Читать книгу America's First Female Serial Killer - Mary Kay McBrayer - Страница 13

CHAPTER 2

Fiona walked past Delia soaping the baseboards and into the bunkroom where Honora stripped the beds. Honora pushed the bin in the aisle and smiled, her round cheeks rising when she saw Fiona. She waited for the praise of a job well done. When Fiona said nothing, Honora’s face fell. “Am I doing it wrong? It’s the way they taught me to do it.”

“No, Nora,” Fiona said, pulling her into a hug. “They’re placing you out.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re going to serve a family. To live with them.”

Honora’s face went blank. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing! It’s good! You’ll have your own room. You’ll have a sister. They’ll take better care of you than we can here.”

“I already have sisters,” Honora said.

“Now you have one more. Go gather your things.”

“I don’t want to go.”

Fiona’s face hardened. “Ungrateful. Get your things.”

“I don’t want to go,” Honora said. “What about Delia?”

“Get your things now. And dry up that crying. Don’t make her return you.” Fiona sank to kneeling beside Honora and slowed her speech. “Do you know what happens when they return you?” She paused while Honora stared at her. “Do you know? Do you have any idea?”

Honora shook her head.

“If you come back here, they beat you. Not just once. Not with just the paddle. Not just on the backside. Have you seen me legs, Nora?” she slipped back into her brogue, like she assumed the Kelleys had. “And do ye know what happens when ye turn eighteen? Ye don’t get fifty dollars like you would with them. Ye get a curbstone pillow and a cobblestone bed and you hope that some man finds ye pretty enough to give a pittance for dinner in exchange for a night of torture, and ye wait for ladies like this to have pity on you. Which they never will.” Fiona’s face was bright red. “Don’t be like me. Do you understand, Honora?” Fiona stared into the scared and now cold black eyes of the little girl until she remembered herself. She pawed at her face and blinked and said, “Don’t make her bring you back. Do what she says. Do what she says, and then one day if you do it well enough, you won’t have to anymore. Gather your things.”

Honora went to her bunk to find her second dress and primer. She folded her apron around her things and tied it to make a neat package. While she did it, Fiona stared at her own callused hands and neither girl noticed Delia’s electric-blue eyes staring vacantly into the bunkroom, sponge dripping dirty water in the doorway.

Fiona led Honora to the parlor office by the hand. “Don’t be afraid, Nora,” she murmured, though the girl would not look at her again. “Mrs. Toppan is a very nice woman. She wanted you because she knows how good your work is. She knows how sweet you are, and how your stories make everyone happy, and she wants you to make her little girl happy like you make the girls here happy,” she chattered on until they reached the door of the parlor office. “They’re going to love you, Nora,” she said, and pushed open the door. Mrs. Toppan and Matron Greene stood.

Matron Greene said, “Mrs. Toppan, this is Honora Kelley.”

Honora smiled hugely. She walked toward Mrs. Toppan as Mrs. Toppan said, “You may call me Auntie.” Honora curtsied in front of her new employer.

“They call me Nora,” she said, still smiling. “It’s short for my name, Honora, madam.”

Auntie smirked and kept her gaze level with the little girl. “That won’t do. That won’t do at all. You need a proper American name. We’ll call you Jane. Do you like that name, Jane?”

Honora frowned at first. She didn’t know of anyone named Jane. The only time she ever heard the name was when she was cleaning the parlor and a policeman came in and asked Matron Greene to identify someone named Jane. A body. During the moment of silence, Mrs. Toppan’s face creased between her brows and her eyes narrowed. Honora remembered Fiona’s instructions, and then she smiled wide again and nodded. “It’s a beautiful name, Auntie. I love it.”