by Dilly Court
Eloise realised then that the scullery maid was little more than a child and the poor little creature seemed half demented in her frantic search. Eloise laid her hand on her stick-thin arm. 'Look, behind the big mixing bowl at the back of the draining board.'
Tibbie stood on tiptoe, and with a shout of glee she reached across to seize the pans by their handles. 'Oh, ta. I couldn't see for looking.' She darted out of the scullery with them and returned seconds later clutching her ear. 'The old cow boxed me ears for nothing. That's what she's like, though I doubt if she'll hit you.'
Eloise took a cloth and began methodically to wipe the crockery, setting it neatly on a side table. 'Why do you say that, Tibbie?'
'You're not like the rest of us.'
'Oh, yes I am. I am just like you, and I'll need you to show me what to do so that I don't upset Cook.'
Tibbie's pinched features cracked into a wide, gap-toothed grin. 'Me? Help you? That's a laugh, but I'll do me level best, Miss Monk.'
'It's Ellie, and I'll be very grateful. Perhaps when we've finished you could show me round the building, just so that I know where everything is.'
Tibbie plunged her arms into the stone sink, which was filled with grey, greasy water. 'I can do that all right. I growed up here, so I knows the place like the back of me hand.'
At the end of a long and extremely gruelling day, Eloise was fit to drop, but even more desperate to find Joss and Beth. They had never been parted for more than an hour or two and now it was more than twelve hours since she had seen them. She had spent the best part of the day in the scullery, helping Tibbie with the mountains of dirty plates, pots and pans, until the skin was peeling off her hands, her back ached and her feet were swollen from standing for so many hours on the flagstone floor. It was not until the last piece of crockery from the supper tables in the refectory had been washed, dried and put away, the sink scoured clean with a mixture of sand and soda, and the floors scrubbed, that they were allowed to finish work. Tibbie, who Eloise had discovered was just thirteen and had been working in the kitchen for more than a year, had introduced her to the other servants and had made sure that Eloise had a seat at the table in the servants' hall at mealtimes. Now that they were done for the day, Tibbie took a candle and led Eloise up the back staircase to their sleeping quarters in the attics. There were three narrow iron bedsteads in the room that she was to share with Tibbie and an older girl called Becky who worked in the laundry. A small window beneath the eaves looked down onto Guildford Street, and the roughly plastered walls were bare of any form of decoration. There was brown oilcloth on the floor and a pine chest of drawers which they had to share.
'You can have the bottom drawer,' Tibbie said, slumping down on her bed. 'We don't have nowhere to hang our clothes. They don't seem to think that us common girls need cupboards or wardrobes.'
Eloise set her valise down on the floor with a sigh. 'That won't worry me, Tibbie. What I've got won't take up much space.'
'I don't understand how a person like you wants to live and work with the likes of us?' Tibbie eyed Eloise with her head on one side like an inquisitive sparrow. 'You don't talk like the rest of us, Ellen. How come you're here?'
'It's a long story,' Eloise said, smiling. 'One day I'll tell you, but now you promised to show me round the hospital.'
'I'm tired out. Won't it wait until the morning?'
Eloise lifted Tibbie to her feet. 'No, it will not. A promise is a promise.'
Reluctantly, Tibbie led the way back down the stairs and along the corridors in between the dormitories where the children had already gone to bed. It was strangely silent, but Tibbie explained in whispers that Matron walked the corridors at night and woe betide any children who were caught out of bed or talking when they should be sleeping. At the very far end of the building they came to the night nurseries for the babies and toddlers. Eloise could hardly breathe as they tiptoed up to the large room where Tibbie said the newcomers were isolated until the doctor was certain that they were not incubating one of the dreaded childhood diseases that could quickly turn into an epidemic.
'You don't want to go in there,' Tibbie said, standing nervously outside the door. 'Suppose one of the night nurses should hear you, you'd be in trouble then.'
'I just want to see the little ones,' Eloise said, containing her excitement with difficulty and making a huge effort to appear calm and casual. 'Just a few minutes, Tibbie. If you like you can leave me here. I can find my own way back to the room.'
