Forgotten Children

by Cathy Sharp

  They were rotten to the core and Billy hated them both. He heard them laughing together after they’d done a break-in, boasting of what they’d stolen and the way they’d smashed up people’s homes. Why couldn’t they see that although the glass and china they smashed was worthless to them, those things probably meant a lot to the owners of the damaged property? He’d tried to tell them it wasn’t fair and got a smack round the ear and a fat lip for his pains. Arthur told him to keep his gob shut and if he did anything that either of them didn’t like he didn’t get anything to eat that day.

  It was worse than living at home with his drunken father. At least Pa had been all right on the days when he didn’t drink. Arthur was a mean pig all the time and Billy would’ve run away, but he knew that his brother would come after him – and then he would set fire to St Saviour’s and Mary Ellen would burn in her bed and so would Marion and all the others. Even the carers and the nurses would be hurt … and Sister Beatrice. Billy didn’t want any of them to die in a fire. He knew now that it had been the best time of his life, even when he was in trouble, and he swore that if he could just go back he would keep Sister Beatrice’s rules. Of course, she wouldn’t have him back now.

  Billy racked his brains to try and find a way out of the trap he was caught in. If he could find a way to stop Arthur … but the police would never catch him because he was too sly. Billy was keeping watch now as they broke into the office at the boot factory; it was the reason Arthur had come looking for him, because if Billy warned them when anyone approached, they could get away before the coppers realised they were inside.

  If only Billy could be sure of what he suspected, but he’d never been one hundred per cent certain that Arthur had been behind the attack on Pa that had ended his life. It had happened down the Docks the night after Arthur walked out of their house in the middle of a blazing row with their father. Pa had accused him of being a dirty little thief, because whatever else their father had been, he’d been honest and worked for his living. It was only the drink that let Pa down, and that was only after Billy’s mother had died.

  Billy had been sitting on the bottom of the stairs listening to their row and he’d heard his brother say he’d get even with Pa for going to the police and laying evidence against his own son.

  ‘I’ll do fer you,’ he’d yelled at the top of his voice. ‘You’re an old bastard and I’ll see yer in hell – see if I don’t. You’d best watch your back ’cos there’s a knife headin’ there soon enough …’

  Arthur had stormed out and Billy had rushed upstairs and locked himself in his room, because there was no telling what Pa would do when he was in one of his moods. Billy didn’t think his father had really informed on Arthur, because they didn’t do that in the narrow, mean little streets where they lived. People were poor, often hungry and sick, but they stuck together, though some of the men were capable of handing out punishment if they thought it necessary. Should they consider a man had gone too far, a few of them might get together and give him a good hiding, but they didn’t tell tales to the police. If he’d been able, Pa would have taken his belt to Arthur, but he wasn’t strong enough to best him in a fight now. He’d lied about informing the police about Arthur’s thieving because it was the only way he hoped to stop him, but instead Pa had got a knife between his shoulder blades the next evening when he left work.

  He hadn’t come in all night and in the morning the police had called to tell Billy his father was dead. They’d asked for Arthur, said they wanted to speak to him, and told Billy that he must go and stay with his grandmother or live in a children’s home.

  Billy had wanted to tell them he thought it was his brother that had murdered his pa, but he was too afraid to say it – and felt it would be snitching. Around here, the folk sent any coward known as a police informer to Coventry, which meant they wouldn’t speak to them and if they went in the pub, everyone turned their backs on them. Billy knew murder was different from simple stealing, but he couldn’t tell the police anything more than the threats Arthur had made – and that wasn’t enough to convict him of murder. If Billy had dared to tell, Arthur would’ve found out and given him a good thrashing; he might even have killed him the way he had Pa … if it had been him.

  Billy wished there were some way he could get away from Arthur without putting his friends at risk. It was soon going to be Christmas and he would miss the parties and the trip to the pantomime … and he missed seeing Mary Ellen every day; that was the worst thing of all.

  Billy stiffened as from his hiding place behind a load of wooden crates he saw a dark shadow moving stealthily towards the office of the boot factory. His brother and Jack Shaw were inside so what was going on? Was someone else intent on robbing the factory of its wages?

  He was about to give the warning whistle when the dark shadow suddenly threw something directly at the door of the office. Even as he saw a flash of light, he realised that the missile was a petrol bomb. He whistled as loud as he could, but the flash of fire as the bomb hit and a roaring sound nearly knocked him backwards as the door seemed to explode and flames were shooting up the wooden door.

  Billy hated his brother and Jack Shaw; it would serve them right if they got burned in the fire, but he couldn’t just stand by and watch and knew he had to warn them somehow. The fire was too fierce for him to get in through the doorway. He darted at the caretaker’s office, going round to the side window, though which his brother had entered earlier. Already the flames were shooting into the narrow passage that led up some steep stairs to the main office containing the big old-fashioned safe Jack had said would be easy to break. The strong smell of dyes and leather made the air stuffy in the dark passages leading to the workrooms and Billy gulped before placing a hand over his nose and mouth, because smoke was billowing through the darkness towards him. Scrambling through the window, Billy ran towards the bottom of the stairs. He saw the body of a man lying face down on the floor, and it looked as if someone had hit him hard, because there was blood on the back of his head. Billy felt sick to his stomach. It must be the night watchman and either Arthur or Jack had hit him so hard they’d killed him.

