by Polly Heron
‘Bet you anything he’s been cremated,’ announced Philip Eckersley. ‘That’s what they do when you die of a terrible disease. If they bury you, the disease will make the ground go all rotten, so they have to burn you instead. And if you’re poor, they just stick you on the bonfire.’
‘Really?’ gasped Jacob. Surely not.
‘Really. And them that die close to Bonfire Night are saved up and put on top of the bonfire like so many guys.’ Eckerslike nodded and Jacob didn’t dare challenge him in case it turned out to be true. Eckers-like sounded deadly serious.
They said prayers in church on Sunday morning for the repose of Mr Cropper’s soul and everyone looked at Daniel, causing Nanny Mitchell to utter a soft but compelling murmur of reprimand that had all eyes front and centre in an instant.
Back at St Anthony’s, Jacob got Daniel on his own.
‘You’re still going to do it, aren’t you?’
‘Do what?’
Was he being thick on purpose? ‘The job. Shirl’s job. You know.’
‘Oh, that.’
Oh, that? Oh, that? How could he be so off-hand? ‘You have to do it,’ Jacob insisted, his voice low and urgent. ‘You know what Shirl’s like. You might be safe with your uncle a million miles away, but Shirl will take it out on me if you don’t do this job. I’m the one who got you involved.’
Jacob had another reason for wanting Daniel by his side. This job was the worst ever. Not that he knew the details yet. But he sensed it.
‘There’ll be no more delivering for you, Jemima,’ Shirl had said.
‘But I thought…’ He had just got used to trailing along to the bench by the cabbies’ hut in front of the Lloyds, and now he wasn’t going to do it any more? He ought to be pleased. He ought to be ruddy well running round in circles and jumping for joy, but he knew Shirl better than that by now.
‘Nah, best not, not with you and Danny-boy Cropper both being seen on Chorlton Green.’
‘Then why did you send me to the Lloyds? I mean, if I’d already been seen—’
‘Are you questioning my decisions, Jemima?’ Shirl delivered a swift slap round the back of Jacob’s head that made his teeth snap together with a sharp click. ‘Are you suggesting I don’t know what I’m doing?’ His hand hovered threateningly.
‘Course not.’ Jacob had done his best not to flinch but couldn’t stop his face screwing up in anticipation of a second blow. At that point he couldn’t tell what the ruddy heck was going on. First he had been given a new delivery place, now he wasn’t going to be sent there again. What had Shirl got in store?
What Shirl had in store had turned out to be far worse than anything that Jacob had gone through so far.
‘You and Danny-boy are going to do a job together,’ Shirl had told him. ‘An important job. How does that sound? He’s not a lily-livered scaredy-cat like you, so you should be pleased. He’s the one who should be kicking up, having to work with a Jemima instead of a real lad.’
What this job was, Jacob didn’t know and neither did Daniel. Not that Daniel seemed bothered.
He shrugged. ‘I don’t need the money no more, now my dad’s dead.’
Panic streamed through Jacob. ‘But—’
‘I only did it for the money. I was saving up to run away to Southport.’
‘You can’t leave me to do it on my own. ’Sides, Shirl’d never let you. You don’t know what he does to boys what try to leave.’
‘I won’t be here for him to do anything to me, though, will I?’
Daniel Cropper wouldn’t be at the orphanage much longer, because his uncle was going to come and fetch him. Daniel was going to be adopted. He was going to live miles and miles away, nearly in Scotland, the lucky bugger, where he could forget all about Shirl and his jobs. He would be safe.
And Jacob, pathetic Jemima, would be left here all on his own.
Molly slept poorly on Sunday night, full of worry about facing the music on Monday. She hadn’t said anything in Wilton Close about her escapade with Danny Cropper. Miss Patience would be deeply sympathetic to the child’s plight and would understand Molly’s reasons for spiriting him away, even if she didn’t condone them; but Miss Hesketh wouldn’t be so generous. She was a stickler for the rules. Molly hadn’t breathed a word to Vivienne either, not wanting to delve into the rights and wrongs of the situation, especially when there were likely to be so many more wrongs than rights; though no amount of wrongs could outweigh the simple, inarguable right that Danny Cropper and his father had needed to be reunited in those final moments of Mr Cropper’s life. Or did that make her sound holier than thou?