Tibbie yawned. 'I suppose it'll be all right, but if you gets caught, don't tell 'em it were me what brought you here.'
'Cross my heart,' Eloise whispered, lifting the latch and letting herself into a long, dark room. Holding the candle high, she moved silently between the rows of high-sided cots. Her heart was beating so fast that she was certain it could be heard from the corridor outside, and she held her breath as she bent over the two cots at the far end of the room. She clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob of pure joy as she gazed down at her sleeping children. Joss's blond curls were sticking damply to his forehead and his lips were parted, but as she laid her hand gently on his forehead, Eloise was relieved to find that he was quite cool. His slight snuffling reassured her that he had caught a cold and nothing worse. She leaned over to kiss him softly on his round cheek. Beth stirred in her sleep and Eloise moved to her cot and felt her brow, which again was cool to the touch. Her nose was runny and she too was breathing through her mouth. Eloise took the corner of her apron and wiped Beth's nose, leaning down again to kiss her on the cheek. Her arms ached to hold them both and she longed to be able to snatch them from their cots, but she knew that would be fatal. At least they were safe here in the Foundling Hospital. They would be well cared for and she would find some excuse to come to the nursery every day. She sank down on her knees, content just to be close to her babies for even a short while. It was almost too tempting to wake Joss and to reassure him that Mama was close by, but he would undoubtedly cry and that would awaken the whole nursery, bringing the night nurse rushing in to see what had disturbed them. Eloise had to content herself with just being with them, and it was only when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps that she scrambled to her feet and hid behind the door. A uniformed night nurse holding a lantern in her hand progressed along the line of cots. Eloise crept out of the door unseen and made her way back to the attic room where she found Tibbie and Becky sound asleep in their beds. Eloise slipped off her outer clothes, folding them neatly on the end of her bed. It creaked as she climbed in, but the sound did not disturb her companions who were sleeping so soundly that nothing short of a trumpet call would have woken them. As she huddled beneath the coverlet, Eloise could think of nothing but her children, and how they would feel when they awakened next morning amongst strangers. As she drifted off into sleep she vowed to be there when they opened their eyes. They must be reassured that their mama was close by and would never leave them.
She woke up with a start. At first she could not remember where she was, or why she was lying in a narrow iron bed beneath the sloping roof of an attic room. She blinked and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and then she snapped upright.
'Best get dressed quick,' Tibbie said, struggling on with her boots. 'Cook will tan our hides if we're late.' She went to shake Becky who was still curled up in a ball and fast asleep. 'Get up, you lazy mare. You've been late twice this week already and you'll be out on your ear if you do it again.'
'Eh? What's the matter?' Becky sat up in bed, her ginger hair standing out around her head like a dandelion clock.
'You'd best get down to the laundry or you'll be for it.' Tibbie lifted the latch on the door and hurried from the room, calling over her shoulder, 'Hurry up, Ellen, do.'
Becky scrambled out of bed, almost knocking Eloise down in her haste. 'You heard Tibbie,' Becky said, pulling on her cotton dress and ramming her curls into a mobcap. 'They're sticklers for punctuality here, and there's morning prayers to attend later. Best
run, Ellen, or you really will be in trouble.' With her boots in her hand, Becky raced from the room and her bare feet made soft pattering sounds on the floorboards as she sped along the corridor.
Eloise followed them more slowly, cursing herself for oversleeping. She had so wanted to be there when Joss and Beth woke up, and now she might have to wait all day before she had a chance to go to the nursery. When she reached the kitchen, she found that she was already in Cook's black books for being five minutes late on duty. She tried her best, but she could not concentrate on the task in hand, and then, to make matters worse, she dropped a pile of plates right in front of Cook, who swiped her round the head with her hand.
'That'll come out of your wages, Monk.'
'I'm sorry. It was an accident, Cook.'
'Don't give me none of your lip, girl. Clear up that mess and then you can start filling the sink in the scullery with hot water. I've got my eye on you, Monk.' Cook went back to kneading bread dough, punching it with her fists as if it had done her some terrible wrong.
