by Lesley Eames
‘We will,’ Lily assured her and Artie nodded, clearly too choked to speak.
‘I know you’ll go on loving each other too so maybe I’m being an old fool in wanting promises, but will you give me them anyway? Promises to love and look after each other always?’
‘Yes, Gran,’ Lily said. ‘I promise.’
‘Artie?’
‘I promise too.’
‘Then I can rest easy.’
There was only one more thing that needed to be done and it was Janet Flynn who suggested it to Lily. ‘I’ve been asking questions and you can turn up at the workhouse any day but it’s usual to get a ticket from the Relieving Officer first. Why don’t I see him with you?’
The Officer was a thin man with a hooked nose who asked questions about Lily’s name, age and circumstances. It was truly terrible when Mrs Flynn confirmed that Gran had no more than a day or two to live though the Officer nodded with the air of a man who’d heard many desperate stories and grown used to them. He wrote out a ticket for Lily to show when she arrived at the workhouse. Unable to bear to look at such stark proof of Gran’s approaching death, Lily put it straight into her pocket.
Gran fell into a deep sleep the following evening. Mrs Flynn sat downstairs while Lily and Artie sat at Gran’s bedside with blankets around their shoulders. The house was quiet, the only sounds being Gran’s breathing and occasional footsteps passing down Jessy Street. The footsteps grew fewer as the evening advanced and ceased as midnight came and went. Then it was quiet enough for just the mournful chiming of a distant clock to reach them.
In time Artie’s head and shoulders drooped. Lily eased them onto the bed and let him sleep. The clock chimed two o’clock and Lily sat on, holding one of the thin, papery hands that had loved and cared for her all her life.
Gran’s breathing finally stopped. Lily kissed Gran’s forehead then sank down beside Artie to sob her grief as the clock chimed again. It was three o’clock in the morning. Their old lives were over. Their new lives had begun.
EIGHT
Mrs Flynn insisted that Lily and Artie should stay in her crowded little house on the nights that followed Gran’s death though it meant that some of her own children had to sleep on the floor. She also helped Lily and Artie to pack up the few things they wanted to keep such as a small packet of family photos, some of the pottery Gran had loved, samples of her embroidery, the wedding rings of Gran and Mum, and the family’s collection of books. Mr Alderton’s housekeeper came and took the boxes to Hampstead in a taxi.
Mrs Flynn also organised a sale of Gran’s remaining possessions, inviting the neighbours to make offers before the landlord came to take back the house.
‘They’re Maggie’s things, remember,’ she told them. ‘Maggie was quick to help us so you can be quick to help her little ones. That includes you, Doris Lokes.’
Doris was a skinflint who’d cheat her own mother to save a farthing.
The sale raised little, but even a few shillings were better than nothing.
Lily bought a small posy of flowers to lay on the ground where Gran and other paupers were buried. She also bought paper, envelopes and stamps so she and Artie would be able to write to each other. The rest of the money she gave to Artie so he wouldn’t arrive at Mr Alderton’s house completely penniless.
Artie was to ride the bicycle to Hampstead. He wheeled it out to the alley but burst into tears. Lily took him into her arms and couldn’t stop her own tears from falling but eventually she eased them apart. ‘Be brave and make Gran proud,’ she said.
‘I’ll try.’
He got on his bike and rode off, leaving Lily with no idea when she might see him again. Lily’s throat felt so tight she couldn’t swallow.
‘Go for a walk, Lil,’ Mrs Flynn suggested, and Lily nodded.
She walked up to the river for what she suspected might be her last look at it for quite some time. The workhouse wasn’t prison, but it still took away a person’s freedom. Lily would have to be strong if she were to survive it without having her spirit crushed. She was sure she would survive it, but the fight back against grief would have to wait. Just now the grief was overwhelming.
She was glad when it began to rain because the water streaming down her face hid her tears. She stared at the river – sludgy in colour and pockmarked by falling raindrops. It was as though even the sky was mourning Gran.
