Tomorrow, Jerusalem

by Tomorrow, Jerusalem (retail) (epub)

  * * *

  ‘Well, now – and how are we feeling today? Better, I think?’ The voice and the figure were those she remembered best from these past, all but lost days; gruff but not unkindly tone, big, bulky body and a sweetly humorous face beneath a thatch of greying hair as untidy as any she had ever seen. Doctor Will. That was the name she had heard. She smiled, astonished that such a small and usually unthinking action should require such effort.

  ‘Right. Let’s take a look at this arm, shall we?’

  Helpless and weak as a newborn child, she lay as he gently pushed up the wide sleeve of her nightdress, exposing her upper arm. Vaguely and with the beginnings of discomfiture she recalled that more personal liberties than this had been necessary over the past few days.

  ‘Yes – yes – very good. It’s coming along nicely. A fresh dressing, I think, Miss Reid, and then perhaps our young patient might find herself able to partake of something a little more solid than the beef tea you’ve been pouring down her these past days?’

  Sally smiled again into the dark, twinkling eyes.

  ‘Good – good. Now, if you feel up to it we have a small visitor for you. Well, rather more like a guard really. If we had allowed it I do believe that he would have slept across your threshold and bitten any ankle he suspected of being less than friendly – you have a devoted slave, Miss Smith.’

  ‘Toby,’ she said, her usually vibrant voice a grating whisper.

  ‘The very same.’ He raised his voice a little, ‘Come on, then, lad. See for yourself. The corner is turned, as I told you it would be.’

  There was a small eruption by the door, and then a stillness. ‘Sal?’ The young voice was doubtful, the clean and shining face only half hopeful.

  ‘Good Gawd,’ she said faintly caustic, ‘I thought they said it was young Toby?’

  ‘It is.’ He fidgeted with the neat, plain but clean clothes, ducked a shining head. ‘Go on, Sal! You know it is.’

  She smiled infinitely gently, lifted her good hand in invitation. He flew to her, skidded to a halt by the bedside, took her hand with beguiling care.

  ‘It’s all right. I won’t break.’

  He said nothing, seemed content for the moment simply to cling to the hand he had held so often – and that had clipped his ear almost as frequently – that now was so unaccustomedly soft and acquiescent in his.

  The nurse finished tying the fresh bandage with deftly impersonal fingers. ‘There.’ She stood up, ‘Rest, I think now, Doctor Will? Don’t you agree?’ She held out a commanding hand. ‘Come along, young man.’

  Toby’s hand clutched tighter at Sally’s. He scowled murderously. Miss Reid tutted, her lips pursed. Sally got the distinct impression that these were not the opening hostilities between these two.

  ‘Oh – we can leave him for a while I think, Miss Reid.’ Doctor Will leaned over and ruffled the gleaming gold curls, winking conspiratorially at Sally. ‘He’s waited long enough for this moment. He’ll do no harm.’

  Toby cast sly, triumphant eyes in the starched direction of his enemy.

  She sniffed. ‘If you say so, Doctor.’

  They left, a taut, offended back and a large tolerant one. The door closed.

  ‘You all right?’ Toby asked after a long moment, his voice a whisper, overawed despite himself.

  ‘Course. Look at me. Good as new. Almost.’

  He grinned at that.

  She turned her head on the pillow to look at him. In the faint light from the curtained windows he fairly glowed with cleanliness and good health. She lifted the small paw that was still clasped in hers. It was clean as a babe’s, the nails trimmed, no trace of grime anywhere about it. ‘Yer lookin’ pretty dandy yerself.’

  He laughed, the characteristic mischievous gurgle that she found so infectious.

  ‘I’d lay odds they didn’t find it easy?’

  He shook his head, still grinning. ‘I bit ’er. Twice.’

  ‘Little beast.’

  There was a long moment’s quiet.

  ‘Tobe?’

  ‘Mm?’

  ‘What’s it like ’ere? I mean,’ her eyes slid to the door and back, ‘what they really like?’

