Читать книгу Front Line Nurse - Rosie James - Страница 9

The following Saturday afternoon, Randolph left the factory earlier than usual and made his way to the orphanage. He had been thinking long and hard about many things, and had come to a decision. He was not going to see the place close, its young inmates dispersed to heaven knew where. If it was at all possible, he would buy it – he’d already re-named it in his head. It would become the Garfield Home for Children.

His ring on the bell was answered almost at once by Mrs Marshall. She stood aside for Randolph to enter.

‘Is it possible for me to speak to Miss Kingston?’ he said briefly. ‘I will not keep her long.’

Mrs Marshall nodded. ‘I’ll tell her,

Presently, sitting opposite Emma Kingston in her office, Randolph said – Firstly, I would like to find out how the baby … how Angelina is getting on. Is she thriving?’

The superintendent smiled. ‘That little one is a born survivor, Mr Garfield,’ she said. ‘We engage a wet nurse for babies this young and Angelina took what was offered straightaway. She sleeps well, is no trouble at all and is so alert! In fact, I would say she is already looking around and sizing up the world she’s been born into!’

Randolph nodded. Would he ever forget those large brown eyes gazing up at him?

‘You say there are eight children here. Both girls and boys, I take it?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Emma Kingston said, ‘At the moment we have four boys and, with Angelina now, there are five little girls..

nd how long do they remain at the orphanage? Generally speaking?’

‘Normally until they are fourteen,’ the superintendent said, ‘Then we try and find work for them, and somewhere to live.’ She shrugged briefly. ‘It isn’t easy, but sometimes a job comes up in one of the big houses or hotels, where they have bed and board in exchange for cleaning work, scullery work, or in the kitchen. And luckily, they do have some experience because from quite a young age they must help here with everyday tasks. It’s never too early to learn such things, is it?’ She smiled. ‘The boys are not so keen, but they are kept busy in our small garden, weeding, clearing up and planting. We try to grow our own vegetables to keep our costs down.’ she added.

Randolph cleared his throat. Why had he never given a thought to the small lives being lived out in this huge building, and other buildings like it?

‘And what about staff, Miss Kingston?’ he asked. ‘How many people do you have working for you?’

‘Oh well … I have Mrs Marshall, who you’ve met,’ the superintendent replied. ‘She is a general assistant and she comes in each day. One or two extra helpers are engaged occasionally when needed, and of course there are always the two domestics who clean and do regular hours in the laundry.’

‘You have quite a task force here, Miss Kingston,’ Randolph said, and she smiled.

‘Ah, but I haven’t mentioned our wonderful cook, Mrs Vera Haines! She is resident, naturally, as is our young nurse, Nancy’ the superintendent said. ‘Nancy is a cheerful young lady who sometimes helps the nuns in the schoolroom, or accompanies the children when they go to the park. But she goes home at weekends, so it’s fortunate that, after all these years, I am well able to cope with any minor medical problems which may crop up. And of course, I can always call the parish doctor if necessary,’ she added.

Randolph glanced at the clock on the wall. He didn’t want to take up too much of the woman’s time, but if he was going to put his plan into action, he had to know what he was taking on – and what it was going to cost. ‘Would you mind showing me around, Miss Kingston?’ he asked politely. ‘Because I would very much like to help in some way if possible, and …’

Emma Kingston stood up. ‘Of course you may look around, Mr Garfield,’ she said, ‘but I am afraid we are beyond help now. We just cannot afford to stay here with the small financial help we receive. The whole place is in need of a thorough overhaul, such lighting as we have needs replacing and the plumbing is in a poor state.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘So one has to face facts – this building is not fit for purpose, and that is why it is to be sold. Apart from the fact that, as I explained, our benefactor has died,’ she added.

Randolph did not reply, but followed her along the corridor and up to the stairs to be shown the five small bedrooms for the orphans – all very neat and tidy, he noted to himself.

‘These rooms at the end are the ones for Nancy, Mrs Haines and myself,’ Miss Kingston said, ‘and our nursery for the babies is there as well. The two small bathrooms we have are downstairs – which can be slightly inconvenient.’

Is Angelina in the nursery?’ Randolph asked casually, and Emma Kingston stopped.

