‘I loved you but you had to spoil everything,’ Gerald mumbled.
‘Ar well, what’s done is done so I suggest you shut yer trap about it cos I can’t change it now. It’s been ten years, Gerald. It’s time to let it lie,’ Minnie said, her temper cooling a little.
‘I can’t, don’t yer see that?’ Gerald covered his face with his hands and dragged them downward.
‘You’ll have to if we’re to go on together. The only other option is for you to leave this house and never come back. I’ll leave that with you, shall I? Cos I tell you now, Gerald, I ain’t putting up with this no more!’ Minnie left him where he sat and stomped into the kitchen. She stood by the window shaking with rage and looking out for her two boys.
The hurt inside her threatened to break her heart completely. Her mistake had caused her heart to crack and Gerald selling her children had split it wider. One more incident like this one and there would be only fragments left.
Minnie wiped her hands down her dirty apron and felt her hip bones protruding. Looking down at herself she wondered when she had become so thin. But then it was sure to happen when all the food went to her husband and children. She realised it was but for the grace of God that they were not living in the workhouse. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought and then a movement caught her eye. A mouse scuttled across the kitchen floor and Minnie grabbed the besom. Opening the back door, she swept the rodent out all the time knowing it would be back soon enough. You stay in here and you’ll starve same as us! she thought as she watched it disappear across the yard.
Closing the door, she settled to wait for the return of her sons, praying they would have found something to make a meal from.
8
John Fitch woke again screaming to be fed. Minnie filled his bottle with water – it was all she had. Sucking greedily on the teat, Minnie watched him. Poor little thing.
The child had not been planned, conceived after Gerald had forced himself on her in a drunken rage. Minnie shook her head as she and her baby locked eyes: he had not asked to be born but here he was and she loved him. She wondered if her husband however just saw him as another mouth to feed. She was sure Gerald would look upon him differently when he reached an age where he could scavenge, but until then he had no time for their youngest son.
Her thoughts were broken by the arrival of James and Peter bustling into the kitchen.
‘Where on earth have you two been? Yer father is throwing a blue fit in there!’ Minnie said as she eyed the wooden box they carried between them.
‘Ar well, we’re here now ain’t we?’ James spat nastily.
‘What did you get then?’ their mother asked with a glare at her eldest for the way he spoke to her.
‘Not much,’ Peter answered, ‘a mouldy cabbage and a couple of spuds is about all we could find.’
Minnie dropped her chin on her chest. That wouldn’t go far but if she did without, she could mash some up for John.
‘Here, James, put the babby in his bed while I get to work on the fire,’ she said holding out the baby. Watching the boy do as she bid, she then lit a small fire in the kitchen hearth and began to strip away the mouldy leaves of the cabbage. Chopping the rest, she dropped it into a pan of water knowing once boiled, the vegetable would be reduced to virtually nothing. Washing the two potatoes she threw them into the same pan. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.
Once all except Minnie had eaten their share, she wiped her fingers around the pan in which she had mashed the food. There was only the flavour left to taste but it was enough to set her stomach gurgling. As she washed the pan, Minnie determined she would have to go begging the following day.
The three boys all now in bed, Minnie spoke to her husband who sat by the dying embers in the grate.
‘You’ll have to go and look for work tomorrer, you can’t sit on your arse feeling sorry for yerself any longer.’
‘There ain’t no work to be had,’ Gerald answered without taking his eyes from the fire.
‘How do you know? You ain’t moved from the house for a week!’ Minnie knew she was pushing her luck with her volatile husband, but Gerald needed motivating. If she could manage to provoke guilt in him maybe he would make the effort. ‘It ain’t right to keep sending the lads out while you’re sat there,’ she added.
‘Minnie just leave it alone, will you?!’
She could see his temper rising but she could not concede if they were to survive.
‘Gerald! For God’s sake man! Your family am starving!’
‘Don’t you think I know that? I’ve got eyes! Tell me how to fix it if you’re that clever!’ Gerald exploded.
