Nobody's Child

by Val Wood

  Susannah examined him surreptitiously. I wonder if he could be my father. She couldn’t see much of his hair beneath his woollen hat, but what she could see was a dull brown colour. He was not very tall and his shoulders were stooped. Susannah’s own hair was light in colour, not brown nor blond but somewhere in between, and not dark as her mother’s had apparently been. She rather hoped that he wasn’t her father. He was a dowly kind of man. Not the sort she imagined her father to be.

  ‘Old enough to work, eh?’ Jack said to Jane, nodding towards Susannah. ‘Don’t know where ’years have gone.’

  ‘I know.’ Jane sighed. ‘I wish we could turn ’clock back. I’d do some things different, that’s for certain.’

  ‘I heard that you lost ’babby you was carrying? Wilf got in a right strop about it.’

  ‘Not because I lost it,’ Jane said. ‘My ma made him marry me. She told him she’d tell ’Ellises and get him ’sack if he didn’t. Then when I lost it he realized he was stuck wi’ me for good.’ She gave another, deeper sigh. ‘Aye, and I’m stuck wi’ him.’

  ‘You’d have to have gone on ’parish, though, wouldn’t you?’ Jack said. ‘No man to pay ’rent?’

  Jane looked straight ahead. ‘Happen so,’ she said. ‘Who knows?’

  ‘He’s in bother though, isn’t he? Topham, I mean?’ He shook the reins to urge the horse on. ‘That’s what I’ve heard.’

  ‘What sort o’ bother? What do you mean?’

  ‘Been given a warning. His work’s sloppy, ’maister said. And he’s a bully to ’young lads. I doubt he’ll be tekken on again at Martinmas, even though he’s forever toadying up to Mr Joseph.’ Jack cleared his throat and spat onto the road. ‘I should’ve had that job of waggoner,’ he muttered. ‘Been there as long as him.’

  Jane stared at him. ‘If he’s not tekken on he’ll have to find work somewhere else. How’ll we manage otherwise?’

  ‘Well, you’re working, aren’t you? And yon bairn.’ He glanced at Susannah.

  Jane nodded, but Susannah noticed that she clutched her belly. Jack pulled in at the side of the road in Patrington market place. ‘I’ll drop you off here,’ he said. ‘I’ve to call in at ’wheelwright’s. Skeffling one is off sick. Hope work goes all right. They pay well, so I’ve heard.’

  They climbed out of the waggon and joined the stream of mainly women workers heading out of the western outskirts of the village towards the Winestead road where the flax mill was situated. Jane eyed the union workhouse as they passed it and clutched Susannah’s arm, whispering, ‘That place gives me the creeps. Hope to God I don’t finish up there!’

  There was good-natured bantering from some of the women as they trudged down the hill, but others, like Jane discontented with their lot, huddled into their shawls and disregarded anyone else.

  The work was arduous, hot and dusty, but at the end of the first week Susannah was paid four shillings and Jane six shillings, better than the average for women workers. Susannah went to speak to the foreman. ‘Did you ask if there was a place in the office for me?’

  ‘Aye, I did. But ’manager said no.’ He grinned. He was an amiable fellow. ‘He asked if I was off me head.’ Then he looked sympathetically at her. ‘Ask again in a twelvemonth. You’ll have learned a bit about ’trade by then, and Mr Marshall is planning on expansion.’

  Twelve months! Susannah was cast down. Is this all I’ve got to look forward to?

  When they arrived home, Wilf Topham was waiting for them with his hand outstretched. He’d come over specially, he told them. ‘I’ve walked along ’river bank,’ he said. ‘Nobody knows I’ve come so I can’t stop.’ They handed over their wages and he gave them back barely enough to buy food.

  He was about to leave when someone banged on the door. ‘Don’t let on that I’m here,’ he warned and went to hide in the bedroom.

  Susannah opened the door and bobbed her knee. ‘It’s Mr Ellis, Aunt Jane.’

  ‘This is the second time I’ve been,’ Mr Ellis complained. ‘You were out!’

  ‘I’ve started work at ’flax mill, sir,’ Jane said. ‘We – I don’t get home until late.’

  ‘Do you walk in the dark from Patrington?’ he asked in an astonished voice.

  ‘Why, yes, sir!’ Jane answered, and Susannah wondered how else he thought they would get home.

