The Orphans of Ardwick

by Emma Hornby

  ‘I’m sure if you were to ask Mabel, she wouldn’t mind packing you a small picnic. Inform her it was my suggestion, of course,’ the lady added with a teasing wink.

  ‘Oh ta, thanks. You’ll be all right while I’m gone, Miss Josephine?’ She asked this more through habit, now; the woman’s ailment struck far less frequently these days.

  ‘I will, Pip, yes. Run along and collect your shawl. You and your friends enjoy yourselves.’

  Ten minutes later, Pip and Simon, with Mack skipping excitedly between, were making their way across the broad road to the Green. A small wicker basket hung over Pip’s arm containing bread, cold beef, a large hunk of vegetable pie and dainty lemon cakes; the children’s stomachs growled in anticipation of the feast.

  Cook had been only too happy to oblige and had shared Josephine’s sentiments entirely: ‘An hour away from these here walls and the last few days of strife what’s gone on within them; aye, youse need it,’ she’d said. ‘Be on your best behaviour, mind, don’t be for bothering folk. And watch yourselves near the lake, no straying too close to the water’s edge. You hear?’

  They had nodded agreement readily and now, noses pointed to the brightened sky like sniffer dogs, drew in air gratefully. The crisp scent of evergreens and winter blooms that decorated the surrounding gardens, mingled with the musk of smoke from domestic chimneys, smelt glorious. The Green itself twinkled in the weak sunshine, as if the grass were sprinkled with crushed diamonds, and birdsong carried from high bare branches stretching towards the snowy clouds like black-boned fingers. An easy stillness enveloped them. By, it did feel good to be out.

  They halted by the familiar tree and settled on the cold grass, backs against the knobbly trunk, not saying much, simply absorbing their surroundings. One or two others, taking advantage of the pleasing change in weather, strolled here and there, smiling and conversing quietly. Pip opened the basket and as she and Simon ate, they idly watched Mack, who had wandered off to explore.

  Popping the last of her cake into her mouth, she turned to the lad beside her and smiled. However, he failed to return it and hers slipped. She frowned. ‘All right?’ But Simon didn’t answer. His gaze travelled to her bandaged hand and she sighed. ‘Lad, please. We’ve spoke on this a dozen times or more …’

  ‘How is it?’

  ‘Aye, healing. It ain’t your fault,’ she added in a whisper. Though how many times she must say this before he accepted it was another matter. ‘We agreed to put it behind us, remember? All of it.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Simon, you must—’

  ‘I agreed to it, to you planting that rotten picture. I put you at risk.’

  ‘Nay, I put myself forward, me.’

  ‘She could have killed thee.’

  They fell quiet. Pip leaned closer to him. He couldn’t bear this. He’d protected her from harm, Mack too, since the day they met. He felt he’d failed her. He couldn’t have been more wrong. He could never do that, never, in her eyes.

  For some minutes, neither spoke, then: ‘She didn’t, though, did she? No real harm were done. Don’t dwell on it no more, eh?’

  ‘I’d never forgive myself had … had summat worse …’

  ‘I know.’ She rested her head on his shoulder. Again, they lapsed into silence.

  ‘What’s next, Pip? Just where do we go from here?’

  With their plans dashed, the trackless future was a constant worry at the forefront of their minds. What would become of them? In less than nine weeks, Josephine would become Mrs Sutton-Shaw. Then what? Would they be forced to dwell beneath the same roof as that beast, at his mercy completely – especially sweet young Mack – with no Cook or anyone else to protect them? God above, surely not. Yet what choice had they? If Caroline stayed true to her word …

  Even were they to do a moonlight flit, she could spill her lies to the police; they would be fugitives, forever looking over their shoulders. It was all such a mess. Their fates were not their own to decide. They were tethered here whether they liked it or not, could only wait and see how matters panned out. Badly, she’d be bound, if their luck was anything to go by.

  ‘Here, over here! Hello, hello!’

  Dragged from their thoughts, Pip and Simon glanced around to see Mack waving frantically across the expanse of green beyond the opposite bank, a huge grin on his face. They followed his gaze to where, in the distance at the furthermost edge of the park, two figures were out walking. The smaller shielded her eyes with her hand then, recognising them, picked up her skirts and skipped towards them. Pip’s stomach dropped.