Monday was another fine morning. Molly set off earlier than usual. If she could be at her desk before Mrs Rostron arrived, then she would have the chance to tell the superintendent what had happened before Mrs Rostron could hear it from anybody else. Owning up would surely go in her favour.
No such luck. As she rounded the top of the stairs and walked along the dingy landing to her alcove, the superintendent’s door opened and Mrs Rostron appeared. She didn’t leave the doorway, but merely said, ‘I’d like to speak to you, please, Miss Watson.’
Molly experienced a dropping sensation in her torso, but she held her shoulders back and her chin up as she walked towards the office door. Mrs Rostron had closed it, which meant she had to knock and wait, even though there could have been no doubt that she would obey the summons immediately. A taste of Mrs Rostron’s displeasure? No doubt.
‘Sit down.’ Barely allowing time for her to do this, Mrs Rostron began. ‘I’m aware of what took place on Saturday. Nanny Mitchell was responsible for St Anthony’s all weekend and she sent for me yesterday to inform me.’
‘Oh. I had hoped to be the one to tell you.’
‘Indeed? And you considered it to be something that could wait until Monday?’
That stung. ‘Given that I brought Danny back safely, yes.’
‘Danny? So, on top of removing the child from the premises, you have also developed a personal relationship with him to the extent of bestowing a pet-name on him.’
‘With respect, Mrs Rostron, it isn’t a pet-name. It’s the name he was known by before he came here.’
Mrs Rostron lifted her eyebrows. ‘You took it upon yourself to take Daniel Cropper to Southport. You had no authority to do so and the fact that you did it without reference to Nanny Mitchell shows that you were aware you were acting irresponsibly.’
‘I did leave a note.’
‘I believe so. Tell me, to whom was it addressed?’ As if she didn’t know.
‘Mr Abrams.’
‘An interesting choice. You left word, not for the person in charge, but for the caretaker. You attend the local business school for surplus girls, don’t you, Miss Watson?’
That took her by surprise. ‘Yes.’ What now?
‘So that is where you learn your work practices. I’ve a good mind to write and complain.’
‘Oh please don’t. This is nothing to do with the Miss Heskeths.’
‘Have they taught you nothing about your responsibility to your place of work?’
Heat prickled the inside of her cheeks. ‘Of course they have. The first duty of an employee is to act with integrity at all times.’
‘And yet you saw fit to remove a child from these premises and make off with him.’
‘That makes it sound like a kidnapping.’
‘You took a child with neither the knowledge nor the consent of the person responsible for his welfare, who on that particular day was Nanny Mitchell, acting in my stead.’
She tried a different tack. ‘I realise I—’
‘Let’s forget the present tense, shall we? You said “I realise”. Wouldn’t it be honest to say “I realised” – unless you’re going to pretend you didn’t realise at the time the nature of what you were doing?’
‘No, I’m not going to suggest that.’ The muscles in her shoulders had tightened to the point where they might snap if she made a wrong move. ‘
All I’m saying is that perhaps integrity isn’t necessarily all that straightforward. Taking Daniel Cropper to the bedside of his dying father was the right thing to do; and to that extent, I did act with integrity.’
‘With compassion, perhaps; with impetuosity, certainly. As for integrity: people who act with integrity aren’t reduced to leaving notes for the caretaker when they ought to explain the situation in person to the member of staff in charge.’
‘But—’
‘But what? But Nanny Mitchell wouldn’t have given her permission? Of course she wouldn’t. It isn’t her place to make decisions of that nature. Such a decision would be mine alone… had I been permitted to make it. This is what should have happened on Saturday morning. When you answered the telephone, you should have fetched Nanny Mitchell immediately; then she, not you, would have held the conversation with the sanatorium, at the end of which she would have sent for me, so that I could place my own call to the sanatorium and decide how to act.’
‘May I ask,’ Molly ventured, ‘what you would have done?’
