‘Indeed.’ Hortense felt her tension rise, ‘Should I see him I will inform him. Now if you will excuse me… good day, Mr Buchanan.’
Saying his goodbye, the boy walked up the street as Hortense walked down it.
Well now, it seemed Mahula and Abel had fallen out.
Damn shame! Hortense thought sarcastically.
Chapter 11
The wind had a cold bite as the beauty of autumn finally spread her colourful cloak over the landscape.
Orpha Buchanan stood in the kitchen of ‘Toye’s Chocolate Shop’ mixing cocoa powder with butter into a smooth paste. Adding water and milk, she stirred the mixture over the range until it was hot. Adding flour and sugar, she mixed it thoroughly until the creamy chocolate slid from the back of the spoon smoothly. Spooning it into the small moulds, she sat the whole on the cold slab in the pantry to set.
As she worked, Orpha considered how fortunate she was living with Mr and Mrs Toye, and how she had learned the process of chocolate making and now she was being paid a small wage too. Her mind drifted to her father, as it often did, and she felt a pang of regret. Orpha had not continued her quest to go home and find him. It was fear of her mother which had prevented her doing so. Hortense had threatened to kill her if she did, and after years of abuse and hurt, Orpha didn’t feel strong enough to face any more. Maybe one day soon she would seek out her father and be able to confide in him about her misery and anguish regarding her mother – but not yet. Knowing she should have, she felt the guilt colour her cheeks as Hetty Toye ambled into the kitchen.
‘To celebrate the New Year, Henry and I can afford to up your wages a little.’
‘Oh Hetty! That’s wonderful, but are you sure?’ Orpha asked, ‘You know I’d do this for nothing.’ She couldn’t believe how well she’d settled in here and meant what she said about working for nothing.
‘Ar well, you did when you first come to us, I seem to remember, but we felt so bad we had to pay you something. Now business is better we can afford to give you a rise.’
Orpha mumbled her thanks as she gave the woman a hug; the woman who had taken her in off the streets.
‘Leave that a minute,’ Hetty said, watching Orpha clear the table, ‘Sit down because I want to ask you something.’ As Orpha sat down, Hetty continued, ‘Now then, we’ve been doing really well in the shop since you came. We’ve made and sold more chocolate with your help.’ The woman watched Orpha nod in confirmation that Hetty was speaking the truth. ‘Right then, what I want to know is… have you any ideas as to how we can sell even more than we do now?’
‘You are asking me? I haven’t been here that long Hetty, and I wouldn’t presume to tell you about the chocolate-making business!’ Orpha was amazed the woman had asked for her opinion.
‘Ar, I know you ain’t been here long, but two heads are better than one, so if you have any ideas, I’d like to hear them.’ Hetty began to bustle about the kitchen, making tea.
‘Well,’ Orpha said, drawing out the word in her hesitation, ‘if we could get hold of a few walnuts and some condensed milk we could make some fudge. I’ve eaten it before whilst at home and I think it might sell quite well.’
Hetty banged a cup on the table with, ‘Bloody hell, wench, that’s a damn good idea!’
‘I had wanted to suggest this before, Hetty, but didn’t feel it was my place.’
‘Good ideas are always welcome, gel, don’t be afraid to speak out.’ Hetty smiled to reassure the girl.
With their tea drunk, Orpha once again set to making more chocolate as Hetty stood the counter in the shop. Henry was dispatched to the town for the new ingredients.
Later, when the shop closed for the evening, husband and wife sat in the kitchen, watching Orpha crushing walnuts finely and mixing them into the other ingredients to a smooth mixture. She poured the whole into a shallow baking tray and set it to cool on the cold slab before clearing the table and washing up her utensils.
‘You think it will work?’ Henry asked sheepishly.
‘We’ll know by the morning,’ Orpha said with a smile.
All three were up early the next day, dying to try the new confection. Orpha tipped the fudge out onto the scrubbed table and, taking a sharp knife, she cut it into small cubes. Unable to contain herself, Hetty snatched up a square of fudge and dropped it into her mouth. She closed her eyes as she began to chew before finally saying, ‘Henry, get down to the town and set a regular order for them ingredients. Orpha… we’re onto a winner with this!’
