The Barefoot Child

‘Went orf months ago, they did,’ Sadie muttered giving Lil a look filled with spite. ‘I’m in charge ’ere now and no one gets no favours, see. Put yer things under the table, get an apron on and start peeling them spuds and carrots. I’ve got three ’elpers and one of ’em is sick in the infirmary – so you’ll have to look sharp about it.’

Lil wasn’t feeling well and she would have liked a glass of ale and a bit of bread and cheese, as well as a chance to put her feet up, but she knew she’d surrendered her freedom by coming here. Those who said the spike was much better than being on the streets had it wrong, in Lil’s opinion; some of the bad things might have been stopped, but life was as harsh in here as it had always been.

‘I hope you do not mind my calling on you,’ Katharine Ross said as she was admitted into the neat parlour at the refuge for fallen women. ‘When Mr Stoneham told me you had taken over, I wanted to make myself known to you. Mr Stoneham may have told you that I have charitable interests in common with him?’

‘Yes, he has, Miss Ross,’ Hetty said and smiled at the fashionable young woman wearing a rather frivolous hat. ‘Please sit down. You are very welcome here.’

‘Please, call me Katharine.’ Katharine Ross looked pleased. ‘I do want us to be friends, Hetty – may I call you that?’ Hetty agreed and her visitor nodded. ‘You will be doing such good work here.’

‘I am glad to be of help where I can – though it was not the job Mr Stoneham intended, I think?’

‘No …’ Katharine frowned. ‘He very much wanted you to take over the workhouse in Farthing Lane, but another was chosen despite his arguments.’ She shook her head. ‘The way that awful Simpkins woman treated some of these children!’

‘He was so angry …’

‘Oh yes, I know how concerned Arthur was for those children,’ Katharine agreed. ‘Had it not been for his intervention, some of them would have been lost forever.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Hetty agreed. ‘Thankfully, he was in time to stop them.’

Katharine nodded. ‘Mr Stoneham is a truly good and charitable man – do you not agree, Hetty?’

‘Yes, he is,’ Hetty agreed, ‘though he would not like to hear us say so for he does not think it.’

‘He may not think it – but we know, do we not?’

They smiled at each other in perfect agreement, and then Katharine said, ‘I have come to arrange when it will be convenient to commence the sewing lessons?’

‘I think two afternoons a week would suit us, if that is agreeable?’

Katharine said that it was and soon after took her leave.

Hetty was thoughtful after her guest had gone. Her love for Arthur was unselfish and she liked the young woman he had given his heart to. She hoped that they would find happiness together for both had suffered loss and unhappiness in the past.

Arthur flicked through the pile of post in his study. It had accumulated while he was out of town and most of it was unimportant. He could not be bothered to go through the pile himself and thought that he ought to have a private secretary to do such things for him. His butler normally placed those he thought important on top and Arthur answered his letters when he considered it necessary.

He shrugged, turning away with a frown on his face. In no mood for social events, he ignored what were most likely invitations to a ball or other frivolous affairs. His lawyer attended to anything of importance and Benson would have ensured a missive from him wasn’t missed. He would seek out his friend Toby and then visit Hetty at the refuge and see if she was settled in …

CHAPTER 4

‘What are yer doin’ in ’ere?’ the fat woman demanded as Lucy put her pot of chicken and vegetables into the black range oven, which had a dull, used look and needed a good brush and polish. ‘You ain’t entitled to use the oven – there’s too many of us need to use it already.’

‘Mr Snodgrass says I can, as long as I provide my own fuel, and I’ve brought a bucket of coke with me,’ Lucy said and lifted her head defiantly. The woman smelled of sweat and unwashed clothes. ‘He says we all have the use of everythin’ – the kitchen and the tap in the yard and the toilet. He’s goin’ ter have the night soil cleared and we all have to pay another two shillings next month on the rent.’

‘And who asked you to interfere?’ the woman said. ‘I’m Jessie Foster and I’ve bin ’ere longer than anyone – and your room should’ve been mine when the last lot left. So why don’t you get yer stuff and go while yer can? I’ll make yer sorry if yer poke yer nose in my business!’

‘I’ve put my pot in the oven, and if there’s no room for yours you will have to wait until someone takes theirs out,’ Lucy said.

‘You little …!’ The woman raised her fist in threat.

