A sudden intake of breath showed Orpha’s understanding at last… the woman thought she was a whore! ‘You misunderstand…’ Orpha tried again.
‘Oh no I don’t!’ the woman interrupted. ‘I saw you talking to that bloke. What happened, couldn’t he afford what you were asking?’
Orpha gasped before her body folded onto the street and she sobbed like her heart would break.
Completely taken aback by this turn of events, the woman blustered, ‘Now then, wench, don’t take on so,’ looking around her as she spoke. ‘Come on, get up and move along.’
‘I… I have nowhere to go.’ Orpha sobbed into the corner of her shawl.
‘Well you can’t stay there, ’ the woman answered.
As Orpha got to her feet, a dizziness whirled in her head and all sound muffled her ears. She felt the colour drain from her face as her legs gave way beneath her. She felt nothing more as blackness engulfed her.
*
Opening her eyes, Orpha glanced around her. She was lying on a couch in a small living room and the woman who had yelled at her was sitting close by.
‘Back with us, I see,’ the woman said, holding out a cup of tea.
Orpha took the cup gratefully and sipped the hot sweet liquid which gave her some sustenance and helped her feel a little better.
‘I’m very sorry to have put you to this trouble, it was not my intention,’ Orpha said before sipping her tea once more.
The woman eyed her from her chair next to the couch. This girl ain’t no whore, she thought, she’s too refined for that. Instead she said, ‘Drink yer tea, girl, then we can have a little chat.’
Orpha did as she was bid while the woman brought her a piece of cheese and a chunk of home-made bread. ‘Thank you,’ Orpha said, ‘but I’m afraid I’m without funds and cannot pay you for your kind hospitality.’ She was desperate to eat the food offered but didn’t want to take advantage, the woman had done enough by bringing her here.
Waving a hand, the woman pushed the food into Orpha’s hand. ‘Now then, firstly what’s yer name?’
‘Orpha Buchanan,’ she said.
‘Well Orpha,’ the woman went on, ‘I am Henrietta Toye and I run this shop with my husband Henry.’ Seeing the girl smile, she went on, ‘That’s why everybody calls me Hetty, saves any confusion.’
‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Hetty, and I’m so sorry to have put you to this trouble… I don’t know what happened out there on the street.’ Orpha looked in the direction of the door as she spoke, eyeing up the food.
‘You fainted, that’s what happened. When did you last have something to eat?’
Shaking her head trying to remember, Orpha replied, ‘I can’t remember.’
‘Christ, wench!’ Hetty’s exclamation was loud in the small room, as she set the kettle to boil again. ‘Get yer chops around that food girl, then I think you should tell me all about it, but first I have to apologise for mistaking you for a whore. Mouth open and in with both feet, that’s me. I am sorry, Orpha.’
‘Please, Hetty, think nothing of it, I can see how you drew your conclusion,’ Orpha smiled as she tried to eat with some decorum despite being famished and Hetty smiled back.
Over another cup of tea, the green-eyed girl related her tale of being thrown out by her mother; of having been accosted on the heath and given a lift to the Old Wharf basin on a boat by Edna and Ezzie Lucas; of having slept beneath a tree, then walking almost in a circle before finding herself leaning on the shop wall to rest a while.
‘Christ A’mighty!’ Hetty gasped as Orpha finished speaking. ‘So what are you planning to do now?’
Tears coursing down her face, Orpha shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Hetty. I have to find some work in order to feed myself. Maybe then I can return home to my father.’
‘What about if yer mother is there?’ Hetty asked, her concern etching her face.
‘I’ll have to cross that bridge when I come to it,’ Orpha replied, ‘but for now, finding work is my first priority.’
‘Right!’ Hetty slammed her hand on a nearby table. ‘You can stay up in my spare room until you decide what to do.’ Lifting her hand to stay Orpha’s protest, Hetty went on, ‘You can help out here in exchange for board and lodging. Now, how does that sound to you?’