  ‘Here’s the allowance.’ He thrust an envelope into Jane’s hand. ‘I’ll call on a Sunday next time.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Jane dipped her knee. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Make sure it’s well spent,’ he said brusquely. ‘No fripperies.’ He turned away and mounted his mare.

  Jane looked up at him plaintively and put her arm round Susannah’s shoulder. ‘I don’t know what those are, sir,’ she murmured.

  He grunted and wheeled away.

  ‘What does he mean?’ Susannah asked. ‘Fripperies! It’s money for school, isn’t it?’

  Jane blinked. ‘Aye,’ she muttered. ‘Course it is.’

  Wilf appeared behind them, keeping within the door. ‘So why does Ellis bring ’school money when it’s his missus who’s supposed to pay for her?’

  ‘She probably doesn’t have any money to call her own,’ Jane said bitterly. ‘Just as I don’t!’ She flung the envelope at Wilf. ‘Women don’t have any say about owt.’

  He grabbed her roughly and pulled her inside. ‘No, that’s right, they don’t,’ he agreed callously, opening the envelope. He gave a soft whistle. ‘Phew! This’ll come in useful.’ He gave a sly grin. ‘Didn’t know how expensive schooling was! No wonder my ma nivver sent me.’

  ‘What if Mrs Ellis finds out that I’m not at school?’ Susannah said nervously. ‘Won’t she be angry? Won’t you have to give ’money back?’

  ‘Nah! Can’t if it’s spent, can I? Besides, it was your aunt Janey who was given ’money, wasn’t it? Not me!’ Wilf’s eyes slid from Susannah to Jane. ‘Such a spendthrift she is. Can’t be trusted wi’ money, ma’am,’ he said in a wheedling voice. ‘That’s why I keeps her short. Spends it as soon as she gets it. Don’t you, little wifey?’ he added roughly, giving Jane a slap.

  Jane burst into tears. ‘I’ll get ’blame,’ she wept. ‘They’ll think it’s me that’s spent it on fripperies!’

  ‘And you’ll not tell!’ Wilf warned Susannah. ‘Or else you’ll feel ’leather on your backside.’

  Susannah put her hand to her mouth to prevent an outburst of fear and anger. She saw the meanness in his eyes and the way his mouth tightened in a narrow line. She shook her head. ‘I won’t,’ she whispered.

  That night after Wilf had gone back to Skeffling, Susannah and Jane prepared for bed. Susannah washed her hands and face and brushed her long hair. Jane sat in her nightshift gazing into the damped-down fire. She looked up at Susannah.

  ‘Susannah, will you come into my bed tonight? I’m in need o’ company and I want to talk to you.’

  Susannah put down her hairbrush. She’d never shared Jane’s bed, though when she was little she had slept with Aunt Lol, Uncle Ben, Sally and Thomas, until Aunt Lol had had a new bed delivered. ‘This is for you, Susannah,’ she had said. ‘Now that you’re growing up to be a big lass. You can sleep in ’corner of ’kitchen and you’ll allus be warm.’

  Thomas had grumbled that he would have liked his own bed too, but his mother had said no, he could sleep at the bottom of theirs as he always did.

  ‘Yes, course I will,’ she said to Jane now. ‘We’ll be warmer as well if we cuddle up.’

  They snuggled up together and Susannah tucked her head under Jane’s arm so that their heads were close. Susannah heard Jane’s breath in her ear and then Jane whispered, ‘Your ma and me used to snuggle up like this, when I was little. We slept in ’same bed when she lived with us. She looked after me, did Mary-Ellen, cos I was allus frightened of me own shadow. Mary-Ellen was frightened of neither nowt nor nobody.’

  ‘Are you frightened now, Aunt Jane?’ Susannah murmured. ‘Of Wilf?’

  ‘Ay
e, I am. And I’m frightened for you as well, Susannah.’ Jane lay back, looking up at the ceiling, though the room was almost in darkness. ‘And I’m more scared for you than I am for myself. I’ve got summat to tell you.’

  Susannah sat up, leaning on one elbow. ‘What?’

  ‘I think I’m expecting another babby. I’ve not told him yet, cos I’m not sure. But I’ve been sick and I feel as if I am.’

  ‘I’ll help you, Aunt Jane,’ Susannah said. ‘I’ll help you to look after it.’

  ‘Ah, but don’t you see! You’ll still have to go to work and he’ll tek all your money just ’same. He’ll not come round so often, which is a blessing, but he’ll come on ’day you bring your wages home.’

