To provide more amusement along the way, Mims gave a hefty shove of the handle, allowing the pushchair to free wheel and drawing screeches of excitement from the baby. ‘Again!’ She dealt the perambulator yet another gleeful thrust, leaving it even longer this time, before rushing to catch up with it. Lionel squealed as his vehicle accelerated over the bumpy grass.
Happy and laughing, Mims ran to grab hold of the handle again – then suddenly tripped over a lump of rock and before she knew it the pushchair was out of her grasp and was hurtling down the limestone Crags, tossing its little occupant up and down and from side to side in a hazardous fashion. Terrified of the consequences, Mims scrambled as fast as she could down the slope after the careering vehicle but too late; upon reaching the bottom its wheels hit a ledge, stopping it abruptly and tipping the baby out face first.
After a moment of shock came the sound of crying. A hand pressed to her mouth, Mims proceeded cautiously, hardly daring to guess at what Lionel’s injuries might be. But with the loudness of his wails threatening to reach Eliza’s ears she rushed the last few yards, scooped him up into her arms and covered him with kisses, cuddling and shushing him. ‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Line!’
Under these soothing noises of apology he immediately stopped crying, though this was of no consolation to Mims for she now saw that his face was covered in blood and dirt.
Sucking in her breath, she burst into tears, tears not for Lionel but for herself. What would Eliza do to someone who had harmed her baby?
Startled by this, Lionel made not another sound, merely beheld her with uncomprehending eyes as she spat on a handkerchief and dabbed gently at his face.
Thankfully, much of the blood was deposited on the fabric and with the dirt wiped away his injuries seemed not half so severe – though there was a cut on his mouth that no amount of dabbing would remove.
After this, legs weakened by a state of terror, she slumped to the ground, the baby on her lap. How on earth was she going to explain this to Eliza?
‘Doh-doh,’ prompted Lionel.
Still dazed, Mims noticed then that his dummy was missing. Searching frantically about her, she spotted the rubber comforter nearby, wiped it on her cardigan, sucked off the residue of dust, then jammed it into Lionel’s mouth.
But still she made no move to go home.
A good half an hour passed, during which the fearful little girl racked her brain for some convincing explanation. An idea began to form. Whether or not it would win over her stepmother it was impossible to say, but she would have to test it out some time. Practising the explanation as she went, Mims put Lionel back into his pushchair and made her reluctant way home.
There was to be no last-minute rehearsal, for Eliza was sitting outside the front door with Clem, enjoying the sunshine. Seeing them, Mims immediately broke into a trot, her voice excited as she reached them. ‘Lionel nearly swallowed his dummy! I had to hit him to stop him choking! I’m sorry his mouth got cut…’ She waited apprehensively, expecting Eliza to swoop down on her, but her stepmother’s outstretched arms were merely to grab Lionel, whom she swung up into the air with an exclamation.
‘Aw, poor baby! Have you been in the wars?’ The voice was jovially affectionate, Eliza still holding Lionel at arm’s length before gathering him to her breast and jiggling him. ‘Silly old dummy, we’ll have to get you a new one.’
Mims could hardly trust her ears. Eliza believed her!
At only nine years old, she had no concept of irony, yet this did not prevent a bubbling-up of amusement in the scrawny breast. For the first time in Mims’ life she had escaped punishment – for something that really was her fault.
* * *
At teatime there was a slice of cake as reward for Mims’ quick-thinking. Knowing this glorification would not last for long, Mims enjoyed it whilst she could and she was right to do so, for by Sunday lunchtime Eliza was back to her usual obnoxious self, castigating Mims for dawdling over her meal, before banishing her to the cupboard.
‘You know, you could save yourself an awful lot of upset,’ sighed Clem, trying to enjoy his own meal amid the chaos.
‘Try telling her that!’ retorted Eliza. ‘If you think I’m giving in to that stubborn, ungrateful little minx—’
‘But is it really worth disrupting everyone over a few peas?’
‘It’s not just a few peas!’ Eliza’s raised voice pierced her victim’s dark prison. ‘She wears them like blasted medals!’
