‘I know …’ Sarah smiled and touched her mother’s hand in sympathy.
‘I’ve not spoken,’ Mrs Cartwright said suddenly, ‘but your father agrees and I will make the offer and then it’s for you two to decide – if Jim’s job doesn’t materialize and you want to marry, you can come here until you’ve saved enough.’
Sarah saw the denial in Jim’s eyes. He wanted a house of their own – and his fear was that if they settled for living in a rented house that wasn’t even their own the children would come and their plans would be forgotten. It was his worst nightmare and she knew she had to refuse, even though it might hurt the mother she loved.
‘I love you for thinking of us, Mum,’ she said and put her arms about her mother, kissing and hugging her. ‘But you know our dream – we want to have our own home right from the start.’
‘Well, the offer is there, so don’t use the lack of somewhere to live as an excuse if you forget yourselves. Your father always holds his head high and so do I, Sarah, so make sure you don’t let us down.’
It was the severest warning her mother had ever given and Sarah knew it was her own fault. Jim couldn’t always control his passion, though they hadn’t yet gone all the way, even when they sneaked into his lodgings while his landlady was at the Mission Hall, but sometimes Sarah wondered how much longer they could wait. Was having a home they could call their own really so important? If they moved in with Sarah’s mother, they could still save but enjoy themselves a little more – and it would save them both being frustrated when the kisses just weren’t enough for either of them.
Uncannily, as though he read her thoughts, Jim said, ‘Tell you what, Sarah love, you’re not on duty for three nights now – I’ll take you to the flicks. Reg will stand in for me at the pub and we’ll have a special night out. We haven’t been anywhere much since your birthday.’
Sarah felt pleased. There were films showing at the Gaumont and the Odeon that she would like to see. She would choose one that Jim would like too and make it special for them both. She would miss seeing the children that evening but the other nurses would look out for them.
Charlie looked for Sarah that evening, feeling disappointed when he saw Nurse Jenny Brown take the day nurse’s place. She smiled at him as she made her round of the ward, visiting the sick children first and then coming to sit on his bed.
‘How are you this evening, Charlie?’
‘I’m all right,’ he said. ‘Where’s Nurse Sarah? She was goin’ to find out about me aunt.’
‘Sarah has three nights off now,’ Nurse Jenny said and plumped his pillows for him. ‘It will take a little time for anyone to trace your aunt, Charlie, but I know Nurse Sarah will do all she can.’
Charlie nodded, and then because he didn’t want the nurse to think he didn’t like her, he grinned cheekily. ‘Nurse Sarah is courtin’ – are you courtin’, nurse?’
‘Cheeky monkey!’ Nurse Jenny said and laughed, because she liked him and didn’t really mind him asking. ‘No, I haven’t got anyone special, worse luck.’ She sighed, because her hopes that the stranger would return to her bus stop had not materialized. ‘Sarah is pretty and lovely-natured. Her boyfriend goes round there all the time. She is lucky to have him.’
‘You’re not bad yerself,’ Charlie said and grinned. ‘You should ’ave yer ’air cut and mebbe one of them perms. Ma had a perm, curls all over. She looked grand but when she had it peroxided, the ends broke off and she said she wouldn’t have no more perms.’
‘Well, I shan’t do that then,’ Jenny said. ‘My hair waves a bit when I let it down. Perhaps if I had it cut it would curl at the ends.’ She smiled and ruffled his hair. ‘Why don’t you read a comic until lights out? I’ll bring you a mug of cocoa soon. Do you think Maisie would like one?’
Charlie looked at his sleeping sister and his mouth curved. ‘She sleeps sound as a bell once she’s away.’ He grinned at the nurse. ‘To look at her you’d think she’d never said boo to a goose, wouldn’t yer?’
‘Yes, you would,’ Jenny agreed. ‘I’ll bring you some cocoa later.’
Charlie watched her walk away, checking beds and attending to children who were too sick to sleep. He knew that he and Maisie were lucky compared with many of those brought in here. Ma had done her best by them after his father died and it wasn’t her fault she’d got in with a wrong ’un. Charlie thought vengefully of what he’d like to do to the man who had hurt his mother. He wasn’t big or strong enough yet to thrash him, though that hadn’t stopped him from attacking Ronnie the Greek. He’d gone in with fists and feet but he ought to have used a knife, except the coppers would put him in prison if he killed the bully and then there would be no one to look out for Maisie and Ma. Charlie couldn’t help wishing that someone would do it, though. The man was evil and one day someone would do for him!
