by Cathy Sharp
‘She has marks all over her back,’ Wendy said. Her eyes were brimming with tears, but she met Angela’s gaze defiantly. ‘I’m not sending her back there, Angela. She’s staying here at St Saviour’s with Sarah – and … and, I’ll go to prison before I let them take her back.’
Angela suppressed the urge to hug Wendy. ‘You shouldn’t have gone there without permission, Wendy – but it’s just as well you did. I suggest you take Samantha to her sister and then get her some food and drink. She’ll need a bath too.’
‘What will happen when her aunt goes back and finds Samantha isn’t there?’ Despite her brave words, Wendy looked nervous. ‘I couldn’t leave her there – and Sarah needs her.’
‘Indeed she does. Take her upstairs and leave the rest to me.’
Angela watched the two disappear up the stairs. Wendy had acted impulsively; she couldn’t bear to see Sarah declining for lack of her sister – but it was a good thing she had; if Miss Jane May had stayed away much longer, the child might have starved. Angela was going to have to start phoning a few people. Mr Yarwood might be helpful, and Mark … Yes, she would ask Mark for his advice. She certainly didn’t want to involve Henry Arnold any more than she had to.
‘Where Samantha?’ Sarah burst into the bathroom as Wendy was helping Samantha out of her stained clothing. She’d sent Tilly to tell Sarah that her sister was here, thinking it best if Sarah didn’t see her until Samantha was feeling better. But as Samantha broke from her and ran to catch her twin in her arms, she knew she’d been wrong. These two had been kept apart too long as it was; the feeling between them was much stronger than any outsider could possibly understand.
‘It’s all right, Sarah,’ Samantha said, kissing her. ‘I’m here with you now, love. I’ll never go away from you again, I promise.’
‘Promise,’ Sarah said, looking at her intently, tears rolling down her cheeks. She reached out and touched her sister’s face. ‘Samantha hurt so bad. Sarah feel her pain … Sarah hurt for her …’
‘Yes, I know,’ Samantha said and put her arms about her again. ‘Get in the bath with me – she can, can’t she, Nurse?’
‘Yes, if it’s what you want,’ Wendy said, watching as Sarah hastily undressed and then the two climbed into the warm water and Sarah began to tenderly wash her sister’s back. Wendy went out and left them alone; it was so touching, seeing the two of them together, that she couldn’t hold back her own tears a moment longer. As she dabbed at her eyes with a hankie, a murderous rage welled up inside her. She would like to make Miss May suffer for what she’d done to those children. Well, she wasn’t getting her hands on Samantha again! Not if Wendy had anything to do with it …
‘Constable Sallis says the aunt is very ill,’ Angela told Mark an hour or so later. ‘As Mr Yarwood was out of the country when I phoned him recently, I asked the constable to make inquiries about Miss May. He spoke to her neighbours and discovered that she has fits which cause her to black out and she is frightened of living alone in case no one finds her until it’s too late – and that of course is why she wanted Samantha around.’
‘She has no business relying on a young child,’ Mark said. ‘She should be in a home where she can be taken care of. This alters the case considerably, Angela.’
‘There’s more,’ Angela said. ‘Samantha told us that her aunt canes her if she gets cross – and she has the marks of a beating on her back. They aren’t deep and her skin hasn’t been cut, but I’ve told Wendy I want photographs and her testimony to the state the child was in when she found her. There wasn’t a fire or any food in the house when Samantha let her in, and she hadn’t even dared go to school for two days for fear her aunt would punish her.’
‘I think your case is proven,’ Mark said. ‘The Welfare people can’t go against evidence like that – Samantha will not be going back there, but that doesn’t mean they will let us keep her.’
‘Well, I’m not going to let her go again unless Sarah goes with her – and it has to be to someone who will love and care for her.’
‘I’m with you all the way,’ Mark said. ‘Do you want me to speak to anyone for you?’
‘I’m going to make an appointment with Miss Sampson,’ Angela replied. ‘I’ve been told she is willing to hear my case and I think it’s a much stronger case now. I’ll fight them through the courts if I have to, Mark – and if it comes to that I’ll need all the help I can get.’
