by Kit Cox
‘Trinity is it now,’ said Constable Bobbins, with a smirk. ‘Seems both you and young Master Gaul have been captured by love; I do believe he’s found himself a Girl Friday while he’s been away.’
‘Still your tongue, Bob. Miss Belle is an employee and I call her Trinity because she asked me to. I believe the girl with Benjamin is from that Gypsy camp you were supposed to be moving on.’
The gap was shrinking and the men stopped their talking, believing that they would only now be overheard.
Ben knew he was in trouble but he was surprised when Rosalie’s hand slipped into his and gave it a comforting, friendly squeeze.
The Chest
‘What were you thinking?’ Mrs Reed’s voice was certainly raised and angry but Ben was also thinking there was a hint of compassion to it as well, a real concern creeping in at the corners.
Her cluttered office was now equally overrun with people. Nanny Belle was standing by the door, Mr Reed was over by the fireplace and Constable Bobbins was standing beside her chair, somehow both of then jammed in behind the desk.
Rosalie was standing beside Ben, which was odd to say the least but did seem to somehow make everyone watch what they were saying, as if they had an independent witness to the event. On being met by the searching men they had opted to take Rosalie as well until they got to the bottom of things.
Rosalie hadn’t protested but had pointed out that, because no law had actually been broken, her being obliged to go with them was close to kidnap, a statement that got Constable Bobbins stammering until Mr Reed had asked nicely for her to accompany them. Of course, when they had asked her to wait outside the office, she refused: ‘We haven’t got to the bottom of things yet and that’s the only reason why I’m here.’
Ben was in two minds about her presence; he certainly felt like she was seeing him at his worst and, as friends go, that didn’t seem a good start; however, he liked the fact that her defiant stance was making people less quick to judge him.
As no answer had followed Mrs Reed’s question, she continued.
‘We were worried about you. You didn’t go to the oyster factory and then rushed off like that, when you bumped into Nanny Belle.’
Ben wondered why Mr Reed’s presence wasn’t noted in this encounter on the lane but he believed silence to be the better course of action. ‘We’ve had so many things go wrong of late and you seem a bright child – I can’t think why you would put us through more worry.’
Mrs Reed briefly turned her eyes on Rosalie as if she were about to ask questions of the Gypsy child but decided against it. However, this near-acknowledgement that Rosalie could be part of the conversation was all the girl needed to join in. She had, after all, worked out that she was to be the talker of this little duo.
‘Well, I guess that’s my fault,’ she began and all eyes including Ben’s turned towards her. ‘I found him in the woods, all confused and lost, and rather than just giving him directions that I thought might not help, I said I’d take him back. However, I needed to check my snares first and I lost track of time, so I took him back to our camp instead. Father Mick told me our kind weren’t welcome at your door after dark so we gave him a bed and I promised to take him back first light.’
She grinned a particularly toothy smile and all eyes turned back on Mrs Reed, who just shook her head wearily and muttered the word ‘Gypsies’ under her breath. She did, however, look back at Ben, ‘But what were you doing in the woods, Benjamin?’
‘That’s more than likely my fault.’ It was Nanny Belle this time who spoke for Ben. ‘He came to me yesterday morning saying he was missing home and didn’t feel like working. I told him that when those thoughts cross my mind I just take a different route to work and it feels like an adventure; I didn’t realise he’d get lost.’ Mrs Reed’s eyes were focused on the nanny, listening to the new information, but afterwards she slowly turned back to Ben.
‘But why were you running and scared?’ she asked, concern now the top emotion to her voice.
Ben spoke quickly before another of the well-meaning ladies spoke for him. ‘I was spooked by a creature I didn’t know, Ma’am. In Ceylon, if you don’t know something, you assume it wants to eat you and run.’ He was finally able to play on the English prejudices about foreign lands.
‘That’s awful, child. Well, I can assure you that there is very little that can kill you in the woods of Kent outside a wild boar or a rutting stag.’