  ‘Miss Lucy with her nursemaid, that, ain’t it?’ asked Simon, squinting ahead.

  ‘Aye.’

  He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Tha don’t sound reet pleased about it, mind,’ he stated in surprise. ‘By, the two of youse are normally—’

  ‘Aye, well. Things change.’

  Frowning, Simon turned fully now to face Pip but hadn’t time to question her further; laughing breathlessly, Lucy reached them, cheeks pink from the exertion, and flung her arms around them all. She didn’t seem to notice Pip stiffen, and bestowed upon her the usual smile.

  ‘Oh, how lovely to see you here! Budd’s a darling and all but she isn’t much fun, it must be said. It’s her ageing bones, you see, so says she,’ the girl added with a sad shrug and watched as the nursemaid closed the space between them, huffing and puffing like a pair of old bellows. ‘Sorry for dashing off, Budd. Are you all right?’

  ‘I will be, Miss Lucy.’ The amiable woman smiled down at her charge then turned to Pip and the boys, saying, ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hello,’ they chimed in unison.

  ‘The weather picked up well, didn’t it?’

  ‘Aye, yes.’

  ‘Well.’ The woman eyed a bench across the way. ‘I’ll be over there, Miss Lucy, should you need me. Play nicely with your friends, all right?’

  ‘Thank you, Budd. Come on,’ Lucy added excitedly, pulling Pip by the arm and motioning to the boys to follow. ‘Let us explore and have some fun.’

  ‘I reckon we ought to be getting back, actually, Miss Lucy.’

  The girl was crestfallen. ‘Oh, but you can’t!’

  ‘We’ve been out no more than a handful of minutes, Pip,’ protested Mack, his bottom lip beginning to tremble.

  ‘We’ve time yet to spare.’ Simon was surveying Pip with puzzled suspicion. He took Mack’s arm. ‘Come on, lad. Let’s leave the lasses to their games – we’ll head up this end and have ourselfs some proper enjoyment.’

  Sensing something was amiss, he thought what was needed was to give her and Lucy some time alone to make up. Nay, come back, she cried silently, watching the lads walk away across the Green. She couldn’t bear to be around the young miss, not now, not since discovering …

  And yet she missed her. Every day, she hated herself more for her changed feelings, she did, but couldn’t seem to shake off her resentment. The girl had everything she should have had, everything she’d been deprived of the whole of her life. Not that any of it was Lucy’s fault, of course it wasn’t, but nonetheless … Oh, it was all such a painful mess.

  ‘Ooh, a fish! Pip, did you see? There, look, beneath the ice.’

  Suppressing a sigh, she allowed the girl to drag her to the lake’s edge. She followed her gaze to where she pointed. Sure enough, a largish shape hovered beneath the thin sheet that still covered the water’s surface in places. Despite herself, surprise brought a small smile. She nodded.

  ‘I’m finding a stick! You too, come on. If we pierce through, there, we shall be able to see it properly.’

  ‘Careful, Miss Lucy,’ called Budd from her seat a few yards away as, having found what they were looking for, she and Pip knelt by the dark waters.

  ‘I shall,’ the girl answered, tongue peeking from the side of her mouth in concentration. She and Pip had managed to create a small hole between the white veins of ice when Lucy exclaimed, ‘Oh, bother. Oh, look now!’

&n
bsp; ‘’Ere, Miss Lucy!’ Seeing the beautiful cloak, which had slithered from the youngster’s shoulders, now floating on the lake’s surface, Pip clapped a hand to her mouth. She bent further forward and with the aid of her stick, managed to hook the sopping garment. She and Lucy stared at it forlornly.

  ‘Oh, child.’ Tut-tutting, the nursemaid heaved herself from the bench. ‘Come, we shall have to return to the house. You cannot remain outdoors without suitable attire in weather such as this. It’s more than my position’s worth should you catch a chill.’

  ‘No! Oh no, please, let’s stay, Budd. I’m quite warm, really, I am.’

  ‘Now now, Miss Lucy—’

  ‘It’s all right, Budd.’ Whatever Pip tried telling herself, she loved this girl, she did; she couldn’t deny it, least of all to herself. Seeing the little heart-shaped face crumble, those big eyes fill with disappointed tears, her heart contracted and a rush of protectiveness, a need to make her happy, coursed through her. She should have been welcoming this excuse to escape her company. Instead, she wanted nothing more than to remain in it. The realisation brought a lump to her throat. ‘Here, Miss Lucy, wear this.’ She removed her shawl and secured it around the girl. ‘She’ll be warm reet enough, Budd, with that. It’s my new one from Miss Josephine. It’s a good ’un.’