  He almost turned and ran out without warning them but then he knew he couldn’t because that would make him as bad as they were, and he yelled at the top of his voice, but the noise of the fire was surely loud enough to warn them of the danger.

  Arthur appeared from the office at the top of the stairs. ‘What the hell do you …’ he began and then saw the fire licking at the door and already eating its way through piles of leather stacked in the hall, smoke curling through the darkness and making Billy cough and cover his nose with his hand. ‘Bloody hell! Jack, we’ve got to get out – there’s a fire …’

  Jack appeared at the top of the stairs and swore. In the eerie light of the flames, his handsome features reflected his fury. ‘I ain’t goin’ without what we came for …’

  ‘Don’t be a bloody fool!’ Arthur said. ‘Money ain’t worth dyin’ for.’

  As he spoke the external door seemed to erupt as it fell in and the sparks went everywhere. The flames from the petrol-soaked door were licking at the piles of leather and the fumes were choking Billy as he stood indecisively. Arthur came charging down the stairs, nearly knocking him over as he rushed for the open doorway, his jacket over his head.

  ‘Get out while you can, Billy.’

  Billy turned back towards the window by which he’d entered and had almost reached it when another missile came smashing through it and seemed to explode in a wall of flame. He halted, terrified, uncertain whether to turn back or go through the flames. Seeing a door at the end of the passage, he tugged at the handle and it opened. He went into what he thought was a store room and shut the door quickly to hold back the flames and the smoke. At first he couldn’t make anything out. He was choking, the fumes he’d already inhaled making him feel dizzy and ill. He couldn’t see another way out and it looked like he was trapped.

  He would die here, because
the smoke was already seeping under the door and soon the flames would get to it. Billy’s mind was fuzzy as he tried to think what to do. If he went back out into the fire he would get burned and yet if he stayed here … his eyes stung with tears as he thought of Mary Ellen and his friends. What was he going to do? There had to be some way out of here, he just had to find it, but the fumes were drifting into the store room and he was beginning to feel faint …

  It was then that he sensed a slight breeze on his face. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness and he noticed a faint chink of light coming from the floor. He felt his way along the wall towards it and bent down to investigate. It was a grating and he knew that it must lead to the airey, a cellar that had been used for coal and storage, perhaps still was for all Billy knew. A lot of old properties had them in London so that the coal didn’t have to be carried through the building. If he could wrench open the grating, he might be able to get out into the back yard and escape that way.

  He dropped to his knees and tried pulling the metal grate; it was stuck and he couldn’t move it. Billy could smell the stench of the smoke and hear flames roaring outside the door. Before long the fire would envelop this room and he’d be trapped. He was beginning to feel the sting of the smoke in his eyes and throat. He had to find something to help him prise the grate open. Moving around the room, feeling his way in the darkness, he bumped into a pile of wooden crates and yelled as he grazed his hands, but then his fingers touched something metal. He grasped what he guessed was a crowbar and then felt his way back to the airey, inserting the long metal bar into the grating and pushing it downward to lever it up. He pressed with all his strength but it wouldn’t budge and he felt the fear rise in his throat as the roaring of the flames came closer and he knew he couldn’t get out of the door. Almost in despair he jammed the bar into the grate again as hard as he could and suddenly felt it give. Bending down, he grabbed it and pulled it back. The opening was big enough for him to enter it easily and he found he was standing on steps that led down into the blackness.

  Billy’s heart was pounding as he sat on his bottom and worked his way down, wary of slipping and knocking himself out in the darkness. He could smell the sharp, acrid stink of coal and a musty unpleasant odour that told him the cellar hadn’t been used for a long time. When his feet touched the bottom, he scrabbled on loose coal scattered on the floor; it caused him to stumble a couple of times and he scraped his hand and his knees. Now he could see where the faint shaft of light was coming from; it had an eerie redness about it and he guessed that it was the glow of the fierce fire reflected in the sky. It must have spread swiftly because of all the chemicals the factory used for its leathers, and even down here Billy could smell the smoke.

  He felt his way round the wall until he came to some steps at the other end, which led up to a second grating. There was more air now and he gulped it gratefully, because down here the atmosphere was foul and he guessed the stink came from rat droppings and probably their corpses too.

  When he reached the grating, Billy pushed against it, but, as he’d feared it was stuck fast just like the one he’d somehow managed to prise open. From above he’d been able to get some leverage and that gave him extra strength, but here there was no way he could shift the grating. It was stuck fast and would not budge one inch, even though he strained with every ounce of will he had.

  Tears pricked at Billy’s eyes. He wasn’t a coward but he didn’t want to die down here like a rat in a trap. Sitting on the steps with his head on his knees, he tried to think of a plan. Perhaps the fire wouldn’t get down here. Perhaps if he just stayed here and didn’t panic, he could get out through the ruined factory when the fire had burned itself out.

