‘Mr Dolly is the most perfect friend. He’s always been extremely kind to me and taught me everything I know,’ I insisted.
‘But with no system whatsoever. He can’t have used proper schoolbooks,’ said Miss Ainsley.
She was right. Mr Dolly had bought one specially when he first started teaching me, but we both agreed it was very boring.
‘I shan’t know which class to put you in,’ she continued. ‘In many respects you belong with the very little girls, for all your fancy penwork. Ah well, tomorrow we will try you in the middle class and see how you get on. Now, let us get you organized. You need to wash and put on some respectable clothing.’
I stared at her as if she were mad. ‘I’ve had a wash today. Two washes, actually. And I’m extremely respectably dressed.’
‘It’s one of our rules that all our girls wear uniform, Clover. It’s to stop any bad feeling if one girl is more finely dressed than another. It’s a very attractive uniform, specially designed by Miss Smith: a fresh blue cotton frock, with a navy reefer jacket for chilly days. I never had such a stylish outfit when I was a girl.’
‘I have to wear black. I’m in mourning,’ I said, wrapping my arms round my black dress and coat.
‘Yes, I know, but you have to wear uniform even if you’re in mourning.’
‘Does it say so in the rules?’
For the first time Miss Ainsley looked uncertain. ‘No, it doesn’t. I don’t think this situation has arisen before. I shall have to consult with Miss Smith tomorrow,’ she said, pronouncing the name with reverence, as if she were referring to the Queen.
‘Can’t you consult with her now?’
‘No, of course not. Miss Smith only comes to the home in the morning – when she can manage it. She is an extremely busy lady. She writes her books, she’s a governor of the Foundling Hospital, she serves on various committees and she does a host of good works. We are so lucky that she still considers this establishment her top priority. You are lucky, Clover Moon. There are many thousands of poor waifs in desperate circumstances on the streets of London, suffering dreadfully. Many die, like your poor sister. Many suffer a fate worse than death, like your so-called friend.’ She sniffed and shook her head.
I clenched my fists. ‘Please don’t talk about her like that, miss.’
‘Miss Ainsley. I can see you’re very attached to that person, but it’s obvious she’s a most unsuitable friend for a little girl.’
‘How can you say that when you don’t know her at all?’ I asked.
‘I know the type, child. There are many similar debauched girls who come flocking round this area. We have tried taking in some of the younger ones to see if we can instil in them a moral sense and purpose, but it nearly always proves disastrous. Miss Smith feels that our offices should be right in the centre of vice-land, within reach of any female in dire need, but for once I cannot help feeling that she might be mistaken. When they have spent an evening in one of those dreadful gin palaces, girls sometimes carouse outside our building, entertaining wretched men in our doorway, and when I tap on the windows and remonstrate they scream the most dreadful abuse at me.’
‘Thelma wouldn’t carouse,’ I said, though I wasn’t really sure what the word meant.
‘She insulted me in the most vulgar way,’ said Miss Ainsley. ‘I fear she wasn’t a true friend at all. She was only befriending you to get you into her clutches so she could corrupt you too.’
I couldn’t bear the thought that Thelma had only been kind to me for an evil purpose. I knew she was a true friend. ‘That’s bleeding nonsense!’ I said hotly.
Miss Ainsley gasped.
‘I mean, that’s nonsense, Miss Ainsley,’ I tried, more meekly.
‘I think you had better soap inside that dirty mouth when you take your bath, Clover Moon,’ she said.
She went to the door and opened it. ‘Sissy!’ she called.
After a minute or so a tall girl in the regulation blue print dress came walking briskly along the corridor, her boots squeaking on the polished lino. ‘Yes, Miss Ainsley?’ she said.
‘Please take this girl to the washroom, Sissy. Cast an eye over her clothes, especially the seams. If it seems clean enough and you’re sure it’s not infested, we will allow her to wear them for a month as she is in mourning for her sister. And keep an eye on her. She looks meek enough, but she’s a contrary little madam with a mouth like a sewer,’ said Miss Ainsley. ‘Off you go.’
I stood up and clutched my sack.
‘And take that dirty sack from her. It’s in a disgusting state,’ said Miss Ainsley, wrinkling her nose.
