The Orphan Collection

by Maggie Hope

  He’d done well, had Fred. He was a partner and managing director of a sprawling steelworks on the coast, a self-made man who believed in the value of hard work.

  ‘No brother of mine is going to walk into the works at the top,’ Fred had declared when he took Johnny out of school and sent him to Bishop Auckland to serve an apprenticeship. ‘You’ll have to prove yourself, my lad.’

  Maybe Fred is getting a bit softer, Johnny mused as he changed trains at Darlington Station. The local train to the burgeoning industrial centre on Teesside was crowded and Johnny was squeezed in between two women with large baskets who insisted on talking loudly to each other over his head.

  There’s nothing wrong with travelling third class,’ Fred had said. ‘It won’t hurt you. I had to do it often enough.’ Johnny grinned as he looked past the other passengers at the flying countryside. Fred didn’t travel third class now, oh no. Well, it didn’t fit in with his position.

  Johnny breathed a sigh of relief as the train pulled into his station and he descended to the platform. He looked around him, not that he expected to be met, but he was hopeful of seeing old friends. A bit silly that, he told himself, any friends of his from his early days would be either working or away at school.

  Maybe Fred had softened in his attitude towards him, thought Johnny, as he set off on the final walk to the imposing stone residence where Fred lived with his wife Dinah and their two boys. Though the boys would be away at school now, he remembered, the Friends’ School at Great Ayton. Fred had some powerful Quaker friends and business associates.

  Turning his thoughts to the question he had been asking himself ever since he had got the letter from Fred, informing him that his brother had bought him out of his indentures and was ordering him to return home, Johnny wondered yet again if Fred had had a change of heart. Well, he would soon know. Happily he climbed the steps to the front door of the mansion and lifted the heavy knocker, dropping it with a resounding bang onto the plate. This was the first time he had been allowed home since Christmas and he was very pleased to be here.

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  The girl who opened the door was dressed in a neat, black dress with a starched white cap and apron. She was new to Johnny as he was new to her. She gazed at him doubtfully, unsure what to do; his clothes weren’t too bad, they could be those of a gentleman, and his bag had the initials JHF on it. Yet his hands were roughened with hard work, scarred as badly as her father’s hands, and her father worked on the shop floor in the steel mill. She didn’t have to decide whether to let him in, however, for he moved forward himself, into the hall, slinging his bag into a corner as he did so and smiling at her.

  ‘Hello, you must be new here,’ he said, in a pleasant voice very much like the master’s. ‘I’m Johnny Fenwick. Tell my brother I’m here, will you?’

  ‘Johnny!’ Dinah had heard the knocker and was making her way down the curving staircase with her hands outstretched in welcome. She was a tall, buxom woman, fair-haired and red cheeked. ‘I’m so glad to see you. Come into the drawing room – there’s a fire in there and you must be cold.’ She took his hands and kissed him on the cheek. Johnny was delighted to see her for when he was smaller Dinah had been as a mother to him.

  ‘Bring some tea, please, Norah. And some of those nice scones Cook baked this morning.’ Dinah said over her shoulder as she swept ahead of Johnny into the drawing room, talking as she went, hardly pausing for breath.

  ‘Fred is still at the works. We’ll have a cosy chat by the fire while we drink our tea. Bye, how you’ve grown, Johnny!’ She paused and looked him up and down, critically. ‘And we’ll have to do something about getting some clothes to fit you.’

  Johnny smiled indulgently. Dinah never changed, she was still the same amiable chatterbox he remembered. Of course, he thought, now Stephen and Arthur were away at school, she would miss having them to talk to. And Fred spent such long hours at work that the solitude would be hard for her, Dinah was so completely involved in her home and family.

  Soon they were settled beside the tea tray and johnny was polishing off scones liberally spread with strawberry jam. Dinah, quiet for once, sat back and sipped her tea, watching her husband’s young brother with a deep affection. She loved Fred and everyone connected with Fred unreservedly and his brother especially. ‘Oh, Johnny, it’ll be nice to have you here where I can keep an eye on you. I was so worried when you were sent away from home so young. But I comforted myself thinking that Fred knows best. And, Johnny, Fred was right, you’ve come through fine, haven’t you?’