After tasting the sweet mixture, they agreed with Hetty, and Henry set off for the town yet again, thanking his lucky stars for Orpha as he went.
*
Orpha’s fudge was selling well and she and the Toyes worked long hours to keep up with demand. The small wage she was paid was saved each week and before long she had quite a little pile of money kept safe in her room. She knew this would come in handy when she felt it was time to go home to her father. She contemplated whether that time was now.
In her room, Orpha counted her savings. She had more than enough money for a third-class ticket on the train to Wednesbury. She could go home and see what sort of reception she would get. Sitting on her bed, Orpha considered the idea. Yes, she wanted to see her father, although seeing her mother would be something else again. It would mean leaving Hetty and Henry who had been so kind to her over the last weeks, but she felt they would understand her need to go home. Orpha thought out her options, and taking her courage in both hands, she swept down the stairs to inform the Toyes she would be leaving them at the end of the week. Orpha Buchanan was going home.
Orpha sat in the kitchen quietly, her previous confidence having fled. She didn’t know how to broach the subject of her decision to leave the couple who looked after her and taught her a trade. She felt torn: on the one hand she wanted to stay, she was happy here; on the other, she wanted to go home to her father, but then she would have to face her mother again too. She shuddered at the thought.
‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Hetty asked as she sat at the table with Orpha.
‘I was thinking about my father,’ Orpha said quietly.
Hetty nodded knowingly. ‘Well why don’t you go and visit him? It’s probably time you did, I daresay he’s been worried sick about you.’
Hetty didn’t want the girl to leave but she could see the unhappiness in Orpha’s eyes as she spoke of her father.
‘I want to Hetty but – I’m scared!’ Her tears stung the back of her eyes.
‘Scared of what? Is it your mother you’re afraid of?’ Hetty asked gently.
Orpha nodded and her tears began to fall.
Hetty was up and round the table in an instant, wrapping the girl in her arms tightly. ‘Oh my poor wench. Come on, you cry it out, it does no good hanging on to it.’
Just then Henry entered the kitchen and seeing the scene before him he raised his eyebrows in question.
‘Her’s missing her dad,’ Hetty said by way of explanation.
Orpha’s tears subsided and Henry patted her arm as he sat at the table.
‘Look gel, we don’t want to see you go, but we will understand if you feel the need. Just remember, if you go home and it don’t work out, you can always come back here to us, can’t she, Hetty?’ He looked at his wife and saw her sobbing into her apron. ‘Oh blimey, now I’ve got two of you at it,’ he smiled as Orpha burst into tears once more, having seen she’d upset Hetty.
‘Thank you,’ Orpha eventually sniffed.
Henry placed an arm around her shoulder and the other around his wife. ‘Right, now that’s settled have you enough money for the train fare?’ Henry asked.
Orpha nodded.
‘Good. Now go and get your things and we’ll take you to the station,’ he added.
‘I’d rather go alone, it will be hard enough saying goodbye here, I couldn’t bear it at the station,’ Orpha said.
Glancing at Hetty still sobbing in Henry’s arms, Orpha ran upstairs to collect her few belongings, her own t
ears beginning to form again. She hugged the Toyes in turn on her return to the kitchen. She was leaving the two people who she had come to love, but she was determined that, whatever happened, she would see them again.
Waving a sad goodbye, Orpha left the shop and walked briskly to the train at New Street Station full of trepidation. As she stood at the ticket kiosk she debated whether to go straight to Wednesbury or go to see a little of another town before returning home. On impulse, she bought a ticket for Wolverhampton.
Climbing aboard the steaming giant of a train, Orpha sat on the wooden bench in the train compartment, she deliberated the decision she had made. She was excited at the prospect of seeing another large town and she couldn’t wait to get there. However, she was fully aware of her prevarication. She’d been so set on going home and now she had changed her mind – again. She knew what was preventing her returning to Wednesbury – it was her mother. The more she thought of the abuse she’d suffered at the woman’s hands, the more afraid she became.