Sitting in the dark, hugging herself, Mims frowned over this; she had not realized just how affective her obstinacy had been. Yet there was no triumph to be had. From past experience she knew that the peas would be served cold at teatime and would taste even worse.
Eliza confirmed this, her announcement drilling through the cupboard door. ‘Well, if she doesn’t eat them tonight they’ll be there at breakfast!’
And so they were. The peas that Mims so valiantly avoided – going to bed hungry rather than eat them – reappeared at breakfast on Monday morning, the shrivelled black objects looking more like currants than peas. Pretending that this was what they were, and with nothing else on offer, the famished Mims finally surrendered.
Surrender or no, it did not seem to please her stepmother. Delivering a whack round the little girl’s head in passing, Eliza spat, ‘Why couldn’t you have eaten them in the first place?’
Rubbing her head, Mims awaited permission to leave the table, then went off to school in a state of despondency.
* * *
That afternoon, when Mims came out of class she found Aunt Ethel waiting at the gate, accompanied by Joe, still in his pit clothes.
There was no feeling of excitement. Confronted by her elderly stern-faced aunt, the little girl looked apprehensive.
Ethel was not one for preamble. ‘Right, Millicent, we know your stepmother’s being cruel to you—’
‘Oh no!’ Mims looked terrified.
‘Oh yes! And I’m here to do something about it, so you can stop panicking.’
Mims remained unconvinced. Ethel might have kind intentions, but had no idea how formidable her ram-rod posture, square jaw and emotionally distant personality might seem to a little girl.
‘Where’s your brother Marmaduke?’
Mims felt her legs trembling. ‘He’s gone off.’ Duke had been roaming the country for days.
Ethel turned sharply to Joe. ‘You’ll have to find him. We can’t leave him to carry the can.’
Joe noted his little sister’s bafflement, and explained, ‘Aunt Ethel’s come to kidnap us.’
Ethel’s normally severe expression cracked into a laugh. ‘I suppose I have.’ But soon she was her businesslike self. ‘Now, here’s the plan. Millicent, you and Marmaduke – as long as Joseph manages to find him – get up at the normal time as if you’re going to school. But you won’t go. I’ll be waiting on Station Road to take you on the train. Joseph, you’ll have to go to work as usual or Eliza might get to hear that you haven’t turned up, but take a change of clothing and drop it off at Mrs Gentle’s house – don’t worry she knows all about it – Aunt Meredith will be waiting at the pit head at the end of your shift and she’ll go with you to Mrs Gentle’s where you can get bathed and changed.’
Mims plucked up the courage to ask, ‘What about Lionel?’
Aunt Ethel looked down at her. ‘We can’t take him, dear. He belongs to your stepmother.’
Mims was deeply shocked. She loved Lionel – how could she be parted from him?
Watching her face Ethel said, ‘If you want to stay here you can, but I don’t think you want to, do you?’
Recalling each cruel treatment, Mims knew that there was no other way. Taking Aunt Ethel’s outstretched hand, she silently made her choice.
Having made sure they were certain of the plan, Aunt Ethel walked with them for part of the way, then made a detour to Mrs Rushton’s, where she would be staying overnight.
Highly excited, yet apprehensive too, Joe and his sister we
nt home.
When they got there, Eliza had already scrubbed the coal dust from George’s back and was hanging around the bathroom impatiently. ‘You’re late,’ she commented. ‘Water’s gone cold.’
‘Doesn’t matter. Serve me right for standing talking.’ Quickly, Joe stripped off and stepped into the scum-laden bath water.
Mims, meanwhile, had brushed silently past and into the sitting room, making a beeline for Lionel.
Assailed by the thought that they would soon be parted, she made an extra fuss of him this afternoon, reluctant to let him go and rushing her tea to reclaim him. In fact, so upset was she at the thought of the two of them being parted she refused to give him up, even when her stepmother instructed her to take him to bed.
‘Can’t he just stay up a while longer, Mother?’
