The Boy With the Latchkey

by Cathy Sharp

  ‘Thanks, Billy,’ Archie said. ‘I wish I could run as fast as you.’

  ‘I don’t run as much as I used to. I’m too busy working these days,’ Billy told him. ‘Look, do you want to earn a few bob?’

  ‘Yeah – what do I have to do?’

  ‘See that man at the fruit and veg stall?’ Archie nodded. ‘You tell him Billy Baggins sent you and he’ll give you a job trimming stuff and clearing up the rubbish. I used to work for him, but I’ve got other things to do these days. He’s a fair man is Ted Hastings; he’ll treat you right. I’ve got to go now. I’m takin’ a mate to help clear his house and move him into a new council place …’

  Archie thanked him and watched as he strode off, looking for all the world as if he were king of all he surveyed. He thought he’d like to be like Billy one day, but he didn’t think he could win cups in running or football. He hesitated, and then approached the man on the stall Billy had pointed out. Archie hadn’t anything else to do with himself for a few hours, and a few extra shillings would come in useful if he did get to visit his mother …

  It was the stuff of nightmares, but even in her worst dreams Sandra had never seen herself in prison; she wasn’t the sort who broke the law and one of the worst things of all was being labelled a thief in the eyes of the world, even though she knew she hadn’t touched that money. There was no doubt whatsoever in Sandra’s mind that Reg Prentice had set her up because she’d threatened to go to the boss with her complaints. How he must be laughing now and how she hated him for doing this to her; it was her anger against him and the others who had turned against her, people she’d thought her friends, that made it possible for her to bear the humiliation.

  Sandra wasn’t sure which part of the nightmare had been the worst: her arrest and the look in the eyes of people who believed her guilty; the time she’d spent in the police cells, her trial or her arrival at the women’s prison. The sound of that metal door clanging shut behind her, the stench, and the knowledge that she was shut in this foul place for months on end would’ve broken her if she hadn’t been so angry. She’d always believed in British justice and until sentence was pronounced she’d believed she would be declared innocent and set free.

  Sandra had still been in a state of shock when they took her down from the dock and put her in a van with other women – women who were hardened to crime and laughed, jeering at the guards and swearing in a way that made Sandra wince. She could hardly believe that it had really happened, and because of that she’d endured the strip search, the showers during which the women huddled together, watched over by a warden who looked as if she’d never smiled in her life. She’d seen her things taken away and put in a box for which she’d had to sign, and she’d been given a shapeless grey sack that, belted in the middle with a tie, might just look like a dress.

  All of that was bearable because she was angry. It was only when they’d pushed her into a cell and locked the door on her that Sandra began to tremble and the useless anger became a nameless fear that made her want to scream and scream, shouting her innocence out loud, and yet she didn’t because some inner instinct told her that the only way to endure this was to keep her thoughts to herself – to live for the day when she was released. Shouting abuse as some of the others did wouldn’t help, nothing would alter what was happening to her and being abusive would only make things worse.

  ‘So what did you do then?’ the only other occupant of her cell asked. ‘I’m in ’ere fer sellin’ it on the streets – wot ’ave you done, ducks?’

  Sandra had hardly noticed the woman, or girl as she now saw, because she couldn’t have been more than seventeen surely. She had bleached blonde hair, dark eyebrows and lashes and pale skin, which was blotched in a few places with red patches.

  ‘They say I stole money and cheques from work,’ Sandra said. ‘I was set up by a man who hates me because I told him to get lost.’

  ‘Yeah, I know that sort,’ the girl said and pulled a face. ‘It were one of them that got me started on the game. I ’ated him and got away from him when I found Dicky; he’s a pet and saw me right …’Ere, you ain’t got a fag, ’ave yer? I’m gaspin’ fer one and the buggers don’t give us enough ter last the week …’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t smoke …’

  ‘Don’t let the buggers know that,’ the girl said. ‘Or you won’t get yer ration. Fags are bloody gold dust in ’ere, love. If you don’t want ’em there’s plenty do, and you can trade ’em for privileges, see … There’s women in ’ere that can make yer life ’ell if they want, or if they take to yer, they can make it easier.’

  Sandra nodded, warming to the girl despite her unkempt appearance. She probably looked much the same herself now, because she hadn’t been able to dry her hair properly after the shower, and she hadn’t brought anything in the way of cosmetics into the prison with her. Archie had brought her a comb and toothbrush to the police cells, but apart from those and a bar of prison-issue soap she had nothing of her own.

  ‘Is this your first time inside?’

  ‘Nah, third, but I’m only in fer six months this time – four if I keep me nose clean …’

  ‘I’m Sandra.’ She offered her hand and after a moment the girl took it and grinned. ‘I’m glad I’m sharing with you …’

  ‘Mo, they call me, but me name’s Maureen,’ the girl said and laughed. ‘Tell the truth, I don’t care what they call me. I do what I’m told and keep out of trouble. If I were you I’d do the same. It’s no use complaining, whether it’s the screws or the other lot. You just have to put up with it until they put you out of the front gate and tell you not to come back.’