‘Leave ’er alone, Jessie,’ the other woman who was in the kitchen said. ‘She’s got to cook sometimes, ain’t she? And I’m takin’ mine out now so you’ll have room fer yourn.’ She winked at Lucy. ‘About time someone made ole Snodgrass call out the night-soil man – that yard stinks to ’igh ’eaven.’

Jessie stormed off.

‘It’s too expensive to buy hot food from the pie shop every night,’ Lucy said apologetically. ‘I have to cook somewhere.’

‘Take no notice of ’er,’ the woman said. ‘I’m Sara, by the way. Jessie thinks she owns the whole house – and she’d stop all of us usin’ the yard and the kitchen if she could.’

‘I shan’t use it all the time but I can’t afford to buy all our food ready cooked.’

‘Tell yer what, you give yer dish to me ’fore you go to work of a mornin’ and I’ll put it in in time fer yer supper, love – she won’t bother me …’

‘Thank you, Sara,’ Lucy said and lifted her head proudly. She was determined that Jessie Foster would not intimidate her, because she knew they would have to stay here for a while. Lucy had searched for another room for her family but could find nothing at a price they could afford.

‘No doubt you’re an honest girl,’ one housewife who’d worn a spotless apron told her, ‘but you’re young – what happens if you don’t earn enough to pay me rent? I can’t afford to be giving you a home for nothin’.’

Lucy had sworn that she would pay her rent and be no trouble to her but the woman had set her thin lips and asked her to leave. She’d realised they must stay where they were for the moment and put a brave face on, but at least Kitty was happy at her school. Lucy would make the best of things rather than see her family in the dreaded workhouse.

‘The girl is no more than thirteen,’ the woman lied to the Reverend Mr Joseph, who she had accosted in the street one early June morning. ‘And her brother is younger.’

‘Are you certain the brother is younger, Mistress Foster?’ he asked, frowning because he could hear the spite in her voice. ‘I thought Lucy was older than you say – sixteen, I’m sure she told me, and her brother is the head of the family.’

‘Of course I’m certain! They live in the same lodgings as me – and she’s a right little madam. Marched into the kitchen as bold as brass and demanded that her family had the right to use the oven to cook a meal, same as the rest of us. Well, the oven ain’t big enough for more than four pots to cook in – and there’s six of us rentin’ rooms!’

‘Surely there could be a rota of some kind?’ the reverend suggested gently. She was a regular at his church but he did not like the woman’s harsh and spiteful tone.

‘Mr Snodgrass promised that extra room to me after the last tenant moved out,’ Jessie Foster said. ‘I’ve two grown sons out to work, me ’usband, the girl and me – and that room was promised!’

The reverend nodded, but thought privately that with three men working they ought to be able to afford decent lodgings elsewhere, but he was also aware that all three of the Foster men drank half their wages away in the pubs.

‘Well, what are yer goin’ ter do about it?’ Jessie Foster demanded. ‘The youngest one should be in the spike where they’ll look after ’er proper – and if I ’ad my way that’s where the rest of ’em would be an all!’

‘Are you suggesting that I should visit the workhouse?’ he asked, shocked.

‘Well, its best place for ’em, ain’t it?’ she demanded. ‘I’d go meself but the last time I was there I ’ad words with Mistress Simpkins.’

‘I believe there is a new mistress in the workhouse,’ the reverend replied mildly. ‘I understand she is highly respectable and well thought of.’

‘A new mistress, you reckon?’ A look of cunning entered Jessie Foster’s eyes. ‘Right – well, if you ain’t goin’ ter do yer duty, I’ll do mine …’

‘Why don’t you think about it?’ he suggested. ‘Kitty is well looked after. Her sister works very hard to keep her clean and properly fed. Some of my children have holes in their clothes and dirty faces, but Kitty is always neat and clean.’

‘That’s ’cos her sister boils water in me kitchen all the time – and she’s made us all put together to get the night soil cleared.’

‘I believe God works in mysterious ways,’ the Reverend Mr Joseph said and smiled inwardly. ‘Good day, Mrs Foster. I have to visit a sick parishioner …’

He walked swiftly away, immediately pushing the unpleasant encounter from his mind. If Kitty were in distress he would think it his duty to inform the guardians of neglect, but the child was a bright, pretty little thing and he had no intention of doing anything to harm the family – even though he might have refused to take her had he known the brother was younger than Kitty’s older sister. His conscience nagged at him a little as he went to visit a dying parishioner and ease his passing with prayer. The whole Soames family might be in danger without a responsible adult to look after them … perhaps he might consult someone he’d heard of. She was the superintendent of a charitable home set up by some philanthropists; they admitted women and children to their premises and would surely want to help a family such as the Soameses.

