It was fear of such reminders of her sister which had stopped her taking Tommy to school after Pamela’s death. Yet although it felt very strange to be here once again, hearing the same old deafening noise of two hundred or more children all shouting at once, it was also oddly comforting. While she could see boys play-fighting and girls skipping about holding hands, just as they always had, she felt a kind of continuity of life going on regardless of Pamela’s death.
She remembered the first day her little sister was due to go up to the junior school. She was really scared, asking Adele on the way there if it was true that the bigger children pushed the new ones’ faces into the lavatory bowls. Adele promised her that it was just a silly story to frighten new children, and that anyway she’d be there in the top class to see no harm came to Pamela.
Adele was proud to have such a pretty sister. Even when Pamela lost her two front teeth she was still cuter and more endearing than any other girl in her class. She could see her now, skipping in the playground, her neat blonde plaits bouncing up and down as she jumped. Some of the girls in her class distanced themselves entirely from their younger siblings, but not Adele – she went out of her way to show off Pamela.
Last September, when Adele had to go on up to the secondary school, it was Pamela’s turn to ask her sister if she was scared. ‘I’ll come with you if you like,’ she volunteered as they walked down the road together. ‘I’ll tell all the big girls they’ve got to be nice to you, just like you did for me.’
Adele had laughed, it was funny to think of a little eight-year-old imagining she could boss big girls around. Yet Pamela’s concern for her had made her less frightened to start at the secondary school.
She stood for some little while watching the children playing, wondering if someone would come to take her away today. While in one way she wanted to be taken, for it would mean the end of anxiety, a new start, the greater part of her was very scared. She could only liken it to starting at the secondary school, but at least there she’d known other children from the junior school. Many of them lived just a few doors away. Wherever they took her now, everyone was going to be a stranger.
‘Are they coming for me today?’ Adele suddenly blurted out as she helped Mrs Patterson peg some clothes on the line in the back yard. They had had a cup of tea together when she returned from the walk to Tommy’s school and she’d sensed by the way Annie couldn’t relax, jumping up from her chair every few minutes and tidying things, that something was up.
She saw an expression flit across the woman’s face, and knew she was about to tell her a lie.
‘I know some one is coming,’ she said, looking hard at her. ‘I just want to know if it’s today.’
Annie Patterson had always liked Adele, right from the first day the Talbots moved in upstairs. It was raining hard that day, Jim and Rose were struggling to get their stuff upstairs, and Pamela, who was a newborn baby then, was screaming her lungs off. Annie had volunteered to take both the children in while the couple got themselves straightened out. She had only just discovered she was pregnant herself, with Tommy, so she was interested in children.
Even at four, going on five, Adele was a funny little thing, suspiciously well behaved, with an almost eerie adult manner. ‘Mummy gets very tired,’ she said soon after Annie had lifted the baby out of her pram to soothe her. ‘I rock the pram for her a lot, but little Pammy doesn’t like that much, she wants Mummy to cuddle her.’
Annie remembered how she asked Adele what she thought of her new little sister.
‘She’s nice when she’s not crying,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘When she learns to walk I’ll take her out all the time and Mummy can have some rest.’
That was just how it turned out too. By the time Adele was six she was pushing her little sister down the road in a pushchair. Annie recalled watching her from the front room window, and wondering how any mother could trust so young a child with a toddler. While it was true most of the other families in the street used their older children as nursemaids for the younger ones, Rose seemed too well bred to be so careless.
But Annie soon found that there was something about Adele which inspired trust. When Annie was expecting Michael, she let Adele take Tommy out along with Pamela to the park so she could put her feet up. She always welcomed the girl coming in to see him as she would read to him, play games and generally entertain him. She was a real little mother and very bright.
Many times over the years Annie had seen Adele with bruises, but she was such a good kid it never occurred to her then that she got them from her mother. It was only in the last two or three years that Annie had become suspicious. She noticed how much nicer Pamela’s clothes were than Adele’s, and Pamela looked plump and healthy too, while Adele was as skinny as a rake with an almost permanent cold. She often saw Rose holding Pamela’s hand as they walked down the road, and it struck her that Rose never went out with Adele at all. Never once in eight years had she ever seen Rose kiss her elder daughter, give her a cuddle or even an affectionate pat on the head. Yet she’d seen her do all that to Pamela.