‘Well, you know you can count on me,’ Mark told her. ‘That nurse used a bit of initiative, didn’t she?’
‘Wendy shouldn’t have done it,’ Angela said, ‘but she cares for the children – especially Sarah – and I’m glad she did. Samantha was so frightened of making her aunt cross that she might have stopped there until she became ill – and she’s lost weight too. I think Wendy acted in the nick of time.’
‘It’s a difficult case, because the aunt has the excuse of illness. She may not have intended to leave Samantha for so long.’
‘Whatever her intention, the child was left alone in that house for two days – and I hope Miss Sampson will see that she can’t go back there under any circumstances …’
‘Yes, I quite see your point, Mrs Morton,’ Ruth Sampson agreed when Angela visited her office the next day. ‘Inquiries have been made and Miss May is in hospital. She has been in a coma for two days, but she came round earlier this morning and told someone that the child was alone. It was not a case of wilful neglect.’
‘Perhaps not, but she isn’t fit to have care of a child – and these photographs show that Samantha has been beaten …’
‘The law states that guardians must discipline children as they see fit—’ Miss Sampson winced at the photographs Angela was spreading out across the desk in front of her. ‘Not that I agree with such punishment, Mrs Morton. No, it would appear that a mistake was made by our department, but Miss May seemed to be the only living relative.’
‘We are happy to care for both of them,’ Angela told her. ‘Naturally, if a loving relative came forward, we should not stand in the way of adoption. But I hope you agree that Miss Jane May is not a suitable guardian?’
‘I do not think she will be well enough to leave hospital for a long time – if ever. So, until such time as other arrangements can be made … yes, you must keep them at Halfpenny Street. As I said before, I can only apologise if a mistake was made …’
If a mistake was made! Angela would have liked to tell her what she thought in no uncertain terms, but this woman still had the power to send the twins elsewhere and Angela had no choice but to smile politely and express her gratitude before taking her leave.
A tragedy had been averted thanks to a gentle girl who had stood up for what she believed was right, even though she had broken several rules and regulations in the process. Angela hadn’t had the heart to reprimand Wendy for going to that address; she could only feel relieved that the twins were back together. And if she had anything to do with it, they would stay that way …
‘So she gave in?’ Mark asked as they sat talking by the glowing fire at their favourite inn. ‘I’m glad, but I knew she would once you presented her with the facts.’
‘She’s only granted temporary custody,’ Angela sighed. ‘But at least that means they’re safe for the time being.’
‘That’s all that matters for now,’ Mark said and reached for his wineglass. ‘It’s time to discuss Christmas in detail, Angela. I think we should have the carol service and a tree – with a visit from Santa Claus, just as we did last year, don’t you?’
‘Yes, the children loved the tree and the presents, and everyone enjoyed the carols – but why don’t we go one better?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, we’ve never officially opened the new wing. So why don’t we give a carol service there, followed by drinks and nibbles – on Christmas Eve? Make it a double celebration …’
‘Yes, I think that’s a wonderful idea, Angela. We did intend to have a party back in September, bu
t then Sister Beatrice fell ill …’
‘Hopefully she will be well enough to come back to us by Christmas,’ Angela nodded. ‘We have a few weeks yet to plan it all.’
‘Is there any chance of a pantomime this year?’
‘Last year the tickets were given to us, but I can’t ask again,’ Angela said. ‘I do have a Christmas fund, but it won’t stretch to more than about twenty of the younger children.’
‘Supposing I were to chip in with a few quid?’ Mark said. ‘Do you think you might get a better deal at the theatre if we took them all?’
‘Take all of the children that are well enough?’ Angela smiled at him. ‘What a lovely idea, Mark. Yes, that sounds marvellous – I might get a discount for such a large party.’
‘Good. I do like to give the children a good Christmas. I suppose it comes from having no one of my own to spoil.’
‘Oh, Mark …’ Angela’s throat caught as she saw the sadness in his eyes and knew he was remembering the son who’d died soon after being born.
‘You’ll be going home on Christmas Eve after the party I expect?’
