The Orphan Collection

by Maggie Hope

  ‘Well, let’s not waste any time. I want to know everything that has happened since I saw you. There’s such a lot for me to catch up on.’ Johnny took her arm and turned towards the station exit.

  Ada laughed, conscious only of the feel of Johnny’s hand as it clasped her arm; happiness welled up in her as they joined the crowds thronging South Road. Shop folk, most of them: Wednesday being half-day closing, they were out for a stroll in the fresh air.

  ‘Where shall we go, then?’ Johnny put a comradely arm about her shoulders. ‘I have the afternoon and early evening, I can catch a late train back.’

  ‘Oh, Johnny, I’ve to get back to do the teas.’ Suddenly the long afternoon before them seemed dreadfully short to Ada, and her tone was doleful. Though the huge dinners which had been served to the iron workers at six o’clock were not necessary with the new clientele, the artistes expected a light meal before the show and supper afterwards.

  Johnny smiled down at her. ‘Well, cheer up, pet. We’ll go to the Bishop’s Park. We can have a good old chinwag and you can tell me everything and I’ll tell you about everything.’ Johnny was bright and happy, and Ada’s spirits soared once again from their temporary low.

  They were so wrapped up in one another that they failed to notice the man standing in the doorway of Braithwaite’s, the newsagent on the corner of the marketplace. Uncle Harry was collecting his Northern Echo. He, on the other hand, did not fail to see the young couple.

  He took particular notice of their closeness and stored the information away in his mind for later use.

  Looking back on that magical afternoon, Ada could hardly believe it had actually happened, it was all so dreamlike. She and Johnny strolled under the arch to the long, broad path running alongside the Bishop’s Castle. The sun sparkled on the new and intensely green grass of the lawns on their left while to their right the buds on the trees were bursting green at the tips. The gardens of the castle sloped down to the river bubbling away at the bottom of Durham Chare.

  She felt a kinship with the other young couples who were walking along to the kissing gate leading to the natural park, where they could wander off and find little private places among the trees. Oh, the sun shone and Johnny was gallant, holding the gate open for her to sweep through nonchalantly. And she could pretend that they were real lovers planning a future together.

  ‘Let’s walk up to the deer house,’ Johnny suggested. ‘If we go down to the river on the other side we’ll be sheltered.’

  Ada readily agreed; she would have agreed to go anywhere with him. She was intoxicated with his nearness, walking on air rather than the rough gravel path. Sneaking a glance up at him, she found he was gazing down at her and they both burst out laughing in delight. She was enchanted with everything around her – the brightness of the grass, the shape of an oak leaf.

  Soon they were sitting in a grassy hollow warmed by the sun and sheltered from the still sharp breeze. The river was full with the spring rains and the water was brown and peaty as it tinkled along before them. Johnny was quiet, simply watching her, a gentle smile on his face. He was fascinated by the sparkle in her eyes and her eager chatter.

  At Johnny’s prompting, Ada told him about the lodging-house ‘guests’. One with a funny name, Will E. Stoppit, had been on at the Hippodrome when it opened just before Christmas. Then there was Jenny, a soprano who sang in her bedroom when she came in from the theatre, no matter how late the hour. How Ada loved to hear her clear, sweet voice!

  Johnny was content to watch her animated face as she talked, and a warm feeling of protectiveness and something else indefinable crept over him. When she grew quiet and sat watching the sunlight on the water, he began to tell of his own hopes and dreams.

  ‘One day, pet, one day I’ll be at the top. One day the mill will run to my ideas, my designs. We’ll be more efficient, more productive. Yet we can still be fairer to the men, it will be great for them too.’ He paused, visualising this Utopia.

  ‘You must be very high up in the steelworks now, Johnny,’ Ada said humbly and looked up at him wonderingly. ‘You dress so fine, you are a gentleman now.’ The thought saddened her. Johnny was going away in more ways than one, and soon he would be out of her reach.

  ‘Get away with you!’ Johnny laughed softly. ‘I’m still Johnny Fenwick who brings you pear drops and you’re still my Ada-Lorinda. Unless … I suppose you have a boyfriend now? The lads won’t leave a bonny lass like you alone; I bet you have loads of lads after you.’

  ‘Oh no, Johnny, not a one. I don’t want lads after me. Any road, you know Auntie Doris, she’d murder me!’