Now Annie was ashamed of herself. Not only had she let Adele down by not acting on her instincts a long time ago, now she was doing it again by conspiring with Dr Biggs about the welfare person coming to take her away.
She looked into the child’s strange eyes and knew she couldn’t lie to her ‘Yes, my lovely,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Someone will be coming today.’
‘Am I going to an orphanage?’ Adele asked.
‘Not if Dr Biggs can help it,’ Annie said truthfully. ‘He feels you’d be happier in a private house. Maybe with someone kind who has little ones of their own that you can help with. That sounds nice, don’t it?’
Adele was fairly certain Mrs Patterson wasn’t convinced it would be nice for her, or she would’ve said something earlier. But Adele nodded and tried to smile as if she was pleased. She knew she wouldn’t get any kind of choice anyway, and she didn’t want kind Mrs Patterson to feel bad about it.
*
A woman in a brown hat and tweed suit, who looked like a teacher, arrived just before twelve.
‘I’m Miss Sutch,’ she said, shaking Mrs Patterson’s hand and smiling at Adele. ‘We’re going for a ride on the train out into the countryside, Adele,’ she said. ‘We’ve found somewhere lovely for you to stay until your mother is better.’
She picked up baby Lily and said what a pretty baby she was, and asked Michael how old he was and when he’d be starting school. Then she sat down at the table as if she was an old friend.
While they all had a cup of tea, Adele studied the woman. She guessed she was about forty, not exactly old, but getting on. She was tall and skinny, with freckles all over her face, and when she took her hat off, her hair was quite pretty, a kind of golden-red colour, short and curly. Mrs Patterson admired it and Miss Sutch ran her fingers through it.
‘You wouldn’t want it,’ she laughed. ‘If I let it grow I can’t do a thing with it. When I was a child and my nurse used to force a comb through the tangles and make me cry, I thought curly hair was a curse.’
Adele thought she was a nice woman as she was neither stern nor condescending. She liked her gay laugh, and the way she didn’t look about her as if there was a bad smell in the room. She even cuddled Lily and wiped the baby’s nose on her own handkerchief as if she was a relative. But above all she seemed genuinely concerned about Adele’s predicament and wanted to make things better for her.
‘We’ve found a place at The Firs for you,’ she said, looking Adele right in the eye. ‘It’s a family home in Kent. Mr and Mrs Makepeace have been taking children in for several years, mostly ones like you who need a temporary home for a while, and you’ll be the oldest.’
She paused and smiled encouragingly. ‘You are really lucky they have room for you just now. There’s a swing in the garden, lots of books and games. Mrs Makepeace often takes all the children out for picnics and even to the seaside in the summer. You are going t
o love it.’
‘Where will I go to school?’ Adele asked nervously.
‘Mr Makepeace is a teacher, so you’ll have lessons with him, at least for the time being,’ Miss Sutch said. ‘Now, how does that sound?’
‘Nice,’ Adele said truthfully.
‘Right then, we’d better get going,’ Miss Sutch said. ‘Have you got your things together?’
‘She hasn’t got much,’ Mrs Patterson said, getting up and pulling Adele’s little suitcase from beneath the couch. ‘She’ll need some new shoes, hers have got holes in them.’
‘Mrs Makepeace will see to that,’ Miss Sutch said cheerfully. ‘So let’s say our goodbyes to Mrs Patterson and then we’ll be off.’
Mrs Patterson enveloped Adele in a warm hug. ‘Be a good girl,’ she said, kissing her forehead. ‘And write to me to tell me how you are. Everything will turn out fine, you’ll see.’
‘Will Mum and Dad know where I am?’ Adele whispered, suddenly nervous again.
‘Of course they will,’ Mrs Patterson said. ‘Dr Biggs organized all this, love, so he’ll be checking up on you, and them.’
Adele kissed baby Lily and patted Michael’s head as he never let her kiss him. ‘Thank you for taking care of me,’ she said to Mrs Patterson. ‘And say goodbye to Tommy for me.’