‘Yes, I couldn’t leave my father to cook his own Christmas dinner …’ A sigh broke from Angela as she remembered the previous Christmas when she’d discovered her mother’s secret drinking.
‘Your father isn’t as helpless as you imagine,’ Mark said. ‘I think you’ll find that he wouldn’t be on his own, even if you didn’t go home – although I know you will.’
‘What do you mean?’ Angela frowned, sensing that Mark was hinting at some deeper meaning.
‘Simply that he has a great many friends, Angela. He must receive several invitations over Christmas.’
Angela wasn’t entirely convinced by this explanation, but she didn’t want to quarrel with him again. She felt a surge of longing, an intense need to be close to him, to be held in his arms and kissed. It was so long since John died and, despite her busy life, Angela was lonely. As she looked into Mark’s eyes she felt the physical pull between them and her heart raced. Perhaps now they were both ready to begin a new phase of their relationship.
‘Mark …’ she began, but before she could continue a shadow loomed over them and a man spoke.
‘How nice,’ Henry Arnold said. ‘I was hoping to see you, Angela – and you, Adderbury. Ruth Sampson was telling me about that business with the twins … shocking, quite shocking. I’m so glad you’ve managed to settle the matter, Angela. I really cannot imagine how it happened that they approved the aunt’s application to have the children in the first place.’
‘It’s obvious that they didn’t make enough inquiries about Miss May,’ Mark said, then he glanced at his watch and frowned. ‘I think we shall have to make a move soon, Angela – if we want our table …’
‘Of course; I mustn’t delay you,’ Henry said smoothly. ‘Angela – I’ll call you soon? To talk over a few things.’
‘If you wish,’ she replied politely, trying to disguise her reluctance.
‘Good, I’ll be in touch,’ he said, giving her what she could only interpret as an intimate look. What was he trying to imply? Nothing had passed between them that he should look at her in that way. What was he up to? Not for the first time, Angela felt infuriated by Henry Arnold.
‘The waiter has signalled to us twice,’ Mark said, a little irritably. ‘We’d better go into the dining room, Angela. Excuse us, Arnold.’
‘Good night, Mr Arnold,’ she said firmly. But as she got to her feet and followed Mark, she sensed that his mood had changed. The invisible barrier that had been there since Carole’s departure from St Saviour’s had slipped back into place. If only Henry Arnold hadn’t intruded … but he had, and Mark seemed annoyed. Surely he didn’t imagine that there was anything more than business between her and that man?
For the rest of the evening Angela struggled to get back their former mood of intimacy, but it had been shattered. Mark kept steering the conversation back to business, and when he dropped her outside her apartment, he did no more than graze her cheek with his kiss.
As she went inside, Angela was aware of a feeling of disappointment, of longing for something that had been missing from her life since her husband’s death. Suddenly, she realised that the years were slipping by – and she wanted more than her job and the satisfaction she got from helping the orphans of Halfpenny Street. She wanted love and marriage and perhaps children of her own … and for a time that evening she’d felt that Mark was telling her it was what he wanted too.
TWENTY-SIX
‘This is lovely,’ Michelle said, looking round the large dining room. Richard had brought her to an inn out in the country some miles from London and she was feeling a bit overwhelmed by her surroundings. ‘I’ve never been anywhere like this before.’ The oak tables were covered by spotless white cloths and the chairs were wheel-backs with U-shaped stretchers and looked as old as the inn itself; through the window she could see wintry sunshine dappled on old brick walls. ‘How old did you say it was?’
‘Seventeenth century, I think,’ Richard replied. ‘I’ve only been here once – it was during the war. I came here with some friends and we had a party …’ Sadness flickered in his eyes and Michelle wondered what memory the reminiscence had stirred, but everyone had bad memories of the war, didn’t they? In a moment the shadow had passed and he was smiling. ‘The food was good even then, and I understand they do a very good game pie – if you like that sort of thing?’
‘I haven’t eaten game often,’ Michelle admitted, feeling that this place was a bit out of her league. She was an East End girl and the nearest her family ever got to game was a rabbit from the butcher’s. ‘I don’t mind trying it though.’