  Johnny smiled indulgently. ‘Yes, but it’s good to be back, and for good at last!’ He sighed and sat back in his comfortable armchair, licking jam from his fingers.

  ‘You were all right over in Bishop, though, weren’t you?’ Dinah’s glance was anxious as she picked up the feeling in his voice. The lad was thin and growing out of his clothes. Dinah always thought of Johnny as ‘the lad’. She couldn’t understand why Fred sent the family away, first Johnny and now the boys, though they were only at school at Great Ayton – just up the road really, she liked to think. She studied the thin face with its frame of fiery red hair glinting in the firelight, a glint which was reflected in the green eyes. He was so like Fred had been when they first met that her heart melted within her.

  ‘Oh, I was happy enough and I did get enough to eat,’ Johnny teased her, looking at the empty tray.

  Dinah relaxed. ‘You know Fred thought it was for the best.’

  The best for him but not for his own boys, Johnny reflected, his eyes hardening for a second. But he didn’t really begrudge the boys an education, not really, it was just that sometimes his own lack of schooling rankled.

  ‘Yes, I know, but why has he brought me home so early? Has he got a job for me?’

  ‘I’m worried about him, Johnny, he’s so tired now when he gets home. He works too hard and worries too much. I persuaded him that he could start training you as an assistant.’ Dinah saw Johnny’s start of surprise. ‘Oh, I know you’re not out of your time but you have a good brain, love, you two should be working together for only you could give him the right help.’

  Johnny’s face flushed with excitement. The chance of using his brain and maybe putting into practice some of his own ideas on improvements might be near. Well, he temporised, he was a bit young and inexperienced, he knew, but some day …

  Johnny was brought down to earth when he met his brother that evening before dinner.

  ‘Don’t read too much into this, lad,’ said Fred in his usual forthright manner. ‘You’re still very much the apprentice, you have a lot to learn.’

  Johnny faced his brother across the desk in Fred’s study. He was dismayed to see how much Fred seemed to have aged since Christmas, which was the last time they had met. Fred was twenty years older than Johnny and his hair was grizzled now rather than red. His face reflected the hard work and determination which had dragged him upwards to his present position. But the rugged lines of his face were blurred now, something Johnny had never noticed before.

  ‘You’ll be no more than an office boy at first.’ Fred stared squarely at his brother, challenging him to object. Johnny stared squarely back, his expression no less determined.

  ‘I want to go in for designing,’ Johnny said flatly.

  ‘Designing, is it!’ Fred looked him up and down. ‘Aye well, you’ll have to creep before you can walk.’ And the subject was closed.

  After dinner they sat in the comfortable drawing room, red plush curtains drawn against the dark November evening and the fire in the grate radiating warmth. Johnny stared at the flickering flames and couldn’t help contrasting his present comfort with the rather spartan amenities of Finkle Street.

  ‘Glad to be home, Johnny?’ Dinah had been watching his happy and relaxed expression.

  ‘I certainly am!’ Johnny grinned but then a shadow crossed his face. ‘There are some things I’ll miss, though. You don’t spend years of your life in a place withou
t growing attached to it in some ways. There is a young girl, Ada is her name …’

  ‘A girl?’ Fred interrupted sharply. ‘You want nowt with girls, not yet! Why, man, you’re barely seventeen.’

  ‘No, no, a little girl, a tiny little thing. She’s an orphan and works all hours at the Parkers, where I lodged. Yet she’s such a bonny, sunny little girl. I used to buy her pear drops.’

  ‘Pear drops!’ Fred grunted and lost interest and at that moment Norah came in with the tea tray. Dinah busied herself pouring tea and Fred began to tell Johnny what was expected of him at the works. Soon the clock was chiming ten, the old grandfather clock Johnny remembered from his parents’ house in Hartlepool. It reminded him of his father and mother, dead so long ago, and he thought how proud they would have been of Fred getting on so well.

