A Mother's Trust

by Dilly Court

  ‘Don’t go, sweetheart,’ he said with a throaty chuckle. ‘Stay and chat for a while.’

  She turned and ran out into the street, closing her ears to the sound of raucous laughter that followed her. She hailed a passing hansom cab and when it did not look as though it would stop she leapt into the road, waving her arms. Swearing volubly, the cabby drew his startled horse to a sudden halt. ‘Get out of the way, you silly bitch. D’you want to get killed?’

  The occupant of the cab opened the half-doors. ‘Phoebe Giamatti?’ Paxman stared at her in disbelief. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Despite the fact that it was Rogue who was staring at her with his brows knitted together in a frown, he was the first person to have noticed her distress. ‘There’s a badly injured child in Bleeding Heart Yard,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I need to get her to hospital. Will you help me?’

  He leaned down, holding out his hand. ‘Get in.’ He hauled her onto the seat beside him. ‘Bleeding Heart Yard, cabby.’

  ‘Make up your bloody mind.’ The cabby flicked his whip and urged his horse to a trot.

  ‘I’ll ignore that remark,’ Paxman said, relaxing against the stained leather squabs. ‘Since you gave the poor fellow the fright of his life just now.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Phoebe stared straight ahead. It took all her self-control to be civil to him.

  ‘For what? I haven’t done anything yet.’

  She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was laughing at her but still she refused to look at him. ‘The girl has had an accident. She’s barely breathing.’

  ‘And I suppose you want me to go into some dirty hovel and touch this creature who is no doubt alive with vermin.’

  ‘She’s likely to die if she doesn’t get urgent medical treatment.’ This time she did turn her head to give him a straight look. ‘But if you’re too much a gent to get your hands dirty I’ll thank you for the lift and find someone else to help.’ She reached up to tap on the window. ‘Stop here, please, cabby.’

  She prepared to leap from the vehicle as it drew to a halt but Paxman caught her by the arm, holding her in an iron grip. ‘Don’t be a fool. You’ll break your neck if you’re not careful and then it will be you who ends up in hospital.’ With the ease of an athlete, he sprang from his seat and before she had time to protest he lifted her to the ground. ‘Wait here, cabby.’

  Phoebe ran on ahead, racing down the steps into Bleeding Heart Yard. She could hear his footsteps close behind her and his presence, even though he was the last person on earth she would have asked for help, was oddly comforting. The children scattered before them, regrouping in doorways to watch suspiciously as Phoebe and Paxman entered the house. They were still there when Paxman re-emerged carrying Dolly in his arms. Phoebe collared the eldest and most intelligent-looking boy. ‘I want you to tell Mrs Fowler that we’ve taken Dolly to St Bartholomew’s hospital. Can you remember that?’

  He nodded and his eyes widened as she thrust a halfpenny into his hand.

  ‘Good boy. Don’t forget to tell her. It’s very important.’ She watched the boy scuttle off clutching the money as though afraid she might change her mind and take it back. Life is strange, she thought, as she followed Paxman who was holding Dolly in his arms as though she were a baby. Here was the notorious gang leader, carrying Dolly as carefully and tenderly as a father with an injured child. If she had not seen it with her own eyes she would not have believed it possible that a man with such a fearsome reputation could have shown such compassion for a stranger. She climbed up to sit beside him as he cradled the insensible Dolly.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘I’m not an ogre, but in my line of business I have to be tough. That doesn’t mean I’m totally without feeling.’

  Refusing to be cajoled by his studied charm, Phoebe concentrated her attention on Dolly. ‘She’s very pale.’

  ‘She’s half starved. She weighs almost nothing. Who’s responsible for this child?’

  ‘She lives with her mother, Ethel Fowler, the cobbler’s widow.’

  ‘That explains it. Old Fowler was a miser and his wife’s a harpy.’

  Phoebe could not contain her curiosity. ‘How do you know them?’

  ‘I wear boots that need to be mended, just like any man. And old Fowler fancied his chances on the gaming tables. Our paths crossed once or twice.’