  It was then that he heard the loud clanging of the fire engine’s bell and he realised that help was at hand. There were people shouting up there, running about as they prepared to try and put out the flames. Clawing up, he rushed to the top step and started to yell.

  ‘Help! I’m stuck down the airey. Please help me!’

  Billy yelled and yelled until he was hoarse but no one answered his pleas and he realised there was too much noise and chaos up there for them to hear his voice. It was useless to call out; he would just have to sit and wait until it quietened down up there and then he would try again.

  He sat down on the steps, pulling his knees up and laying his head on his arms. So far the smoke hadn’t penetrated the cellar; he could only hope that the firemen would put out the flames before they got to him. His left hand hurt where he’d scraped it on something and so did his head, and he was worn out with his efforts to attract attention; hungry, tired, cold and miserable, incredibly Billy fell asleep.

  Mary Ellen was feeling tired when it was time to get up that Friday morning. Sally asked her what was wrong when she dragged herself out of bed and went through the motions of washing and dressing, but Mary Ellen couldn’t tell her. She kept thinking about Billy and where he was, what he was doing, but she didn’t know what to do. Surely it would all be over by now, and perhaps Billy would turn up later that day. If Arthur was intent on leaving London in a hurry he might be careless enough to let his brother slip away – or perhaps he just wouldn’t care.

  She went down to breakfast and sat with Marion and a girl called Sarah Morgan. Sarah was a few months older than Mary Ellen, and she’d been ill for a long time before she came here, though she was well enough to share their dormitory now. She was nice enough, but not a special friend. Mary Ellen couldn’t confide in Marion that she was worried for Billy while the other girl was with them.

  It was as she was getting ready to leave in order to help Sally in the playroom that she saw Nan enter the dining room and speak to the carer. They looked worried and after Nan left Sally came over to their table.

  ‘We’ve just heard that there’s been a dreadful fire at the boot factory,’ Sally said, sounding concerned. ‘Julia’s father works there as a caretaker and he didn’t come home this morning, which may be why she didn’t come into work. Nan has asked me to go round to Julia’s house and find out what’s happening.’

  ‘Has someone been hurt at the factory, Sally?’ Mary Ellen asked urgently, her heart pounding. She was frightened because she knew that Billy’s brother and his mate had gone there to rob the safe. Had they set the fire and what had happened to Billy? ‘Please tell me …’

  ‘I don’t know the details,’ Sally said, ‘but they say a man’s body was found at the factory.’

  Mary Ellen gasped. She felt sick and started to shake, because if Arthur or his mate had been killed, perhaps Billy had too.

  ‘It may not be Julia’s father,’ Sally said in a reassuring tone. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you. Look, Angela is coming to take the little ones into the playroom. You should go with her. Nan wants me to see if Julia is all right.’

  She watched as the carer went off hurriedly, stopping for a quick word with Angela before leaving. Angela spoke to one of the kitchen girls for a moment and then approached Mary Ellen.

  ‘Will you help me with the little ones, please?’

  ‘Yes, miss,’ Mary Ellen said but her bottom lip trembled.

  If anything had happened to Billy she would never forgive herself. She ought to have stopped him going on that robbery with his brother. It would have been better to tell Angela about it and let her tell the police than have this happen. Yet how could she have known there would be a fire?

  ‘Is something wrong, Mary Ellen?’ Angela asked, looking at her intently. ‘You’re upset about something, aren’t you?’

  ‘No, miss,’ Mary Ellen lied and swallowed hard. ‘Have they put the fire out at the factory yet?’

  ‘I don’t know much,’ Angela admitted. ‘Constable Sallis told us there was a fire when he called in earlier to speak to us about some children he wants us to admit, but I imagine the fire service will have it under control. Why? Do you know someone who works there?’

  Mary Ellen shook her head. She wanted to blurt it all out
, to tell Angela that she was afraid Billy might have been trapped in the fire, but she was afraid that he would be in trouble. The police wouldn’t care that he’d been forced to work with his brother; they would simply say he was a bad boy and send him away to a place of correction. No, she couldn’t say anything yet, but as soon as she could slip away she would go to the factory herself and see what was happening.

  Billy woke with a start. He was feeling stiff and his neck ached, and his eyes were bleary, as if he had a cold, or perhaps it was the effects of the smoke. The firemen must have got it under control quickly, because it hadn’t penetrated this far after all, though the air in the cellar stank of it. He’d shivered through the night, sleeping intermittently. Each time he’d woken, he’d gone to the top of the steps and shouted but no one had answered, and now his throat felt sore and his eyes had started to sting. He had to get out of here!

  He heard some noises in the yard above his head and climbed to the top of the cellar stairs, calling out for help, but his voice was only a croak and he knew no one could hear him. He was never going to get out this way, but he could hear men talking close by. One of them said it had been a close thing.

  ‘I thought the whole damned place would go up.’

  ‘The fire was concentrated in the office and store area. There’s something suspicious here, if I’m not mistaken. I don’t think this was an accident.’