Thelma had scrubbed my clothes but we’d both forgotten my sack, and it was undeniably stained from my tumble in the alley. Nevertheless, I clasped it to my chest passionately.
‘You’re not taking my sack away!’ I declared. ‘Never! It’s got my most treasured possessions in it.’
Miss Ainsley rolled her eyes. ‘Dear Lord, must you turn everything into an argument, Clover Moon? I haven’t the energy to deal with you any longer. Take her away, Sissy, please.’
‘Certainly, Miss Ainsley. Why don’t you go and ask Maude to make you a nice cup of tea? She’s on kitchen duties this week,’ Sissy said cheerily. She patted my shoulder. ‘Come on, little ’un.’
‘I’m not little, I’m eleven,’ I insisted. ‘I’m just small for my age.’
‘Yes, you’re a tiny scrap,’ said Sissy.
‘My friend Thelma calls me little rabbit,’ I said.
‘That’s a sweet nickname.’
‘She’s a sweet lady. But she called her horrible names,’ I said, nodding at Miss Ainsley as she left the room.
‘Ssh! You mustn’t be rude to Miss Ainsley.’
‘She was rude to me,’ I said.
‘I dare say. But she means well. She’s just trying to teach us right, see. She had her work cut out when I first fetched up here!’ said Sissy. ‘But you’ll get used to her ways soon enough, Clover, I promise you.’
‘I don’t want to get used to them.’ I looked longingly down the hallway to the locked front door. Then I looked up at Sissy. She seemed surprisingly obliging. ‘Sissy, I don’t really want to stay here any more. Do you have a key? Would you let me slip out without letting that Miss Ainsley know? This place isn’t a bit how I expected. I really don’t like it here.’
‘Everyone feels like that at first, Clover. Try a few days first.’
‘I don’t want to! Please let me out.’
‘Do you want to go home?’
‘No! I want to find my friend Thelma. She says I can stay with her. That Miss Ainsley says horrid things about her, but she’s truly kind and lovely and she’ll look after me,’ I said.
‘I’m sure that’s right, Clover, but I can’t let you go, not if Miss Ainsley doesn’t approve,’ said Sissy, taking my hand. ‘Come on, let’s go upstairs.’
‘So we’re prisoners and Miss Ainsley is our jailor and keeps us locked in all the time?’ I asked bitterly.
‘We keep the door locked for security, that’s all.’
‘And we’re never allowed out?’
‘Of course we are! We have walks in the park, under supervision. And I dare say I could go anywhere I choose, as I’m a pupil teacher now,’ said Sissy proudly. She kept hold of my hand and coaxed me gently upstairs as she spoke. ‘You wait and see, Clover. I think you’ll be really happy here.’
‘No I won’t,’ I said. ‘I shall hate it.’
‘Then if you still feel like that in a week or so, you will have to talk to Miss Smith and see if she can help you,’ said Sissy.
‘Is she very severe like Miss Ainsley?’
‘No, she’s absolutely marvellous. We all love her.’ Sissy opened a door upstairs. ‘Don’t we all love Miss Smith, girls?’ she cried.
The girls in blue print dresses and pinafores who had peeped at me through the banisters were now gathered in this room, sitting at a table or lolling on battered sofas, drawing, sewing and readin
g. They all nodded enthusiastically in response to Sissy’s question – apart from one strange, wild-looking child lying flat on the carpet, her face in a cushion. The little one with short wispy hair was half hiding behind the sofa. She had very big brown eyes that reminded me painfully of Megs.
‘There now, Clover!’ said Sissy. ‘This is the junior sitting room. The seniors are next door. I won’t bother to introduce you to everyone properly just now because it will simply be bewildering, but you’ll get to know us all very quickly. There are fourteen of us – fifteen now that you’re here too.’
‘Temporarily,’ I said.
Sissy took me into the large washroom at the end of the corridor. There were three baths in cubicles, a row of washbasins and three doors.
‘See – we have indoor water closets,’ said Sissy, opening one of the doors. I stared at the scrubbed seat and dangling chain.
‘You pull it and everything gets flushed away!’ she explained. ‘Isn’t it wonderful! We only had the filthiest shared privy at home, and it smelled so. Aren’t we lucky to have such luxury?’