‘What the devil’s up with you tonight?’ demanded Eliza, hands on hips. ‘You’ve been clinging like a blasted limpet. I said take him to bed right now, and you’ll find yourself up there with him if I have any more cheek!’
Whilst Mims hefted Lionel up the staircase, Eliza greeted Clem, who had just come in from work. ‘Oh, I thought it might be Duke.’
‘He’s still not back then?’ Weary from a day’s mental toil, Clem just wanted to eat his meal in peace. ‘If I get my hands on him—’
Worried that Duke might be disabled by Clem’s punishment, and therefore unable to take part in the escape, Joe volunteered, ‘Would you like me to go and see if I can find him, Mother?’
‘Yes and you can tell him to look forward to a good hiding when he comes home!’
Joe rushed out. After scouring the area for an hour, he was beginning to despair, but as a train rattled by and his eyes followed it he eventually saw his brother standing on the embankment and waving furiously to the homebound racegoers from Doncaster, beseeching them to part with their winnings. ‘Throw us a penny!’
Clambering over a fence, Joe stumbled down the embankment to a hail of coppers, and rushed to help Duke gather them as the train chugged off along the track.
‘Eh, them’s mine!’
‘I were only helping you!’ grumbled Joe, with the addition, ‘Tight-arse.’
Looking in no way repentant for the accusation of theft, Duke sat down to count his money. Joe flopped down beside his brother and told him of the plan.
Faced with Duke’s silence he added, ‘It’s up to you whether you want to come but if you do you’ll have to come home with me now.’
Duke was unenthusiastic, clinking the collection of pennies in his fist. His hands were more tanned than his brother’s from his habitual outdoor rambles. ‘I’ll get a hammering when I show my face.’
Joe nodded grimly. ‘Aye, but it’ll be the last one you have. Tomorrow night you’ll be miles away where she can’t touch you.’
‘I was going to be miles away anyway. That’s what I need this for.’ He continued to jingle the money.
‘Where?’
‘Dunno.’ Duke stared into midair. His life seemed to consist of one endless search; for what, he did not know.
Joe studied the forlorn face. Burdened with the same aching loss of a mother and the oppression at home, he could understand the desperation that prompted Duke to keep running away, though could not guess what lay beneath: the sense of not belonging, the acute heartache for something he could never have. To Joe, Duke had always been a strange one. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to have somewhere in mind before you set off?’
Duke underwent serious thought. For most, the prospect of living with caring foster parents would be much preferable to a life on the road, but for one possessed by wanderlust it was a difficult choice to make.
Finally, though, the slender hope that he might eventually find what he sought lured him into making a decision. Even if he did not find it, there would be a warm bed and kind treatment. Hiding his pennies under a stone, Duke accompanied his brother home. Sure enough, a severe beating awaited him, but the thought of Eliza’s face when she discovered he had been rescued from her clutches made every blow worthwhile.
Mims had been trying her best not to cry at the thought of leaving her dear Lionel, for Eliza would be suspicious. But now, witnessing Duke’s beating she could quite feasibly allow her tears to flow. Packed off to bed, she could hardly sleep.
* * *
At five o’clock, along with George, Joe went off to the pit as normal, his younger brother and sister rising some two hours later. After seeing Clem off to work, Eliza followed habit and went back to bed to enjoy a lie-in with baby Lionel, whilst the others ate their bread-and-dripping and got themselves ready for school.
Even in her absence, there was no relaxing of tension for Mims and Duke. The excitement was almost suffocating.
Poised to go, Mims indicated the money that lay on the table; it was to buy bread for their dinner. ‘Do we take this?’ she whispered.
‘Better not,’ advised Duke, who had decided to abandon his own cache in the face of expedience, ‘or she’ll accuse us of stealing.’
Envisioning herself in prison, Mims left the coins on the chenille tablecloth and, without a backwards glance, left the house. Fearing that any moment she would be discovered and hauled back, her heart was thumping and her bottom quivering as she and Duke made their way to Station Road where they could see Aunt Ethel awaiting them.
Then, wasting neither time nor sentiment, their ally took a hand in each of hers and led them briskly to the railway station, and on to freedom.