Rosalie chimed in: ‘He won’t be frightened of it anymore. We tracked it down and did for it. Best way to overcome your fears is to face them.’
All eyes were now on Ben. ‘That’s right – we did and in truth I don’t know why I ran away in the first place; it was just scary because I got too close to its den and it charged me.’
It was Constable Bobbins who spoke next, giving his own interpretation of the whole affair that somehow calmed people’s fears. ‘That’s the problem with badgers – they look friendly enough until you get close, then they’re all teeth and attitude. I think the farmers around here will be thanking you, boy, once they find out. Farmers and badgers are natural enemies.’ He chortled at his joke.
‘Well, you’re here now,’ continued Mrs Reed, trying to ignore the constable’s laughter. ‘A night out in our lovely countryside won’t hurt you and, although I had little sleep last night, I can see why it happened and I’m glad you have returned safely.’ She looked at Rosalie. ‘And, young lady, can you thank your father and tell him if another child happens to come into his care we will always welcome him on to our premises!’
‘Will do, but he’s not my father. No one knows who my father is, although I always assumed it was Uncle David, as I have his hair. Father Mick is just the leader of our family and that’s our way of showing respect.’ She stopped talking, aware she had somehow shocked many of the people in the room.
‘Well, please do thank him for us and thank you, too, for the safe return of Benjamin.’ Mrs Reed looked over at her brother briefly and then announced to the room: ‘Well, I think some of us need to talk, but you children can certainly go about your way.’
As Nanny Belle opened the door to let the couple pass, Ben was sure he heard the sound of feet running down the corridor.
Ben walked Rosalie to the front door. ‘So will I be seeing you again?’ he asked.
‘Oh my giddy aunt – yes,’ she said with the biggest smile. ‘I’ll come down and bug you at the oyster factory and we can hang out whenever you’re free.’ She went all bashful for a second at the door. ‘You’re not the only one who doesn’t fit in, Ben. I’m a Gypsy child. People always shut their windows as I walk by and I don’t have any friends who are my own age. Besides, even if I did, you’re fun – we killed a land lobster together.’
She danced off along the dirt track, leaving Ben standing by the door.
‘Who knows what other monsters we can hunt?’ she finally shouted before finally disappearing.
Ben felt his face break into a full grin and he turned back into the house to see several of the children standing behind him. They all looked like they had a thousand questions to ask and before he could say a thing he was bundled excitedly into the girls’ dorm. It was much nicer than the boys’ dorm – there were even vases of flowers in the alcoves. Ben remembered that the girls attended flower arranging with Reverend Luck’s wife on Wednesdays after dinner and these must be the results of their efforts.
Excited faces were gathered all around, even though it was obvious that some weren’t too happy at letting Ben feel part of the bigger group.
‘What were the Gypsies like?’ This came from Thomas, whom Ben was happy to see alive and well; the last time he had seen him his face was twitching from the land lobster’s defensive smoke.
‘They were friendly.’ He said not knowing how else to describe them. The comment was met by a huge sigh from James Edwards.
‘He didn’t stay with the Gypsies. He just got lost, cried himself to sleep and was walked home by a girl
.’
This open contempt made Ben realise he would never be accepted by the likes of James. It was, however, the next question from Christian that threw him.
‘What did you kill?’ he asked very quietly and simply, not even looking at Ben as the words started to form.
‘How did you know about that?’ Ben asked, quite surprised. The Gypsy connection he understood, Rosalie was a Gypsy girl and everyone knew there were Gypsies in the woods, but the killing of the creature was a secret, at least as far as the other children were concerned.
It was Farley who answered. ‘Peter and I were listening at the door when you were telling the adults.’
‘What did you kill?’ Christian spoke again, slower this time as if to make sure that the question was answered.
‘Yes, what did you kill, Benjamin?’ James mocked. ‘Was it a hedgehog for the gypsies’ tea?’
Ben could take no more of James’s mocking tone – he wasn’t going to have his moment tarnished by a bully.
‘I killed the creature in the quarry,’ he practically shouted at James, wanting to see the look on his tormentor’s face.