Arthur found the letter from his cousin’s widow when he finally made the effort to go through his pile of mail. It had been sent on by his man of business some weeks ago, when he was out of town, and had somehow been placed right at the bottom.

‘Benson, why did you not tell me about this letter?’ he asked and his manservant looked anxious.

‘Forgive me, sir. I placed it with others from your lawyer. It must have become misplaced.’ He frowned. ‘Was it important, sir?’

‘My cousin’s wife wrote to tell me she is dying and her children will be destitute. I must go at once to see if I can be of help to them.’ Arthur was annoyed, more with himself than his servant. He could only hope that when he reached the address the children were still there for otherwise it might be difficult to find them.

‘They’re all three under fifteen, and the youngest is eight,’ Jessie Foster told the magistrate’s clerk. ‘Living below the breadline they are, sir – and it saddens me ’eart to see it. The next thing we know the eldest girl will be walkin’ the streets, they’re that desperate.’

‘You say the family ’as no work?’ the clerk asked, busily writing it all down. ‘If that’s so, they need to be admitted to the workhouse – the whole family.’

‘Yes, sir, that’s why I thought it my duty to come and tell you.’

‘You did right, madam,’ the man said. ‘I shall report this to my superiors and something will be done about it – they’re all children and unless there is a relative to care for them, they should all be in the care of the workhouse guardians.’

Jessie Foster left the office feeling very pleased with her morning’s work. From what she knew of the law, the children would be taken in whether they liked it or not and their protests about having jobs would not be believed. In time they might prove that they had been supporting themselves, but by then Jessie would have taken over their room – and helped herself to the stuff she’d seen. She fancied the corner cupboard, which looked an expensive piece and she’d have that sold before the children could do anything about it …

‘From what you tell me, sir, Lucy is doing a wonderful job of taking care of her sister and keeping her family together,’ Hetty said when the parson had finished speaking. ‘The workhouse is meant to provide for those who are starving and cannot help themselves – as is the refuge I help to run.’

‘Yes, ma’am, that is my opinion on the matter,’ the Reverend Mr Joseph said and nodded his approval, for she was a sensible woman. ‘However, I think that someone is out to make trouble for the family and so, knowing of your work here, I thought it my duty to apprise you of what was happening.’

‘Now that you have told me about them, I shall certainly visit the family at home this evening. It may be that I can be of help to them. I do have a room free – if they could manage with that.’

‘Then I may leave the matter in your capable hands.’ The reverend nodded his approval. ‘I had heard that you were doing good work here, Mistress Worsley, and I am happy to have made your acquaintance.’

‘As I am yours, sir,’ Hetty said warmly. ‘I wonder, if I asked you, might you arrange Bible classes for some of my guests? I have noticed that some of the children need help with their reading and learning, and I believe that the right kind of parson might enrich their lives with Bible readings.’

‘It would give me great pleasure to come once a week – say on a Monday afternoon, if that would suit – between four and six?’

‘Yes, perfect,’ Hetty agreed. ‘I want the classes to be a treat for those that attend, sir. They are not being forced, but I think they might learn so much from a man like you.’

‘Were you perhaps the daughter of a parson, Miss Hetty?’

‘I was fortunate to have many privileges when I was young,’ Hetty told him. ‘I am trying to improve the lives of the children, sir – if you could show them the lovely artwork of Christ’s followers for instance …’

‘Yes, indeed. I have a precious book of hours in which the illustrations are beyond anything,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘I shall bring it with me to show you – and I have others the children may handle.’

The Reverend Mr Joseph was smiling happily as he left the refuge that afternoon. Miss Hester Worsley was a good woman and she had a lovely nature, to say nothing of her face and figure. He was conscious of a feeling of warmth. He had done a good turn and in turn found a new friend …

It was an hour later that a frantic knocking at the reverend’s door took him from his enjoyment of muffins and tea before the fire. His housekeeper answered the door and a few moments later Lucy Soames came rushing into his neat little parlour.

‘Is something the matter, my dear?’ he asked.