‘Look for work – and keep looking until you find summat!’ Minnie growled.
Letting out an explosive sigh Gerald stood up making Minnie jump. He marched away to his bed leaving his wife close to tears.
The following morning saw Minnie, with John tied to her chest with a shawl, tramping down the street in the rain. She had a long walk but she needed to find food for her family.
Turning into Bilston Road she had to trudge the length of the tram line to get where she was going – the cattle market abattoir with a fervent hope of being given anything they didn’t want.
Head down against the bitter wind, Minnie crossed the bridge spanning the Birmingham Canal. Further along, she passed the Union Workhouse – about half way to her destination. Her breathing was laboured as she forced herself to continue her journey. Glancing at the Wolverhampton and Staffordshire General Hospital as she passed, she prayed she would not end up in there. More often than not folk only came out of that building in a box and she had a family to take care of. Passing the Tramway Depot Minnie entered Cleveland Road where she cut through the cattle market outbuildings in Bilston Street.
The cold rain was incessant and by the time she arrived she and her baby were drenched. Droplets dripped off her hair and she felt frozen to the bone, her wet clothes sticking to her thin body.
At the market, the stench hit her like a hammer blow. She could hear the frightened cattle bellowing as they waited their turn for the slaughterhouse. Stepping through the door Minnie gagged as the vile odour of blood and death hit her.
‘Here, what you doing? You shouldn’t be in ’ere missus,’ a man called out.
‘I’ve come to see if there’s anything you don’t need that I can feed to my children,’ Minnie yelled back before covering her mouth with the corner of her wet shawl.
The man gasped as he walked towards her. The cadaverous frame shocked him and he wondered how she managed to stand up let alone walk. Pasty grey skin stretched over the bones of her face and her eyes seemed too large. He saw the child against her chest and he wondered if it was still alive.
‘C’mon wench, sit yer down ’ere,’ the man said as he led her to an upturned bucket. ‘Where ’ave you come from?’
‘Bank Street,’ Minnie replied, her teeth chattering with the cold.
The man shook his head in disbelief that the woman had walked so far without collapsing. ‘You hang on there, I’ll see what we’ve got.’
As the man disappeared through a door, Minnie prayed he would find her something – anything – she could use. Surely he could see she had no money to pay for whatever he handed over, and she fretted he might want to settle the debt another way.
A moment later the man returned with a basket over his arm. It was full to the top with vegetables from the cold storage unit and meat wrapped in brown paper. ‘Can you carry it?’ he enquired.
Minnie nodded. ‘I ain’t got a farthing,’ she said as tears filled her eyes.
‘I don’t want anything. You just get yerself ’ome out of this rain, and missus – don’t come too often else I’ll be put out of a job,’ the man said with a little smile.
‘Thank you so much, mister. God bless you,’ Minnie said as she left.
Her walk home only took half the time; she was so eager to see what she’d been given.
Once back in
her kitchen, Minnie unpacked the basket onto the small table. Then she unwrapped the brown paper and gasped with delight. Four pork chops, a small piece of mutton and four pig’s trotters.
Minnie clasped her hands together and silently thanked the man for his kindness, because of him her family would eat tonight and for days to come.
Laying John in his packing crate bed in the living room she felt his forehead. His little face was flushed bright red and he was hot to the touch. Minnie immediately stripped off his wet clothes and replaced them with dry clothing. John mewled but he didn’t wake. Minnie knew she had to get some good nourishing food inside him – and quickly.
Rushing back to the kitchen after laying him back in the crate, she began to prepare their meal. Gerald, she noticed, was nowhere to be seen; hopefully he had taken their little conversation to heart and was out looking for work. Right now, however, she was more concerned about John. Clearly he had picked up a cold and she hoped it would not turn into a raging fever.
James and Peter had been up and out early and now returned with a pail almost full of coal nuggets.
‘Well done, boys. James, light the fire; Peter, just check the babby for me, he’s got a sniffle,’ Minnie instructed.