He never got the chance. He heard a cry of dismay and anger a fraction before Christian was on him, and they rolled on to the dormitory floor. Ben shielded his face with his arms as Christian rained blow after blow down upon him, hitting as hard as he could with his bony fists. Ben, however, was bigger and stronger than Christian and he managed to push him away. The children had formed a circle about them and Ben found himself in an instant coliseum, with a crowd baying for a fight. Christian came in thumping, tears streaming down his face. Ben couldn’t work out what had happened. It was as if Christian was the one who was wronged but it was he who had attacked Ben. Ben took the hits a couple more times, trying to appeal to the slightly younger boy’s good nature. The attack, however, did not ease and a lucky blow caught Ben on the ear. For a second his world became shadows and ringing bells, and he reeled into a sea of hands that stopped him from falling. Ben was not a fighter, but after the events of the morning he was certain he was no longer going to just walk away and he swung a fist back, to the gasps of the circle of children. He was bigger, stronger and vigorous from his muscle-building work during a sea voyage as well as hard labour on the oyster farm; Christian, however, was still weak from his weeks in bed and the punch hit him straight across the jaw and floored him. It was then that the crowd parted, divided by the hands of Mr Reed, who had been alerted by the children’s shouts. All he saw was Ben standing over the fallen body of Christian, his fists up like an East End prize-fighter. He didn’t need to wait for an explanation – he grabbed Ben and dragged him away, leaving the friends to deal with Christian Green.
As he reached the corridor, Mr Reed was trembling with rage as he took the boy to the front door. He had no idea whether he was throwing Ben out or disciplining him, but there hadn’t been fighting at the Garden Orphanage for many a year, and that was quite an achievement with this many young boys. Mr Reed, however, was stopped before he reached the door by Nanny Belle; she calmed him instantly with her presence and raised hands.
‘You are angry, William,’ she said directly to Mr Reed. ‘Let me take the boy and punish him in a more appropriate manner before you regret your actions.’ She already had hold of Ben’s arm. ‘Go tend to the boys and summon your sister to calm the girls.’ And without waiting for his agreement, she took Ben out of the grip of Mr Reed’s big hands and moved towards the classroom.
Nanny Belle ushered him quickly through the door into her private office that lay in the tower directly above the classroom. She took a straight-backed chair from its resting place against the wall and sat Ben down.
Nanny Belle didn’t really let anybody into her rooms. Well, that was a lie – it was more a case that no one ventured into the rooms as it seemed impolite without an invitation and Nanny Belle didn’t invite anybody.
Ben didn’t take the opportunity at first to look around. It had all been a blur – one moment he was being accepted and the very next he was fighting not with a bully but with one of the nicer boys of the orphanage. He was now starting to feel the pain in his ear and raised his fingers to touch the tender spot. He only looked up when he saw Nanny Belle walk past him with a bird cage, its heavy cover in place as she removed it from the room.
For a moment he was left alone, hearing only the sound of the teacher’s footsteps on the stairs and then in the room above. He finally looked around. The study was almost the same size as the schoolroom below but as such was partly used for the storing of classroom materials. One wall was covered in neatly ordered shelves, on which were piled exercise books, ledgers, boxes of chalk, ink, pencils, paints and blotting paper. At a ninety degree angle and dividing the room, a free-standing shelving unit held the scientific apparatus: shining test tubes, flasks, Petri dishes and beakers stood happily beside the mahogany box that contained the classroom’s brass microscope, while on the lower shelves were sturdier items like Bunsen burners, stands and test-tube holders.
The next free-standing shelves stood in parallel, half hidden behind the first, and at first might have been mistaken for a chemist’s or a well-stocked kitchen’s spice cupboard. It had a host of different-coloured powders and liquids along its length, and the biological specimens would have put a hospital museum or freak show pickled punk booth to shame.
Finally he spotted the prize of the collection, a fully articulated human skeleton lounging in one corner.
