Читать книгу The Barefoot Child - Cathy Sharp - Страница 8

‘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.