‘Kitty didn’t come home this evenin’,’ Lucy said. ‘I did some shoppin’ in the market before I went home or I should’ve discovered it earlier. Josh got home ten minutes after me and he hadn’t seen her – she wasn’t in the street playing and Sara May, one of the other tenants, said she was sure Kitty didn’t come home!’ Lucy drew a sobbing breath. ‘Sara fetched her daughter Jenny and Jenny says a man took her after she left school. She cried and screamed but no one tried to stop him – and he said he was from the magistrate’s court.’

‘Oh dear, I was afraid of this,’ the reverend said. ‘Mrs Foster came here and told me that your brother is younger than you – and that makes you all wards of the court, you see. But Miss Worsley from the women’s refuge said that if you were managing well, she might be able to help you – and she was coming to see you this evening …’ he finished lamely.

‘Josh is out searching for Kitty and I came here,’ Lucy said and tears trickled down her cheeks. ‘What did Mrs Foster do, sir?’

‘I fear that she must have gone to the magistrates and told them you were not fit to have the care of your sister – and worse.’

‘She is wicked!’ Lucy burst out. ‘She covets our room and our things. I’ve seen her lookin’ at Pa’s cupboard!’

‘Go home to your brother, Miss Lucy,’ the reverend advised gently. ‘I shall make inquiries in the morning and will do what I can to sort out this mess for you.’

‘But what about Kitty? Supposing she is hurt or cryin’?’

‘I dare say she is frightened and may well be crying,’ he said and shook his head sorrowfully. ‘I fear there is nothing to be done this evening – but in the morning I shall do what I can.’

Lucy nodded, though he saw mutiny in her eyes as she turned and ran from his house. He knew she was upset but he could hardly go to the magistrate’s house and demand to know what had happened to Kitty Soames at this hour. The magistrate was charged with the care of vagrant children and the girl would not be physically harmed, though it must have been a great shock for her when she was taken. Yet what good would it do to antagonise a man he wanted on his side if he was to arrange for the girl’s release? No, no, the morning would be soon enough.

‘He says it was Mrs Foster who went to the magistrates and said we weren’t fit to have the care of Kitty,’ Lucy said indignantly. ‘She is a nasty woman, Josh – and one day I’ll give her such a shock.’

Josh grinned. ‘Goin’ to burn her pie for her are yer? She’ll have yer guts fer garters, our Lucy.’

‘I don’t know how you can laugh when they’ve taken Kitty off to the courthouse and they’ll put her in the spike!’ Lucy’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, Josh. I can’t bear it – poor little Kitty; she’ll be so miserable and frightened …’

‘Yes, she will, and I’m as angry as you.’ Josh’s mouth twisted into a snarl. ‘I’ll do more than burn that old bitch’s pie, Lucy. I’ll make her sorry she was born!’

‘You mustn’t do anythin’ silly or they’ll have you up before the magistrates and then you’ll lose your job and they’ll say you’re a vagrant and put you in the spike too.’

‘If they do, I’ll run away,’ Josh said. ‘They’re rotten, the lot of ’em – and I ain’t forgot ole Snodgrass cheated me, either. I’ll get even on all of ’em afore I’ve done.’

Lucy felt worried seeing the anger in his eyes. She was more upset and worried for her sister than angry, even though she would find a way to pay Jessie Foster back – but Josh was bitter. He’d been humiliated over the room and now the magistrates were going to try and take Kitty into the workhouse and perhaps them too.

She wanted to warn her brother again not to be reckless, but she was afraid of making him even angrier. They had to stick together and prove that they could look after themselves and their sister if they were to have any chance of getting Kitty back.

CHAPTER 5

‘I went immediately to the magistrate’s court this morning,’ the Reverend Mr Joseph told Hetty when she greeted him in her parlour, ‘and was told it was too late. The magistrate heard her case last evening and the girl has this very morning been sent to a workhouse. I asked where but was told that he was not sure for the children seen last night had been sent to various places and it might have been any one of a dozen.’

‘That is outrageous,’ Hetty said, and her eyes sparked with anger. ‘He must know where she has gone but for some reason he did not wish to tell you.’ She took a turn about the room, for the news had made her feel agitated. ‘And they would tell you no more, sir?’

‘I begged, pleaded and then demanded,’ the reverend said gravely. ‘I was answered with respect, Miss Worsley, but the answer was evasive. The girl has gone to a workhouse but which one …?’ He shook his head.