‘I’ve seen water closets with pictures all the way down the pan,’ I said loftily. ‘These are just ordinary.’
These water closets smelled of such strong disinfectant that my eyes watered.
‘Oh, don’t cry,’ said Sissy, looking concerned.
‘I’m not crying,’ I told her. ‘I never cry.’
‘Shall I help you take off your clothes?’ she asked, running a bath for me. Steam rose all around us. The water looked alarmingly hot, almost boiling.
‘I’m not a baby. And I don’t need a bath, I’m clean as clean.’
‘Yes, you certainly look it. You should have seen me when I first came here. I was so grimy I looked like a little chimney sweep. And my hair was in such a state I had to have it all chopped off. I wasn’t a baby, but I bawled my eyes out then.’
‘Is that why the little girl with the big eyes has got such funny short hair?’ I asked.
‘Oh, you mean Pammy, poor little mite. Her brute of a father snipped it all off with shears to punish her, and then he couldn’t bear the sight of her and put her out of the house,’ said Sissy.
‘Oh, how dreadful!’ I said. ‘I had a little sister a bit like Pammy. She was only buried today.’
‘Oh, you poor lamb,’ said Sissy, and she put her arms round me.
I suddenly started crying, silently at first, but then in great gasps and gulps.
‘That’s it, have a really good cry. Let it all out. There now,’ said Sissy.
We sat on the edge of the bath together, and I howled and howled while she held me. She didn’t try to undress me and coax me into the bath. She just held me and stroked me until I quietened down at last. Then she gave me a handkerchief and I did my best to mop myself up.
‘I didn’t cry before. I didn’t think I could,’ I said jerkily.
‘I know, I know. Sometimes you have to be so brave and tough that you daren’t let yourself cry, and then you find you can’t, even when your heart is breaking,’ said Sissy. She paused. ‘I had a little sister too. My Lil. She died two years ago.’
‘Does it still hurt as much?’
‘Yes. It hurts terribly. But you get used to it. And it helps to live here, where I can look after the other girls. It’s not so lonely.’ Sissy leaned over and put her hand in the bath water. ‘Oh my Lord, it’s practically cold. What a waste of hot water.’
‘If I really have to have this bath I’d sooner it was cold. I don’t want it hot – it’ll hurt me.’
‘You wait, Clover. A hot bath is bliss. We take it in turns once a week. It’s my favourite time,’ said Sissy, letting out the cool water. ‘We’ll run the hot tap all over again for you and you’ll see. It’s absolute bliss.’
I was still very wary. I hated taking off my clothes in front of her, even my shift. Then I screamed when I put a foot in the water because it really was piping hot. But I gradually got used to it and stepped right in, and then very slowly lowered myself up to my shoulders. Then I lay back, my head resting on the porcelain. Sissy was right. It was bliss.
I felt all the sore bits of me soften and relax. I lay there with my eyes closed and very nearly fell asleep. Everything that had happened today whirled round and round in my head, very like a dream. I vaguely heard Sissy tiptoe out of the washroom. Then she was back, holding something that smelled of violets.
‘Here. Miss Smith gave it me for my birthday. I’ll let you use it just this once instead of that old carbolic,’ she said, handing me a soap dish.
There was a small cake of deep purple glycerine soap. I sniffed at it rapturously. ‘Oh, Sissy, it smells beautiful!’
‘Don’t it just! Exactly like violets – and I should know because I used to sell little violet posies.’
‘Do you think Miss Smith might give me a cake of soap? Oh, but I don’t know what day my birthday is!’
‘She’ll help you choose a special day. She makes everyone’s birthdays special. She makes a cake too, with cream and icing, not just sponge like the one Cook bakes.’
‘She doesn’t sound a bit like that Miss Ainsley,’ I said, rubbing violet soap on my arms and breathing in deeply.
‘I’ve bought you shampoo for your hair too,’ said Sissy. ‘Not as special as the violet, but it still makes your hair shine when it’s dry.’
She helped me lather my hair and then rinse it so clean it squeaked. When I got out of the bath at last I found I was bright pink all over. Sissy gave me one towel, very thick and warm, and rubbed my hair with another. I winced a little when she rubbed the cut on my forehead. She looked at it and shook her head.
