The Orphan Collection

by Maggie Hope

  ‘There now.’ Eliza lowered her voice and put a protective arm around Ada’s shoulders. ‘There now, pet, you’re all right here, nobody can touch you. You needn’t say anything yet. I’ll make some tea and dripping toast and when you’ve had a bite to eat we’ll talk.’

  Ada gave a convulsive sob as the warmth began to seep through to her bones. She hadn’t realised she was so cold, though the frost had lain white on the pavement as she had walked through the streets. Bertie came to her and took hold of her hand, laying his head on her knee and gazing up at her face anxiously.

  Eliza said no more but cut slices of bread and held them to the bars of the grate with a toasting fork. When the toast was ready she got a pot of beef dripping from the cupboard and spread it on the toast. She mashed the tea in a large, brown pot and poured Ada a mug, adding a dollop of condensed milk.

  ‘Howay, Bertie.’ Eliza lifted the child and sat him at the table with a slice of bread and dripping and a cup of milk before him. Once Bertie was contentedly chewing on the toast, with rivulets of fat running down his chin, she turned to Ada, waiting until her friend had sipped the tea and eaten a little toast.

  ‘Now then, pet.’ Eliza settled herself in the chair opposite Ada. ‘Now, tell me what ails you.’

  Ada swallowed hard. ‘It wasn’t Auntie Doris. Auntie Doris knows nothing about it.’ She stopped speaking and took a bite of dripping toast. The warmth of the fire and the hot sweet tea were having a calming effect on her. The hollow feeling inside her stomach was fading; she chewed cautiously, using the right side of her mouth only. She realised she must have been hungry in spite of everything and finished her tea and toast with Eliza watching impatiently.

  ‘I’m finished, Mam, can I get down now?’ Bertie broke the silence as he looked over to Eliza, a rim of milk on his upper lip.

  ‘Aye, pet.’ Eliza wiped his mouth with the corner of her apron and lifted him down from the table. ‘Go and play in the front room, hinny. Quietly now, Ada and me want to have a talk.’

  ‘Yes, Mam.’ Obediently the boy trotted to the door which led into the passage.

  The kitchen was quiet for a few minutes, the ticking of the clock sounding loud in the silence. Ada stared into the fire, not knowing how to start. She felt so dirty and guilty somehow – maybe it was her own fault, maybe she could have done something …

  ‘Well, Ada?’ Eliza prompted. ‘You’ll have to tell me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what it’s all about.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Ada gazed into the fire still as she began to tell her story. She spoke in a flat, monotonous tone, rapidly. Eliza had to lean forward to catch all the words and when she finally realised what Ada was saying her heart ached with pity and a rising fury. Only a bairn! she thought indignantly, forgetting the small age difference between herself and Ada.

  ‘We should get the polis!’ she said at last when Ada had relapsed into silence, her tale told. ‘That dirty old sod’s not getting away with this! Bye, I’m so mad, I could knock him senseless meself!’ But even as she said it she knew it would harm Ada too much if the story came out – mud would stick, as they say.

  ‘No, Eliza, no, we can’t do that. He’ll put the blame on Johnny and I couldn’t bear it! I couldn’t bear for Johnny to know about it either! And everyone would know about me if we go to the polis, don’t you think I feel dirty enough? And no one would believe me any road!’

  ‘Eeh, I don’t know. We have to do something, man! He can’t just get away with it!’ Eliza was at a loss; she cast about for an answer to the dilemma and found none. ‘Well,’ she said at last, ‘what can we do? Look, wait on a minute and I’ll just take Auntie some breakfast up. Then we can decide what to do.’ She put the kettle on the fire and made some fresh toast. Warming the tea with boiling water, she set a mug and a plate of toast on a tin tray and went out of the kitchen.

  Bertie wandered in and climbed onto Ada’s lap, causing her to wince as his head brushed against her bruised breast.

  ‘What’s the matter, Auntie Ada?’ A tiny frown appeared on his brow as he felt her flinch.

  ‘Nothing. Nothing’s the matter, pet.’ Ada hugged him to her in spite of the pain for she found comfort in the little body in her arms.

  ‘Bertie! Leave Auntie Ada alone! She’s feeling bad!’

  Eliza spoke sharply as she came back in. Her son’s lower lip quivered and pouted, ready for tears. Sighing, she picked him up and set him on her knee. ‘No, no, don’t cry, pet, Mammy’s not cross. It’s just that Ada’s feeling bad.’