  Phoebe shot him a covert glance beneath her lashes. His profile was straight and strong, reminiscent of some of the marble statues she had seen once on a visit to Milan when she was a child. He looked up suddenly, as if sensing her close scrutiny, and she averted her face. She would not give him the satisfaction of thinking that she was at all interested in a person of his low calling. She smothered a sigh of relief as the cab drew up outside the hospital.

  Paxman carried Dolly into the reception area and immediately commanded the attention of a young nurse who almost fell over herself in her attempts to please him. Cynically aware that he was exercising his considerable charm in order to get his own way, Phoebe followed them into a small cubicle, but she was immediately ousted by a senior nurse who appeared as if from nowhere and ordered her to take a seat in the waiting area. She perched on the edge of the hard wooden bench and was joined a few minutes later by Paxman, who sat down beside her.

  ‘Thank you, but there’s no need for you to stay,’ she said stiffly. She felt even more ill at ease in his company now that the immediate crisis was past, and she became aware that they were attracting curious stares from the patients waiting to be seen.

  ‘I agree.’ He rose to his feet. ‘I could serve young Dolly better if I went to find that mother of hers. Not that I think Ethel Fowler would be a ministering angel and her rat-catcher sister is even worse, but the child needs to have someone present who is responsible for her welfare.’

  Phoebe opened her mouth to protest, but he forestalled her with a smile.

  ‘She’s lucky to have you, of course, but when all is said and done I think you have enough on your hands looking after your own mother.’

  Phoebe’s heart gave an uncomfortable flick against her ribs. ‘There’s nothing wrong with Ma,’ she said quickly. Too quickly, she realised when she met his intent gaze. This was a man who was nobody’s fool.

  ‘I didn’t say there was. I hope she’s not pining for my errant brother. He seems to have that effect on women.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know about that.’ She turned her head away, unwilling to be subjected to his intense scrutiny for a moment longer than necessary. ‘Hadn’t you better be going? I can manage here, ta very much.’ She looked up, startled, as he took her hand and laid a silver half-crown on her palm, closing her fingers over the coin. ‘What’s that for?’

  ‘I imagine that you’ll need to pay for the girl’s treatment, and I doubt if Mrs Fowler would be willing to cough up the reddy. Old Henry wasn’t the only skinflint in that family.’ He picked up his top hat and set it on his head at a jaunty angle. ‘Goodbye, Phoebe. I hope we don’t meet again under such dire circumstances.’

  ‘I hope we don’t meet at all,’ Phoebe murmured to his retreating back, but not loud enough for him to hear. After all, he had been more than kind to Dolly. Perhaps his heart was not as black as people made out, but his fearsome reputation could not have been earned by doing good deeds. She settled down to wait for someone to come and tell her what was happening to Dolly. Minutes later a young nurse glided up to her like a grey and white swan.

  ‘Did you come with Miss Fowler?’

  Phoebe nodded her head. Her throat constricted with fear as she studied the nurse’s face for a glimmer of hope. ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘Are you her sister perhaps?’

  ‘No, just a friend, but her mother’s been sent for. She should be here any minute now.’

  ‘The doctor wants to perform an operation on Miss Fowler. It needs to be done very soon.’

  ‘What operation? What’s wrong with her?’

  A glimmer of a smile c
urved the nurse’s lips and her brown eyes softened. ‘You mustn’t worry, miss. We’ll do everything to make your friend well again, but we do need a parent or guardian to agree to the treatment.’

  ‘I’m sure Mrs Fowler is on her way.’ The words had barely left Phoebe’s lips when there was a disturbance at the main entrance. Raised voices preceded Ethel and her sister Minnie as they stormed up the aisle between the wooden benches.

  ‘There she is, Ethel,’ Minnie screeched, pointing her finger at Phoebe. ‘There’s the interfering little wretch that stole our Dolly away.’

  ‘I’ll have you for this,’ Ethel muttered breathlessly. ‘What right had you to take my child from her home? And what d’you mean by sending that villain Rogue Paxman to find me? It’ll be the talk of every tavern from here to Shoreditch.’

  The young nurse stepped forward. ‘Please keep your voice down, ma’am. This is a hospital and there are sick people to consider.’