Jumping up from the couch, Orpha flung her arms around the woman’s neck, saying, ‘Oh thank you, Hetty, it sounds wonderful to me!’ Standing back a step, she then asked, ‘But what about Mr Toye, how will he feel about having a stranger in his house?’
‘Oh don’t you worry about Henry, you leave him to me!’ Hetty grinned. Never being blessed with children of her own, Hetty relished the idea of the young girl staying with them. ‘Now then, how about you have a little taste of what we make and sell?’
Orpha’s eyes widened as she saw the plate of sweets and chocolates placed before her.
Hetty smiled as she saw Orpha bite a chocolate in half and close her eyes as it melted in her mouth. Her smile turned into a grin as Orpha pushed the rest of the confection into her mouth without opening her eyes.
‘Hmmmm…’ Orpha groaned, ‘Hetty, that was the best thing I’ve ever tasted!’
‘Ar well, we used to work for Mr Cadbury in the factory down in Bourneville and when this little shop came on the market, we were fortunate enough to be able to buy it. We’d already learned the trade of chocolate making so decided to try and make a living by going it alone.’
‘Well obviously it worked,’ Orpha said, licking her fingers.
‘Ar, we do all right here, we can’t compete with George Cadbury o’course, but we manage to earn a nice living,’ Hetty said with a contented sigh.
Cursing and banging announced the arrival of Henry Toye on his return from the sugar refinery, loaded down with sacks of sugar, and he was introduced to his new ‘assistant’. Hetty brought him up to date regarding how the girl had come to be at their shop.
Henry tutted and shook his head and Hetty said, ‘I already apologised to the girl for my mistake, so don’t you say a thing Henry Toye!’
To Orpha he said, ‘You can take over the tasting from Hetty an’ all…’ giving the girl a sly wink, ‘she’s fat enough as it is.’
Orpha gasped at the insult but Hetty roared with laughter.
‘You got room to talk, that shirt is bursting under the strain of that belly!’
Henry’s laugh boomed out. ‘Take no notice of us, girl, insults abound in this house. We don’t mean anything by it; besides, the world would be a sad place if you can’t insult your best friend.’ Orpha noticed the warm smile pass between the two and thought she’d never seen her mother and father smile at each other like that.
‘Right, you come along with me, wench and I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.’ Hetty grabbed Orpha’s hand and led her upstairs. ‘It’s only a box room but…’
‘Oh Hetty, it’s lovely!’ Orpha said, looking around. It was smaller than her room at home but much more homely.
‘Ar well… tomorrow we’ll begin your tuition.’ The woman smiled.
‘Tuition?’ Orpha asked.
‘Yes lovey, we’ll show you how to make chocolate!’
Hetty closed the door quietly as she left Orpha to settle into her new bedroom.
Looking around the tiny room, Orpha couldn’t believe her luck. She had been down on her uppers and the Fates had stepped in. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she thought how there were still good people in this world of misery and greed. She determined to work hard to repay Hetty Toye for her kindness in taking her in off the street. Orpha smiled as she realised she had board and lodging; she would be fed good food and would be taught a trade. She had come so far in such a short time and began to feel being thrown out by her mother could be a blessing in disguise. She would put her all into her work for Hetty, then when she went home to her father she could show her mother she was someone to be proud of.
Chapter 6
Zachariah Buchanan rode home from the tavern where h
e’d spent a few hours drinking with his friends and strode into the house, hearing his father’s sonorous voice emanate from the parlour.
‘Father,’ he said, excitedly shaking his hand, ‘it seems like forever since we last saw you.’
‘I know, lad, I’ve been really busy with business meetings, I ain’t had time to spit!’ his father laughed.
Zachariah watched his parents sitting close together holding hands, they looked for all the world like a courting couple with him as their chaperone.
Abel and Mahula Buchanan, a match made in heaven. It was just a pity he and his mother saw so little of his father. He was always away at some meeting or other; he always looked so tired of late too, the boy noted. As he watched them, he wondered if there was anything he could do to enable his father to rest more.