  He thought about it. ‘Not bad, most of ’em. She’s a pain – the nurse woman – but the rest – they’re all right. Grub’s good. An’ there’s tons of it. There’s bacon for breakfast almost every day, an’ supper every single night.’

  ‘Where you bin sleepin’?’

  ‘With the other kids.’

  ‘What other kids?’

  He waved a vague hand. ‘Oh – there’s lots of ’em. They live ’ere.’

  She nodded her head, not exactly in understanding.

  ‘One of ’em’s ever so nice.’

  ‘What – one of the kids?’

  ‘Nah!’ The negative was threaded with pure disgust at such a silly assumption. ‘One o’ them.’ He jerked his head towards the door. ‘’E’s a teacher or somethin’. ‘E’s a real gent. Makes yer laugh. Tells yer stories.’

  ‘Oh?’

  The bright head snapped round. ‘Not as good as yours. Course not. But they aren’t bad.’

  ‘Well – if ’e’s a teacher—’

  ‘Tha’ss right.’ The child, more confident now, dropped her hand and clambered on to the narrow bed, sat swinging his legs, his clean young profile bright and beautiful against the sunlit curtains. ‘Name o’ Mr Ralph.’ He turned his head to look at her, his face unwontedly solemn. ‘’E teaches the other kids to read. Says ‘e could me, if I wanted.’

  ‘Does ’e now?’ Sally’s voice, stronger now, carried an edge of the old, tart cynicism.

  The boy, hearing it, grinned his pleasure.

  She reached a hand, poked his knee with a long, bony finger. ‘Take a pretty clever teacher ter teach the likes o’ you ter read!’

  He chuckled.

  She left her hand resting upon his leg. A sudden wave of tiredness engulfed her. Her eyelids drooped.

  ‘Young man – off that bed at once!’ The door had opened. A long, thin, starched silhouette pointed an outraged finger. ‘At once!’

  Toby slid from the bed and fled. The door closed. Sally slept.

  * * *

  The Mr Ralph that Toby had spoken of, to Sally’s surprise, came to visit her a couple of days later. She was propped up in bed, still surprisingly weak, but greatly improved in health, her arm healing cleanly now, her tough constitution fighting the ill effects of the fever. In those days that she had lost July had moved into August. The curtains of the tall window were drawn open now, and the windows themselves thrown up to let what little air there was enter the narrow room. Outside the window the leaves of the tree which stood in the old stable yard hung in summer stillness, dusty and scorched a little by the drought, but a haven nevertheless for busy sparrows and greedy, squawking starlings. The traffic noise was muted. Ralph stood a little hesitantly in the doorway, a small bunch of flowers in his hand, a diffident expression on his good-natured face. ‘Hello. I’m Ralph Bedford. May I come in?’

  She was astounded that he should ask. ‘Course.’

  He ambled across the room, proffered the flowers. ‘I – I thought you might like these?’

  ‘Well – thanks.’ Entirely nonplussed she took them. No one in her entire life had ever offered her flowers before. They were daisies; very few, and rather wilted, but she laid them as carefully upon the white counterpane as if they had been orchids and carnations.

  ‘May I sit down?’

  She nodded, watched him curiously as he arranged his long body and lanky legs into some semblance of order and perched upon the only chair. She saw a tall, untidy young man, pale of face, dark of hair and eye, unremarkable in appearance. His straight hair was a little lank, the wire-rimmed spectacles he wore gave him somehow an air of vagueness, his big hands were very bony, his Adam’s apple prominent. Yet there was an ungainly gentleness about him that was immediately endearing, even attractive, an air of unassumed and tranquil
kindness that put her immediately at her ease. So this was Ralph, who told her Toby stories and suggested that he might be taught to read?

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m very well, thank you. I’m being so very well looked after.’

  He smiled his gentle smile. ‘So I should think. And especially since Ben appears to have taken you under his wing. That warrants even more special treatment.’