Lily had never felt so low in all her life than when she retraced her steps to Jessy Street. Her head hurt and her body seemed drained of all energy. ‘Aw, Lily,’ Mrs Flynn said when she saw her. ‘I wish I could take you in but—’
‘You haven’t the room. Don’t feel badly about it. You were a good friend to Gran and you’ve been a good friend to Artie and me.’
With a neighbour minding her own children, Mrs Flynn insisted on accompanying Lily to the workhouse.
‘I’ll say goodbye here,’ Lily said, when they reached the door. ‘You need to get home to the children.’
‘You’ll come and see me if you get the chance?’
‘I will,’ Lily promised.
‘I wish I could say I’d write but I’m not so good with writing.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll be getting letters from Artie.’
‘’Course you will,’ Mrs Flynn agreed, but a flicker of something like doubt passed across her face.
Lily was about to assure her that Mr Alderton had agreed to Artie writing and visiting when she realised that their neighbour’s doubts ran deeper than that. Did Janet think that Artie would grow apart from Lily, out of sight gradually becoming out of mind?
If so, she was wrong. Artie’s life might be going in a different direction for a while, but that didn’t mean the ties that bound him to Lily were weakening. Artie was her twin, as close as close could be, and that wouldn’t change just because they had a few miles between them. Even so Lily felt jangled up inside.
Forcing a smile, she hugged her old neighbour then knocked on the door, waving Janet off as she waited for her knock to be answered.
Someone – Lily supposed he was some sort of porter – let her in, required her to stand waiting for a moment, then beckoned her to follow him to an office. ‘New girl, Mr Simms, sir,’ he said to the thin man who sat inside at a desk.
Mr Simms held out a hand for Lily’s ticket then asked her a number of questions which she answered in a daze. She would keep her faith in Artie. She would.
She waited for the questions to stop then said, ‘I have a brother, sir. He has…’ Oh, what was the word? Benefactor. That was it. ‘He has a benefactor, sir.’
‘Benefactor?’
‘A gentleman who’s taken him in to give him an education. My brother is going to write to me here. May I write back? Artie will send the stamp and everything.’
‘You may,’ Mr Simms said. ‘If he really does write to you.’ He too made it sound doubtful.
‘Artie will write to me, sir. I know he will.’
Mr Simms looked unconvinced but disinclined to argue. ‘The education you’ll receive here will be basic. But it will teach you to be useful so you can provide for yourself one day.’
‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.’
She wanted to ask him if she’d be moved on somewhere – to a school, perhaps – but a Matron arrived to take her elsewhere and Mr Simms looked irritated when he saw Lily hadn’t moved.
The Matron led her away to be bathed and examined by the Medical Officer. It was embarrassing to be stripped, poked and prodded, but Lily kept her chin tilted proudly, glad that no fault was found with her health and no lice were found in her hair.
She listened with only half an ear as she was told about rules and routines. Up at six to wash, dress, clean shoes and make beds… Prayers and religious instruction… Breakfast… Lessons… Dinner… Domestic lessons… Supper… More domestic lessons… More prayers… Bed… Church on Sundays… One bath each week…
Lily managed to ask about a school but the Matron knew nothing about that. ‘The s
ooner you settle down here the better,’ she advised.
Lily had every intention of seizing whatever opportunities the workhouse offered but a few days of coming to terms with her situation were what she needed first. Injured animals could retreat to their dens to lick their wounds. Lily would retreat in her head.
She was taken to the dining hall where people were sitting on long bench seats behind long tables. All the girls sat together and Lily was nudged onto a bench beside another girl of around her own age who stared at her momentarily but said nothing. Supper comprised bread, cheese and milk. Lily wasn’t hungry but, judging from the way everyone else tore into the rations, she supposed that if she missed a meal now there’d be little chance of making up for it another time. Besides, it wouldn’t do to let her body weaken so she forced the food down.