  Johnny’s face darkened. Yes indeed, he knew Auntie Doris and he knew Uncle Harry, too. Now that he was older he understood more about Harry Parker and he looked down at Ada as he remembered his suspicions of long ago. But Ada looked so innocent sitting there on the grass – surely there was nothing like that, everything must be all right. Still, he couldn’t help wondering. He glanced at his wristwatch. Goodness, it was five o’clock! Scrabbling to his feet, he pulled Ada up after him.

  ‘Come on, pet, time to go or you’ll have Auntie Doris out for your blood! I was going to take you out to tea too, and now it’s too late. And I may as well catch the next train.’

  The afternoon was rapidly descending into evening; the sun was falling down behind the ridge of the town and Ada shivered.

  ‘Do you live in a very grand house, Johnny?’ she asked in a very small voice as she felt the gulf widening between them.

  ‘Oh, a very grand house!’ he teased, seizing her hand in his and running along the path, pulling her breathless behind him, laughing at her protests. Stopping, he put his hands around her waist and swung her off her feet, round in an arc as easily as if she was the small child he had known so long ago. Seeing the dampness in her eyes, he squeezed her hands in his and took them to his lips.

  ‘Cheer up, love! It’s all right, I promise it is. I’ll be back. And one day, when you have summoned up the courage to leave that miserable house and your Auntie Doris Parker, we will fly away together on a magic carpet, clean across the world!’

  It was almost dark when Ada let herself in through the back door of the house. She went straight up to her room to change, thankful that Auntie Doris was nowhere about. She was very late but Eliza had covered for her, she had the salad washed and the shoulder bacon sliced and set out on plates all ready to serve when Ada came back into the kitchen, dressed once again in her dark shirtwaister and serge skirt. They had no time to talk until after the meal was served and the dishes brought back from the dining room.

  ‘Howay then, tell me all about it!’ Eliza said as they shared the washing-up. They were on their own apart from Bertie, who was dozing in the wooden armchair by the range.

  ‘Tell you about what?’ Ada grinned and shrank playfully away as Eliza threatened her with the dishcloth.

  ‘Oh, you mean this afternoon. It was all right, I suppose.’ Eliza pulled a disbelieving face and Ada burst out laughing. ‘Oh, Eliza, it was lovely. Johnny is lovely. He’s tall and handsome and he’s rich, you wouldn’t believe how he looked! His clothes were lovely, he’s a real toff, so he is. And we walked down the park and sat on the grass – though I didn’t get the dress stained or anything, Johnny put his handkerchief down – and we talked and talked and, oh, he’s lovely, Eliza!’ The excitement died away from her eyes and her voice was quieter as she went on, ‘But Eliza, he still thinks I’m a little girl, he does.’

  ‘Eeh, don’t worry about that, man! He’ll soon notice you’ve grown up if I know anything about lads! He’s coming back, isn’t he?’

  ‘He said he’ll come back …’

  ‘Who said he’ll come back?’ Auntie Doris limped into the kitchen. She had grown stout in the last few years and her joints were painful as well as her leg ulcers. She rarely helped in the kitchen now, simply keeping an eye on the two girls; she relied heavily on Ada. Now she glared at Ada suspiciously.

  ‘Er …’ Ada
quavered, unable to think of an answer.

  ‘Professor Naughton, Mrs Parker,’ Eliza intervened swiftly. ‘He said he did so well at the theatre he’ll come again next season.’

  Ada let out her breath in relief: that was a bit of quick thinking! Eliza rinsed the sink and hung up the dishcloth to dry, acting normally to cover Ada’s moment of confusion.

  ‘That’s that, then!’ she said. Scooping up little Bertie, she wrapped him in her shawl. ‘Howay, it’s home time for us and up the loft to bed, pet.’ She went out of the back door, winking at Ada surreptitiously as she passed.

  ‘She hasn’t long to go,’ Auntie Doris observed as Eliza’s bulky form retreated down the yard. ‘Now we’re going to have to look for someone else and we won’t get anyone as cheap as Eliza, not unless we can find another widow with a bairn hanging round her.’ She gazed thoughtfully at Ada. ‘Unless you think you can manage on your own, like.’