Orpha sighed as she stared out of the train window but she missed the delight of the sights passing by. Her mind was fixed on her mother’s cruelty over the years, and she knew without a scintilla of doubt this was why she could not go home yet.
*
Alighting the train at Monmore Green Station, Orpha followed the throng of people out onto the street. Standing a moment, she looked around. Wolverhampton, she noticed, was much like any other town. A maze of streets were filled both sides with houses and businesses. Buildings crammed so tightly together she wondered if the sun ever reached between them.
Having lived in the city of Birmingham for the last weeks, the prospect of walking through a big town held no fear for her now.
The cold wind raced along the cobbled street and whipped around her long skirt. She was glad of her boots, knowing the weather would deteriorate soon enough.
As she walked, she considered her options. Never having been here before she tried to decide which way to go. Her first priority was to find a bed for an overnight stay. She knew she was prevaricating about going home, but the thought of facing her mother continued to fill her with dread.
Striding forward, she noted the street sign: Wesley Street. She looked at the buildings as she passed; all were covered in a layer of grime. She heard the shouts of cabbies as they drove towards the station in the hope of a fare. People dressed in clothes which had seen better days bustled alongside her, pushing and shoving their way through the mass of bodies on the street.
Moving into Collier Street, she heard laughing and banter as she came upon the wharf. Chillington Wharf was alive with folk loading and unloading cargo from boats and barges. Orpha stopped to watch, enjoying the sight before her. Then she strolled along Chillington Street which lined the wharf. With a smile she waved to a woman on a narrowboat who called down to her, ‘How do gel?’
Orpha’s stomach rumbled as she passed a boat loaded with fresh vegetables, their aroma reminding her she should eat.
Crossing over the bridge, she made her way into the town proper. She felt a shiver down her spine as she glanced at a huge building. The sign for the Wolverhampton Union Workhouse stood proudly over the huge iron gates. Increasing her pace, she moved on, until she reached a fork in the road and she stopped. To the left she could see the General Hospital and the Tramway Depot. To the right were houses and shops; a better bet for finding a room for the night. Making her choice, she walked up into Bath Street. Every building was joined to its neighbour to form a long line of brickwork, and as she gazed around she saw all the surrounding streets were the same. Then she spied a sign for a hostel.
Stepping inside, she enquired after a bed for the night.
‘Tuppence a night,’ the clerk said, ‘or you can have a place on the “Penny Hang”.’ Seeing Orpha’s puzzled expression, the clerk explained, ‘We have a washing line strung across the hallway, pay a penny and you throw your arms over. Hang there for the night, hence… the “Penny Hang”.’
‘I’ll take a bed thank you.’ Orpha said with a shudder.
‘Don’t blame you,’ the clerk said, ‘we gets the drunks and tramps on the “Penny Hang”, not a good idea for a lady such as yerself.’ The woman grinned, showing blackened teeth, before taking Orpha to her room.
The place was filthy and Orpha seriously considered moving on and forfeiting the two pennies she’d given over, but she was at a loss as to where to find another place to stay. Pulling back the bedclothes, she saw the sheets were none too clean. She decided to remain dressed and sleep on top of the bed.
Leaving her carpet bag in the corner, she walked back to the clerk. ‘Is there anywhere close by where I can purchase a meal?’
‘Ar, you can try the café on the corner, good grub and nice and cheap,’ the clerk answered before lighting the clay pipe stuck between her teeth.
Orpha found the place she’d been directed to and ate a good hearty meal of faggots and grey peas, with fresh bread and a pot of tea. Bread and butter pudding followed and Orpha’s stomach groaned as she slowly walked back to the hostel.
As soon as she entered her room, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Someone had been inside. Looking to the corner where she had left her carpet bag, she gasped. The bag was gone.
Rushing back to the clerk, Orpha was beside herself. ‘Someone has been in my room and stolen my bag!’
