Читать книгу The Other Wife: A sweeping historical romantic drama tinged with obsession and suspense - Juliet Bell, Juliet Bell - Страница 17

Betty

The days merged into one another. The sea was big and the journey went on forever. Every morning Betty woke up, shivering and sweaty, squashed into the cramped bunk, stomach lurching with the rolls of the ship. Every night before she went to sleep, she clasped her hands together like she used to do at home and prayed that in the morning she’d wake up in her own bed, and go into the kitchen and have bread and jam with Daddy.

‘Time to get up.’

Betty didn’t have pyjamas anymore. She’d had them in her little case when she’d got on the boat but they’d disappeared, so now she spent her nights and days in one grubby, stinky set of clothes. She hadn’t had a bath or combed out her hair for weeks. The ladies with them didn’t know how to deal with Betty’s curls. One of them had tried but quickly gave up when Betty screamed against the pulling and the pain.

They followed the woman to the dining hall where the children were huddled together into one corner with bread and butter. The other passengers came and went as they pleased, talking about ‘ten pounds for all this’ or grumbling about their seasickness or the choices for breakfast.

After they’d eaten they were led outside, and told to be quiet and not to bother anyone. At first, Betty sat on her own. Most of the children were bigger than her. A lot of them liked to sit in the sun, but Betty didn’t. When the others sat in the sun, their fair skin went bright pink. When she sat in the sun, her skin went brown. She’d started to look different. Like Daddy had looked different. That’s when the women had told her to stay inside. They’d said she would look dirty and no-one would ever give her a home. Betty hadn’t listened to them. Sooner or later Daddy would come and find her and take her home. But she did stay out of the sun.

After a little while she made a friend.

Her name was Kay, and despite being older, she was the only one who ever talked to Betty. They whispered together in the bunk late at night.

‘Where did you come from? Before they sent you here.’

Betty screwed up her face. ‘I was in a big house with other children.’

Kay nodded. ‘Me too. So your mam’s dead, then?’

Betty shook her head vigorously. ‘She’s not very well but she’s going to get better and she’s going to come home and…’ She tailed off. And what? Betty wasn’t sure.

‘Nah. She must have died. I heard Mrs Collins say we were all orphans.’

Betty turned the word around in her head. ‘What’s a norfan?’

‘Orphan. It’s when your mam and dad are dead.’

‘I’m not one of them. My daddy said he would come back and get me.’ Betty’s face crumpled as fat tears started to run down her cheeks.

‘Aw. Come on. Don’t do that.’ Kay looked anxious. ‘Come on. I’ll show you what I do when I’m feeling sad.’

They held hands as they walked up on deck and out onto the open area right at the back of the ship. It was cold and windy and dark, but, when Betty looked up, the blackness of the sky was sprinkled with glowing stars.

‘They are so pretty.’

Kay nodded. ‘But sometimes, it’s even prettier. Just wait.’

Betty waited. She didn’t know what she was waiting for. Then she saw a golden spark fly across the sky. And then another.

‘Look.’ Kay pointed to the top of the big funnel that loomed over the ship.

As Betty watched, more sparks, all golden and red, flew from the top of the funnel. Sometimes it was only a few, but sometimes there seemed to be hundreds of sparks, flying up into the air, high above the waves. Away from the ship and all the people on it. Back towards where they’d come from. Back towards home and Daddy. Betty wanted to be one of them.

‘They’re so pretty. And they’re free.’

The girls stood there, holding hands, watching the sparks. But soon the sparks got fewer and fewer. Until finally, they stopped coming at all. The stars no longer seemed pretty to Betty. Tthey were white and cold, and so distant.

‘I wish they would never stop.’

‘I bet we can make our own,’ Kay said. ‘Wait here. I won’t be long.’ She ran back along the deck.

Betty watched the top of the funnels, hoping the sparks would appear again, but they didn’t. She felt lost and alone without them.

Kay came running back. ‘Look.’

She held some sheets of paper and a box of matches.

‘Where did you get them?’

‘In the posh dining room.’

Kay scrunched the paper into a ball before setting it down on the deck in a sheltered corner where the wind wasn’t too strong. She pulled out a pink-headed match from her box and struck it against the side of the box to no effect. The second time, the match sparked into life. Betty watched the orange flame dance as Kay leant towards the balled-up paper. She set the match to the paper and then bent close in, blowing gently on the tiny hint of fire.

Betty felt her heart pounding in her chest. They weren’t supposed to be here. Kay definitely wasn’t supposed to have matches.

Betty gazed at the fire. The pounding in her chest slowed. The screaming inside her head quieted. The thoughts of the women and the spanking they were going to get disappeared. She let her mind be filled by the bright, dancing flames, feeling the warmth prickle the skin on her legs, feeling the smoke spike at her eyes, but never looking away. She could feel the warmth of the fire in the hearth. She could hear the sound of Daddy breathing as she rested her head on his chest. This boat, and this journey, and all the confusion she’d been living with, faded away. Then she slowly lifted her head as a bit of paper, glowing with flame, flew up into the night air. Free of the ship, floating back towards home.

‘Betty!’ Kay grabbed her arm and pulled, but Betty didn’t move. She couldn’t. The fire had captured her and was holding her in its embrace.

‘Betty! Someone’s coming.’

Betty ignored her friend again.

‘Fine.’ She heard Kay’s footsteps as she ran away from the fire, but Betty stayed still.

A big brown boot shoved in front of her and stamped away the flames. ‘What do you think you’re doing, setting a fire on a ship?’

Another voice behind Betty interrupted. ‘She’s one of them orphan brats, ain’t she?’

‘I’m not an orphan.’

Large rough hands spun her round. Betty looked at the two men, who towered over her. One of them grinned. ‘Is that right? Well, then, we’d best take you back to Mummy and Daddy. In one of the posh cabins up front, are they?’

Betty shook her head.

‘I didn’t think so.’ The man thwacked Betty hard across the back of her legs. Once. Twice. Three times. And then four. Betty’s lip twitched but she bit back the tears. She didn’t need to be here. So long as she could see the fire in her head, she could be far away, curled up and safe with Daddy at home. ‘Dirty little firebug.’ The man grunted the words out as he slapped her again. Eventually he released his grip, and shoved her towards his mate. ‘Take her back, then.’

‘You’re sure she’s learnt her lesson?’

The other man had already turned away. ‘Don’t care anymore. She’s not going to be our problem much longer, is she?’

His mate followed. ‘I didn’t think they took coloureds anyroad.’