‘Are you seeking reassurance that your little adventure was the right course of action? I can assure you of one thing: had I spoken to the sanatorium, my side of the conversation would have been a great deal more informed than yours could possibly have been. Would I have taken Daniel Cropper to Southport? The point is, Miss Watson, that it was my decision to make, not yours.’
‘I realise I acted impulsively. I apologise.’
‘You apologise for the impulse but not, I note, for the action. Not that it makes any difference. You cannot possibly remain here in the capacity of secretary if I cannot trust you implicitly, and clearly I cannot.’
Molly’s skin tingled from head to toe. ‘Mrs Rostron…’
‘And now you should take yourself off to the Town Hall. By the time you arrive, I will have spoken to Mr Taylor on the telephone.’
Dismissed. Sacked. Not given notice. Just told to go and not come back. Molly didn’t know whether she was more shocked or ashamed. She had known she was – what? Taking a risk? Acting beyond her responsibility? – when she took Danny to Southport, but she had never pictured this as the outcome. A dressing-down, yes, but not dismissal.
As if her interview with Mr Taylor wasn’t painful enough, who should barge into his office but Mrs Wardle. Typical. As outraged as she had been by Molly’s transgression, she was equally vexed, it seemed, with poor Mr Taylor.
‘This is what comes of not listening to me at the interview stage,’ she berated him. ‘I told you Miss Watson wasn’t suitable, but did you listen? No, you did not, and now look where we are. The reputation of the Board of Health hangs in the balance, thanks to your preferred candidate.’
Mr Taylor made an effort. ‘I think that’s an exaggeration, don’t you?’
‘No,’ Mrs Wardle snapped. ‘If this Board of Health gets shut down and the old Board of Guardians reinstated, we’ll all know whom to blame, won’t we?’
‘I really must protest,’ bleated the hapless Mr Taylor. ‘There is no question—’
‘Defending her, are you? Defending the creature who has let us all down so badly, not to mention publicly.’
Two pairs of eyes swivelled in her direction; three, if you included the glassy eyes of the fox-fur. Molly stood up, clinging to what remained of her self-respect.
‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave now.’
‘I haven’t said half of what I intend to say,’ boomed Mrs Wardle.
‘And yet I understood it as if you’d said every word,’ Molly murmured, making her way from the room and shutting the door on Mrs Wardle’s wrath.
She tried to slip away unnoticed, but Vivienne pounced on her, demanding to know what had happened. Feeling by this time like a wrung-out dishcloth, she pulled Vivienne out of the department’s territory before she spilled out the sorry tale to her friend.
‘What were you thinking, taking the boy like that?’ Vivienne exclaimed. Her blue-grey eyes were full of concern, but there was censure in her voice too, which Molly knew she richly deserved.
‘We can’t discuss it now. You have to get back into the office or I won’t be the only one in trouble. Just one thing. Don’t say anything at home. Leave it to me to tell the ladies.’
‘Wouldn’t dream of saying a word. It’s your news to tell. Oh, Molly.’
To her surprise, Vivienne gave her a hug before hurrying back the way they had come. Molly watched her go, almost unbearably moved by the show of affection. She headed downstairs – for the final time. She had lost her job. She had to stop on the stairs, too wobbly to trust herself not to stumble. Oh well, this wouldn’t get the baby bathed. She had to break the news to her family as well as the Miss Heskeths. But first, she had to collect her few bits and bobs from St Anthony’s. What were her chances of getting in and out without seeing anyone?
But her conscience wouldn’t permit that.
Stopping Carmel in the corridor, she asked where Nanny Mitchell was.
Carmel’s eyes widened. ‘With the smalls. Is it true you’ve been…you’re leaving?’
‘I’m afraid so. I need to see Nanny Mitchell first. Would you mind asking her?’
Carmel scurried away, returning to say, ‘You’re to wait for her outside the nannies’ room.’
Standing outside the nannies’ sitting room was like waiting outside the headmaster’s office. Nanny Mitchell swept down the corridor without acknowledging her. She opened the door, throwing a brusque ‘Come in’ over her shoulder.