Afterwards, there was a lesson in sewing but years of helping Gran with repairs had already made Lily a quick and neat seamstress. Prayers followed, then bed, a narrow iron-framed bed in a long room full of identical beds. Some girls seemed to be in such low spirits that they took no notice of Lily or anyone else. But a few curious looks were sent her way together with an actual smile from the girl in the next bed. ‘I’m Kathleen,’ the girl said.
‘Lily.’
‘It’s hard on your first day, isn’t it?’
‘Have you been here long?’
‘A month. But I won’t be here for much longer. My ma’s in the women’s ward but we’ll both be out when Pa gets back from sea. He’s a sailor.’
Lucky Kathleen, having a family and freedom beckoning. Lily’s attention was caught by two girls further down the room.
‘Mary and Martha,’ Annie told her. ‘They’re twins.’
Lucky Mary and Martha too, having each other close. Lily wondered what Artie was doing. What he was thinking. Feeling. How many weeks or even months would pass before she saw him again?
Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard. ‘Goodnight, Kathleen,’ she said, getting into bed and curling up small. It was the only way she could be private.
She kept her crying silent, not wanting to disturb anyone else, but other girls cried at different times of the night. Were they missing loved ones too? Or simply hating their lives here?
Lily must have dozed eventually because she was woken with what felt like brutal haste and given no chance to find her bearings before she had to get up. She hoped Artie had managed more rest. He needed a sharp brain for his lessons.
Lily’s morning routine moved along briskly. Kathleen sat next to her at breakfast which was watery porridge. Again Lily forced herself to eat it as there was no alternative. Was Artie finally getting the breakfast egg he craved?
‘Schoolroom next,’ Kathleen told her, and Lily forced her own brain to sharpen a little.
She might be licking her wounds but she wasn’t going to let any chance for learning slip by. She went to the classroom eagerly but soon realised she was unlikely to learn anything at all here. She’d been lucky in having a father who encouraged her to read and a teacher who encouraged her to attempt harder work but here all the children of Lily’s age were given the same work, and none of it was challenging.
Looking around, Lily saw that some girls were struggling while others were simply staring into space. No one asked for harder work and neither was it offered. Disappointment settled on her like the silent fall of soot from a chimney.
They moved into the girls’ playground after dinner. It was a small space but at least it was open to the sky. Martha and Mary were there and the sight of them walking arm in arm gave Lily another pang of longing for Artie’s company.
The afternoon lessons were sewing and knitting, then the girls had to take part in cleaning their sections of the workhouse. ‘No cutting corners,’ they were instructed as they dusted, swept and scrubbed.
Lily went to bed feeling bleak at the thought of wasting almost three years here. She summoned the memory of Gran’s beloved face into her mind and imagined what Gran would say to her now. ‘Don’t give up, Lil. Three years isn’t forever and before you know it you and Artie will both be out in the world. Then you can be reunited.’
The thought of never seeing Gran again made tears spill over. Lily turned into her pillow to weep in silence.
She woke the next morning determined to count her blessings and hoping Kathleen might be one of them. But the day brought change. The matron beckoned Kathleen forward and spoke to her. From the radiant smile that burst out on Kathleen’s face Lily guessed that her father had returned from his travels to claim his wife and daughter. Lily had time only to wish Kathleen good luck.
Without her, Lily felt even bleaker but the following day the Matron had news for her too. ‘You’re moving.’
‘Moving?’
‘A place has come up at Booth’s Cottage Schools.’
‘Do all workhouse orphans go there?’
‘Not as far as I know.’
A school was surely good news but there was a complication. ‘I have a brother who’s going to write to me here. Will he be told where I’ve gone?’
‘Mr Simms will inform any next of kin.’
Was Artie Lily’s next of kin even though he was a child? Lily couldn’t ask because the matron had already moved away, frowning with bad temper as her tongue ripped into another girl who was chewing her hair.
Nothing more was said about moving. When morning came Lily began to go about her day as usual until the matron bustled up. ‘What do you think you’re doing? Didn’t I say you were moving?’
There was no point in explaining that no one had told Lily when she’d be moving.