  His first day home was over, he thought as he climbed the curving staircase to his old room. Tomorrow was the beginning of his new life.

  Johnny thought about his old life in Bishop Auckland often in the first year he was home. But as time went on and he became more involved in his new life, the memories faded. At first he had fully intended to visit Ada but somehow, with all he had to do, every time he thought he would journey back to see her and made tentative arrangements to go, perhaps on a Saturday afternoon, something stopped him. Either Fred wanted him to stay back at work and finish something or Dinah wanted him to drive her over to Hartlepool to see old friends. What with one thing and another, he didn’t manage to get back to Bishop Auckland at all and the years were going by swiftly.

  One evening when for once he had no night class, he was sitting with Dinah in the drawing room, enjoying the unaccustomed leisure. The lamps were lit, for the April evening had darkened early with squally showers. He looked around the room, thinking how quickly he’d got back into the way of expecting the comforts of life – when he had time to enjoy them, that was. He was working full time at the office and the steel mills, and studying hard in the evenings at the institute, determined to show Fred what he could do if he only had the chance. Johnny was sensible enough to realise how little he did know and he had an eager thirst for knowledge.

  Johnny sighed. He had done well, he knew, but Fred seemed to take it for granted – after all, Johnny was a Fenwick. Yet Fred was relying more and more on him, Johnny thought, easing his own burden onto his younger brother’s shoulders. Not that Johnny objected; he was young enough to take it, he reckoned.

  ‘Happy with life, Johnny? You’re looking more contented these days, though sometimes I think you work too much.’ Dinah looked up from her book. She was reading A Christmas Carol: Dinah loved Dickens, Fred thought his works sentimental claptrap, so Dinah read his books only when Fred was out of the house.

  ‘Just enjoying the peace,’ Johnny answered.

  ‘Well, it’s nice to have you in, especially when Fred had to go to that civic dinner. I appreciate the company. But sometimes I think you should go out and enjoy yourself once in a while. It would be lovely if you found yourself a nice girl. You’re twenty-two now, maybe you should think about it.’

  ‘Oh, Dinah, I haven’t time for girls, not yet. In a year or two maybe.’

  ‘In all the time you’ve been home, you’ve never shown any interest in a girl. Maybe I could have a little dinner party …’

  ‘Dinah!’ Johnny laughed, ‘Don’t go matchmaking now.’

  As he spoke, Johnny thought suddenly of Ada: her small, white face and unusual violet eyes came vividly into his mind. He realised it was ages since he had written to her or even thought of her. He had sent her postcards once or twice in the beginning but no replies had been forthcoming. No doubt that harridan of an aunt had blocked all Ada’s attempts at getting an education, he mused. How many years had it been? Five. Five years and he had not been to see if she was all right. In sudden resolve as his guilty conscience smote him, Johnny excused himself to Dinah.

  ‘I won’t be long, I’ve just remembered something I wanted to do.’ He went up to his room and walked over to his desk. Reaching for pen and paper in the drawer, he began a letter to Ada. He had gone to the trouble of finding out the number of the house the Parkers were moving to in Tenters Street before he left, so at least he still had her address. Although, he mused, he had not had any reply from any of his cards – perhaps she had left her aunt’s house?

  Chapter Five

  The best thing about the move to Tenters Street from Finkle Street for Ada was having a room of her own. No longer did she have to sleep in the kitchen; when work was done she could tuck herself away in the attic room and feel safe. Ada never turned the key in the lock at night without a feeling of satisfaction.

  ‘Aye,’ Auntie Doris said when the move was completed and everything put straight, ‘we’ve come up in the world now, all right.’

  ‘Bye, it is nice, Auntie,’ Ada answered, looking round the kitchen at the new gas stove and the linoleum on the floor. Without thinking, she added, ‘I like having a room of my own with a lock on the door, too. I can lock meself in.’

  There was a silence for a minute.

  ‘Well,’ Auntie Doris said, not looking directly at Ada, ‘You never know, lass, you never know. Not with so many strangers in the house.’

  Did Auntie know about Uncle Harry? Ada wondered and backed away from the thought, it was upsetting. Johnny wasn’t here to turn to now and if Auntie Doris … No, Auntie couldn’t know.