  ‘Oh, an ‘orspital is it? I’d never have knowed it, you silly bitch. Where’s me daughter? I’m taking her home.’

  ‘Yes, we want Dolly and we’re leaving now,’ Minnie added, rolling up her sleeves.

  ‘What’s all this noise?’ A doctor in a white coat had come up behind them unnoticed.

  The nurse blushed rosily. ‘I’m so sorry, Dr Murchison. These ladies are a bit upset.’

  ‘A bit upset, you potty tart?’ Ethel took a deep breath that inflated her already large bosom to alarming proportions. ‘My daughter’s been kidnapped, doctor. You’re a party to a criminal act.’

  Phoebe laid her hand on Ethel’s arm. ‘Please, Mrs Fowler. This isn’t helping Dolly. She’s very poorly. She needs an operation.’

  ‘What?’ Ethel screamed. ‘Are you trying to extort money from me, doctor? Because if you are I ain’t having it. I’m a poor woman. The rumours about the gold was false and anyway it was all pinched because of that stupid little cow.’

  ‘Yes, me sister had to whack her good and hard for burning the wooden leg and then letting a bloody thief pinch the gold.’ Minnie flexed her muscles, glaring at the doctor.

  ‘I think Dolly must have fallen and hit her head again this morning,’ Phoebe added hastily. ‘I found her in a heap on the floor by the hearthstone. That’s where she lay.’

  Dr Murchison folded his arms across his chest, his pale eyebrows drawn into a knot over the bridge of his large nose. ‘I’ve heard enough. You, ma’am,’ he jerked his head in Ethel’s direction, ‘would be up before the beak on a charge of child cruelty if I thought it would stick. Your daughter has a fractured skull and needs urgent medical intervention in order to save her life. Now, do you agree to allow the procedure to go ahead, or do you want to risk a charge of murder being brought against you?’

  Chapter Four

  ‘MURDER?’ ETHEL PALED visibly and then appeared to recover, bristling like a turkeycock. ‘Who says so? A sawbones like you? I don’t have to believe you, cully.’

  ‘Hush, please,’ the nurse said urgently. ‘You’re upsetting the other patients, Mrs Fowler.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d best send for a constable, nurse,’ Dr Murchison said, glowering. ‘I haven’t time to stand here and argue with this person.’

  ‘Here, who are you calling a person?’ Minnie advanced on him with a belligerent set to her jaw.

  Eyeing Minnie nervously, Phoebe noticed for the first time that she had whiskers growing out of her chin like a man. This confirmed her long-held suspicion that Minnie Sykes was only half female. She held her breath, hardly daring to intervene in case she made matters worse. It was a stand-off now; a battle of wills between the doctor and the two sisters.

  ‘Well, ma’am. Make up your mind,’ Dr Murchison said icily. ‘Do I send for the police or will you agree to the life-saving operation on your child.’

  ‘She’s no child,’ Ethel said, brazen to the last. ‘She’s all but fifteen. Old enough to be wed, so she’s no longer my responsibility. Chop her head off for all I care, but don’t send her back to me. I never want to see the simpleton again. Come, Minnie. We know where we’re not wanted.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes, then.’ Dr Murchison turned to the nurse. ‘Make Miss Fowler ready for the operating theatre, please. There’s no time to lose.’

  He was about to walk away but Phoebe caught him by his coat tail. ‘Doctor, one moment if you please.’

  He turned his head to give her an appraising glance. ‘Yes, but hurry.’

  ‘Who will pay for Dolly’s operation? I’ve half a crown I can give you now.’

  His stern features relaxed a little. ‘That will be a matter for the ward clerk to sort out later. We do have some charitable beds and maybe we can utilise one of those for Dolly since her mother seems to have washed her hands of the poor creature.’

  ‘Will she die, doctor?’

  He hesitated. ‘I won’t lie to you, Miss er …’

  ‘Phoebe Giamatti. I’m just a friend.’

  ‘And a good one too, if I may say so. Well, Miss Giamatti, I’ll do my very best. The outcome is in the hands of a higher authority.’

