a sitting room for the staff, a kitchen and the caretaker’s office. On the first floor was the nurse’s room, but there was no sick or isolation ward here.

  One of the children asked about it and was told that the nurse was there for emergencies and to dispense an aspirin if needed, but if any of the children were really unwell they were taken to the doctor and to hospital if required. The Superintendent was called Mrs Mellors and she had her office on the ground floor.

  The dormitories were smaller than at St Saviour’s, with no more than three beds, and each child had a bedside cabinet, which he could lock, and also part of a wardrobe at the end of the room, each section divided by a thin metal sheet. Archie found himself put in with two other boys, neither of whom had been sent down with him that day. Keith Jones was a lanky boy with a shock of light-brown hair that stood up in tufts on his crown, and Harry Wade h
ad fair hair and blue eyes that looked slightly vacant behind his thick spectacles. Neither of them seemed inclined to talk much and Archie sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the clean bare walls, wishing he was anywhere else but here. At St Saviour’s the boys had stuck charts and pictures cut out of magazines on all the walls around their beds, and that had made for a comfortable atmosphere. Archie’s first impression here was that everything was new and too clean. He hadn’t been used to living like this and he didn’t feel at home. It hadn’t been too bad at St Saviour’s, where he knew all the streets and could find his way to the market, school and wherever else he wanted to go. Here it was strange and he felt like a fish out of water, struggling to survive.

  Looking out of the window all he could see was the playing fields and a line of houses at the far end. He felt a wave of homesickness for the dirty old streets of the East End and his throat tightened.

  ‘It’s all right once you get used to it,’ Keith Jones said and, turning his head, Archie saw that he’d joined him at the window. ‘I felt lost when I first came but I don’t mind it now. The town isn’t bad and I’ve applied for an apprenticeship in an engineering works when I leave school next year – the only thing is, look out for Mr Smith.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just don’t cross him or you’ll find out …’ Keith showed his right hand and the red scar that was almost healed across it.

  ‘He did that?’

  ‘Yeah, but it was me own fault ’cos I was fightin’ him … so don’t say nuthin’ or I’ll be in worse trouble.’

  ‘Why don’t you run away?’

  ‘Got nowhere to go except the streets … What about you?’

  ‘I had a job on the market back home promised me when I leave,’ Archie said gloomily and felt angry. Why had he been sent to this dump, where he didn’t fit in, when he might have stayed in London and worked on Saturdays to earn money for his mother?

  He realised that Ted Hastings would wonder why he didn’t turn up for work on Saturday. He would think he’d simply decided not to bother and was just another kid wasting time. A loud bell intruded into his thoughts, making Archie jump.

 

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