  ‘So what can we do?’ Susannah cupped her chin in her hands. ‘We’ll need extra money with a young babby to feed.’

  ‘Aye, we will. I’ve been thinking about it all week while I’ve been working. There’s onny one thing for it, as far as I can see.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Susannah leaned her head on Jane’s shoulder. ‘I’ll do whatever you say.’

  Jane gave a little laugh which came from the back of her throat, but Susannah thought wasn’t a chuckle of happiness, but of bleakness. ‘You’ve allus been a good lass,’ Jane said. ‘Obedient. A bit like me, I suppose, and not like your ma. She’d have stood up to somebody like Wilf. She’d have shown him ’door, no doubt about that. Though he’d not have got through it in ’first place! But you,’ she said. ‘I don’t see you smile any more and it’s not right.’

  ‘We’ve nothing much to smile about.’ Susannah felt tears welling behind her eyes. ‘Not since Aunt Lol died and Wilf took over.’

  ‘I know. Well, I’ve got to do as he says, cos he’s my lawful husband. But you …’ She felt for Susannah’s cheek and gently patted it. ‘You don’t. He’s no relation of yours and can have no say ower what you do.’

  ‘But he’s taken our money!’ Susannah cried. ‘Money which should have gone for my schooling, as well as our wages. He’ll beat us if we don’t give it to him!’

  ‘He can’t beat you if you’re not here,’ Jane whispered. ‘Not if you’ve run away.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ‘Run away! Why would I run away? Where would I go? What would you do? You’d be by yourself!’ Susannah got out of bed and opened the thin curtain at the window to let in a ribbon of grey light. ‘I couldn’t go and leave you.’ She sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Not with him!’

  ‘You’re a clever lass,’ Jane said. ‘You could go to Hull or anywhere. You’d soon get a job. And if you’re not here, he wouldn’t come cos there’d be no money – not much, anyway – and he’d have to keep me on his earnings, else I’d go to ’parish and tell ’em that he’d abandoned me and then word’d get back to Ellis’s.’

  Susannah gazed at her. She seemed to have got a scheme all worked out, but it didn’t make a lot of sense. ‘Jack Terrison said that Wilf was in some bother,’ she said. ‘He told you that ’Ellises might not take him on again at Martinmas. So,’ she murmured, ‘he’d come back here, unless he went away onto another farm.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jane said. ‘That’s why I want you to leave. If you’re here and we get money from ’Ellises, as well as our wages from ’flax mill, then he’ll not want to try for work. He’ll just stop here.’

  Susannah started to cry. ‘But I’ve never lived anywhere else. I’ll be frightened on my own!’

  ‘You’ll be frightened if you stay,’ Jane said softly. ‘It’ll not be easy living wi’ an angry man.’

  ‘But what about you, Aunt Jane? He’ll be mad at you, and who’ll help you with ’new babby?’

  ‘I’ll manage,’ she said. ‘Time I stood on me own two feet; and I’ll get Mrs Davison to help me at ’birth like last time – if I can keep it,’ she added.

  Susannah wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her nightshift. ‘When should I go?’ she asked miserably.

  ‘Saturday,’ Jane said. ‘When we collect our wages from ’mill. Instead of coming home you can set off from there. I’ll reckon to Wilf that I haven’t seen you since ’morning when we went to work.’

  ‘Will he believe you?’ She snuffled. ‘Suppose he comes to look for me?’

  ‘He won’t,’ Jane said. ‘He won’t be suspicious, not straight away. And besides, like I say, you’re nowt to do wi’ him. He’s telled you that already, hasn’t he?’

  Susannah got back into bed and curled her knees up to her chest. ‘What’ll I do then? When I get to Hull? Where will I stay?’

  Jane leaned over her. ‘You’ll have your wages. You’ll look for a room for ’night and then – and then …’

  ‘Yes?’ Susannah felt exhausted and tearful, nervous and worried. ‘What then, Aunt Jane?’

  There was a silence and then Jane took a heavy breath. ‘I’ve to confess. I’ve not thought of what might happen next.’

  Susannah woke in the early hours of the morning. She was instantly awake and her mind started buzzing with the conversation she and Jane had had. I can’t run away, she decided. How can I go on my own? Where would I go? I’d only have my week’s wages and they’d have to last me until I found other work. I’d have to say I was older than I was. I suppose I could go into service like Jane did, but who would recommend me? If only I had my sovereign. That would have lasted a long time. I wonder if Wilf’s spent it. But where would he have spent it? Innkeeper would be suspicious if he had such a large sum.

