Читать книгу The Barefoot Child - Cathy Sharp, Cathy Sharp - Страница 10

‘Good morning, sir.’ The magistrate looked up as the door of his office was opened and Arthur Stoneham walked in. ‘I understand you wish to see me on an urgent matter?’

‘Mr Justice Ronson?’ Arthur asked, cane and hat in hand as he approached the desk. The magistrate had risen to his feet and had a faintly alarmed look in his eyes as if he’d caught Arthur’s mood and feared he might find himself on the wrong side of that cane. ‘I’ve come about a young girl – a relative of mine who was mistakenly brought to you as a vagrant. I understand she has been sent to a workhouse?’ Arthur’s tone was pleasant but the hint of steel underneath made the other man nervous and he started to sweat.

‘Had I known the girl was your relative …’ Justice Ronson said and cleared his throat. ‘We take so many girls from the streets for their own good … Can you describe her?’

‘She is eight years old, and she has dark-blonde hair and blue eyes – and I understand she was wearing red shoes. Kitty was living with my nephew and niece in lodgings—’

‘In lodgings?’ Ronson interrupted, puzzled. ‘But—’

‘Their mother died and instead of coming to me for help the foolish youngsters tried to look after themselves and were doing very well – until an interfering neighbour reported them. She was snatched on her way home from school while I was out of town.’

‘Ah … yes, I do remember my clerk telling me something,’ Ronson said and swallowed nervously. ‘I understood they were falling into bad ways.’

‘A malicious tale, for they were and are under my protection,’ Arthur lied without hesitation.

‘Had I known …’ The magistrate swallowed hard.

‘You will oblige me by telling me where Kitty is so that I may go and fetch her.’ It was a command not a question and the magistrate quailed, as many had before that hard gaze.

He hesitated, and then decided that his own fate mattered more than others who might feel this man’s wrath. ‘I am not certainexactly which workhouse she was sent to,’ the magistrate said. ‘There were several girls of that age brought in this past week – what did you say her name was?’

‘Kitty Soames.’ Arthur was impatient. He held his temper but inside he was seething.

The magistrate drew a large book towards him and began to run a finger down the pages. ‘In the last week you said? No, there is no one of that name.’ He looked up in relief but the hope that he had escaped unscathed left him as he saw his questioner’s face and he looked once more. ‘If she did not give her name … there are four girls unnamed during that period.’

‘Is it not your duty to record names?’

‘Sometimes children do not know their names, sir.’ The magistrate scribbled down a list of workhouses. ‘She may be at any of these – I cannot be sure …’

Arthur took the paper from him, scanning the list. Three were in London – one the workhouse that he took a particular interest in – and one outside London. It was outrageous that a young child could be sent off like this with no real record of what had happened to her and Arthur could hardly restrain himself as he left. He thought that the system was corrupt and men like the one he’d just spoken to should be horsewhipped, but there was little he could do. His efforts to reform the workhouse in Whitechapel had resulted in small, gradual changes and all he could hope was that he found his cousin’s child quickly.

Arthur knew it to be his duty to help the children of Matthew Soames, a cousin several times removed, not just in this matter but in their education and future lives. Yet he would have done it anyway once Hetty came to him with her tale of a child snatched from the street.

‘I know they are too young to be fending for themselves,’ Hetty told him. ‘But they were managing until the neighbour interfered. I’ve spoken to Lucy and she says the woman wants her room and her furniture.’

‘I’ll see what I can do to help them,’ Arthur promised. He had not told her that the children might be distantly related to him, for that was unimportant. What mattered was that they should be safe. ‘Have you told them that they can live at the refuge under your protection and go out to their work until they are older and able to fend for themselves?’

‘Lucy insists they were managing well enough, but she does not like her lodgings. I said that I would try to find something better for her – because if they lodged with a good woman who would keep an eye on them, it might suit their pride and independence better than to be inmates at the refuge.’

‘I think that an excellent idea – if we can find such a woman.’

‘Well, Lucy said her brother would not consent to live in the refuge, so if I am to help them I must find more suitable lodgings.’

‘Perhaps I can help,’ Arthur said. If they were his relatives he would purchase a suitable property and install a housekeeper, but he ought to be sure of his facts before taking over their lives. ‘I shall find Kitty and restore her to her sister and brother and then perhaps they will trust us.’

As he walked away from the magistrate’s office that morning, Arthur decided to try the workhouses in London first. If he was lucky he would be able to rescue the child before any real damage had been done.

