The cabins each had two bunks. Rita and Rosie were together, sharing with Daisy and Sylvia.
‘Get yourselves settled in,’ said Miss Ellen, ‘and I’ll come and find you later.’ Rita closed the door behind her, and the four girls looked round the cabin that was to be their home as they crossed the world.
‘We’d better have the top bunks,’ she said to Daisy. ‘Don’t want the babies to fall out.’
‘I ain’t a baby,’ protested Rosie, glaring at her.
‘Nor am I,’ said Sylvia.
‘OK,’ agreed Rita, ‘you ain’t babies, but you ain’t having the top bunks, neither.’ She opened Rosie’s small case and took out the clothes that Matron had packed for her. Included was the dress she’d worn to the wedding.
‘My party dress,’ cried Rosie in delight, grabbing at it.
‘And here’s Knitty,’ Rita said, pulling the beloved creature out of the case.
‘Knitty!’ screamed Rosie, clutching him to her as she waltzed round the cabin.
‘Careful,’ Daisy admonished her, ‘you nearly had me over.’
Rosie didn’t care, she had her beloved Knitty. Rita had asked Wetty Betty to see if she could slip him into the case once the Dragon had finished with it, and Betty, wishing she’d been included in this strange adventure, had managed it.
‘You’ve been very kind to us,’ Rita said before they left.
‘’Cos you got some spunk,’ Betty said. ‘Wish I had your spunk. You never give in to the Hawk, even after she beat you.’
‘How d’you know she beat me?’ demanded Rita.
‘’Cos she did the same to me,’ answered Betty, ‘but I give in, and now she knows she can make me do anything with the threat of doing it again.’
‘But you’re grown up,’ said Rita in surprise.
‘Not really,’ replied Betty, ‘but I will be one day, and I’ll get my own back. One day she’ll be sorry.’ She looked across at Rita. ‘You still got your picture? The one of your dad?’
Rita nodded.
‘Want me to put that into your case for you?’
‘No thanks, Betty,’ Rita said firmly. ‘I’ll look after it.’
They unpacked their few belongings into the four drawers of the chest that was the only storage space.
‘We got a basin, though,’ marvelled Daisy. ‘D’you think them taps really work?’ She turned one on and water gushed out. ‘They do!’ she cried in delight. ‘We don’t have to fetch our water no more!’
Above the basin were a shelf and a small cupboard for their washing things and beside it was a rail on which hung four towels. Daisy climbed up to one of the top bunks, and flopped down.
‘This is a bit of all right,’ she announced. ‘Never had such a soft bed.’
Rosie and Sylvia immediately bounced on theirs with cries of glee, and Rosie tucked Knitty carefully under the covers.
‘I should keep him hidden for a while,’ advised Rita. ‘Don’t know what these teachers are like yet, do we? Don’t want them to take him away.’
Rosie pushed Knitty down further under the covers, hiding his head under the pillow.
Rita climbed up on the other top bunk and carefully slipped the picture of Daddy into the pillowcase.
‘This ain’t half bad,’ she agreed, sitting up and dangling her legs over the edge. She leaned forward. ‘I can see the dock through our window.’
‘Porthole,’ corrected Daisy, leaning forward as well. ‘There’s still loads of people on the dock. How’ll they all fit on this ship?’
‘Don’t know,’ laughed Rita, ‘but they ain’t having my bed.’
‘They ain’t having my bed,’ echoed Rosie, standing on her bunk to look out.
Miss Ellen came to fetch them, and took them back up to the lounge where they’d first met her. The others were there, and a crowd of children they didn’t know, some chattering and laughing, others sitting silently, staring round with anxious eyes.
Miss Dauntsey was already there, and when Rita’s group came in she clapped her hands for silence.
‘Now then,’ she said, ‘listen, all of you.’ The noise faded away as everyone paid attention. ‘We’re going to be on this ship for a long time, so we just need a few rules.’
Here we go, thought Rita. Do this, do that.