Charlie went to sleep with his head full of what he’d like to do to the man who had hurt his mum and made them flee their home. Little did he know as he finally lay peacefully asleep, something even worse was about to break his heart and wrench his life apart …
CHAPTER 7
Ruby Harding stared at her husband with something that was in that moment close to hatred. He’d come home from work late, drunk and swearing because there was no hot supper waiting on the table.
‘Where’s my grub, woman?’ Sid demanded recklessly. He was too drunk to know what he was saying or doing. ‘Is it too much to expect me supper when I get in from a hard day’s work?’
‘Hard day’s work?’ Ruby mocked furiously, arms akimbo as she faced him. ‘Don’t make me laugh, Sid Harding – you ain’t done a day’s work in years, let alone raised a sweat. I’ve done two shifts at the infirmary today – scrubbing floors, washing windows and walls – I know what hard work is. You’ve stood on the docks wiv yer hands in yer pockets—’
Ruby’s tirade was cut short as he struck out with his fist, catching her a glancing blow on the shoulder as she jerked back to avoid it. Ruby was capable of giving as good as she got but Julia entered the kitchen and ran at her father as he swung his arm back, preparing to hit his long-suffering wife again, and his elbow took her right in the face, making her cry out in pain. The young girl recoiled in dismay as her father whirled on her, his drunken rage robbing him of sensible thought.
‘Serves yer right,’ he said and raised his arm as if he would hit her on purpose this time, but Ruby’s rolling pin hit his arm and made him howl with pain. He stumbled and half fell on to the old sofa, looking dazed and bewildered.
‘What was that for?’ he asked. Ruby knew he would never do such a thing sober, because he doted on the girl, but his mood had been black and he’d lost his temper.
‘You hurt Julia,’ Ruby told him sharply. ‘And it’s the last time you enter this house drunk, Sid Harding. On yer feet! I want yer out right now and yer don’t come back until you can show me a wage packet and give me a reason to take yer back.’
Sid’s rage had receded and he was now just bemused and weary. All he wanted was to lie down and sleep off the bellyful of beer he’d consumed after another day of humiliation on the docks as he was passed over again and again, all the decent jobs given to others and him forced to take the work others wouldn’t do. He’d unloaded slurry from the cesspits and cleaned down the lorry before hosing himself with cold water to rid his nostrils of the foul stink. He was sick of being a failure, sick of never having enough money, and he’d drunk away the few pence he’d earned because of his shame. Once, he’d been a qualified bricklayer and then the war came and his injury had made it difficult for him to keep up with the others. When the pain got too bad in his leg the gaffer laid him off and he’d taken to waiting in line down the docks.
Ruby was pulling at him, forcing him to his feet, and he felt her shoving him towards the kitchen door, which his daughter opened for her. Sid was not a small man and had he used his strength he might have resisted, but the belligerence had gone, replaced by shame, and he allowed her to push him out into the backyard without fighting back. After all, it was what he deserved.
Tears trickled down his face as he lurched off into the lane behind the house. He wasn’t fit to lick Ruby’s boots. Sid knew how hard she worked to keep the house going, feed and clothe them, and it was all his fault because he couldn’t get a decent job and keep his family the way a man should.
Sid’s cheeks were wet as he wended his way down towards the docks, past the now darkened windows of the pub where he too often spent his money, and on towards the dark shadows of the cranes, warehouses and barges that clustered on the river, waiting for morning. It was not a cold night but the air was sobering Sid, bringing him to a stinging awareness that he’d let his family down. He’d tried to hit his Ruby and he’d accidentally hit Julia in the face, hurting her – he vaguely recalled raising his hand to hit her again and the remorse was like a knife stabbing his heart. He would die before he hurt his beautiful little girl and he’d done it without meaning to. Julia was the only thing left in this world worth trying for and without her he might as well end it in the river.
His morbid thoughts were suspended by the sound of an unearthly scream. Sid froze as he heard someone sobbing in pain and then his instinct to help took him towards the sound, but he stopped suddenly as he saw three dark figures outlined by the faint illumination from an old-fashioned streetlight. It was some distance away, the only one to survive the kids who wrecked everything they came across when rampaging. Someone ought to give the lads a good hiding but no one seemed interested and the cops hardly ever ventured this far into what was accepted as a really rough area,
As Sid hesitated, unsure of what to do, he heard a man begging for his life and then another scream as a knife was plunged into his stomach. The killer stabbed three times and then his companion laughed.