  ‘Oh, Pip.’ Lucy planted a thank-you kiss on her cheek. ‘But won’t you be cold?’

  Reaching up to stroke the spot that Lucy’s lips had touched, Pip’s voice was thick with emotion. ‘Nay, I’ll not, don’t fret. Tough as owd leather, me.’

  ‘What a thoughtful gesture, Pip.’ The nursemaid smiled. ‘All right, Miss Lucy, we’ll stay a while longer. But please, do come back a little from the water’s edge, would you? My nerves cannot take the thought of you falling in next.’

  Grinning, Lucy shuffled back a few inches then picked up her stick to resume her game.

  ‘Mine’s broke, must have snapped on yon cloak.’ Pip tossed hers into the water. ‘Hang on, Miss Lucy. I’ll find another.’ She wandered towards a tree with low-hanging branches. Busy deciding which to select, what made her glance up she couldn’t say. For a moment, she couldn’t decide why the figure passing down the street in the distance seemed familiar. Then it drew closer and she laughed out loud in surprised delight. Abandoning her task, she ran to the railing. ‘I knew it – it is you! Hello.’

  Peter’s surprise matched hers; face breaking into a smile, he manoeuvred his handcart around and crossed the road. ‘Pip, ain’t it?’

  ‘Aye, that’s right.’

  ‘You’re looking well, lass.’

  ‘Ta, thanks. So are you.’ And she meant it. His dishevelled appearance when they’d met that fearful night and he’d selflessly given up his bed for her at the lodging house was gone. Still, he carried the down-at-heel stamp of his station – his coat was threadbare and cheeks sunken from lack of regular meals – but he was neater, cleaner, brighter eyed than before. She nodded to his burden, a rickety contraption that had seen better days, with its large stone grinding wheel that was worked by a treadle. He puffed out his chest proudly and she smiled. ‘You peddling, now, aye?’

  ‘That’s right. Owd tinker friend of mine, what succumbed to the consumption some weeks gone, passed his here cart on to me, Lord love his soul. It brings me a fair living. I’ve brass enough for the rent on a dwelling I can call my own. Nice little cellar, I’ve got, on Angel Street.’

  ‘Eeh, that’s gradely.’ Remembering the kindness he’d shown her, she motioned behind him. One good turn deserved another. ‘You called at Bracken House yet? That one there with the blue door?’

  Peter shook his head.

  ‘I’m employed there – ask for Cook, tell her I sent thee. She’s sure to find a blunted knife or two what you could sharpen.’ And knowing the woman as she did, a plate of something, too, before he left, which he’d surely appreciate. Plying his trade around the streets door-to-door must be hungry work.

  ‘I’ll do that, lass, ta.’ He touched his cap. ‘Take care and God bless.’

  ‘Aye, and the same to thee.’

  Smiling, he turned to leave. Then, looking beyond her across the park, he stopped dead in his tracks.

  ‘Peter? What is it?’

  It was as though he hadn’t heard her. His mouth fell open. He shook his head slowly. ‘Nay. Nay, it can’t, can’t be …’

  Frowning, she turned. There, up ahead, stood Simon. His incredulous expression matched the man’s entirely.

  Peter’s broken cry rent the air. ‘Lad?’

  ‘Father?’

  Dumbstruck, Pip could only stare from one to the other. He was …? They were …? My God!

  Those stunned seconds seemed to halt time in its tracks. Then suddenly, another noise rang out – a scream of so violent a pitch they all whipped around with a gasp. Horror froze them to the spot at the scene they were met with.

  Budd let out another deafening screech. Beside her, Caroline stood mutely. Both were gazing at the lake where, thrashing wildly in the icy waters, they saw Lucy. As her head disappeared beneath the surface, Peter was first to spring into action.

  ‘Get back!’ he yelled to Pip and Simon; grabbing the top of the railings, he launched himself over and sprinted full pelt towards the lake. Without hesitation, he dived in. Moments later, his top half emerged. He drew in a huge gulp of air then disappeared once more.

  ‘Fetch Mr Philip, the master,’ rasped Pip to Mack, giving him a push. ‘Go, go now!’