  ‘Auntie Doris!’ Ada protested. ‘How can I manage on my own when the house is full?’

  ‘Well, we’ll see,’ said her aunt tartly. ‘Girls these days have no gratitude.’ She limped out of the kitchen, banging the door behind her.

  Chapter Seven

  Ada felt weary and defeated as she turned off the gaslight in the kitchen and climbed the stairs to her attic bedroom. A life of drudgery stretched before her in her mind’s eye as her aunt’s words rang in her ears. She closed the door behind her and placed the candlestick on the chest of drawers, which, apart from a battered washstand, was the only piece of furniture in the room besides the bed. Though the rest of the house was lit by gas, the system did not extend to the attics.

  Sighing, Ada sat down on the bed and took off her boots. How could Auntie Doris expect her to take on Eliza’s work on top of her own? She felt the whole day had been spoiled.

  Rebellion began to take shape in her thoughts. She would run away – she was old enough to work for a living without the help of Auntie Doris and Uncle Harry. The workhouse couldn’t get her now. All she needed was the courage to set out on her own. Blowing out the candle, Ada climbed into the narrow iron bed and lay back on the pillow, stretching out and consciously relaxing. She was too tired. Tomorrow was soon enough to worry about the future. For tonight she had the meeting with Johnny to think about, which was so much more pleasant. A smile curved her lips as she relived the lovely afternoon and her eyelids drooped slowly till at last she fell asleep, her worries forgotten.

  A muffled thud intruded on her dreams. Vaguely she wondered what it was before drowsily turning over onto her side so that she was facing the door. She snuggled down further – and saw the door open to the steep attic staircase. Blinking, she stared at it. The dark hole where the door should be was visible in the moonlight which filtered through the tiny skylight.

  She was suddenly wide awake as danger signals rang in her head – had she forgotten to turn the key? But she knew she had closed the door. Struggling to sit up, she felt a hand on her arm holding her down and involuntarily she opened her mouth to scream.

  ‘Quiet now. You’ll hush up, my girl, if you know what’s good for you.’ Ada’s stomach knotted as she realised the whispering voice belonged to Uncle Harry.

  ‘Leave me alone! Don’t you touch me! I’ll yell so loud the whole house will be up here and Auntie Doris with them!’

  ‘Oh no, you won’t, my high and mighty lass. I saw you today. Oh aye, I did, I saw you, you and that fancy gentleman. How long have you been sneaking out and meeting lads, eh? What do you think Doris would do about that if she knew? And don’t think I don’t know what you were up to, and you all prissy and prim wi’ me. All the same, you lasses are. Aye, you were away down the park and you don’t go down there wi’ a chap for nowt. Rolling in the grass you and him no doubt, you dirty little buggers!’

  ‘We didn’t! It wasn’t like that.’ Ada almost choked over the words.

  ‘No? Well, I saw you and if you want me to keep my mouth shut you’ll give me a bit of what he was getting!’ Harry kept his voice low but all the time he was pulling at her nightdress, his dank, bony hands fumbling at her as she tried to fight him off.

  ‘I don’t care what you saw,’ Ada whispered desperately. ‘You leave me alone or I’ll yell the house down!’ She opened her mouth wide as his fingers found the soft flesh of her breast and dug in cruelly.

  The scream died in her throat, however, as Harry Parker held her by that breast and, doubling his other fist, drove it into the side of her head, knocking her back onto the pillow. As she lay there stunned he quickly closed the door and, still speaking softly, almost conversationally, he returned to her, stripping off her nightgown, squeezing and pulling till the pain brought her back to consciousness.

  ‘Oh no, my lass, you won’t scream. You’ll do just as I say. You didn’t have me fooled, you little whore. This is what you wanted all the time, wasn’t it? Aye, it was, wiggling your little bottom at me all the time and in front of Doris an’ all. Oh aye, you led me on all right.’

  In the moonlight Ada’s white skin glistened with sweat as she tried to throw him off, but though he was a small man he was still a man and she was tiny for her age. Almost absent-mindedly he slapped her hard across one cheek and back across the other. She moaned softly as a trickle of blood appeared at the corner of her mouth and ran down her chin. Semi-conscious again, she was barely aware of him until a great shaft of pain sprang through her whole body and a cry was wrung from her. But he was ready for it and a hand was clamped over her mouth, cutting off the cry before it began.