Molly followed her into the room where, less than forty-eight hours earlier, she had held Danny in her arms while he sobbed his heart out. How was he coping with his loss? Nanny Mitchell sat down, perching her ample behind on the edge of a chair, as if prepared to leap up and dash back to her duties at the first opportunity.
‘I want to apologise for what happened on Saturday,’ Molly began.
‘I should think so too,’ snapped the usually genial nanny. ‘Do you have any idea of the position you put me in? You ignored my authority.’
‘I know.’
‘No, you don’t. Mrs Rostron has questioned my ability to take responsibility for St Anthony’s in her absence.’
Molly caught her breath. ‘But it wasn’t anything to do with you.’
‘It was – or should have been. You should have come to me as soon as you took that telephone call. The wrongdoing was completely on your side, but it occurred while I was in charge and that makes it my responsibility. I had to go to Mrs Rostron’s office and explain myself.’
‘Explain yourself?’
‘You rode roughshod over my authority, so I had to face a discussion about whether I’m fit to carry that authority. You can’t leave someone in charge if the staff don’t respect them.’
‘But I do respect you.’
‘So much so that you sneaked off to Southport with one of the children, leaving your confession for the attention of the caretaker, if you please.’
Molly was stumped for something even halfway adequate to say.
‘You may well stand there gawping,’ sniffed Nanny Mitchell. She stood up. ‘And now I’ll return to my work.’
Before she could reach the door, Molly put her hand on her arm. Nanny Mitchell slowly turned her head and looked down at Molly’s hand until Molly let it drop away.
‘I’m truly sorry for the trouble I caused,’ she said quietly. ‘All I could think of was what Danny – Daniel Cropper needed most.’
‘Well, I hope it was worth it, Miss Watson, because you’ve paid a high price.’
‘Will you tell Dad for me?’ A knot of guilt ached in Molly’s throat, but she had to ask. She had to lump the horrible responsibility onto Mum’s shoulders. To make it worse, Auntie Faith was here to witness the Watsons’ shame. No – her presence made it better, because Mum would have someone to lean on when Molly left. But it also meant that Gran would soon know, and Dora, and everyone. Mum and Dad would have no time to huddle together and get used to it in pri
vate.
Mum roused herself from the crumpled position she had slumped into in the armchair, hauling herself upright. ‘Oh aye? Too ashamed to tell him yourself? I’m not surprised.’
‘It’s not that. I have to get back to Wilton Close. In fairness to Vivienne, I have to get there before she does.’ Should she wait for Miss Hesketh to get home from the office or ought she to tell Miss Patience as soon as she arrived? Or would that be a slight to Miss Hesketh? ‘I can’t wait for Dad and Tom. I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry, she says.’ A bitter laugh escaped Mum’s lips.
‘Eh, come on now.’ With one hip perched on the arm of Mum’s chair, Auntie Faith leaned over and rubbed her sister’s back.
‘Can you at least see how it happened?’ Molly appealed to them both. ‘Can you understand how much I wanted to help that little boy?’
‘Of course we can,’ said Mum. ‘We’re not stupid. But – it got you sacked, Molly. There’s never been anyone sacked in our family before.’
Molly closed her eyes. ‘I know.’ She opened her eyes again; she mustn’t appear sorry for herself.
Auntie Faith shook her head. ‘You gave up your engagement to go your own way and get a job – and now you’ve been sacked. What’s happened to you, Molly? You were always such a sensible girl.’
‘I did what I thought was right. Danny Cropper hadn’t seen his father in months and, in between times, his mother died. I took him to be with his dad at the end, which was the right thing to do; but I acted way beyond my authority and that made it wrong.’ She looked at Mum. ‘I’m so sorry to have let you down.’ She stood up. She hated to leave Mum in this state. ‘I really do have to go.’
To her surprise and profound relief, Mum stood up and put her arms round her. Her body melted against her mother’s familiar shape. Her smell was familiar too: soda crystals and cucumber hand cream, the smell of childhood, the smell of home, of love, of approval.