  Phoebe sank down onto the hard wooden seat. She knew Dolly only a little, but she had been touched by the sorry conditions in which she found the girl, and even more so by the knowledge that her wretched mother had disowned her. She could not imagine her own mother doing anything so cruel and callous. Ma might be many things, but she had always been kind and loving. A little too loving perhaps when it came to the opposite sex, but that was just Ma. It was in her nature to give and it seemed that it was in Mrs Fowler’s nature to take. Phoebe settled down to wait for the outcome of the procedure in theatre. She knew that Nonna would be angry with her for being away so long, and that Ma would be fretting for the fancies that her appetite craved, but they would have to wait. She sat upright against the rigid panel at the back of the bench, praying that Dolly would survive the operation.

  She must have drifted off into an uneasy doze as suddenly she realised that someone was shaking her gently by the shoulder. Phoebe opened her eyes with a start and found herself looking up into the smiling face of the young nurse.

  ‘The procedure was successful, miss. Dolly has come round from the anaesthetic and you may see her if you wish.’

  Phoebe swallowed hard as tears of relief threatened to choke her. She rose slowly to her feet, stretching her cramped limbs. ‘Thank you, nurse.’

  ‘Come this way.’

  Following the nurse through long corridors that smelt strongly of carbolic, Phoebe was faced with a new problem. Dolly had survived but now she was as good as orphaned. Unless Mrs Fowler changed her mind, and from what Phoebe knew of her she deemed this unlikely, Dolly had no home and she was unfit for most types of work. She would end up on the streets or in the workhouse. Her future looked bleak indeed.

  The nurse led her into a long ward lined on either side with regimented rows of iron beds with starched white sheets and glassy coverlets drawn up to the chins of the patients, most of whom lay motionless, either sleeping or staring vacantly at the ceiling. Dolly was in a bed furthest from the door. Her head was swathed in bandages and her eyes were closed. She was deathly pale and Phoebe turned anxiously to the nurse. ‘Is she going to be all right?’

  The nurse pulled up a chair, motioning Phoebe to take a seat. ‘She’s still suffering the effects of the anaesthetic but if you talk to her she might respond.’ She waited until Phoebe had settled herself before drawing the curtains round the bed. ‘I’ll bring you a cup of tea, miss. You’ve had a long wait.’ She withdrew, leaving Phoebe alone with the unconscious girl.

  ‘Dolly.’ Phoebe leaned closer to the bed. ‘It’s me, Phoebe. Can you hear me?’

  She was rewarded by a flicker of Dolly’s eyelids and a slight movement of her pale lips. Encouraged, Phoebe moved a little nearer. ‘You gave us a nasty fright, young Dolly. But you’re all fixed up now, and soon you’ll be your old self again.’

  Dolly opened her eyes, focusing on Phoebe’s face
with obvious difficulty. ‘Ma?’

  ‘No, dear. It’s Phoebe. You probably don’t remember me, but I used to keep you amused sometimes when your ma came to my house to have her fortune told.’

  ‘Ice cream,’ Dolly murmured sleepily. ‘Hokey-pokey; penny licks.’

  Encouraged, Phoebe smiled. ‘That’s right. I used to give you ice cream when Nonna wasn’t looking. You like ice cream, don’t you, Dolly?’

  ‘I do.’ Dolly closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep with a gentle smile curving her full lips.

  Once again, Phoebe blinked away tears. Whatever the surgeons had done, they had brought Dolly back to life again. She sniffed and searched in her skirt pocket for a hanky. Nonna always insisted that Phoebe should have a clean hanky in her pocket and wear freshly laundered undergarments, just in case. Quite what that case might be Phoebe had only a vague notion, but she thought it might have something to do with street accidents, such as being run over by a brewer’s dray, or falling beneath the wheels of a hansom cab and ending up in hospital. Or in Dolly’s case, simply falling to the floor and hitting your head on a sharp object, if that was how she had received her near fatal injury. Phoebe suspected that Dolly might have been beaten by her mother or had been flung across the room in a fit of temper, which would account for the severity of her wound. The truth of what had occurred in that dreadful room might never be known. Ethel would never admit to any wrongdoing and Dolly was unlikely to remember the exact course of events leading to her accident.