‘I shall send word to Mr Stoneham. He is the gentleman who brought me here to the refuge as its mistress and I believe he is the only one who can help us now.’

‘What of Lucy and her brother?’ the reverend asked. ‘I fear that they may also be taken – and if they are …’

‘They may be split up and sent who knows where.’

‘What can we do to help them? I feel at fault, for Kitty was in my care – though she had always walked home safely until …’ He shook his head. ‘It was the spite of that woman that caused this and I am ashamed that she is my parishioner.’

‘You cannot be responsible for all the evil in the world,’ Hetty said and gave him a gentle smile. ‘Now, I must leave you for I have work to do – and I must go to Mr Stoneham, because without his help I fear nothing can be done for Kitty Soames.’

‘What is your name, girl?’ The woman in the black dress frightened Kitty. Her face was so stern and her tone so harsh that Kitty’s memory deserted her. Her experience the previous day had terrified her and she’d spent the night in a cold room, all alone, shivering in fear. ‘Are you deaf or simply disobedient, girl?’

‘It’s Cath …’ Kitty managed at last, tears trickling down her pale cheeks. Catherine was the name her mother called her when she was angry, though everyone always called her Kitty but the woman’s harsh look terrified her so much that she could hardly think.

‘I suppose you have no other name,’ the woman said and sighed. ‘My name is Mistress Docherty – and you will address me as mistress – do you understand, Cath?’

‘Yes, mistress …’ Kitty hung her head.

‘Very well, Cath. I am going to send you to the bath and I will ask Sadie to assist you. She will give you clothes to wear – and shoes, for you cannot wear those here.’ Mistress Docherty looked down her long nose at Kitty’s precious red shoes. ‘Take them off and give them to me now.’

Kitty hung back, unwilling to part from the shoes Lucy had bought her. She felt lonely and miserable. ‘I want to go home …’

‘This is your home now, Cath,’ the mistress said and Kitty scrubbed miserably at the tears. A hand came out and grabbed her and she was made to give up her precious shoes. ‘Now, go with Sadie and behave. Children must learn to obey their betters – and to respect God. If you behave, I shall find you work to do and one day you will have a trade, but I do not like surly children. Now go with Sadie and do as she tells you, child.’

Kitty left the mistress’s office and looked at the woman she knew was Sadie standing outside. The woman’s face was so heavily lined that her eyes were hooded and her breath smelled foul. As she grasped Kitty’s arm, she pinched her.

‘Come on, workhouse brat,’ she said spitefully. ‘Yer need a bath and then we’ll have these fine things orf yer …’ Sadie’s eyes gleamed as she felt Kitty’s dress between her fingers. It was one of the new ones that Lucy had made for her for school. ‘I reckon this will fetch a bob or two.’

‘It’s mine,’ Kitty said finding a spark of spirit. ‘My sister made it for me.’

‘Well, you won’t need it in ’ere and it won’t fit by the time they let yer out.’ Sadie cackled meanly as she saw the tears in Kitty’s eyes. ‘Snifflin’ won’t do yer a bit o’good in ’ere, girl. Mistress told me ter teach yer the rules and I reckon that entitles me to somethin’.’

‘I want my sister,’ Kitty said, but quietly so that the horrid old woman couldn’t hear her. ‘I want Lucy …’ Suddenly the shabby room she shared with her sister and brother seemed like a haven and Kitty trembled. Her bare feet were cold on the stone floor and she did not like Sadie or the woman who had taken away her shoes. ‘I want to go home …’

Lucy smelled the beer on her brother’s breath when he got home that evening. She tried to remonstrate with him but he snarled and flung away from her. Lucy understood what was eating at him. He blamed himself for what had happened to Kitty, and since the Reverend Mr Joseph had told them she’d been sent to a workhouse somewhere, he’d become surly and angry.

‘I saw Miss Worsley this morning,’ Lucy said as she put their supper on the makeshift table. It was chicken cooked with vegetables and potatoes and she’d spent time preparing it, but Josh just pushed his plate away. ‘You should eat, Josh …’ She knew that he felt everything was his fault. He’d taken this room and brought them here and that was indirectly the reason that Kitty had been taken on her way home from school. ‘Don’t you want to hear what he said?’

‘She’s the bitch from the women’s refuge,’ Josh said and glared at Lucy. ‘She’s one of ’em, Lucy. I ’ate ’em all!’