‘Meal times are posted on the board in this room,’ began Miss Dauntsey. ‘You are not to be late for meals, understood? They will be taken in the dining room, on the next deck up. I’ll take you all up there and show you in a minute. You may go almost anywhere on the upper decks of the ship, provided you don’t get in the way of the crew. If they tell you to scoot, you scoot, OK? And remember there are other people travelling on this ship, and they don’t want to be plagued by a lot of noisy children. This room is reserved for you. Grown-ups won’t come in here, they have a lounge reserved for them upstairs. You don’t go in there. Understood?’
There was a murmur of assent and she went on, ‘We want you to enjoy the voyage, but if anyone is a nuisance, they’ll be made to stay in their cabin… which would be very boring, don’t you think?’
More murmurs of assent. ‘Good, well, I think that’s it. Off you go and explore if you want to, but supper is in half an hour in the dining room. Don’t be late.’
And so it was that they were all in the dining room, tucking into fish, chips and green beans, as the Pride of Empire was towed away from the quayside and nosing her way slowly out of Tilbury on the evening tide, slipped away into the river, taking with her the hopes and fears of the migrants who made up her passenger list, all headed for a new life in Australia. Adults, tired of the bleakness of post-war, war-torn Europe, following earlier pioneers to what they hoped was a new and better life; children who had no say in whether they wanted to go or not.
16
The morning after her visit to Laurel House, Lily Sharples went to the phone box at the end of the road, and rang the number Mrs Hawkins had given her. She was determined to get an appointment to see Miss Vanstone. The number was answered almost immediately with a sing-song ‘Vanstone Enterprises! May I help you?’
For a moment Lily was thrown. She had thought the number she’d been given would connect her straight with Miss Vanstone.
‘Oh, er…’ she began, ‘I, er, I need to speak to Miss Vanstone.’
‘Putting you through,’ carolled the operator. There was a click and a whirr and then a woman said, ‘Miss Vanstone’s office.’
‘Miss Vanstone?’ asked Lily, hesitantly.
‘No, I’m afraid Miss Vanstone isn’t available just now. This is her secretary, Miss Drake, may I help you?’
‘Maybe,’ Lily was unfamiliar with the workings of an office. ‘I need to see Miss Vanstone.’
‘I see,’ the voice on the other end said calmly, ‘and may I ask in what connection?’
‘Pardon?’
‘What did you want to see her about?’ asked Miss Drake, patiently.
‘That’s between me and her,’ replied Lily stiffly, adding, ‘It’s about EVER-Care and it’s urgent.’
‘I see,’ said the secretary again. ‘May I ask who’s calling?’
‘Mrs Lily Sharples.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Sharples,’ said Miss Drake, remembering her instructions. ‘Would you hold the line one moment, while I fetch her appointment book?’
Lily waited. She could hear noises on the other end of the phone as if someone were searching for something, then Miss Drake’s voice again. ‘Sorry to have kept you, Mrs Sharples, the diary was in the other office. Now then, let’s have a look.’ Another pause. ‘Ah yes, well, I’m afraid the first appointment I can offer you is Friday of next week, in the afternoon.’
‘But it’s urgent,’ cried Lily. ‘Can’t she see me sooner than that?’
Miss Drake was all apology. ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Sharples, but I’m afraid not. Miss Vanstone’s away on business and won’t be back until next Thursday night, and she’s instructed me to keep her diary clear on the Friday mornin
g. I shouldn’t really be putting you in, in the afternoon, but, well, you did say it was urgent. Shall we say at Laurel House, Friday 6 August at four o’clock?’
It was clear Lily couldn’t see this Miss Vanstone any sooner, so she agreed to the time and date and rang off. Disappointed she went back home. Ten days until she could find out any more about the girls. It seemed to stretch an eternity before her.
That afternoon the doorbell rang and she was surprised to see Carrie Maunder’s husband, John, outside on the step.
‘John!’ Immediately she feared the worst. ‘What’s the matter? Is Mavis all right… and Carrie?’
‘Far as I know, Mrs Sharples,’ John said cheerfully, ‘nothing’s happened to no one. Just thought I’d pop in and see you was all right… see if you’d got the kettle on.’
John Maunder had never been to her house, she hardly knew the man, but she opened the door wide and smiled. ‘Of course, John. Come on in.’
He followed her into the kitchen. ‘I’ve got a pot on the go,’ she told him, ‘but it might be a bit stewed. I’ll make a new pot.’