Suddenly a thought struck him and Zachariah said, ‘Father, isn’t it time you found me some work at one of your friend’s factories or maybe you could teach me the ways of advising in business?’
The explosion of his father’s reply shook him to his core. ‘No, lad!’ Registering his shock, his father went on more gently, ‘There’s nothing for you, lad. Besides, you’re a young buck… you should be out sowing your wild oats.’
Zachariah watched his mother tap his father’s arm and berate him gently for the statement.
‘Don’t you go encouraging our son into sinful ways!’ his mother said playfully.
For the first time in his life, his father had raised his voice to him, and as Zachariah sat watching, he tried to work out why that had been.
*
Abel Buchanan had left early the next morning as he had so often in Zachariah’s sixteen years, and after breakfast Zachariah sat with his mother in the parlour. Watching her knitting needles clack together, Zachariah thought again of his father shouting at him the previous night.
‘Mother,’ he said quietly, ‘why do you think father yelled at me last night?’
‘Oh Zachariah, he hardly yelled,’ his mother answered, looking at him, her needles continuing their fast clicking, ‘you just took him by surprise that’s all.’
‘I suppose,’ Zachariah muttered.
‘Besides, your father is exhausted…’ Mahula continued.
Cutting across her sentence, he shot, ‘I know! That’s why I thought I might be able to help… If I worked, father could rest more.’
‘I understand that, son, but you have to understand something too. Your father works hard to provide for us, and you know yourself we want for nothing,’ Mahula said as she watched him over her knitting.
‘Except his time!’ Even to his own ears he sounded like a petulant child. Zachariah stood and began to pace the floor.
‘Don’t be a baby!’ His mother’s words were sharp. ‘Now go and find something to do.’
Striding from the room, Zachariah heard his mother sigh as he closed the door quietly behind him.
Sauntering into the garden feeling bored, Zachariah caught sight of Seth Walker, the boy mucking out the stables.
To hell with it! he thought, I’m going to see Father at the Club no matter what Mother says!
*
The ride from Birmingham to Wednesbury was invigorating. At last, Zachariah had made a decision for himself and acted on it. Laughing loudly he spurred his horse on. His father would be so surprised to see him; he felt sure he would be welcomed with open arms.
Trotting down Brunswick Terrace, Zachariah turned his horse into Squires Walk and arrived at the Gentlemen’s Club, where he knew his father would be at this time of day. He nodded his thanks to the man who took his horse but who had merely stood staring at him. Striding through the doors of the place he had never visited before, Zachariah asked a man close by where he could find Abel Buchanan. The man stared; he said nothing, he just pointed his finger. Thanking him, Zachariah marched into the quiet club room. It was as he guessed; older men sitting snoozing with newspapers over their faces. Others in quiet conversation turned to look at him as he stood looking around.
Abel was sat at a table talking with a man Zachariah presumed to be a businessman. Catching sight of his son, Abel gasped his surprise. He held up a hand to the approaching boy in a warning to hold his tongue, then apologised to the businessman who left the room with an open mouth at the likeness between the man and the boy standing next to him.
‘What the bloody hell are you doing here?’ Abel snapped, his tone sharp.
‘I came to see you, Father,’ Zachariah said slightly taken aback at Abel’s words.
‘I can bloody well see that! Sit down before someone sees you!’
Zachariah watched a bead of sweat roll down Abel’s face as he took a chair and said, ‘Oh, I have already been seen, Father… I came in through the front door.’
‘Oh Christ!’ muttered Abel, covering his face with his hands.
‘Father, what’s wrong?’ Zachariah asked, thinking his father was feeling unwell.
‘Nothing, lad… why on earth have you come here?’
‘I want you to give me some work… I want to do something… anything… with you!’ the boy announced, feeling pleased with himself.
‘You what!’ Abel was now beside himself with worry. ‘You can’t work with me, lad!’
‘Why not, Father?’ Zachariah asked in all innocence.
‘Because… because… you can’t! Now let that be an end to it. You get yourself back home right now… and go out by the side door!’ Abel stood and pointed in the direction of the door.