Eloise carried pan after pan of boiling water from the range in the kitchen to the scullery. The large stone sink never seemed to get any fuller, and the water cooled so rapidly that topping it up seemed like an endless task. Eloise tried hard, but her thoughts were with Joss and Beth and she simply could not give her full attention to her work. Her hands seemed to be unconnected to her brain and she spilled boiling water on the kitchen floor, which had to be mopped up quickly before it caused an accident. Then she dropped a pan of porridge just as she was taking it into the servants' hall for their breakfast. Tibbie rushed to help her clear up the glutinous grey mess, but there was a general outcry from the hungry women, who would now have to make do with bread and margarine. There was such an uproar that Cook threatened to expel Eloise from the kitchen if she did anything else wrong. This gave her an idea. If she proved herself to be totally inept she might be put to work scrubbing floors or cleaning the wards.
After a breakfast of bread and scrape, which she ate alone and in disgrace at a small table in the corner of the servants' hall, Eloise waited for a suitable moment to put her plan into action. She helped Tibbie wash and dry the dishes, and she was in the china cupboard stacking the clean crockery away when Cook ordered her to leave what she was doing and fill the hod with fuel for the range. As she shovelled at the pile of coke in the yard, Eloise knew exactly what she would do. It was going to be a considerable risk, as she might equally be given the sack, but she was desperate. She hefted the hod into the kitchen and was about to tip some onto the fire when she pretended to slip, sending a shower of coke cascading onto the floor. Her timing was perfect and Cook, who had come in from the cold larder carrying a plate piled high with offal, trod on a lump of coke, staggered and fell. The plate flew into the air, splattering its bloody contents over Mrs Cater and two of the women who were up to their elbows in making pastry, and finally landing on the floor to mingle in a gory mess with shards of china and lumps of coke.
'That's it!' Mrs Cater roared, scrambling to her feet, red-faced and fuming. 'Get out of my kitchen, girl. Get out and don't ever come back.'
'I'm very sorry, ma'am,' Eloise said humbly. 'It was an accident.'
Mrs Cater shook her fist at her. 'Accident! You're an accident. You're a disaster. I'm going to tell Matron to send you packing.'
Chapter Sixteen
Miss Marchant was in her office. She did not look too pleased at the interruption when Mrs Cater dragged Eloise into the room, after a perfunctory tap on the door.
'What is it, Cook?' Miss Marchant shifted her angry gaze from Mrs Cater to Eloise and her lips pursed as if she had just sucked a very sour lemon. 'I might have guessed you would be at the bottom of this, Monk.'
Eloise opened her mouth to argue, but Mrs Cater pushed her aside. She leaned over the desk, shoving her flushed face close to Miss Marchant's. 'This person is causing mayhem in my kitchen, Matron. I won't have it, I tell you.'
Miss Marchant sat back in her chair, steepling her fingers and frowning. 'I knew that taking you on was a mistake, Monk. I felt it in my bones, and now you have proved my instincts to be correct. You can pack up your bags and leave this institution right now.'
'That's not fair, Matron,' Eloise protested, desperate to save the situation. 'You have not heard my side of things.'
Mrs Cater gave Eloise a spiteful dig in the ribs with her elbow. 'You heard what Matron said. You're not wanted here. Now get out.'
'I will not go without a fair hearing,' Eloise cried angrily. 'What happened downstairs was an accident. I'm not used to kitchen work.'
Miss Marchant rose to her feet. 'Enough of this, Monk. You told Mr Caine that you were willing to do anything. Now I find that you cannot be trusted to do the simplest things that any of our older girls could do with their eyes shut.'
'Ho! That explains it, ma'am,' Mrs Cater said with a derisive chuckle. 'Monk must have had her eyes shut and that's why she nearly wrecked my kitchen. Throw her out, Matron. She's nothing but trouble.'
'May I ask what is going on?' Caine strode into the room. 'I could hear raised voices from my office at the end of the corridor.'
A dark flush suffused Miss Marchant's normally pale features and her eyes glittered with malice. 'It is as I warned you, sir. This woman has caused trouble from the moment you employed her.'
'What have you to say for yourself, Miss Monk?' Caine's expression remained as impassive as ever. Eloise wondered what it would take to crack his cast-iron countenance into a smile or even a scowl.