  She got quietly out of bed so as not to disturb Jane and padded into the kitchen as an idea took hold. Behind the door were shawls and scarves, and a jacket and a coat belonging to Wilf, which he sometimes left here. She patted the pockets but they appeared to be empty. Then she took down the coat from the hook and looked inside in case there was a hidden pocket. Uncle Ben had had a coat with an inside pocket where he used to keep his pipe and a wad of tobacco.

  There was! But it was empty. She put her hand inside and found a hole in the lining. She put her fingers further and further down inside the lining until she came to the coat hem where she clutched hold of something hard. She drew it up. Her sovereign! She could take it back and use it.

  But suppose Wilf came back during the week and checked to see if it was still there? Susannah pondered uneasily. Come to think of it, the last time he had come, he had fished around in the coat as if he was looking for something. She put the sovereign back in the pocket and shook the coat until the coin fell down to the hem again. I’ll leave it there until my last day here, she thought. And then I’ll take it out again. He won’t be here on Saturday morning when we set off for work.

  She climbed back into bed, but she didn’t sleep. She felt scared yet excited. She’d never travelled very far, though she remembered going to the sea. Uncle Ben had taken her and Thomas one Sunday when they were little. They’d walked some of the way on the road but had then cut down to the Humber bank at Skeffling and walked alongside the river. Susannah’s legs had ached; the bank was narrow and muddy and she had difficulty keeping her feet. Uncle Ben explained that the road leading into the village of Kilnsea was all but washed away and that many of the houses had fallen into the sea.

  When they came into the village he saw how tired she was and they stopped at the inn where he’d bought them lemonade and a slice of plum cake and had a glass of ale for himself. Then they’d continued along the sandy promontory towards Spurn Point, where they stood on the very edge of the grassy bank of the peninsula and saw the river on one side and the sea on the other. She and Thomas had rushed down to the seaside and jumped about dodging the waves and throwing pebbles. When they returned home to Welwick, Uncle Ben had had to carry her on his back for she could walk no further. She remembered it as such a happy day.

  The furthest she had been inland was to Patrington. She had never visited the market town of Hedon, or Hull which her teacher had told her was a busy port with many foreign ships. Miss will be wondering where I am, she thought. She was relying on me to help with the other
bairns. I’ll ask Jane to tell her I can’t come any more.

  At the beginning of the week, whilst going to and from work, Susannah deliberated on her situation. She took particular note of the carriers who went through Patrington, including one from Welwick, and of their destination, and of the farm waggons which stopped at the mill when the workers left and gave some of the women a lift. She asked one young woman whom she had seen climbing into a waggon where she lived.

  ‘Ottringham,’ she said, naming a village a few miles further west. ‘I’ve been lucky to get this job. There’s nowt much to do in Ottringham unless you want to be in service. And I don’t.’

  Another girl chipped in that she had even further to come as she lived in Thorngumbald. ‘I walk from there to Ottringham and get a lift on ’same waggon as Mary here. We pay ’waggon lad at ’end of ’week when we get our wages.’

  ‘Does he go on to Hedon, do you know?’ Susannah asked; she had worked out that she could get another carrier from that town into Hull. ‘I need to go at the end of the week. I’ve to visit a sick auntie,’ she added.

  ‘Not after he’s dropped us he doesn’t,’ Mary replied. ‘He goes back to ’farm. You’d have to catch carrier from Easington. He comes past here for Hedon, but he doesn’t run on a Sat’day. Tuesdays and Fridays he runs, so you’d have to tek ’day off; unless you walk.’

  The next morning, Thursday, after she and Jane had parted company for their different jobs, Susannah went into the mill office. ‘I need to take some time off,’ she told the clerk. ‘Tomorrow and Saturday.’

  ‘You’ll lose wages,’ he told her.

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘But it can’t be helped. I’ve to see a sick relative.’

  ‘Oh!’ He frowned, scrutinizing her. ‘Can you come in tomorrow morning? Just for an hour, I mean.’

  She hesitated as he winked at her. ‘Y-yes,’ she said. ‘I can.’

  ‘Right,’ he murmured. ‘Come in as usual, then come and see me at about eight o’clock. I’ll have your wages ready.’