* * *
But for those who had suffered two years of abuse the notion of freedom was hard to credit and even hours later, after being served the most delicious meal at Aunt Ethel’s, the pair sat obediently juxtaposed like statues on the horsehair sofa, hardly daring to move. The slightest noise would have their eyes shooting to the door, both expecting Clem to arrive and take them back at any time.
When the door knocker sounded, Mims almost jumped out of her skin, Duke going even further and hiding behind a jardinière that held an aspidistra in a majolica pot.
Shocked by this extreme reaction, Ethel coaxed him out, then sat beside the pair on the brown sofa, bidding them not to worry as husband Horace went to answer the summons. ‘It’s only Aunt Meredith.’
Sure enough, a beaming Meredith entered, accompanied by Joe. Yet even then Mims and Duke could not allow themselves to believe that life had taken an upwards course.
Exhilarated from their escapades, the elderly sisters shared a laugh at their own audacity. ‘Talk about a blooming military operation!’ chuckled Merry, tugging at the fingers of her summer gloves. ‘I could teach General Haig a thing or two.’
‘Yes, Probe would be proud of us,’ answered Ethel, feeling ashamed that she had let him down all those years just because he had married a Catholic, and glad of the opportunity to put this right.
Raising her hands to remove her hat, Meredith was horrified that the children misinterpreted her swift movement and cowered as if to avoid being hit. ‘Oh, Ethel,’ her smile of triumph was doused in woe, ‘what has that dreadful woman been doing to them?’
Sharing her sister’s anger, though keeping it hidden, Ethel dealt the nearest child a reassuring pat. ‘Well, don’t worry, she isn’t going to do it any more.’
* * *
By six o’clock Eliza realized that something was seriously amiss. Had it been just one of the children who had not come home there might be some explanation, but for three to vanish at once she detected skulduggery. Beginning to clear away the pots from their evening meal, she gave bad-tempered instruction to George: ‘Get Lionel down then have a look in the street and see if there’s any sign of them.’
After removing his little brother from the high chair, George slouched towards the door, leaving it open as he went out to cast his eyes up and down the street.
Clem helped Eliza to clear the table, then settled himself in an armchair, Lionel on his knee.
Hearing voices outside, Eliza immediately went out to investigate, but he
r son was conversing with Fanny Gentle. ‘I thought I told you to go and look for them!’
George looked uneasy. ‘Mrs Gentle were just saying—’
‘I was just saving George the bother of traipsing up and down looking for his brothers and sister.’ Fanny came towards Eliza, carrying the bag that she used for her midwifery. Her mien was smug.
Eliza responded darkly. ‘I might’ve guessed you’d have something to do with it. So where are they?’
‘Out of your clutches,’ replied Fanny. ‘With folk who’ll protect them.’
‘You can get put in gaol for kidnapping,’ retorted Eliza. Clem had come to stand in the doorway behind her, Lionel in his arms.
‘How can it be kidnapping?’ sneered Fanny. ‘They were rescued by members of their own family.’
Eliza glanced over her shoulder at Clem with a meaningful nod. ‘Ethel! Well, at least now we know where they are. Two can play at that game. Thank you for telling us, Mrs Gentle.’ Summoning George inside, she shut the door in Fanny’s face, leaving the midwife feeling that she might have done the wrong thing.
Indoors, Eliza divested Clem of his baby son. ‘I’ll show her who’s in charge! Get over to Leeds and bring them back.’
Clem glanced at the clock. It was only a quarter past six; he could be there easily before dark. ‘All right, but if they’re already in bed I might have to stay the night and fetch them in the morning.’ Tomorrow being Saturday, he would not lose any pay.
‘Whatever you like, but don’t come back without them. We’ll be destitute if we lose their pensions.’ Eliza watched him don his bicycle clips, then followed him outside to see him off.
Back indoors, she found a pensive George staring into the fire. Setting Lionel on his feet she slapped her elder son round the head in passing. ‘Don’t think you’re just sitting there doing nowt. There’s washing-up to be done!’
* * *
A Different Kind of Love Page 50