‘Well, let’s have a look and see, shall we?’ Richard perused the menu and nodded. ‘Good, they have either game pie or pheasant for main course – and some kind of fancy fish cakes with vegetables …’
‘Oh.’ Michelle hesitated. She wasn’t sure she fancied pheasant, or the game pie. ‘I’m not sure … perhaps I’ll have the fish cakes.’
‘Really – are you sure?’ Richard looked disappointed in her choice. ‘I’m having the pheasant … what will you have for starters? They have tomato soup or pâté …’
‘The soup please,’ Michelle said, relieved that there was something ordinary on offer. ‘Yes, soup and fish cakes, please.’
Richard gave their order to the waiter and discussed the wines without consulting Michelle. She wondered what he’d ordered, because she didn’t much like dry wine. Alan had liked dry wine, but Michelle preferred the sweeter variety even though she knew it was supposed to be drunk with dessert.
‘How is Matty getting along?’ Richard asked as the waiter departed with their order. ‘I haven’t had time to get in to see him myself.’
‘I went yesterday, after work,’ Michelle said, pleased that they had common ground to meet on. ‘He seems better in himself, though the nurse told me he’d had a fall when he tried to go to the bathroom by himself.’
‘That doesn’t sound promising,’ Richard frowned. ‘Do you know when they are going to do those tests?’
‘I think they’ve done some already,’ Michelle said, ‘but they haven’t told me anything yet.’
‘Well, we must hope that it isn’t too serious,’ Richard said. He paused as the waiter returned with their wine, tasted it and nodded. Michelle tasted hers tentatively. It felt dry on her tongue and she took a very small sip; she couldn’t drink wine like that unless she had food to help it down. ‘Now, tell me about yourself, Michelle – I know you’re a good nurse, but what is your ambition?’
‘Ambition?’ Michelle hesitated, trying to think of something that would qualify as an ambition. ‘I just want to look after the children and help my parents … but if Dad gets that job as caretaker at St Saviour’s and they move into a better house, they won’t need as much help from me.’
‘Do you hope to become a nursing sister – or will you marry and leave the service?’
>
‘I’m not sure I’ll ever marry.’
‘Do you mind my asking why? Did someone let you down?’
‘He was married,’ Michelle said, deciding to be honest about it. ‘We had a brief affair but when I discovered he had a wife and son, I broke it off.’
‘Is that why you don’t trust men?’
‘It’s why I’m careful,’ she said and smiled at him. ‘I don’t want it to happen again.’
‘No, but it doesn’t have to, if you give yourself a chance to find love,’ Richard said. At that moment their food arrived and he smiled. ‘I hope this is as good as it smells …’ He lifted his wineglass to toast her. ‘To the future and happiness …’
Michelle lifted her glass in return and took a tiny sip. ‘Thank you – and these fish cakes are delicious, much like my mum makes when she can get the proper fish …’
‘This is a bit of all right,’ Billy said, licking the ice cream that Angela had bought at the kiosk inside the zoo gates. It was a bit cold for ice cream, but the children had had their choice of what they wanted from the man selling bags of popcorn, sweets and ice cream cones. ‘Look out, here comes your Rose.’
‘Haven’t you finished that yet?’ Rose asked. She’d left them staring into the monkey enclosure while she went to the toilet. ‘It smells a bit here. Why don’t we move on? Angela said she was taking everyone to the café for a cup of tea. I don’t know how you can eat ice cream on a day like this, Billy.’
‘It ain’t cold – not proper cold, anyways,’ Billy said. ‘We get used to the cold playin’ football, Rose. Play in all weathers, we do.’
‘Yes, well, I’m cold – what about you, Mary Ellen?’
‘I’m all right,’ Mary Ellen said without looking round. ‘I’ve been watching that keeper take the elephant for a walk. Do you think he’d let us touch it?’
‘What on earth would you want to touch a smelly thing like that for?’ Rose O’Hanran looked at her sister and shuddered. ‘You’re a funny girl, Mary Ellen. We’ll ask him where the café is and see if he’ll let you get a closer look at the elephant – but be careful. They are wild animals you know …’