Ben was wondering whether all schools were this well stocked when Nanny Belle came back into the room, a look of annoyance on her face. She snatched up a bowl of what looked like dried and fresh fruit and left the room again. Ben wondered momentarily what kind of bird had a diet of fruit, but then guessed that a lot of them must eat berries in the wild – it was only captivity that turned them to a boring life of dull seeds.
As he watched Nanny Belle leave again, he noticed the books on her desk. To most people it would just have looked like an untidy mess, but Ben quickly spotted that they were the selfsame tomes, works and field guides that he had been looking at when interrupted by the Nanny in the classroom below. The map of the Whitgate area was also laid out, weighted at the corners. Afraid to leave the chair, he was stretching to get a closer look when Nanny Belle re-entered the room. He sat upright in the chair, trying to give the impression he hadn’t been spying. She however followed where his eyes had been looking and smiled.
‘I was trying to work out where you might have gone,’ she said with kindness in her voice.
‘I went to the quarry. I thought you had shown it to me on the map.’ Ben felt the conversation was getting surreal; he still wasn’t sure if that’s what his tutor had been hinting at.
Nanny Belle smiled. ‘Clever boy, I was hoping you’d work out where they’d gone. The thing is I was trying to find out where you’d gone afterwards.’
‘I just ran,’ he said, suddenly realising that it would seem like the action of a coward.
Nanny Belle smiled again and he could see the sympathy in her eyes. He was glad that her look was neither patronising nor mocking but heartfelt. She was about to talk again when there was a knock at her door.
‘Hold that thought,’ she said and descended the flight of stairs that led to the classroom. She opened it and he heard the deep tones of Mr Reed for a moment before the door closed behind her as the adults continued their conversation in the quiet of the classroom. Ben tried to work out what the muffled voices were saying but he could only work out when a male or female voice was talking rather than the actual conversation.
He rubbed his ear again and took in the rest of the room. It was actually quite simple if you removed the school stuff. The desk at which the books were laid out was an exact replica of the one Nanny Belle sat behind in the classroom below. The fire place was part of the same chimney breast that served this part of the house and the fire was lit but with a flame that simply warmed the room and the mantle had a clock upon it that read t
wo fifteen. The day it seemed had really gotten away from Ben since he had woken up in the Gypsy caravan. Since that early misty morning in the woods he had caught and killed the land lobster with Rosalie, returned to the orphanage to be interrogated and had his first fight. The one thing he hadn’t done was eaten and he could feel his stomach getting ready to growl, he remembered the hard cob in his pocket but then thought better of it. He distracted himself by looking around the room again but as he couldn’t leave the chair the only other object of note was a travelling trunk. It was heavy and battered and looked as if it had been places, but the travel labels folks seemed to love to leave on (as a boastful sign of where the owner had been) had all been removed - not carefully, as if the look of the trunk was important, but simply torn off, as if covering one’s tracks. The fact the case actually wasn’t Nanny Belle’s was clear from the initials elegantly engraved above the handle – a simple ‘J.U’ in gold leaf – the sole extravagance of the whole piece. What Ben liked about the trunk most was that the top was curved, giving it the look of a pirate’s treasure chest. At that moment Nanny Belle returned to the room, her face concerned.
She pulled up another chair and sat down before Ben.
‘I have some bad news, I’m afraid.’ Ben really didn’t know what to expect, so he just left the nanny to talk. ‘It seems that the other children are refusing to share a room with you.’ Ben was shocked
‘But I didn’t even start the fight,’ he blurted.
‘I know – even they have said that Christian hit you first. Some of them are, however, accusing you of killing their pet. A few are quite upset and the others are sticking by them.’
‘It wasn’t a badger!’ said Ben, suddenly realising he needed to defend himself – if anyone was to listen to him it was going to be Nanny Belle.
‘I kind of gathered that, but as you didn’t correct Constable Bobbins I realised you didn’t want to share what it actually was that you despatched.’ She waited for a second before adding, ‘So, do you want to fill me in on what it was that the children thought was a companion but you believed to be … otherwise?’