  Gradually the boarding house filled up with guests. They were called ‘paying guests’ now, not common lodgers. No more rough, labouring men for the Parkers. The guests they took now were on the stage at the Eden Theatre and they were a cleaner class of people altogether from the men from the works. Ada liked the guests, and she got to see a lot more of them as she grew older. Always ready to talk about their lives on the road, they brought a touch of the exotic into her life. There were magicians, conjurors and comics. Ada often paused on the landing outside the rooms and listened to them practising.

  ‘Don’t let Ma get you down.’

  That was the advice offered to Ada more than once when she was caught wasting time by listening to a singer practising something from The Chinese Honeymoon or Flora Dora, and got a slap for her pains. Somehow their sympathy helped, the slap didn’t hurt too much and her day was lightened. Ada would hum, ‘O tell me pretty maiden, are there any more at home like you’ from Flora Dora or some other song from a popular musical comedy as she washed and scrubbed the kitchen floor, and the work was easier for it.

  Ada always remembered Johnny. He didn’t fade from her thoughts even though all she had to remember him by was the occasional postcard he sent her. She was always first up and picked the letters up from the doormat just in case there was a postcard from Johnny. But they were few and far between and the intervals between them got longer and longer. One day, Ada thought, one day she would go to Middlesbrough and maybe get to see him. But really she knew it wasn’t very likely to happen. Johnny would have a girl of his own now, he would have forgotten about her.

  When she was downhearted, Ada would climb the attic stairs and take out the treasured hoard of cards from Johnny. Of course, she didn’t know what they said, but she liked to look at the pictures and his handwriting. She didn’t find anyone to read them to her until Eliza came. Then at last she had a friend she could trust.

  When Eliza Maxwell came to work in the boarding house in late 1909, she was a widow of eighteen – not much older than Ada, really, but there was a world of difference between them in experience of life. Eliza was kind and friendly but unimaginative and certainly not given to moaning about the hard knocks that had been her lot up to then. The two girls became fast friends and exchanged confidences and their hopes and fears for the future.

  ‘Eeh, I’m that glad you came to work here!’ Ada said one morning as Eliza came in the back door and hung up her shawl.

  Eliza smiled her slow smile and bent over her little boy to take off his coat. ‘Aye. Well, I’m glad to be here,’ she sai
d. ‘I’m glad of the money, for one thing. But it’s nice to know you, Ada, though I can’t say the same about that other two.’ She straightened up and put a hand to her back. ‘But you know I won’t be here much longer. I doubt if Doris Parker wants a body with two bairns trailing after her. Not when she can get somebody else, like.’

  Ada glanced at the bump under Eliza’s apron and quickly away again. This would be the other girl’s second child and here she was having to work as a ‘skivvy’, as Auntie Doris called her. Beyond knowing that Liza was a widow, Ada knew very little about how the other girl had come to be in such reduced circumstances. Eliza hadn’t volunteered the information and Ada was too sensitive of her feelings to ask.

  ‘Are you finding the work too hard then, Eliza?’ Ada ventured now, thinking how bleak her days would be without Eliza to talk to.

  ‘Why, I’m all right, pet. I can carry on a bit yet.’ Eliza sighed and poured herself a cup of tea out of the pot on the fender, at the same time watching the door for any signs of Doris Parker. She added a dollop of condensed milk to the tea and drank it in one swallow, hot, strong and syrupy sweet. ‘Mind, that was good. I didn’t have time to take anything this morning.’

  Ada looked down at Bertie. He was standing by his mother, gazing gravely at her. He was a quiet, serious little boy; though only two years old, he seemed older than his age.

  ‘Why don’t you stay here with me, Bertie? It’s nice and warm in the kitchen. I’ll get you some paper and a pencil and you can sit up at the table and draw.’ She smiled at the boy, trying to coax him. He would be no trouble sitting in the kitchen but his mother had the staircase to do and if he stayed by her side Eliza would have the extra trouble of watching him too. Bertie rarely left Eliza, though.