She felt a little odd as she walked down the street towards the Tube station with Miss Sutch. She had lived here for as long as she could remember, and apart from a day trip to Southend with the Sunday school she’d never been out of London. While it might have been miserable at home most of the time, all the good memories of Pamela were here, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to leave those behind.
‘You can always come back, you know,’ Miss Sutch said suddenly, as if she’d read Adele’s mind. ‘I sometimes go back to the village I lived in as a child. I walk about and look at things, remember the good people and the ones who were nasty to me. Then all at once I find I’m glad I don’t live there any more. You see, you change with different experiences. What suited you once won’t suit you for ever.’
To Adele’s surprise the train took them to Tunbridge Wells, the same place the old letter to her mother had come from. She would have told Miss Sutch about it, but the woman suddenly seemed flustered on their arrival, checking her watch and saying they’d have to get a taxi out to The Firs because she had to be back in London by six-thirty.
From what Adele could see of the town from the train, it looked interesting. The houses were old, but not rundown like the ones by stations in London. As they hurried to get a taxi, Miss Sutch said that in the 1800s people used to come to Tunbridge Wells to take the waters. Adele supposed that meant there was a well in the town which was like medicine. She would have liked to know more but Miss Sutch got into a conversation with the taxi driver about him waiting to take her back to the station.
Once they were right out of London the train journey had all been through open countryside, and Adele had been enchanted at the sight of new lambs frolicking in fields, primroses growing on the railway banks, and pretty cottages which looked as though they’d come straight out of story books. But once the taxi had left Tunbridge Wells and turned into narrow, winding lanes with thick hedges on either side and no more houses, she began to feel a little trepidation.
It began to rain heavily too, the sky becoming so black that the bare branches of the trees suddenly looked menacing.
‘It’s a long way from the shops,’ she ventured.
‘Now, why would you need shops?’ Miss Sutch said sharply. ‘Mr and Mrs Makepeace will make certain you have all you need.’
Adele didn’t feel able to say she was scared of not knowing exactly where she was. It would sound suspicious and ungrateful, but she sat up straight and tried to take note of landmarks to make herself feel less lost.
The taxi turned off from the lane on to a muddy bumpy track, and Adele and Miss Sutch were thrown from side to side along the slippery seat while the driver cursed under his breath.
‘If this rain keeps up it will be impassable soon,’ he said, turning his head to look warningly at Miss Sutch. ‘So don’t you keep me waiting long now!’
‘I’ll just take her in and be right out again,’ Miss Sutch assured him, then patted Adele’s knee. ‘I’m sorry, my dear. I meant to stop for tea and get you settled in, but you can see how it is for me. But you’ll be fine. Mrs Makepeace is very welcoming.’
All at once Adele saw her destination straight in front of her. It was a plain red brick house with tall chimney pots, partially covered in ivy and surrounded by the tall fir trees from which it got its name. It was a very long way to even the closest neighbour.
‘Such a splendid situation,’ Miss Sutch said with a satisfied sigh. ‘Of course it’s a shame you couldn’t have seen it for the first time in sunshine, but you’ve got the whole summer ahead of you for that. Now, driver, wait here, I shan’t be long.’
Miss Sutch wasn’t long, in fact she did no more than take Adele to the front door and ring the bell, and once it was opened by a stout woman with grey hair wearing a floral frock, she began making her excuses.
‘This is Adele Talbot, you are expecting her, I believe? I shall have to love you and leave you as the taxi is waiting, and the driver getting grumpier by the minute because he’s afraid of getting stuck in the mud.’
‘I’m Mrs Makepeace, love,’ the woman said with a smile, taking Adele’s small case from Miss Sutch. ‘Come on in and meet the others, it’s nearly tea-time.’
Adele felt let down by Miss Sutch’s haste to leave, which made it seem that the interest she’d shown when she first picked her up from Charlton Street was perhaps false after all. But Mrs Makepeace looked nice enough, and even if this place was very remote, she would have the company of other children.
‘Goodbye,’ she said, turning to Miss Sutch. ‘Thank you for bringing me here.’