‘Oh deary me,’ the clerk said, shaking her head. ‘Left it there did you, while you went out for your dinner?’
‘Yes, and now it’s gone! All my clothes, my money… everything has gone!’ Orpha wrung her hands together.
‘Ah well, that’s what happens when you leave things lying around. Some thieving buggers around here. You’ve seen the last of that, I’m afraid, my dear.’ The clerk shook her head.
‘I’m going to inform the police…’ Orpha began.
‘And just what do you think they can do? The thief is long gone by now. The bobbies will tell you the same. A hard lesson, but one well learned, I think,’ the clerk said.
Orpha returned to her room knowing the clerk was right in what she’d said. All she had left were the clothes she stood up in and a few pennies in her drawstring bag. All her hard-earned cash had gone, along with her few good clothes.
Sitting in the one chair in the room, she berated herself for her stupidity. Then thinking again about her loss, she burst into tears. She was in a strange room, in a town she didn’t know and had been robbed of her belongings. As she cried, she thought about her father. She should have gone home and then this wouldn’t have happened to her. Thinking how cruel and nasty some people could be brought her thoughts inevitably to her mother. Her fear of the woman had brought her here, and now she had virtually nothing left.
Orpha’s misery weighed heavy as she sat through the dark hours of the night, and her mind whirled with questions. Now what would she do? She had no money for a train ticket to Wednesbury. She would have to find a job here but had precious little to live on whilst looking for work. Was she destined to end up in the workhouse after all?
Feeling miserable to her core, Orpha stared out of the window watching people coming and going in the moonlight. She heard the drunken laughter as revellers passed by, but none of it registered in her mind. All she could think about was that in a day or so she would be penniless again. She would have no bed to sleep in and no food to eat. It would eventually come down to making the decision… go to the workhouse or starve on the streets.
*
Orpha walked the streets for the next few days looking for work but to no avail. She kept her few pennies and went without a proper meal, only buying an apple or a carrot to see her through the day. By the fourth day, her resolve began to crumble. If she bought a meal she would be without funds, then she would have nothing. Making a decision, she made her way to the market, maybe she could scavenge something to eat there.
As she trudged along, she considered again about going home but she could not face her mother’s w
rath, besides which she couldn’t afford the train fare now. She also wondered about returning to the Toyes in Birmingham; she knew they would take her in, but her stubborn pride wouldn’t allow her to go cap-in-hand to them. It would seem like she’d failed them and then she would have to explain how, on impulse, she had come to be in Wolverhampton. No, she would have to find work of some sort to at least pay for some food. Stiffening her resolve she marched on.
Chapter 12
Peg Meriwether stood by her cart in the last of the sunshine. She had very little to sell; the winter, she knew, would continue to be harsh and nothing would grow in her garden. She hated the cold months when she had to resort to having to sell her bottled produce to earn a living. All the pickling and bottling had been hard work, but Peg was glad now that she had pursued the task. She silently thanked Rufina for giving her the knowledge of how to get by. Chutneys, jams, pickled onions would sell and contribute to her meagre savings.
The weak sunshine was cut through by a chilly wind that whistled around the market stalls, and Peg rubbed her hands together for warmth.
‘You cold wench?’ asked Lottie Spence.
Peg nodded, saying, ‘I am. It’s a lazy wind today.’ Tying her shawl across her chest, Peg pulled the corners around her back and tied them together before shoving her hands into the sides like pockets. Slowly her fingers warmed and she stamped her feet to get the feeling back into her frozen toes.
Peg’s eyes roamed the women walking around the market and a sudden intake of breath caused Lottie to look her way.
‘You all right there Peg?’ Lottie asked.
Peg didn’t answer as she stared at the girl walking towards her cart. Following Peg’s line of sight, Lottie also gasped before saying, ‘Bloody hell! I’m seeing double!’
Peg nodded as the girl approached her cart, looking at the jars of pickles laid out before her.
Picking up a jar of pickled onions, the girl said, ‘Oooh, how much are…?’ Words failed her when she looked up at the girl behind the cart.
The Lost Sisters Page 9