‘Don’t keep Miss Huxtable waiting.’
Miss Huxtable? Lily opened her mouth to ask who she was and also to seek reassurance about Artie but the matron cut her off. ‘Hurry yourself, girl.’
Lily was sent down to the hall where she’d first entered. A boy of around her age was already there, looking small and shrunken. Was he going to the school too? Lily hastened to the porter to ask about Artie but the man’s attention turned to a woman who bustled into the hall in coat and hat. She was a big woman with a face that reminded Lily of a bad-tempered bulldog. ‘Cart’s ‘ere, Miss ’Uxtable,’ he told her.
‘Thank you, Smith,’ she said, then glared at Lily and the boy. ‘Don’t dawdle.’
She swept outside, Lily and the boy following. ‘Please,’ Lily said. ‘I need to be sure my brother knows where I’m going.’
‘Mr Simms will inform next of kin.’
‘Artie isn’t grown up yet. Does that make a difference?’
The question flummoxed the woman but she tightened her mouth. Clearly, she wasn’t the sort of person to admit when she didn’t know the answer to a question.
‘Please,’ Lily said again, ‘If I could just ask at—’
‘It isn’t for children to ask questions. Now, get in the cart or you’ll make us late.’
Swallowing down her frustration, Lily climbed up and sat on a narrow bench seat beside the boy, the space for their legs being limited by stacks of empty vegetable baskets. Grunting from the effort, Miss Huxtable climbed up to sit on the opposite bench and the cart lurched away. Lily turned to the boy. ‘Hello. I’m Lily.’
She didn’t get to know his name because Miss Huxtable barked, ‘Hush over there.’
The boy slumped down with his mouth open, snuffling noises coming from his nose. He was a sad specimen with no fight in him, but pity for him and anger with Miss Huxtable re-lit the flame of fight in Lily.
It was daunting to think of the years that lay ahead but school might be an improvement on the workhouse and Artie was bound to find out her address eventually, even if he had to bang on the workhouse door to demand why she’d hadn’t replied to the letters he’d surely write. Mr Alderton might even intervene on Artie’s behalf, not wanting his pupil to be too upset to concentrate.
Lost in thought, Lily was roused by Miss Huxtable suddenly urging them to climb down from the cart and be quick
about it. Had they arrived already? They were still in London and all was bustle but Lily didn’t have a chance to take her bearings because Miss Huxtable strode off into what Lily realised was a train station. ‘The Sevenoaks train?’ Miss Huxtable asked a porter.
He pointed and Miss Huxtable set off in the direction indicated, Lily hastening after her before running back to fetch the boy who was staring around in wonder as steam hissed into the air and whistles blew to announce departures or arrivals. Lily had only travelled by train once when Mum and Dad had taken her and Artie to Folkestone for the day but she guessed this boy had never travelled anywhere.
They walked along a platform then boarded the Sevenoaks train, a fearsome, metal beast breathing out steam like a dragon breathed out fire. Miss Huxtable walked along the corridor then opened the door to a compartment which had two bench seats facing each other. She sat on one bench, spreading her skirts as though settling in for some time. Lily and the boy sat on the other.
Lily had an idea Sevenoaks was in Kent to the south-east of London. Some of their neighbours had gone to Kent to pick hops for beer-making in the summer months but Gran had always been too busy with washing to spare the time.
A whistle blew and the train pulled off slowly, gradually gathering speed as they shuffled through the city then reached bursts of countryside interspersed with towns and villages. Were Booth’s Cottage Schools in the countryside? Lily had only ever lived in Bermondsey. She’d been happy there among people she loved but it might be nice to exchange terraces for trees. On the other hand, the further she was from London, the harder it might be for Artie to visit.
It began to rain, raindrops slashing across the windows then trickling down them in wobbly tears. Miss Huxtable made tut-tutting sounds when they reached Sevenoaks and stood outside the station looking for someone who didn’t appear to be there. She put up her umbrella but left Lily and the boy to stand with the rain gradually making rats’ tails of their hair.