  It was said lightly, but she said nothing and her silence was wary. She had no idea how much anyone knew of the circumstances that had brought her here. Her well-developed instinct for self-preservation warned her to be very careful. The whole affair was nothing but trouble and the least said the better: her main aim in life at the moment was to get better, regain her strength and get out of here – with Toby – just as fast as she could.

  The silence lengthened, a little awkwardly. Ralph sat, elbows on knees, big hands clasped before him. Sally, whose life until now had contained little of the social niceties and nothing at all of small talk, waited.

  ‘I – wanted to talk to you about young Toby.’

  ‘Ah.’ The narrow eyes narrowed further, defensively.

  ‘He’s your son?’

  She hesitated, every instinct, every nerve telling her to lie. Her general experience, both first and second hand of those helpful souls who so earnestly desired to aid the lame and the destitute was not good. If she admitted that Toby was not her son – was not in fact any blood relative at all – how much easier would it be for this well-meaning and earnest young man to take him from her?

  ‘Please.’ For all the world as if he had read the thought in her mind he held up a quick hand. ‘Don’t worry. It really doesn’t matter. You don’t have to tell me. I just wondered. You seem so very young.’

  She shrugged. ‘I found ’im. Year or so ago. Roamin’ the streets, ‘e was – beggin’, pickin’ pockets, thievin’ what ‘e could from the stalls in Petticoat Lane. ‘Alf starved ’e was, poor little beggar.’

  ‘And you took him in?’

  ‘I s’pose so, yes.’

  He smiled. ‘It’s no wonder he thinks so very much of you. Does he have a family?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not that we know of. All ’e remembers is a woman who must ’a’ bin his mother. When she died there was no one else.’

  ‘I see. And that was when you found him?’

  ‘Yes. ‘E ’ad ’is thievin’ little fingers in my purse.’ She grinned at the recollection.

  There was a small, careful silence. ‘He’s a very bright little boy.’

  She looked at him, hard-eyed and suspicious. ‘Yes. I daresay ’e is.’

  ‘And you know of course that by law he should be in school?’

  Just as she had expected! Stupid! Why hadn’t she kept her stupid mouth shut? Her whole face tightened.

  He shook his head gently. ‘Please – don’t be alarmed. We all know there are many children who for one reason or the other fall through that net. There’s not a lot anyone will do about it if I don’t tell them. You can walk away from here with him with no worry.’

  She stared at him, suspiciously.

  ‘But – would that be fair?’

  You can bet your life it would. What would you do for him that I can’t apart from fill his head with rubbish, give him hopes and dreams that can never come to anything, knowledge he can never use? She said nothing, watching him narrowly.

  ‘It’s a shame to waste such intelligence, don’t you think?’ The words were quiet. ‘He should learn to read, and to write—’

  ‘Why?’ she asked bluntly.

  He opened his mouth. Shut it again. Stood up awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry. It’s too early. I’m tiring you when you should be resting. Please don’t worry about what I’ve said. No one – no one! – is going to take Toby away from you.’

  ‘You think anyone could?’ she asked, a little harshly.

  ‘No. I’m quite sure that they couldn’t. But – please – just think about what I’ve said. We both know what happens to bright, intelligent, under-educated children in these back streets of ours. They have to use their talents somehow, and left to themselves I’m sure you know better than I what grief they can come to.’

  She knew. Too well she knew. She said nothing.

  ‘So – I’ll leave you to rest. But please don’t worry. Just think about what I’ve said.’ He smiled then and, despite herself, she found herself half-smiling back, half-trusting him, half-believing him. Lord, her stay in this place must have softened her head—

  She watched him to the door, heard his exclamation of surprise. ‘Why, Ben – hello.’

  ‘Morning, Ralph.’ Ben Patten’s voice was cool and sharp. Had he asked ‘What the devil are you doing here?’ he could not have been much more explicit.

  ‘I came to see how Miss Smith was progressing – and to have a word about Toby.’