  ‘I’m all right, Eliza,’ Ada suddenly said resolutely. ‘And I think I know what I’m going to do, an’ all. That is, if you’ll help me?’ Ada faltered on these last words and the appeal was not lost on Eliza.

  ‘Course I will, hinny! You know I will! Just you tell me what to do and I’ll do it.’

  ‘Well, I thought, if you go to work as if you hadn’t seen me, do you think? I know you’re going to be late but you can say your auntie kept you or something. She was bad or something. If I can stay here until about eleven I can catch the train to Durham. I’ll be able to get a place there.’

  ‘Without money and wearing a black eye like you’ve got? Don’t be so daft! Nobody’s going to take you on looking like that. No, it’ll be best if you stay here a few days, that’s what I think. And Auntie won’t mind, I’ll ask her.’

  Eliza’s face puckered with anger as she thought about Ada’s battered face. ‘Eeh, mind, I’ll have a job keeping me mouth shut, though, if I see Harry Parker, that is. Though I don’t see a lot of him usually. But if I do –’ She glanced up at the clock on the wall. ‘Look, pet, I’d better be off or I’m going to be really late. And Doris Parker might guess the reason, realise where you are. Aye, she’ll likely tumble to it.’

  ‘What about Bertie?’

  ‘No, no, Bertie won’t let on. He doesn’t talk much and never to those two.’ Liza tied Bertie’s muffler across his chest and fastened it at the back before taking his hand and leading him out of the kitchen. I’ll nip back after dinner when Doris Parker’s taking her nap,’ she called over her shoulder.

  Ada was left in the quiet kitchen. She felt decidedly less threatened now; having a friend she could rely on made all the difference. She stared into the fire and thought about the future. Eliza was right, with her face all bruised she would be noticed as soon as she left the house. Someone would tell Auntie Doris where she was. And even if she got to Durham, who would take her on? They would think she was trouble and there were plenty of other girls looking for work. No one wanted a girl who carried trouble with her.

  At least I have money, she mused. She had enough to get by on for a short while if she was very careful. She fingered the two sovereigns in her pocket. They had been on the back-room mantelpiece, hidden away in a pot. Auntie Doris kept the housekeeping money there and Ada didn’t feel a bit guilty about taking it. She reckoned she was due some back wages for her years of work. And then she had ten shillings of her own, money saved from tips. Sometimes, if the houses had been good during the week, the theatre folk could be generous. Oh, aye, she could manage for a few weeks.

  Why she wanted to go to Durham she didn’t know, it was so long since she had been there. But she’d been happy there with her grannie. As she remembered it, Durham was lovely. Her mind returned to her aches and pains as she moved in the chair. Oh, if only she could have gone to Middlesbrough and poured out the whole story to Johnny! She longed for that, but of course she couldn’t. If Johnny knew what had happened, he wouldn’t want her any more. Not that he had really wanted her before, she thought dismally. She felt so low and worthless, she sank down in the chair and closed her eyes. At last nature took a hand and she fell asleep by the fire, her dark head drooping over her arm.

  A hand on Ada’s arm made her start up in alarm, shrinking away and turning to face whoever it was.

  ‘Leave me be!’ she shouted, her chin up, her fists raised and her eyes dark with horror.

 
‘Nay, nay, lass!’ Mrs Rutherford, Eliza’s aunt, stepped back and fluttered her hands in concern. ‘Nay, lass, it’s only me and I’m not going to hurt you. Eeh, that must have been an awful dream.’

  Ada dropped her hands and shook her head slightly to clear it. She felt befuddled and weary, heavy with sleep. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Rutherford,’ she mumbled and brushed a dark curl from her forehead with the back of her hand.

  The old woman came nearer and inspected Ada’s bruised face. Eliza must have given her aunt her own version of what had happened for she stepped back tut-tutting.

  ‘Eeh, if those two did that to a bit of a lass they want laying in! There’s no call for it, even if you had been out wi’ a lad!’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Rutherford!’ Ada said helplessly. Of course everyone would think she’d done something bad to deserve such a hiding.

  ‘I didn’t do anything, nothing at all!’