Arthur visited the workhouse in Whitechapel first. He asked for Mistress Docherty but was told that she was out on workhouse business and would not be back until late that evening. Master Docherty told him that his wife would have a register of any girls taken into the workhouse but it was kept in a locked drawer and his wife kept the key on the chatelaine at her waist. The women and girls had assembled for their midday meal and Arthur was taken into the dining hall, but he could not see a girl who was obviously the one he searched for. There were three that might have been her, but when asked to give their names they responded with names none of which were the one he needed to hear.

Arthur said he would call back the next day to look at the register and went on his way. It took him most of the day to visit the other two workhouses in London with no success so he was tired and annoyed and almost snapped poor Benson’s head off when told there was a visitor awaiting him.

‘He said it was urgent, sir, and insisted on waiting.’

Arthur went into the parlour and saw his land agent. ‘Geoffrey! What brings you to London? How is everything at the estate?’

‘I came rather than write because it is a matter I am sure you will wish to attend to yourself, sir …’

Kitty’s knees felt sore, because Sadie had made her scrub both the kitchen and the pantry floors. Both were stone and cold to kneel on and she’d had to press hard on the brush, because Sadie made her do it again if she wasn’t satisfied.

Her eyes were wet with the tears she couldn’t hide, her hands stinging from the hot water and coarse soap she’d used. Kitty was hungry. She’d missed her midday meal because Sadie said she had to finish the floors and by the time she got to the dining room, everyone was leaving and there was nothing left on the tables.

‘Where have you been, girl?’ the master demanded. ‘Did you not hear the bell for your midday meal?’

Kitty stared at him fearfully. He carried a thin cane and she knew he sometimes hit boys who were slow to obey, a quick strike across their thighs. She did not dare to answer for if she complained about Sadie the mean-spirited old woman would find some way to punish her – she already gave her all the worst jobs in the kitchen. Lil said it wasn’t right, but when she’d tried to stand up for Kitty, Sadie had told her to shut her mouth or she would be in trouble.

Rubbing her eyes, Kitty walked slowly back to the kitchen. She would not be given any food by Sadie who would find more work for her to do, because she was spiteful as well as mean. None of the other women liked her, but they were all a bit afraid of her.

‘Kitty, love,’ Lil called to her as she dragged her steps. ‘Here, I’ve got a bit of cheese. Moll gave it to me fer yer when Sadie’s back was turned. It ain’t much but it will be nice to nibble and keep yer from starving till supper …’

‘Thanks, Lil.’ Kitty smiled at her. Some of the other women were all right, but none of them went out of their way to be kind as Lil did, though the one they called old Moll had winked at her a couple of times. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked as her friend put a hand to the small of her back and sighed.

‘I’m close ter me time,’ Lil said and nodded as Kitty’s eyes widened. ‘My babe will be born soon. I’ll have to stay here for a while after to pay my way, Kitty, love, but as soon as I’m able I’ll leave – and I’ll see if I can find yer sister fer yer.’

Kitty thanked her. ‘Shall I rub yer back, Lil? Ma liked her back rubbed when she was ill.’

‘It’s kind of yer to ask,’ Lil said, ‘but yer ’ad best get back and see if Sadie ’as a job fer yer.’

Kitty nodded. She hated being in this awful place and she wanted to be with Lucy and Josh again. If Lil left, then she would have no one to look out for her. Lucy decided that if the opportunity arose she would run away. If she could find the school she’d attended, the reverend would tell her where to find her sister and Josh, she was certain of it.

Lucy heard the church clock strike midnight and went to the window to glance out at the street. The gas lamps were spaced several yards apart so there was little light to guide her brother home if he was on his way, but there was coldness at the nape of her neck. Josh had been getting home later and later and one night he had not come in at all; in the morning she’d seen him stuffing more money under a floorboard he’d prised up beneath his mattress. She knew his little hoard was growing and that could only mean that he was becoming more and more involved in the criminal world.

Sighing, Lucy turned away and sat down on a wooden box that she’d been given by Eric Boyser. He’d brought it round filled with vegetables soon after she’d moved in, and told her she could keep it for firewood. Lucy had thanked him, though her pride was hurt because she saw pity in his eyes. Eric was always offering her things cheap and so she seldom went to him these days, because she would not live on a friend’s charity, yet she missed his cheeky smile and wished she could go back to the time when her mother gave her money to go shopping twice a week.