‘Yes – would you like to take a peep, Mr Garfield?’

‘Together, they went into the nursery and as Randolph gazed down at the child he had the greatest difficulty in not scooping her up into his arms. Cocooned in snow-white covers, she was fast asleep. On the soft white pillow was the pink teddy bear, the one tiny possession she had brought with her.

‘She is the most delightful baby,’ Miss Kingston murmured softly. ‘We are all in love with her. It’s as if she’s determined to be no trouble to anyone.’

Just then, Angelina stirred and opened her eyes, and Randolph felt tears welling up in his own. What possible future was in store for this little one, abandoned at birth? Why couldn’t she be his, his and Sybil’s? One of the children they’d planned to have?

The superintendent interrupted his thoughts as she said quietly, ‘Her next feed is almost due, but see? Angelina is looking at us, Mr Garfield, giving us the onceover! This is quite unusual in so young a child,’ she added.

Randolph found his voice. ‘She is … perfect,’ he said. ‘Surely a gift from God.’

Miss Kingston glanced at him covertly. For a hard-nosed businessman, Mr Garfield was rather a surprise.

‘It is very quiet everywhere,’ Randolph said as he followed her back down, and she half-turned to glance at him.

‘Ah well, at this time on a Saturday afternoon the children are usually taken to the park – if the weather is reasonable – but they’ll be back soon and looking forward to teatime. Cook usually makes cakes on Saturdays.’

Emma Kingston opened a door and gestured for Randolph to look inside. ‘This is where food is eaten,’ she said, ‘and the children have three meals a day, breakfast, dinner and tea, and a warm drink last thing.’

Randolph looked down at the two long trestle tables, the wooden benches pushed beneath. ‘I must say that I was aware of a very appetising smell as I came in earlier,’ he said. ‘So what was on the menu for dinner today?’

‘It was tripe and onions today, with mashed potatoes, and an apple for pudding,’ Miss Kingston said, ‘and while tripe may not be everyone’s first choice we are on a very tight budget, so the children must eat what they are given.’ She smiled briefly. ‘Orphans are not allowed to be fussy, Mr Garfield, but our cook always manages to make everything so tasty that it is unusual for even a scrap of food to be left on the plates. And the staff eat exactly the same.’

Finally, Randolph was shown the playroom and the schoolroom next to it, with the single desks in rows and a large blackboard and easel at the front of the class.

‘Do the children enjoy their lessons with the nuns?’ Randolph enquired. ‘I mean, do you have behavioural problems?’

‘Sometimes,’ Miss Kingston admitted, ‘but orphans are just children, all with difficult backgrounds – well, those we know about. But some of them are just picked up from the street, little strays that no one knows a thing about. So of course they can be naughty, but that’s only to be expected– and I try and talk them out of their bad humour with a hug, and maybe a sweet or two,’ she added.

Following her back into her office, Randolph decided that it was time to come clean.

‘Miss Kingston,’ he said, ‘I have something to say which may come as a surprise, but all things being equal, I am going to buy this building, and will expect it to be run exactly as it is at the moment.’

The woman’s reaction was immediate. ‘Mr Garfield … Mr Garfield, I am not sure what to say, but—’

‘The only thing I would ask you to say, Miss Kingston,’ Randolph interrupted, ‘is that, if it all goes through as I hope it will, would you stay on in your present position here and help me … advise me? My business life is obviously totally different from owning an orphanage, as you will appreciate, and I am going to need expert guidance. Can I dare to hope that you will provide that guidance?’

For a full ten seconds Emma Kingston didn’t utter a word. Then she said simply, ‘It would be my privilege, Mr Garfield. And my utter joy.’

He stood up to leave, then hesitated. ‘It is very sad that no one has come forward to claim Angelina,’ he said, and the superintendent nodded.

‘Indeed it is,’ she said quietly. ‘And … I do have news which it grieves me to tell you, Mr Garfield. But the body of a young woman was found late on Thursday night, about half a mile from here and … it seems that she had quite recently given birth.’

Randolph felt his stomach lurch in horror at this information, yet he was well aware that almost every week in the year it was commonplace for nameless bodies to be swept up on the streets of London. Jacob Mason’s classless, rootless, useless human beings …