Over the next hour the aroma of mutton broth permeated the kitchen and the boys watched it simmer away gently in the pan. A broth boiled is a broth spoiled. The old adage came to mind as she studied her sons.
‘It won’t cook any faster just because you’re watching it,’ she said with a laugh.
‘It smells so good though,’ Peter replied.
Minnie grinned then went into the living room with a rag and bowl of cold water to sponge John down. She had to reduce his temperature somehow.
Peeping into the crate, she saw his erratic breathing. Dipping the rag into the water, she squeezed out the excess and dabbed the child’s brow. John whimpered at the touch of the cold cloth.
‘I know, sweetheart, but it’ll help,’ Minnie whispered soothingly as she wiped away the sweat. Bathing his little body, she watched his head turn from side to side. His eyes were closed and he made feeble little sounds in his sleep. Minnie knew then he was gripped by fever.
Going to the kitchen she filled his bottle with cold water and returned to where John lay. Lifting him she tried to push the teat into his mouth; it was imperative that she got some fluid into him. John turned his head away and Minnie tried again but to no avail. Her baby was having none of it.
Minnie bathed him over and over knowing he was fighting for his life, but going so long without good milk or food she feared he could well be losing the battle.
Gerald came home just as she was dishing up the mutton broth and he eyed her suspiciously.
‘It was given – from the abattoir,’ she said.
Nodding, Gerald sat down to eat. ‘I’ve been looking for work but there’s none to be had anywhere.’
‘Well at least you’re trying,’ Minnie answered. ‘Our John has a fever so I’ll have to keep bathing him.’
‘Eat first – you’ll need your strength,’ Gerald said as he tapped his spoon on the table.
Minnie nodded and joined them wondering at the sudden change in her husband and his apparent concern for her.
‘I’m sorry, Minnie, you’re right about me finding a job,’ he said.
James and Peter exchanged a surprised look but continued to eat hastily.
‘I just hope you can, Gerald,’ Minnie said before tucking into her meal.
Later with her husband and sons in bed, Minnie nursed her ailing baby all through the night and by morning Gerald found her sitting rocking John back and forth. She was singing low as she clutched the small child to her breast.
Stepping towards her, he stopped in his tracks as Minnie growled at him. It was then he knew – his baby son had passed in the night.
Quietly dispatching James to fetch the doctor, Gerald sat watching his wife still rocking the dead child. Peter lit a fire and warmed the leftover broth, not knowing what else to do.
The house was silent save for Minnie’s singing as they waited, and before too long James and Dr Fredricks entered via the kitchen. The doctor took in the situation at a glance and knew he had to tread carefully.
‘Hello, Minnie, James here tells me young John is poorly. Will you let me have a look at him and see what can be done?’ The doctor leaned down and held out his arms.
Minnie looked up at him then back at John. Nodding she allowed Dr Fredricks to take her child. ‘He’s had a fever but I think it’s gone now,’ she said.
‘Well I’ll just have a little check,’ the doctor said as he stepped away allowing Gerald to move between him and Minnie.
‘What’s going on?’ Minnie said getting to her feet.
‘I’m afraid he’s gone, Minnie,’ the doctor said quietly.
‘Who’s gone?’ Minnie asked looking around confusedly.
‘John. He passed over in the night, it was probably pneumonia. I’m so very sorry.’
What little colour was left in Minnie’s face drained away as she clutched at the bodice of her dress. In her head she had known, but in her heart she didn’t want to let go.
‘No – no, John! John!’ Minnie made to grab her son but Gerald wrapped his arms around her.
‘Noooo!’ The howl of pain came from deep in her soul as Minnie’s knees gave way. She sobbed and sobbed feeling her heart finally shatter.
Helping his wife upstairs to bed, the boys were told to watch over her, and they were instructed to ensure she stayed there.
Downstairs once more Gerald laid his son in the makeshift cot. ‘Dr Fredricks, I can’t pay you,’ he said as the physician wrote out the death certificate.