‘No, don’t worry about that, Mrs Sharples,’ said John. ‘I like my tea strong.’ He took a sip. ‘Lovely,’ he said, ‘just the ticket.’ He put the cup down and reached into the pocket of his jacket. ‘We thought you might like these,’ he said, and handed Lily a large envelope.
She took it, saying, ‘What’s this, then, John?’
‘Little present. Thought they might cheer you up.’
Lily opened the envelope and pulled out three photographs. She stared at them for a moment, and then looked up at him with tears in her eyes. ‘Oh, John, what a dear man you are!’ she breathed. In one hand she held a photo of Mavis in her wedding dress, and in the other a picture of Rita and Rosie standing together in their rose-patterned-curtain dresses, beaming at the camera. The third was of Mavis and Jimmy newly married on the steps of the register office. She looked back down at the girls, and the tears slid silently down her cheeks.
‘Now then, Mrs Sharples,’ said John in alarm. ‘No waterworks! I thought you’d like them.’
Lily smiled up at him through her tears and reassured him, ‘John, I just love them. It’s the only snap I got of them girls. I’ll put it in a frame on the mantelpiece. And the one of Mavis is lovely too,’ she added, almost as an afterthought. ‘She did look happy that day, didn’t she?’ She pulled her hankie from her sleeve and mopped her eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It was very thoughtful of you.’
‘Carrie said you’d like them,’ said John, clearly relieved that the tears had stopped. ‘Glad you do.’ He downed the rest of his tea and got to his feet. ‘Well, better be off. Only popped in for a mo, just to give you the snaps.’
Lily began to get to her feet, but he put a restraining hand on her arm. ‘Don’t get up, Mrs Sharples, I can find my way out. Ta ta for now.’
As she heard the front door close behind him, Lily looked again at the pictures, and this time she allowed the tears to flow. How long, she wondered as she gazed at the little girls’ beaming faces through the mist of her tears, how long would it be before she saw them again? How long before she could bring them home, here to Hampton Road, where they belonged?
Next morning Lily decided to walk round to Ship Street, once Jimmy had gone to work, and see how Mavis and baby Richard were getting on. Lily loved babies, and longed to have her new grandson in her arms again. When she reached the house she knocked on the door, and as she waited for Mavis to open it, she realized that she could hear Richard crying. She knocked again, and then, trying the door, found it on the latch.
‘Mavis?’ she called as she went into the hall. ‘Mavis? Is everything all right?’ There was no reply, but the crying was coming from upstairs, so Lily grasped the banister and hauled herself up to the landing. The wails came from Richard’s bedroom and when Lily opened the door she found the baby lying in his cot, scarlet-faced from screaming. She scooped him up into her arms and realized at once that he needed a nappy change. His clothes were wet through, and the cot sheet was soaked as well. She held him close and soothed him, rocking him comfortingly against her until his bellows died away to nothing more than a whimper, then she sat on a chair and with swift and practised movements stripped off his wet clothes and sodden nappy. Wrapping him in a cot blanket she carried him out of the room and into Mavis’s bedroom.
Mavis was in bed. She lay absolutely still with her head under the covers. For one dreadful moment Lily thought that she was dead, but, approaching the bed fearfully, she saw the faint rise and fall of the bedclothes and realized Mavis was deeply asleep.
She must be exhausted, Lily thought, if she slept through the racket young Richard’s been making. Seeing she was all right, Lily gave her attention to the baby.
‘Now then, young man,’ she murmured, ‘let’s get you comfy, eh?’ She pulled open a drawer and found a pile of terry nappies. Moments later he lay on her lap, clean and dry, as she pulled on a clean vest and romper. ‘There,’ she said, ‘that’s better, ain’t it? Let’s go down and find you some milk. We’ll leave your mummy to sleep. Looks as if she needs to. Did you have her up all night? Bet you did, you monkey.’
She carried Richard to the top of the stairs and then stopped. It was difficult enough for her to negotiate the stairs on her own, let alone carrying a small baby. Reluctantly she took him back to his cot. ‘Now, you stay there, darling,’ she said, ‘and Gran’ll go and find your bottle.’ Even as she left the room, Richard began to whimper again, and by the time she was in the kitchen he was going strong. When she struggled up the stairs again with the bottle, there was still no sound from Mavis’s room.