  A minute later it was over and Uncle Harry pulled himself off her. He clambered to his feet and stood looking down on her as she sobbed quietly, shivering and in shock.

  ‘You’d better tidy yourself up,’ he remarked and fingered her chin, examining her battered little face. It’s your own fault you got hurt, you know. You shouldn’t have fought wi’ me.’ He studied her for a moment or two. ‘You can say you fell down the stairs, that’ll be the best.’ He nodded his head, pleased with his own idea. ‘And don’t try to blame me for it or you’ll be right sorry. I’ll tell Doris about your fancy man – it was that Johnny Fenwick, wasn’t it? Aye, it’s just come to me, that’s who it was, I remember him from years ago. He’s gone up in the world, I must say, but then he always did think he was better than us.’ Uncle Harry walked to the door but as he reached for the knob he turned back to her.

  ‘Any road, even if you did tell Doris and she believed you, she’d still turn you out of the house. And then where would you go? It would be Oaklands Workhouse for you then, my lass. So you’d better leave your door unlocked from now on. I might fancy a bit tomorrow night.’ And with this parting shot Harry Parker disappeared down the stairs.

  Ada lay still, her whole body throbbing with pain. ‘Tomorrow night.’ The words rang in her brain, she could think of nothing else. It would happen over and over, for as long as Harry Parker lived. She couldn’t stand it, she couldn’t live through it again. Anything was better than that, even the workhouse.

  Gingerly she pulled herself up into an upright position and carefully placed her feet on the floor. The lino was blessedly cool on the hot soles of her feet as she dragged herself over to the chest of drawers. Feeling about for the matches, she found them at last, lit the stub of candle and peered at her face in the looking glass. Her left eye was closing rapidly and her upper lip was swollen and cut. Carefully she probed her aching teeth with her tongue, wincing as she caught against her bruised cheek. Not too bad, she thought, at least none of them was actually loose.

  Ada moved to the washstand by the door and poured water from the battered enamel jug into the basin. She bathed her face, wincing as the water stung the cuts. Then, stripping off the remains of her nightgown, she soaped the harsh flannel and scrubbed her body, rubbing the filth of the act away, almost rejoicing in the further pain from her bruises. But when she was finished she still felt unclean. Taking a blanket, she wrapped it around her naked body and lay down on top of the
bed, waiting for the dawn.

  A plan began to form in her mind but she needed to rest at least for a few hours before she could put it into effect. No, no, Uncle Harry, she thought, you are wrong. I won’t go to the workhouse. I can keep myself. Determination grew in her and after a while her shivering body stilled and she fell into a light sleep.

  At seven o’clock next morning a slight figure clad in a black skirt and with a shawl pulled over her head could be seen hurrying down Tenters Street and turning left into George Street. Ada had packed her few belongings in the box she had brought from her grandmother’s house in Durham and was now taking it to Eliza’s. She had to catch Eliza before she set out with Bertie for her work in the boarding house. As Ada put the box down on the step and knocked on the door, she prayed it would be Eliza who answered, for she didn’t feel at all like going into explanations with Eliza’s aunt. At least not until she had seen her friend. Luckily it was Eliza who opened the door.

  ‘Gracious, Ada, what in the world has happened to you?’ Eliza stared in horror at Ada’s battered face before recollecting herself and standing back from the door. ‘Come on, howay into the kitchen, pet, you can tell me all about it in the warm. Howay, never mind your box – I’ll get it – just go away through. Auntie’s still in bed, she’s feeling bad.’ Eliza picked up the box easily with her strong arms and shoulders and placed it by the hall stand before hurrying Ada through a narrow passage to the kitchen. Sitting Ada down before the range, where a blazing fire supported a large, black iron kettle, Eliza gazed at the slight figure of her friend in consternation.

  Ada sat beside the fire, teeth clenched to stop their chattering, purple bruises standing out against the white of her face. ‘What was it? Did they do this to you? Just because you went out with a lad? Did they find out? Eeh, by God, I’ll swing for those two! I will!’ Eliza began to shake with rage and her normally placid voice rose. Bertie, who was gazing at Ada with his great, dark eyes, began to whimper. Ada couldn’t speak for she knew if she tried she would break down.