The Forgotten Children

by Anita Davison

  ‘It was the dirt which struck me too,’ Flora said. ‘The air felt thick with grime that clung to everything.’

  ‘That’s due to all the muck churned out by the factories. My clothes were always stiff from the soot and grit ingrained in the fibres. Washing could never quite get it all out. Mother had a friend who lived in the Peabody in Blackfriars Road where we would go on a Sunday afternoon for a visit. I loved those afternoons because they had a garden at the back for the children to play in. It was a modest square of green, but represented paradise to me. At East Lane, all I had was a triangular concrete yard.’

  Flora gave her a weak smile, recalling the rolling fields and rose garden she had had to play in as a child; surroundings she had always taken for granted. ‘When did you move to the villa in Kinnerton Street?’ she asked carefully, unwilling to pry, but eager to know how Lydia’s fortunes had altered so drastically. Bermondsey to Belgravia was quite a leap.

  ‘That was unexpected.’ Lydia pushed a carrot around her plate but made no attempt to eat it. ‘When I was thirteen, Father’s mother died. It seems they didn’t get on, for reasons they never revealed to me. I knew nothing about my grandmother and we had never met, but Father was her only relative so her house came to him when she died.’

  ‘The first time I saw that little townhouse, I thought we were rich.’ Her eyes glowed at the recollection. ‘Seven whole rooms for the three of us, bedrooms with real fireplaces and a kitchen with a hot water geyser and a proper cooking range. Even the outside privy was a luxury as it was only for us. We could even afford to hire a maid. I was in heaven. I did so much better in school and Father was so proud when I became a teacher.’

  ‘What happened to your father?’

  ‘An accident at the factory. An oven door wasn’t closed properly and—’ She twirled her fork above her plate as if she needed time to compose herself. ‘He-uh, he was burned. Badly. He took three days to die.’ She looked up with a shaky smile. ‘The factory took care of the funeral and looked after Mother and me. We didn’t suffer.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ Flora reached across the table and covered Lydia’s hand with her own.

  ‘It was a while ago.’ Lydia shrugged, sliding her hand from beneath Flora’s as if embarrassed to have revealed so much. ‘Now. You promised to let me see that lovely baby of yours. I expect he’s grown since I last saw him.’

  They adjourned to the sitting room, where Milly arrived promptly in response to Flora’s summons, her arms full of a boisterous, beaming Arthur.

  ‘Did you really name him after Arthur Conan Doyle?’ Lydia held out her arms to take the baby.

  ‘It was quite amusing how that came about,’ Flora hesitated, unsure whether to reveal the real story behind her son’s name, but settled on the version Bunny liked to tell. ‘During the last few days of my confinement, I wanted to read “The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton” in The Strand Magazine. I sent Bunny off to buy the latest edition and he arrived back to find the house in chaos. The midwife and a nurse had taken complete control of below stairs with Mrs Cope employing every pot in the house to boil water. It was a private joke at the time to call him Arthur, but the name quite suits him.’

  ‘I agree, and he’s adorable.’ Lydia cuddled the baby on her knee. ‘Goodness he’s quite sturdy for six months isn’t he?’ Arthur had grabbed the lapels of Lydia’s jacket in both hands, pulled himself into a sitting position only to collapse before trying again.

  ‘He’ll be standing in another month or so,’ Flora said proudly. She glanced toward the door, where the nursery maid had faded into the background, reluctant to withdraw entirely.

  ‘Milly, why don’t you take a break and have a cup of tea in the kitchens?’ Flora aimed for kindly dismissal.

  ‘I’ve not long had my luncheon, madam.’

  ‘Even so, I’m sure we can be trusted with Arthur for a short while.’

  ‘As you wish, madam.’ The girl dropped a grudging curtsey and fled, though her expression remained sullen.

  ‘You still don’t like her, do you?’ Lydia indicated the closed door while at the same time she unbent Arthur’s fingers from her bottom lip.

  ‘I don’t have to like her as long as she’s conscientious. At least that’s what Bunny says.’ Flora was reluctant to give Lydia the impression her nurse didn’t trust her with her own child. ‘And Arthur is thriving, which William noticed when he was here the other day.’