‘That will make a few of them pay up, boss,’ he said and Sid recognized the voice of Ronnie the Greek. He was well-known in these streets and could be seen regularly each week on his rounds collecting the protection money he extorted from small businesses in the docklands.
‘I shouldn’t have to do it,’ another voice said coldly and Sid knew that too. It was Mr Penfold. He owned much of the property in the better streets and several clubs, betting shops and brothels, too, though Sid knew it would be impossible for the police to prove it. ‘It’s your job to keep them in line – see it doesn’t happen again or I might decide that you’re not up to your job.’
Sid shrank back into the shadows as the two men passed him. If Mr Penfold knew that he’d seen him kill, he would end up with his throat cut. A witness to his crime would never be allowed to live, unless he was already on the payroll and under the boss’s thumb.
Sid stood without daring to move for a long time. He was terrified that the two thugs would come back and kill him and he knew that their victim was dead. He could do nothing to help the poor man, whoever it was. If he hadn’t got drunk, he might have been at home, eating supper and listening to Henry Hall on the wireless. If only he hadn’t seen it! But he wasn’t going to tell anyone. He couldn’t, because he knew how ruthless those men were. If Sid went to the police with what he knew, it would not be just him who paid the price. His wife and child would also suffer. Sid had to keep his mouth shut and carry on as if nothing had happened.
He made up his mind as he finally began to walk back home to find a corner in the shed in his backyard that from this moment he would make a new start in his personal life. Ruby had told him he had to take her a wage packet and give her a good reason before she let him back in and that’s what he would do. He was capable of doing many jobs if he put his mind to it, so in the morning, when Ruby was at work and Julia had gone to school, he would sneak in and have a wash and shave, and then he’d put on his Sunday suit and go looking for a decent job.
He couldn’t let his Ruby go scrubbing at the Rosie and not help her by bringing in his own wage. It would just serve him right if she threw him out for good. He’d make sure he found something that paid at least as much as she earned, and when he’d got money in his pocket he’d go home and beg her to take him back.
His Ruby worked hard down that place and he knew they appreciated her. Folk round here couldn’t manage without the Rosie and he couldn’t manage without his Ruby. He just hoped what he’d witnessed that night didn’t come back to haunt him … Hesitating for a moment, Sid moved silently to retrace his steps to where the knife lay. It might just come in handy to hide that somewhere only he knew about, just in case …
CHAPTER 8
Charlie was sitting by Maisie’s bed, looking at her anxiously when the nurse everyone called Matron walked in accompanied by another lady he’d never met. Maisie had been coughing harshly all morning and Matron bent over her, feeling her forehead.
‘How long has she been like this?’ Matron asked him.
‘Most of the morning, miss.’ He felt his stomach contract with fear. ‘Is she bad?’
‘Lady Rosalie wants to talk to you,’ Matron replied sternly. ‘I’ll make sure that your sister gets the attention she needs – it is obvious she isn’t going anywhere for a while.’ This last was directed at the lady Charlie didn’t know and his stomach twisted. She wasn’t a nurse and she had a posh look about her, something that warned Charlie he wasn’t going to like what she had to tell him.
In Matron’s office, Charlie stood like a frozen statue, wishing he was back with his sister and feeling fear prickle at the back of his neck.
‘It’s Charlie, isn’t it?’ the lady said and gave him what was meant to be a kind smile but instead filled him with terror. ‘I don’t want to upset you, Charlie – and we had intended to keep you together if we could – but a chance has come up that I feel we ought to take, although it means that you will be parted from Maisie for a time—’
‘No! I ain’t goin’ in no orphanage!’ Charlie protested, poised to run but tied to the spot because Maisie was still in the ward and sick. ‘I ain’t goin’ ter leave her – she’ll die without me!’
‘She might die if she went with you,’ Lady Rosalie said. ‘Maisie will be looked after here, Charlie. I give you my word. The couple who have promised to take you run a little baker’s shop only a short bus ride from here. I’m sure you can visit her often – and Mrs Robinson will make sure you go to school and are properly cared for. I know it isn’t ideal but it is the best we can do for now – at least you will still be in London and near enough to visit Maisie.’