Zachariah felt hurt and confused to say the least and quietly left the club room… by the side door.
*
Abel Buchanan slumped back in his chair, a feeling of abject terror claiming his mind. The men in the Club had seen the boy and there was no mistaking they were related. Everyone knew he had two girls and had lost them both, they also knew Hortense and he had no other children.
He could not even say Zachariah was a brother to him, the lad was far too young for God’s sake! His thoughts jockeyed for first place in his mind… gossip would be rife on every factory floor by now. What could he say? How could he explain this? Christ! Hortense would hear of this in no time!
Abel felt sick to his stomach as he thought about what he should do. Why had Zachariah come to the Club? Seeking work, the lad had said. It was only natural the boy would want work at his age; he was most likely bored and that would probably see him getting into some trouble or other eventually. Why couldn’t Zachariah have waited until Abel had gone home to him and his mother? He chastised himself for his infrequent visits there. Had he gone home more often, Abel may have averted what he now saw as a catastrophe.
It was too late to worry about that now!
Abel ran his hands through his hair as he faced his dilemma… go home to his wife, Hortense, in Wednesbury or… go home to his mistress, Mahula, in Birmingham?
The choice swung like a pendulum in his brain until his head ached with the strain of it. If there were two ways of doing something, Abel Buchanan could always find a third. Grabbing his jacket, Abel strode from the Club amid the silent stares of its members. The third way in this case seemed the safest, and so he set out for Wednesbury and… The Green Dragon Hotel!
*
‘Where on earth have you been?’ Mahula asked as Zachariah entered the parlour.
‘I went to see Father,’ he answered, dropping into a chair still feeling the disappointment of the day.
‘Why? I told you he would be busy!’
‘I know, Mother, and he was. He didn’t seem at all pleased to see me,’ the boy said.
‘Oh?’ Mahula could not hide the surprise in her voice. ‘Even though you went against my words, I would have thought he would have been pleased to see you for all he was busy.’
‘Well he wasn’t!’ Zachariah sulked, knowing petulance was again showing on his face. ‘He even made me leave by the side door!’
Mahula kept quiet as she poured tea for them both.
‘Father was worried�
�� worried I might be seen by the other members of the Gentlemen’s Club. Why would that be, Mother? What is he afraid of?’ Zachariah looked up at her and saw the hurt in her eyes.
‘I don’t know, son, but we’ll ask him when he comes home,’ Mahula tried to soothe the hurt she knew her son was feeling.
Unable to settle and the clacking needles driving Zachariah to distraction, he suddenly rose from his seat and said he was going out for a ride.
Once his horse was saddled, Zachariah climbed into the saddle and trotted down the driveway, and out onto the streets. He didn’t know what was going on but Zachariah intended to find out. Steering his horse gently with his knees, he started in the direction of Wednesbury where he hoped to find his father and some answers.
Guessing his father would have left the club by now, Zachariah’s intention was to visit as many of his father’s ‘watering holes’ as time would allow and arriving in Dale Street he investigated The Woodman Inn. With no sign of his father, Zachariah continued his search in The King’s Arms on the High Bullen. Cutting across Union Street, he tried the Joiner’s Arms in Camp Street; the Museum Tavern in Walsall Street; the Golden Cross Inn in the Market Place and finished his search in The Market Tavern in Russell Street.
The men in the taverns had stared openly at the young man as he looked around each one. What were they staring at? Perhaps it was because he wasn’t in working clothes as they were. Ignoring the muttering, he left to continue his search.
Zachariah had not found his father in any of the drinking establishments, but out of seventeen in Wednesbury he had only visited six. The day was wearing on and he wanted to be home before nightfall, so he turned his horse and set off back to Birmingham. After a fruitless search, Zachariah’s mood was disconsolate, and knowing he had yet to face his mother, his mood turned downright sour.
Mahula’s mood was no better than her son’s as he strode into the house. Asking where he’d been, she received a sulky answer of ‘Out riding!’ Mahula asked no more questions and they ate their evening meal in silence.
The Lost Sisters Page 6