  ‘How is William, and how does he like being a grandfather?’

  ‘He’s a little bemused.’ Flora smiled as Lydia caught Arthur’s hand in mid-wave and planted kisses on his palm, eliciting delighted baby chuckles. ‘But he’s thrilled too. He not only gave me his mother’s diamond necklace, but took me up in a hot air balloon the other day.’

  ‘A hot air balloon!’ Lydia’s eyes widened, just as Arthur grabbed a hank of her hair. ‘Was it wonderful?’

  ‘I expected you to ask how terrified I was. But yes, it was exhilarating. Almost like flying, but slower and quieter,’ though that struck her as an odd remark as how could she know what flying felt like? ‘Anyway, we could see for miles and the fact the balloon stayed tethered to the ground was reassuring. Although at first I kept having these images of the rope breaking.’ She wasn’t going to puncture her friend’s admiration by admitting she had gripped the edge of the basket so hard her hands were sore when she got home.

  ‘What an amazing gift. You’re so lucky. I would love to do that. Perhaps I’ll arrange it as a surprise for Harry. He’s always eager for an adventure.’ A triumphant smile slowly spread across her face. ‘And it would horrify his mother.’

  Their mutual laughter sent Arthur into a gale of happy giggles, as if he was the sole cause of their merriment.

  ‘The owner, Mr Hedges Butler,’ Flora said when the attention was off Arthur again, ‘introduced me to his friend Charles Rolls, who is incredibly knowledgeable about anything mechanical.’

  ‘That chap who wins all those motor car races?’ Lydia broke off from blowing bubbles into the soft folds of Arthur’s neck.

  ‘The same. He races the cars in European competitions and is the tallest man I have ever seen. Handsome too.’

  ‘I heard Bunny talking to Harry about him. That he and a man called Royce are planning to produce luxury motor cars. You’ll need to keep a rein on your husband when that happens.’

  ‘I wish I could.’ Flora smiled, but she had no intention of thwarting Bunny’s plans where motor cars were concerned. A year after they married, he had postponed his dream of starting a manufactory when it proved to be too risky a venture. Bunny had reverted to the law as a means of supporting them, and although he always claimed he did not regret his decision, she wanted him to fulfil his dream one day.

  ’Lydia,’ Flora began, raising a subject that had niggled at her all morning, ‘did you notice that none of the people we talked to this morning were the children’s parents?’ At Lydia’s frown, she continued, ‘Albert Fletcher lived with his uncle, and the second girl, Martha, with her aunt. Elsie with her grandmother and Ada told us her friend, Annie, lived with her stepfather.’

  ‘Annie wasn’t on the list Miss Finch gave you.’

  ‘No, but that doesn’t make her less missing, not if Ada is to be believed. Were they selected because it would be easier to persuade their families to take them if they were there under sufferance?’

  ‘You think they were chosen? For what?’ Lydia grimaced as Arthur grabbed her hat and pulled, dragging her head sideways.

  ‘That’s what worries me. I know we’re supposed to be past the age of shoving small children up chimneys, but there are some equally awful occupations reserved for the vulnerable young.’

  ‘There is also the shocking possibility that their relatives could simply have sold them?’ Lydia reclaimed a strand of her hair from between Arthur’s fingers and smoothed his wheat-coloured hair away from his face. ‘Suppose this man Swifty offered them money to buy not only the children but thei
r silence too?’

  A cold hand grasped Flora’s spine as Lydia’s words slammed into her. She had not wanted to face the idea before but what other reason could there be for all six to have disappeared without a trace? Seven, if they counted Annie. Were those people so desperate, they believed it was a way out of the struggle to provide for children who had been foisted on them? Her thoughts went back to the sparse rooms with the ragged curtains like flaps on the windows, the worn rugs, scarred furniture and, in most cases, empty grates. Would she do the same in that situation?

  ‘There’s the other thing,’ Lydia said, bringing Flora’s thoughts back to the present.

  ‘What other thing?’

  ‘The Salvation Army man who went to see Annie’s stepfather. Has it occurred to you that these children aren’t missing at all? That they have taken legitimate posts in service?’