‘Can I visit her as often as I want?’ Charlie forced the words out. He recognized authority when he heard it and it was in this woman’s voice. He might have wheedled round one of the nurses but this woman wouldn’t take no for an answer.
‘Yes, certainly. We’ll let you visit whenever you can – we will not force you to come at a certain time.’
‘I just don’t want to leave Maisie …’ Charlie said throatily. He was close to tears but boys didn’t cry just because they couldn’t get their own way; they fought back and Charlie’s jaw set determinedly. He had to do what this woman said, even though he hated her for taking him from Maisie, but he would find a way to get what Maisie and he both wanted, which was to be together and back with their mother. ‘What about me Ma?’
‘She is still very ill, Charlie,’ the lady said and she looked sad. ‘Perhaps Mrs Robinson will take you to see her if you ask her.’
Charlie nodded, seeing one small advantage in what he was being forced to accept. If he could see his mum, he could talk to her – and once she knew what was happening, she would soon get out of that hospital and come home to take care of Maisie and him.
‘I don’t want to go until Maisie is better,’ he said, stubborn to the last.
‘Maisie will need a lot of treatment and she may be here weeks, even months.’ The lady seemed hesitant but then sighed. ‘I don’t have a choice, Charlie. We can only keep sick children here. I will promise you that I’ll arrange for you to be together as soon as I can – will that content you?’
Charlie looked her in the face. He hated her for what she was doing but he thought she meant to do right and his shoulders sagged. He wasn’t old enough or able to look after his sister yet and for the moment had little choice but to do as he was told.
‘When do I have to leave?’ he asked reluctantly.
‘On Monday,’ she said and looked relieved. ‘Mr Robinson will come for you then – and so you have a few days with your sister.’
‘She might be better and able to come with me by then,’ Charlie said and felt more cheerful. He liked being at the Rosie because the nurses were kind, fed them well and didn’t bother him much; it was like being at home with Mum without the chores he’d always done, a holiday. Still, it might be all right living at a baker’s shop, because there was a chance of cake.
‘That is doubtful,’ Lady Rosalie said. ‘I believe your sister will prove to have an illness of the lungs, Charlie, and that means weeks and weeks of treatment, I’m afraid.’
Charlie nodded. It was hard to accept that he had to go to live with people he didn’t know and leave Maisie here. She would be upset and he felt guilty, as if he were breaking his promise to her – but he was only thirteen and these people ruled their lives. The alternative was to run now and, in his heart, Charlie knew his sister could not live on the streets as she was now; her illness would get worse and she might be in danger.
Hiding his tears and his anger, Charlie nodded. ‘You promise I’ve got until Monday?’
‘Yes, Charlie, I promise you,’ the lady said and then in a tone that sounded false to him, ‘I’m sure you’ll be very happy with Mr and Mrs Robinson …’
‘Yes, miss,’ he said obediently, though he didn’t believe it. Charlie didn’t want to go to these people and if he didn’t like them, he would leave as soon as he got the chance. Maisie might not be able to survive on the streets but he could – and he would find work he could do, search for somewhere for his sister and him to live if Ma didn’t come home soon …
Maisie was a little better on Sunday afternoon. For a couple of days, she’d been so ill that Charlie had feared she might die; the nurses were always coming to her and they took her somewhere for treatment that she came back from looking like a lifeless doll, but on Sunday, she looked better.
‘I’m goin’ ter stop wiv someone fer a while,’ he told her, throwing it into a conversation about her puzzle as if he were just asking what she wanted for tea. ‘It’s a baker’s shop and I reckon I’ll do all right there, Maisie – probably deliver cakes or bread or somethin’ when I’m not at school.’
‘You’ll sleep here with me?’ Maisie looked alarmed as he shook his head and tears welled in her eyes. ‘No, you can’t leave me, Charlie. I’ll be frightened ’ere on me own.’
‘’Course yer won’t, Maisie,’ he said and grinned at her, though inside he was hurting because she was hurt. ‘The nurses are ’ere all the time and they’re nice; they’ll look after yer.’
‘You promised yer would never leave me,’ she whimpered, tears on her cheeks. ‘It ain’t fair – you promised me faithful!’
He had and it wasn’t fair and Charlie wanted to hug her and defy those in authority who were making him break his promise.