‘Was that your pa? Mine used to hit me when he’d had a few,’ she said matter-of-factly.
‘It was my stepmother,’ I said.
‘Ah. So you didn’t get on?’ asked Sissy, giving me a clean shift from the airing cupboard.
‘She hated Megs and me. She was all right with the others, more or less,’ I said, wriggling into the shift. It felt so soft and smooth compared to my own crumpled grubby one. I held it out, examining it. There were no tears, no patches. It looked almost brand new. ‘It’s lovely,’ I murmured.
I thought how Megs would love a shift like this. Hers were always hand-me-downs and desperately ragged. She’d skip about like a little fairy in this one.
‘Wait till you put on your dress,’ said Sissy, fetching a blue frock from the cupboard and shaking out the folds.
It looked very fresh and pretty, but I bent down and clutched the black dress Mr Dolly had stitched so lovingly for me. ‘I need to wear this one. Miss Ainsley said I could as I’m in mourning,’ I said.
‘All right, if she says so,’ said Sissy. ‘Better put a pinafore on top to keep it clean.’
I struggled into the dress and pinafore, and pulled on my stockings and felt boots.
Sissy looked at them. ‘They’re beautifully made but they’re not very sturdy. Why don’t you keep them for best?’ she suggested. ‘I’ll find you a pair of our boots. You’ll like them – they’re really soft leather.’
I thought of Thelma. ‘Are they red?’ I asked hopefully.
‘Red!’ Sissy laughed. ‘You’re kidding me, aren’t you? Red boots indeed! You don’t get red boots.’
‘Yes, you do. My friend Thelma has the most beautiful red boots,’ I said.
‘Then she must be a very saucy girl,’ said Sissy. ‘Well, you’re not getting red boots, especially as you’re in mourning! Black boots, that’s what you want.’
She fetched me a pair from a boot cupboard. I wrinkled my nose at them, though they were far finer than any boots I’d ever had at home.
‘Pop them on, silly,’ said Sissy.
These boots were certainly soft on my sore feet. They were burning because the cardboard Mr Dolly had used had worn very thin already. I cradled my felt boots protectively and then shoved them into my sack quick while Sissy was searching for a hairbrush.
She still spotted
what I was doing. ‘You can’t put them in there, chickie. We’ve got to throw that sack away. Miss Ainsley said.’
I muttered a very rude word about Miss Ainsley.
‘Language!’ said Sissy. ‘Come on, give us that sack.’
‘Never!’
‘Why are you hanging on to it, you funny girl? It’s only an old sack and it’s all covered in muck.’
‘It’s got my precious things in it,’ I said. ‘I need to keep them all together.’
‘But not in that dirty old sack. I’ll fetch you a clean pillowcase, how about that? You can keep your stuff in that.’
‘All right,’ I said cautiously.
Sissy reached right up to the top of the airing cupboard and brought down a small pillowcase. ‘Big enough?’ she said.
I nodded. ‘And I can really keep all my things?’ I asked her.
‘Yes, though it would be silly to trail them round with you all day. Perhaps you’d better keep your pillowcase of treasures on your bed, or you can hide it in your bedside locker. Come on then, let’s see what you’ve got. Give us a peep.’
‘No, it’s private,’ I said, but I let her fumble gingerly in the sack.
She fished out my boots and shook her head at them.
‘What else have you got in here then?’ she asked, feeling around inside the sack. ‘This is like a Lucky Dip at a bazaar! Hold on, what’s this? It’s like a little person! Here’s its head, and stiff little arms and legs. Is it a doll?’
I nodded shyly, wondering if she’d tease me for treasuring a children’s toy, but she gasped in delight.
‘Oh my, what a lovely dolly!’ said Sissy. She picked up Anne Boleyn and examined her admiringly. ‘She’s got such a sweet face – and look at her clothes!’ She lifted her frock. ‘She’s even got lace edging her drawers, bless her! Oh, our Lil would have given anything to have a doll like this. Did she belong to your little sister then?’
‘No, she’s a special present to me from my dear friend Mr Dolly. He makes the most beautiful dolls in the world. He let me choose whichever one I wanted, and I chose Anne Boleyn. And I’m keeping her for ever and ever,’ I said.
Clover Moon Page 17