  ‘I’m looking for shadows where there aren’t any, do you mean?’ Flora considered this for a mere instant before shaking her head. ‘Miss Finch would have thought of that, I’m sure. She’s convinced these children have been spirited away.’

  Arthur started to grizzle and reached for Flora. She held out her arms into which Arthur lurched his plump body, only to demand immediately he go back to Lydia, where he padded his feet on her lap like a cat.

  ‘Discounting Annie, have any of the others had a connection with the army?’ Lydia tucked her hand beneath the baby’s knees, giving him no option but to sit.

  ‘Not that I know of.’ She resolved to ask Alice Finch if she was aware the Salvation Army found posts for domestic servants. ‘What do we do now?’ Flora bit her lip as stark reality made her stomach knot.

  ‘Not much, as no one has officially complained.’ Arthur’s eyelids fluttered closed and his head lolled against Lydia’s bodice. In seconds, his lips puckered and his chest gently rose and fell in a gentle rhythm.

  ‘How does he do that?’ Flora gazed affectionately at her son. ‘One moment he’s wide awake and fussing, the next he’s fast asleep.’

  ‘I don’t know, but I envy him.’ Lydia cradled the baby in the crook of her arm. ‘Now, what were we saying?’

  ‘How do we get the police to open a proper investigation?’ Flora broke off as the door opened to admit Milly.

  ‘Shall I take him now, madam?’ She glided forward and relieved Lydia of the sleeping baby. ‘It’s time for his nap.’

  ‘Miss Flora?’ Stokes appeared, stepping to one side as Milly glided past him. ‘There was a telephone call for you earlier. I’m so sorry but I was out and Mrs Cope answered the telephone, but she’s not comfortable with the contraption and she forgot—’

  ‘Please don’t worry about it, Stokes,’ Flora interrupted. ‘Who was it who called?’

  ‘It was from a Miss Finch,’ Stokes replied. ‘She said to tell you that another child has gone missing and she needs to speak to you urgently.’

  ‘What?’ She rose slowly from her chair, her mind racing. ‘How long ago did she call?’

  ‘I think about half an hour, madam. I apologise again, but—’

  ‘Never mind,’ Flora interrupted. ‘Call me a cab, would you, Stokes. And call Miss Finch back and tell her I’m on my way.’

  ‘I’m coming with you.’ Lydia followed her into the hall, where they grabbed their coats and waited impatiently for Stokes to return with the cab.

  Chapter 14

  At St Philomena’s, Forbes, the porter, had evidently received his instructions, for Flora and Lydia were hardly inside the front door before he carved a way for them through the crowded entrance to the office where Alice awaited them.

  ‘Thank you so much for coming,’ Alice leapt to her feet and greeted Flora with the warmth of an old friend, which in turn she extended to Lydia.

  ‘Lydia Grey here is the friend I told you about who came with me to Bermondsey this morning,’ Flora explained as they took their seats opposite the vast desk. ‘She has a comprehensive knowledge of the neighbourhood that has proved invaluable.’

  ‘How kind of you, Miss Grey.’ The strain of the last hours was reflected in Alice’s eyes as she grasped the younger woman’s hand.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Finch,’ Lydia said. ‘In fact, I was treated here for bronchitis when I was eight. I’ll always remember how kind the nurses were.’

  ‘Indeed?’ Alice’s shrewd gaze slid over Lydia’s fashionable and expensive clothes, a question in her eyes. ‘I’m always delighted to be reacquainted with former patients, even those who were treated here before my time.’

  Flora fidgeted in her chair. ‘Alice, do tell us about this child who has gone missing. I’ve been fretting in the cab all the way here.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I apologize for involving you in this affair, but despite what some people might think I believe this latest disappearance is connected to the others.’ Alice folded her hands on the desk in front of her. ‘Her name is Isobel Lomax. Her parents went to Leeds to visit relatives and left the child with a nanny, who brought her to the hospital because she was running a fever.’

  ‘What happened?’ Flora asked.

  ‘A misunderstanding, from what I can gather,’ Alice said. ‘Isobel had only a mild chest congestion, but frightening enough for the nanny. When she returned for Isobel yesterday to take her home, she was told she’d already been collected. Sister Lazarus thought she had been discharged, but the nurse on duty said there was nothing written in the discharge book. In the confusion, no one had missed the child for several hours.’