‘Don’t worry about that, Gerald, but how will you afford to bury that little ’un?’
Gerald shook his head.
The doctor patted his shoulder and stepped silently from the house.
Half an hour later Gerald wrapped John in one of Minnie’s old shawls and went out into the cold morning air. He walked for miles carrying the dead child until he came to a spot way out on the heath. Gerald kissed his son’s forehead and placed him on the ground carefully. Then he began to dig. Clawing away the rain-soaked earth near a hedge, Gerald cried for his baby son. On and on he dug, frantically shifting earth and stones until his fingers bled.
Picking the child up once more, he covered the tiny face with a corner of the shawl before laying him in the ground. ‘Goodnight God Bless,’ he whispered, then his tears fell again as he filled in the tiny grave.
Walking home wearily, Gerald now had to find a way to tell his wife he had buried their youngest son. Despite everything, he had to admit that he loved his sons.
9
Over at Reed House, Adam and Polly were unaware that their little brother had died or that their mother was completely distraught.
It had been some weeks now since Adam had begun his boxing tuition and he was getting proficient at it. Billy Marshall was pleased with his student but explained one evening that because of the bad weather setting in, it was time to call a halt.
‘Anyway, you’re more than capable now of looking after yourself and that sister of yours,’ Billy said.
‘I’ll never be able to thank you enough, Mr Marshall,’ Adam said feeling extremely disappointed. He had become close to his boxing teacher; they were of the same mind about a lot of things.
It was their last meeting and Adam tried hard not to cry. He couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing Billy again. Unbeknown to Adam, Billy was feeling the same way. Taking a slip of paper from his pocket Billy passed it to the boy. ‘It’s my address, you can write to me there if you want.’
‘Thanks, Mr Marshall, it’ll help me with my writing and spelling,’ Adam said with a sad smile.
‘If ever you’re in trouble, you just let me know,’ Billy said quietly.
Adam threw his arms around the man who had become so important to him and, unable to hold back his tears any longer, Adam cl
ung desperately to his friend. His slight frame shook with great heaving sobs and as he looked up, he saw the tears rolling down Billy’s cheeks too.
The two parted company for the last time and Adam walked home with only sadness for company.
Entering the house and replacing the key as usual, he began to ascend the stairs when he had the fright of his life when a voice whispered, ‘Where have you been then?’
In the darkness Adam could barely see the figure but he knew that voice. Rodney Dukes.
‘I’ve been to the kitchen, I was hungry,’ Adam said having already thought of the excuse should he ever be caught.
‘You’re a liar, Fitch!’ Rodney’s voice sounded like a file on metal.
‘Can you prove I didn’t go to the kitchen?’ Adam challenged.
‘No, but I know you ain’t tellin’ the truth,’ Rodney said feeling irked.
‘Right then, shift yerself cos I’m going to bed,’ Adam said as he pushed past the other boy.
‘Oi! I’m telling Old Reedy in the mornin’ so what do you think to that?’ Rodney giggled as he followed Adam along the landing.
‘Look, Rodney, you can tell Miss Reed anything you want, I don’t care. Besides who do you think she will believe?’
‘Well you’re out of bed after lights out…’
‘So are you, Rodney!’ Adam’s words cut through the other boy’s protest.
After a short pause, long enough for Rodney to realise his mistake, Adam spoke again. ‘You cause trouble for me and I assure you Rodney, you will regret it. Now go back to bed and leave me in peace!’
Going into his room, Adam closed the door quietly behind him.
‘Was that fat boy I heard?’ Joe asked sleepily.
‘Yes,’ Adam replied as he climbed into bed.
‘Oh crikey!’ Joe said before turning over and going back to sleep.
Adam smiled and as he settled, he wondered whether Rodney would tell tales in the morning. Then a thought occurred to him. With a grin he closed his eyes.
The following morning as they lined up for breakfast Adam called out, ‘Miss Reed.’
‘Yes, Adam?’ Una said walking up to him.
The Five Shilling Children Page 6