  Seconds seemed like minutes as they waited for the man and girl to reappear. At last they burst to the surface, Peter heaving and spluttering. Lucy lay limp in his arms.

  Budd and Simon helped to drag them to the embankment. They plucked Lucy from his outstretched hands and laid her carefully on the grass. Still, Caroline – and what she was even doing here, where she’d appeared from, no one seemed to know – stood statue-like, wordless, wide eyes unseeing.

  Shock had rendered Pip into a similar state but now, gazing at Lucy’s face, bone-white and lifeless, she snapped from her trance. With a cry, she bolted over and fell to her knees. ‘Miss Lucy? Miss Lucy, dear God in heaven above … Speak to me! Please!’

  Having hauled himself out of the water, Peter crouched, coughing, then staggered to the girl’s side. He too dropped to the ground. ‘Mind aside, Pip lass.’ Bending over the body, he put his mouth to Lucy’s blue-tinged lips and blew. Then placing his hands one on top of the other on her chest, he pumped quickly.

  With calmness and concentration, he repeated the action twice, three times. As he made to bring his mouth back yet again, Lucy suddenly jolted and a gush of water escaped her on a gargled cough.

  ‘Thank God, thank God!’ Pip and Budd chimed, with a sob, and Simon closed his eyes with a relieved sigh.

  Quickly, Peter turned Lucy on to her side where a further tide spilled from her on to the grass. Gasping and retching, she opened her eyes.

  ‘It’s a miracle! Oh, Miss Lucy, Miss Lucy …!’ Suddenly, the nursemaid’s eyes moved to Caroline. She screwed up her face, her lips atremble. ‘You. You did this, you did it, you pushed her. I saw you. Why, Mrs Goldthorpe, would you do such a wicked, wicked thing to your own child?’

  All heads turned incredulously towards the lady – then behind them at the sound of thundering footsteps.

  Philip skidded to a halt. ‘My God!’ He watched his father rush to the child and wrap her in the thick blanket he’d fetched. Then he turned a murderous gaze on to his wife. ‘Caroline? You tried to murder our daughter?’

  Blinking, she shook her head. ‘No, Philip. No.’

  ‘She did, sir, I saw her with my own eyes. She appeared at her bedroom window then, moments later, she was entering the Green. I believed that, spotting Miss Lucy through the pane, she’d decided to come and spend some time with her, thought nothing out of the ordinary when she headed towards her. Miss Lucy had her back to her beside the lake – before she had chance to turn, Mrs Goldthorpe put out her hands and shoved the ch
ild straight into the water.’

  ‘Dear God.’ Philip’s words dropped from his lips on an anguished groan. ‘Why, you evil, deranged—!’

  ‘No, no, no, no. My intention was not to murder Lucy.’

  My shawl. Realisation smacked Pip full in the face. Lucy had been wearing it. Caroline would have seen this. It could only mean one thing. She’d mistaken her daughter for her. It was her she’d meant to push into that lake … Oh God! In the next breath, the woman confirmed it:

  ‘It was supposed to be the other girl. That one there.’ Caroline’s voice was eerily matter-of-fact. She pointed to Pip. ‘She was meant to meet a watery end, to die as she deserves, as she must, not Lucy. No, not Lucy.’

  ‘Wha … what are you talking about? For God’s sake, Caroline—!’

  ‘I know, I know, I made a mistake. It was the shawl, you see. It was careless of me, I admit. I got the wrong child—’

  ‘Listen to yourself! What has become of you?’

  ‘As I said, I got the wrong one—’

  ‘That you meant to kill any – any – child! Can you hear yourself? Can you?’ Philip yelled, gripping her by her upper arms and shaking her hard. ‘Killing children? Why, why?’

  ‘Because it’s her, it is. She’s the one, she and her friends, who torment me. They must die, Philip. There’s no other way.’

  The horror-struck party had watched the husband and wife’s exchange in numb silence. They were not the only ones. Alerted by the ruckus, several neighbours had emerged from their homes and were standing around, agog.

  Albert shattered the spell; his granddaughter in his arms, he rose and walked towards the gate, snapping, ‘Make way!’ to one or two in his path.

  Philip’s face was grey. He released his hold on his wife and let his arms fall to his sides. Shoulders slumped, he turned, murmuring over his shoulder to her, ‘Come.’