  ‘Did anyone see Isobel leave?’ Lydia asked.

  ‘Forbes said a child matching her description was escorted through reception by a respectable-looking man he assumed was her father. They got into a hansom cab and left, but he had no idea where they went.’

  ‘Matching her description? Isn’t he sure?’ Flora said.

  ‘We have sixty to a hundred children being treated here at any one time.’ Alice lifted both hands, palms upwards. ‘He cannot possibly remember them all.’ She leaned back in her chair, defeated. ‘Isobel is a particularly attractive little girl of seven with fair hair and blue eyes. Somehow that makes me doubly concerned for her welfare.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound encouraging.’ Flora chewed her bottom lip, the implications of Alice’s words raising the hairs on her arms. ‘Can the porter describe the man she left with in more detail?’

  ‘All he could tell us was that he wasn’t very tall, dark-haired with a moustache and he wore a black overcoat and top hat.’

  ‘That description includes about half the men in London,’ Lydia observed, unhelpfully.

  ‘It doesn’t sound anything like the stocky man with a squint Lizzie saw when the others went missing,’ Flora said, adding, ‘by the way, we think we’ve discovered his name. Swifty Ellis.’

  Alice frowned. ‘Not a name that’s familiar to me. Perhaps one of the nurses knows who he is. It might be worth asking them.’

  ‘Is the nanny certain this man wasn’t a member of her family?’ Lydia asked.

  ‘She told no one Isobel was here,’ Alice replied. ‘She was too frightened her employers would find out she had let her fall ill.’

  ‘She must be in a terrible state now the child is missing?’ Lydia said.

  ‘Indeed she is,’ Miss Finch sighed. ‘The police are dealing with her. The poor girl is only sixteen and this was her first position.’

  A discreet knock at the door preceded the arrival of Sister Lazarus, who strode in without waiting for a response. ‘Dr Reid wishes to speak to you, Miss Finch,’ she announced shrilly, looking through Flora as if they had never met.

  ‘Would you tell him I’ll be along when I’m finished here?’ Alice clenched her fists on the desk with barely suppressed impatience.

  ‘He says it’s important,’ the nurse insisted. ‘I told him you would come straight away.’

  ‘Is it a case of life or death with regards to a patient, Sister?’ A pulse jumped steadily in Miss Finch’s temple, but she kept her
expression bland.

  ‘Not as I understand it, but—’

  ‘In that case, I’ll be there in due course. You may go.’ She inflated her chest with a slow breath, thinning her nostrils.

  Sister Lazarus glared at Flora through black pebble eyes and swung round abruptly, causing a jingling sound from the folds of her skirt as she hauled the door shut with a firm bang a fraction away from a slam.

  Lydia widened her eyes in a “what was that about look”, to which Flora responded with a hand gesture that conveyed she would explain later. The woman not only possessed the demeanour of a bad-tempered nun, it appeared she equipped herself like a chatelaine. Did she jingle like a gypsy horse as she strode around the hospital? If so, at least the students could hear her coming.

  ‘I apologize for that.’ Alice cleared her throat while avoiding their eyes. ‘Now, as I was saying, this time, the police are involved because Isobel has been reported officially missing.’

  ‘What exactly are they doing about it?’ Flora asked.

  ‘They have begun door-to-door inquiries in Greenwich.’ Alice fiddled with the buttons on one cuff with the fingers of her other hand.

  ‘Greenwich? But that’s miles from here,’ Lydia exclaimed. ‘Why did the nanny bring her to St Philomena’s?’

  ‘It seems Isobel fell ill whilst they were on a visit to the Tower of London. In a panic, she summoned a cab driver and asked for the nearest hospital. He brought them here.’

  ‘But why search her own neighbourhood?’ Flora asked. ‘Whoever took her is hardly likely to take her home.’

  ‘My dear, that’s exactly what I told them,’ Alice sighed. ‘The police said they have procedures to follow. In the case of a missing child, they always begin in the home neighbourhood because children often simply wander off and get lost. They have latched onto the affluent man in the taxi theory and assume she did arrive home after leaving here, although the nanny refutes that.’