  ‘I don’t think she’s ready to be bothered about such things just yet.’

  ‘No. I think you’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll come back in a day or so. Oh – are you coming with us to Miss Pankhurst’s tonight?’

  The rough, reddish head shook. ‘No. I’m on at the hospital.’

  ‘Ah. Well, I’m taking Hannah, of course. It should be a very entertaining evening.’

  Ben grunted.

  Ralph threw a swift smile at Sally and left, leaving her to face the craggy scowl of a busy man not in the best of tempers.

  He crossed the room in three brusque strides. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Much better.’ She hesitated, ‘Thank you.’

  He took her wrist in cool and competent fingers, laid a hand to her forehead. ‘Yes. It seems so.’

  She watched him as he straightened, filling the room with his height and bulk. Never had she seen anyone who looked more like a prize-fighter or less like a doctor. He ran a hand through already wildly tangled hair. On sure instinct and with a sudden spurt of amusement it came to Sally that Ralph Bedford was not the only member of this rather odd household to have come in search of favours from insignificant Sally Smith this morning. He cleared his throat a little with what she knew with certainty to be unaccustomed awkwardness. ‘Miss Smith—’

  She grinned, a little wryly. What a bunch they were for the proper addressing of a waif and stray in a charity nightdress. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I – have a favour to ask.’

  Surprising herself, she took sudden pity on him. ‘You don’t ’ave to.’

  He looked at her, sharply.

  ‘You’re goin’ ter ask me ter keep it ter meself – what ‘appened with Jackie Pilgrim an’ the young lady—’

  ‘Yes.’

  She shrugged. ‘What yer take me for? I would ’a done anyway.’

  He had a habit of stillness that was arresting in so big a man. He stood now, unsmiling, his hands in his pockets, looking down at her, studying her, weighing her, it seemed, on some very private mental scale. Then quite suddenly, he smiled and the effect was astounding, lighting the rather forbidding face like sunshine upon a rugged granite cliff. ‘I do believe you mean that.’

  ‘Course I do. I’m no trouble-maker, Doctor Patten. Trouble ’as a nasty ’abit of bitin’ the ‘and that feeds it, so to speak. I don’t usually meddle with other people’s affairs.’

  ‘In this case I have to thank God that you did – from what Charlotte has told me heaven only knows what might have happened if you hadn’t helped her.’

  ‘Well, that’s as might be. But you’ve no call to worry. Me an’ Tobe’ll be on our way just as soon as we can. No one’ll ‘ear nothin’ from me, I promise.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No thanks needed. If you owed me, you paid me.’ She lifted her chin, looked directly at him, ‘I reckon you saved me life – an’ for that I thank you.’

  ‘It’s my job,’ but he was smiling again.

  She nodded.

  ‘So – now—’ he was the doctor again, brisk and impersonal, ‘I think you should rest.�
� He moved with those long strides to the window and closed the curtains. ‘We’ll soon have you up and about again – though believe me, Miss Smith, you have been very ill indeed and it may take you a little longer than you expect to regain your strength. But – get plenty of rest and you’ll be right as ninepence, I promise you.’

  She snuggled into her pillows, weary again, thankful enough for the promise of peace, happy enough to do as she was bid. He picked up the flowers that Ralph had left and dropped them with no ceremony into the sink, splashing water from the jug upon them, then continued on to the door. Once there he stopped, turning, looming in the shadows, a bulk of darkness. ‘Perhaps you may be interested to know that Charlotte – Miss Bedford – has agreed to marry me.’ His voice was completely cool again, completely lacking in any emotion. ‘It seemed to be best.’ The door closed very quietly behind him.

  Sally, startled awake, listened to his measured footsteps as they receded into that mysterious, unknown world that lay beyond her closed door. And as she lay trying to give a name to the emotion that his words had surprised in her she frowned a little, astounded to discover it to be sympathy. For whom she would have been hard put to say, but sympathy nevertheless. A dangerous emotion, and one it could not be said that Sally Smith was much given to.