‘Such a well-mannered girl!’ Miss Sutch simpered, already backing away to the taxi. ‘You’ll have no trouble with this one, Mrs Makepeace. Now, I must dash.’
‘That one could learn a few manners herself,’ Mrs Makepeace said as she drew Adele into the hall and closed the door behind her. ‘She’s always the same, rushing like the March Hare. I often wonder if her boss knows how careless she really is. But then she has no idea what it’s like to be without a home or family – brought up in the lap of luxury, that one! Now, let’s go into the kitchen and meet everyone. We are one big happy family here so you’ve nothing to fear.’
The big hall was very bare, with just a shiny wood floor and an old sideboard, but there was a big vase of daffodils on it, and it smelled of lavender polish.
Adele’s first impression of the kitchen and her ‘new family’ was surprise that both were so large. As Mrs Makepeace opened the door, she saw a huge table with what looked like a dozen children sitting around it, all staring at her.
‘This is your new friend Adele,’ Mrs Makepeace said, ushering her in and putting her case down by a dresser. ‘Now, I’ll start with the youngest. Mary, Susan, John, Willy, Frank,’ she said, pointing out each child around the table. ‘Lizzie, Bertie, Colin, Janice, Freda, Jack and Beryl. Now, what do we say to new friends, children?’
‘Welcome,’ they chorused as one.
‘That’s right, you are welcome.’ Mrs Makepeace smiled broadly at Adele. ‘Now, there’s a spare seat waiting for you next to Beryl. I’ll just make the pot of tea and we’ll all start.’
Adele was sure she’d never remember everyone’s name. The only one she’d caught was Mary’s, who was just a baby, no more than eighteen months old, sitting up in a high chair chewing on a crust of bread, and the oldest, Beryl, who was perhaps eleven. The others ranged from three up to ten and were all quite unremarkable, as shabbily dressed as she was, and just as thin.
‘Grace now, please,’ Mrs Makepeace said as she put a giant-sized white enamel teapot on the table.
Everyone save little Mary jumped up and stood behind their chairs, bowing
their heads over folded hands.
‘We thank the Lord who put this food on our table,’ Mrs Makepeace said. ‘May we remember but for His loving kindness we might be hungry and neglected. Amen.’
The chorus of ‘Amen’ came with the scrape of chairs being pulled out again. ‘Pass the bread, Beryl,’ Mrs Makepeace ordered.
The mountain of bread spread thinly with margarine disappeared at the speed of light. Adele learned that the first two pieces had to be eaten plain, then on the third they could have jam. There was no fourth slice as it had all gone. The tea was watery, without sugar, and the final item was a small slice of cake which looked a little like bread pudding, but had no real flavour and the sultanas were very sparse.
For Adele it was enough, for Miss Sutch had given her an apple and a chocolate biscuit on the train journey. But she thought the other children were still hungry for they’d polished off their piece of cake even before she began hers, and kept looking at hers as if hoping she’d leave it on her plate.
They were all very quiet. Every now and then Mrs Makepeace would ask one a question and it was answered, but there was no conversation aside from that.
Despite its size, the kitchen had a homely quality, heated by the cooking range. A huge dresser took up one wall and it was crammed with china, ornaments and tin boxes. A wooden rack hung from the ceiling festooned with drying or airing clothes. There were pictures of royalty, animals and flowers cut from magazines stuck up on the pale green walls, plants on the window-sill and an enormous tabby cat asleep on an easy chair by the stove.
Grace was said again after tea, then Freda, Jack and Beryl, the oldest children, were told to remain behind to wash up, while Janice was told to take Adele and the others to the playroom.
‘You won’t start your duties till tomorrow,’ Mrs Makepeace said to Adele. ‘Beryl will explain all that to you later when she shows you your bed. So run along and get to know the little ones now.’
Janice, who was to inform Adele later that she was eight, wiped baby Mary’s face and hands with a dish cloth, then, straddling her on her hip, led the way to the playroom, followed by the others in a crocodile. A small hand reached up for Adele’s and when she looked down she saw it was Susan, the second to youngest, who was about three. She had a squint, and straggly, thin fair hair, and her little hand felt very rough; when Adele looked at it later she found it was scaly and sore.
Secrets Page 6