  ‘Aye, well, hinny, mebbe you didn’t. The Lord knows they’re a rum pair up at that boarding house! Never mind, when Eliza comes in we’ll have a talk and decide what’s to be done. But for the minute you’d better sit down afore you fall down. We’ll have a nice cup of tea and a bite.’

  Ada smiled gratefully at the old lady. She was a plump, motherly-looking woman but her face betrayed the hard life she had led. Eliza might have had some hard blows in her life but at least she had an auntie worth ten of Doris Parker! She remembered the story Eliza had told her in snippets as they were working together in the boarding house.

  ‘Auntie was a widow early in life, just like me,’ Eliza had said. ‘She worked in the fields on a farm out Bolam way. Then she lost the bairn she was carrying. She was hoeing turnips when it happened and she had a bad time with it. Then there was the diphtheria, that took her other two.’

  Ada watched her as she moved about the kitchen. She had a calm, placid air about her, obviously she was not surprised by any disaster life showed her.

  ‘I’ll make the toast then, eh?’ Ada made to rise but the old lady shooed her back into her chair.

  ‘Nay, lass, I know where everything is.’

  She moved heavily from table to cupboard to range, placing the iron frying pan on the glowing coals in the grate and cutting two slices of fatty belly bacon. The pot of tea she made was so strong you could stand the spoon up in it. Even though it wasn’t long since she had eaten with Eliza, Ada tucked into her share of the food and drank the hot, sweet tea. For the simple meal was delicious and she felt at home and safe in the bare little kitchen. Yet she knew she couldn’t stay for long. Mrs Rutherford hardly had enough to feed herself and Eliza was the same. No, she would have to carry on with her plan to go to Durham as soon as her face returned to normal.

  ‘Bye, what a carry-on there was up there! There’s war on right enough!’ Eliza bustled in by the back door with Bertie holding onto her skirt. ‘Your Auntie Doris is ranting and raving about thieving lasses with bad blood in them who turn on the only family they’ve got and have ever tried to help them. And Harry Parker, he’s skulking out of the road, hiding upstairs. Which is a good thing really, for I swear, I’d have a job not riving him to bits with me bare hands! If I got hold of him, like.’ Eliza paused for breath and smiled at Ada.

  ‘You all right, pet? Feel a bit better now, do you?’

  ‘Eeh, Eliza!’ Ada had only heard the bit about thieving and suddenly felt guilty about the two pounds. ‘She didn’t guess where I was, did she? Is she going to fetch the polis?’ Her eyes widened in alarm.

  ‘Why, no, man, she’s all talk!’ Eliza was dismissive. ‘She wouldn’t dare any road – if she did, it would all come out about her keeping you as a skivvy. Don’t worry, pet! I tell you what, though, it wasn’t easy to slip out the day! That one’s been in and out of the kitchen all morning. Not that she got any work done before she had to have a sit-down again. Any road, she had to go for a lie-down in the end.’ Eliza struck a pose with her hands on her hips and an expression on her face remarkably like Doris Parker’s.

  ‘ “That lass’ll be the death of me! I’ll have to have a lie-down or else I’ll be laid up and then what’ll we do?” And off she went, so I slipped out with the bairn and here we are.’ Eliza plumped down on a chair by the fire and stretched out her hands to the blaze.

  ‘Bye, but my back is giving me gyp! I tell you what, it’ll be a relief when the babby comes and I can have a few days’ rest. Aye, and it’ll serve her right, that one, she’ll have to get someone else and pay them right, that’s what!’ She shook her head in satisfaction as Mrs Rutherford gave her a pot of tea.

  ‘Aye, well, get that down you. And what’s going to happen when the babby comes? That’s what I want to know. We’re just going to have to have a proper talk about it. It’s no use putting it off,’ she said.

  Eliza sighed heavily. It was true, the baby was well down now, she could have it any time. And there would be no parish relief in Bishop, she’d have to go back to her own parish in West Auckland. There’d be a place to find and Bertie to see to as well as any new baby, and at the minute, there was Ada.

  That night, Eliza’s baby slipped into the world easily and swiftly. Ada, who was sleeping on a shake-down bed on the floor of Eliza’s bedroom, hardly had time to fetch the midwife before it was all over.

  The new baby was a tiny version of Bertie and Eliza named him Miles, after her own father. Bertie, who had been bundled out of the bedroom still asleep, was bewildered to wake up wrapped in a blanket and lying on the settle in the front room.