'I admit that I have been clumsy, sir, but everything that happened was an accident.' Eloise spoke boldly. She guessed that Caine was not a man who suffered fools gladly, nor one who would accept lame excuses. 'I am sorry,' she added, shooting a sideways glance at Mrs Cater. 'I will try to do better.'
'Not in my kitchen, you won't,' Mrs Cater snarled. 'I wouldn't give you another chance not if you was to go down on your bended knees.'
'Thank you, Cook,' Miss Marchant said, raising her hand for silence. 'That will do. You may go back to your work. I'll deal with this matter.'
'Yes, Matron.' Cook inclined her head and stamped out of the office with an air of affronted dignity.
'You see what this person has done, Mr Caine,' Miss Marchant said, folding her hands primly in front of her. 'Have I your permission to dismiss her without a character?'
Eloise sent him a mute plea for clemency. She held her breath, waiting for his decision, and he met her anxious gaze with a long, cool look. She had the uncomfortable feeling that he could see into her soul and she looked away, biting her lip. If only he would say something. She crossed her fingers behind her back and willed him to speak up for her.
'Well, sir?' Miss Marchant prompted, fingering the chatelaine at her waist so that the keys jingled impatiently on their chains.
'Miss Monk has apologised, Matron,' Caine said slowly. 'She has admitted being clumsy and unfitted for kitchen work. However, I think we can afford to give her a second chance, although I suggest that you find her work that keeps her out of Cook's way.'
Miss Marchant's expression betrayed her anger and frustration, but she managed a tightlipped grimace and a nod of her head. 'Very well, sir. If you say so.'
'I do say so, Matron.' Caine moved towards the doorway, pausing to address Eloise in a stern voice. 'Don't let me down, Miss Monk.'
Eloise could have cried with relief and she had to suppress the desire to throw her arms around him out of sheer gratitude, but she lowered her gaze and bobbed a curtsey. 'I won't, sir. Thank you, Mr Caine.'
He nodded brusquely and left the room.
'You might have fooled the governor,' Miss Marchant hissed. 'But I have your measure, madam. You will scrub the floors from the attics to the basement, and if I find a speck of dirt at the end of the day, you will be out on your ear. Just because Mr Caine has seen fit to champion your cause doesn't put you above the rest of my staff. Do you understand me, Monk?'
'Yes, Matron.'
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'Then get about your business. You will find everything you need in the sluice, and your first job tomorrow morning will be to empty the night soil from the chamber pots in the dormitories and to scour them out thoroughly. We'll see how long you last here, Monk, but I'll wager it won't be very long.'
'Yes, Matron,' Eloise murmured. 'Thank you, Matron.'
Despite Miss Marchant's threat that Eloise must scrub and clean the whole hospital on her own, she was relieved to find that there were two other women who came in daily to do the cleaning. They eyed her suspiciously, as if they thought that she was going to do them out of a job, and reluctantly they showed her where to find the mops, buckets and scrubbing brushes. Eloise could hardly believe her luck when the more vociferous of the two told her to begin on the floor where the nurseries were situated. Judging by the way they were smirking, they thought they had done her a disservice, but Eloise could have crowed with delight.
Garbed in a large white apron and with her hair tucked into a mobcap, she hefted a pail of water up two flights of stairs to the nursery floor and began to scrub the floorboards, working her way as swiftly as she could to the room where she had found Joss and Beth. It was unnaturally quiet in the corridor, but a friendly young nursemaid informed Eloise that it was the children's nap time. Their routine was strict and involved naps both morning and afternoon. It was good for the nippers, she said, grinning, and good for the staff because it gave them time for a cup of tea and a chat. Eloise worked on, getting nearer and nearer to her children, and then the silence was broken by a loud wail followed by heartbreaking sobs. She knew instantly that it was Joss, and without thinking she leapt to her feet and raced down the corridor to fling the door open. Standing up in his cot with his small hands clutching the bars, Joss was almost hysterical.
A nurse was attempting to pacify him, but every time she tried to pick him up he kicked out with his feet and screamed. She was alone in the room, and the other infants had been awakened by the noise and were starting to cry. She glanced over her shoulder at Eloise. 'Who are you?'