Sleeping the sleep of the dead, thought Lily as she gathered Richard up into her arms once again and offered him the teat. As if she had turned off an electric switch, his wails stopped and he latched onto the bottle, clearly very hungry indeed. Lily rocked him gently as he sucked, wondering as she did so when he’d last been fed. She looked at her watch. It was past eleven, no wonder he was hungry, he’d probably had his last feed at about six.
Richard finished his bottle and Lily swung him up onto her shoulder to burp him. Moments later, exhausted from his extended crying and with his stomach once more comfortably full, he was asleep in her arms, his little body relaxed against her, his head nestled under her chin. Lily sat holding him close for a while, before gently returning him to his cot. Mavis was still asleep in the next room and as far as Lily could tell, hadn’t moved an inch since. She stared down at her daughter for a long moment before leaving the room, quietly pulling the door to. Poor kid, she thought, she ain’t having an easy time of it, she needs her sleep.
Lily went back down to the kitchen and looked round. It was a disgrace. Not like Mavis to have it so bad. Lily sighed and rolling up her sleeves, set to work. It was nearly two hours later when she finally sat down with a cup of tea, but glancing round she decided all the hard work had been worth it. The kitchen was clean again. Lily was just looking into the meat-safe outside the back door when she heard footsteps, and turning round found Mavis coming blearily into the room.
‘Mum! What you doing here?’ Mavis looked dreadful. There were dark circles under her eyes, and a fading bruise on her forehead. Her hair, unwashed, hung in lank rats’ tails round her pale cheeks.
Lily, shaken by just how worn out Mavis looked, tried to school her expression. ‘Just clearing up a bit,’ she replied carefully. ‘You was fast asleep and Richard was crying. Didn’t want to wake you, so I changed and fed him. He’s asleep as well now.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ said Mavis, smothering a yawn. ‘I looked in on him.’ She glanced round the kitchen, suddenly aware that it was not as she’d last seen it. ‘You done the kitchen,’ she said.
‘Well, it needed a bit of a going over,’ her mother said, smiling. ‘Thought you might not have time to do it when you woke up.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’ Mavis flopped down on a chair and rested her head on the table. ‘Still no
t quite with it yet,’ she admitted.
‘Never mind, love.’
Lily poured them each a cup of tea, then said, ‘I was just looking to see what you’ve got for Jimmy’s tea. See you’ve got a couple of hearts in the safe. S’pose I stuff them for you, and you can pop them into the oven in time for when Jimmy come home. ’Spect he’s hungry when he come off the site, ain’t he?’
Mavis nodded. The tea had revived her a little and she smiled wanly at her mother. ‘Thanks, Mum, that would be lovely of you.’ She gave a shuddering sigh. ‘I don’t seem to be able to cope with Richard like I did with the girls. He cries a lot, which Jimmy hates, and I’m so tired. Jimmy don’t understand, he says how can you be tired when you’ve only been looking after a baby at home? He don’t see that as work.’
‘No, well, he wouldn’t, would he?’ replied Lily. ‘He’s a man!’
Lily prepared the hearts for Jimmy’s tea, but she made sure she was well away before he came home. She dare not come to the house when he was there, but she was determined to visit when he wasn’t. She knew Mavis needed her, and more to the point so did Richard. Lily had been horrified at the state in which she’d found him. She said nothing to Mavis about her search for Rita and Rosie. Mavis would never be able to keep it from Jimmy. She had no intention of saying anything about the girls until she had them safely back in her own home.
For the next few days she popped in regularly to see how Mavis was getting on. On more than one occasion she found her deeply asleep in bed, while Richard was left wet and unfed in his cot. Each time Lily sorted him out, and each time she encouraged Mavis to make the effort to look after him herself. Mavis was tearful, but she did seem grateful for Lily’s support.
On the day before Lily had her appointment with Miss Vanstone, she went round to Ship Street during the morning, ostensibly to see if Mavis wanted anything from the shops. When she got there she found Mavis doing the washing at the kitchen sink. Richard was lying, gurgling, in his pram in the yard outside the back door.
‘He sounds happy enough,’ Lily remarked.
The Throwaway Children Page 19