  ‘Mam?’

  His frightened cry was heard by Ada as she came downstairs and she rushed in to the boy. He was sitting up on the settle, still with the blanket round him, his hair tousled and his sleep-filled eyes staring round him.

  ‘It’s all right, pet,’ she hastened to reassure him. ‘Come on now, I’ll take you to your mam and then won’t you be surprised!’

  Ada carried him, complete with blanket, up the stairs and in to see his baby brother. He gazed wide-eyed, thumb in mouth for a moment, then suddenly struggled out of Ada’s arms and climbed into the bed with his mother.

  ‘Bertie!’ Ada made to take him back but Eliza would have none of it.

  ‘Let him be,’ she commanded, lying back on the pillows with a son on each arm.

  ‘I’ll send the lad next door up to the Parkers, eh?’ Mrs Rutherford came in behind Ada. ‘Bye,’ she continued with a rare smile, ‘I can just see her face when she finds out she has it all to do herself until she gets somebody.’

  ‘I don’t care, I’m not going back.’ Ada was guiltily defiant.

  ‘’deed no, pet!’ the old lady exclaimed.

  ‘Aw, she’ll soon find someone else, don’t worry about it,’ Eliza asserted. ‘You’ve got away now, it would be daft going back.’

  Ada had been working out how to avoid doing just that. She would spend a few days in George Street, she thought, helping out until Eliza got over her lying-in period, but she would insist on giving Mrs Rutherford five shillings for her food.

  The problem would be how to get out of the town without the Parkers seeing her. She was sure they would be watching the railway station. Now, contemplating Eliza and her children, she came to a decision.

  ‘I’ll go on Tuesday morning, Eliza – that is, if you’re well enough by then. I’ll get off early, about five in the morning when nobody’s about. I’ll walk to Spennymoor, I can get a train to Durham there.’

  A shadow crossed Eliza’s face. ‘You will be all right now? I mean, when you get to Durham?’

  ‘I think so. There’s plenty of work there, especially during term time, if you don’t mind scrubbing and such. Yes, I’ll be all right.’

  Mrs Rutherford listened to the conversation in silence. Poor lass, she thought, but what can we do? We need all we’ve got for our own. For Eliza and her children were her whole family now.

  Chapter Eight

  Ada’s face was only a slight yellowy brown on one side the morning she set off on her journey to Durham Ci
ty. She stood at the door of the house in George Street saying her goodbyes to Eliza, whispering so as not to wake up Mrs Rutherford or the children.

  ‘Eeh, pet, I do hope you’re going to be all right,’ Eliza murmured anxiously. ‘You’ll let us know, won’t you? I mean, about getting a place to stay and work and everything. If you don’t manage, come back here now, promise?’

  ‘I’ll be all right, really I will.’ Ada wrapped her shawl around her head, shivering in the chill of the pre-dawn darkness. ‘I’ll be getting on now, Eliza. Thank you for everything, you’ve been a true friend to me. I will let you know, I’ll find a way.’ She hugged her friend and kissed her on the cheek. Indeed, now the time had come she did have misgivings about going. But she couldn’t stay here, she told herself. Picking up her box she set off down the street, turning to wave to Eliza as she reached the corner. She had to fight the impulse to turn back as she saw Eliza’s arm waving vigorously in reply.

  Down Durham Chare she went and out on the road to Spennymoor, passing no one on her journey but the farmers’ milk carts with their churns and measuring cans, on their way to deliver milk in Bishop Auckland. She had eight miles to walk to Spennymoor and as she trudged along her natural optimism began to surface once more.

  I’m not frightened of hard work, she told herself, and living anywhere will be better than living in the same house as Uncle Harry. She could still remember the name of the street in Gilesgate where she had lived with her grannie, Thomas Street it was. She would go there first and see if she could get lodgings with one of Grannie’s neighbours. Most of the women in the street took in lodgers, it all helped to pay the rent.

  Ada had to pause once or twice on the road to have a rest; though her basket-work box had not seemed heavy as she set out on her journey, it got progressively heavier as time went on. Yet as the day lightened and the sun came up, so did her spirits. She breathed heavily of the fresh, country air and began to look about her at the hilly countryside. The pastures were bright with new green and the grass sparkled in the morning sun. Lambs were skipping and jumping beside their mothers and birds were singing. New life was everywhere.