‘It’s just until you’re better, Maisie,’ he told her. ‘I’ll visit as much as I can and I’ll come back for yer – and I shan’t break my promise. I’ll always look after yer, love. I’m goin’ ter tell Ma what they’ve done and she’ll come home and look after us.’
‘I want Mum,’ Maisie said tearfully.
Charlie wanted his mum too, wanted her so badly that he felt like howling. He considered making a fuss when they came to fetch him but realized it wouldn’t help him. He would still be made to go and they would watch him more closely. Brought up on the streets of the East End, Charlie knew enough to think before he committed to anything. He was old before his time, because he’d had to be – Mum would never have managed if he hadn’t brought home wood and coal he’d scavenged for the fire and popped a few pennies in her housekeeping pot when she wasn’t watching. She’d never known that he did odd jobs for anyone who would take him on and she hadn’t asked where the extra came from.
Charlie had washed windows and carted stuff since he was seven. The cart his dad had made him was still in the shed at home and he’d fetch it the moment he could. There was sure to be someone on the docks that would give him work – he looked the fourteen which was what he told anyone who asked and most didn’t.
‘I’ll be bringing yer sweets,’ he told Maisie. ‘It will be like now but I shan’t be in the next bed.’ He reached for her hand but she pulled it away, her face sullen. ‘It ain’t my fault, Maisie – that woman arranged it. I don’t ’ave a choice!’
Maisie sniffed and looked at him as if searching for the truth.
‘I give yer me word on Dad’s memory,’ he said and she sniffed harder.
‘I ’ate ’er,’ she said, still miserable but no longer looking at him through the eyes of betrayal. ‘She’s rotten, Charlie.’
‘No, Maisie, I suppose she’s right,’ he acknowledged with a sigh. ‘I ain’t sick and this is an ’ospital. I ain’t allowed to stop here no more – but I shall never abandon you and she promised we’ll be together again as soon as Ma is better.’
Maisie nodded. She didn’t like it but now she was looking with concern at her brother. ‘Do yer think they’ll be all right wiv yer, Charlie?’
‘If they ain’t I shan’t stay there,’ he said. ‘I’ve got plans up ’ere.’ He touched the side of his head. ‘No matter what they say or do I’ll be back fer yer, Maisie, and as soon as yer better I’ll have yer out of ’ere – and on me life, I shan’t break that promise …’
Charlie was summoned to Matron’s office after breakfast. He hugged his sister, told her to be good and went reluctantly. He’d had to be brave for Maisie’s sake and he wouldn’t let anyone see how scared he was but, just as he was wise to the way of the streets, he knew that everyone wasn’t kind or to be trusted, even on Button Street, and he was wary of what would happen to him in his new foster home – that was what the lady had called it.
The man standing in Matron’s office was of medium height; he didn’t look like the kind of men Ma had sometimes brought home and Charlie’s stomach settled a bit. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad …
‘Charlie,’ Matron said and something in her voice made him look at her sharply, ‘this is Mr Robinson. Mrs Robinson is busy in the shop so your new foster father has come to fetch you – say hello to him.’
Charlie’s skin prickled. Matron didn’t like Mr Robinson. She wouldn’t say so, but he knew it instinctively. Something had made her doubtful and that warned Charlie to be careful.
‘Thank you, sir,’ he said and held out his hand politely. Mr Robinson nodded, made a sound in his throat and ignored Charlie’s hand.
‘We need to be goin’,’ he said gruffly. ‘Thank you, Miss Thurston. My wife will take good care of the boy, treat him like a son.’
‘So I should hope,’ Matron said and she seemed hesitant as she turned to Charlie. ‘Remember you’re always welcome here, child. We’ll look after Maisie for you and you can visit when you like.’ She saw the small paper bag he was carrying. ‘Do you have all your things?’
‘Yes, thank you, Matron,’ he said in a small voice. His courage was at a low ebb and he almost flung himself at her and begged her to let him stay but knew he couldn’t let this man see how vulnerable he was inside. He had to be strong for Maisie and his mother; they would need him in future and this was just temporary. The thought restored his confidence and he turned to the man waiting. ‘I’m ready, sir.’
‘You’d better be,’ Mr Robinson said in a voice Charlie knew Matron wasn’t meant to hear. ‘Come along, boy, I have work to do.’