  ‘I shan’t be back,’ Sandra said. She wanted to say that she would soon be released and that her friends would prove her innocence, but she didn’t know who her friends were any more or even if she had any …

  ‘I didn’t think to say last time so I thought I’d better come round and tell you,’ Sergeant Sallis said to Sister Beatrice later that day. ‘Archie Miller came to the station and asked to see his mother, brought her a bag of fudge – and I had to tell him that she’d been sent down for eighteen months. I’ve told him I’ll try to get a visiting order, but I doubt they will let him see her; he’ll have to be accompanied, even if they’ll allow it.’

  ‘That would be no problem, one of my carers could go,’ Beatrice said and frowned. ‘However, this means I shall have to move him and his sister to Halfpenny House, because I can’t keep them here for that length of time.’

  ‘Archie isn’t going to like that,’ Sergeant Sallis said. ‘I’d take the lad to visit myself and I’m prepared to vouch for him – but I can’t promise anything …’

  ‘Well, I’ll delay it for a week or two but if we get more children needing to be admitted, Archie will have to be moved, and his sister …’

  ‘Now that’s the other thing …’ Sergeant Sallis looked grave. ‘We’ve had a complaint about June Miller. Apparently, she and an older girl …’ he consulted his notebook, ‘Betty Goodge, currently residing next door, were seen stealing lipstick from Woolworth’s this morning …’

  ‘Are you certain it was June Miller?’ Beatrice frowned. ‘I know Betty Goodge is a convicted thief. If she was older she would be in prison – and that is probably where she belongs. I understand she is a bad influence on the other girls next door …’

  ‘Sometimes you get a bad one,’ Sergeant Sallis sighed heavily. ‘It seems to be bred in them and no matter how many chances you give them they won’t change. I’ve told Miss Saunders and she said that Betty was already on a warning so I dare say she may find herself on the way to the remand centre before she knows what has happened.’

  ‘Will you leave June to me, Sergeant?’

  ‘Yes, of course. It’s why I’ve told you. We don’t have any proof she actually stole something. She was with Betty Goodge and that was enough to bring me here, but perhaps if you talk to her she will see the error of her ways.’

  ‘I think I may hav
e to send the children away after all, for June’s sake,’ Beatrice said. ‘I shall tell Archie that if he wishes to visit his mother he may do so and St Saviour’s will fund his fares to the prison and back to Halfpenny House. It is not ideal, but if the girl is in danger of being corrupted the sooner she is moved the better, and I do not think separating them would be the right thing.’

  ‘No, I am certain it would not,’ he agreed. ‘Well, I’ll get off home then. I know I can leave it to you to sort things out …’

  ‘Here, shove it in your pocket, June,’ Betty hissed as she handed her a fistful of lipsticks she’d snatched off the counter in Woolies. ‘We’d better make a run fer it or they’ll nab us …’

  June giggled nervously. She was in awe of Betty, who was bold and daring and didn’t seem to fear anyone. She felt flattered that the older girl had noticed her and chosen her as her special friend. Betty was already leaving the shop when June felt the hand on her shoulder and was suddenly stopped in her tracks.

  ‘Betty …’ she cried piteously, but her friend looked back and grinned as she ran off, leaving June to face the anger of the shop manager by herself.

  ‘You’re in trouble now, girl,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’m holding you responsible for the theft of those lipsticks and you’ll sit quietly in my office until the police come … and it will be better for you if you tell me who the girl was that actually snatched them.’ He paused and frowned at her. ‘I saw what she did and I’ll tell Sergeant Sallis who was to blame – but you’re in serious trouble, girl, and she’s run off and left you to take the blame …’

  June looked at him, tears hovering. ‘I want my mum,’ she whispered miserably. ‘I want to go home to my mum …’

  ‘Oh no, not again,’ Sister Beatrice groaned as Sergeant Sallis pushed June forward and told the sorry tale. It was his second visit of the day and by far the most serious. ‘June, what have you got to say for yourself?’

  June hung her head but didn’t speak. Sister Beatrice sighed and looked at her sadly.

  ‘Don’t you know what kind of a girl she is, June? She isn’t your friend or she would’ve stayed with you and helped you – she got you into this trouble and you’re very lucky not to be sent to a remand home. If it happens again, I shan’t be able to stop the police bringing a case against you …’

  ‘I’m sorry. It was just a lipstick …’

  ‘At least four,’ Sister Beatrice shook her head. ‘Go along and have your tea, but remember this is your last chance …’

  She stared at the police officer in exasperation as the door closed behind June. ‘She isn’t a bad child – it’s that Betty Goodge.’

  ‘I’ve spoken to Miss Saunders about her and she’s having her sent on to the remand centre. Apparently, she gave her one last chance – and now she’ll have time to repent at leisure …’

  ‘Do some of them ever learn? I don’t think even we could have helped that girl – and she’s certainly had no understanding or love next door …’

  ‘Miss Saunders doesn’t see things the way you do, Sister. It will be a sorry day if her kind ever takes over completely – they don’t seem to know the meaning of compassion; it’s all morals and rules with that lot.’

  ‘Yes, I believe you may be right,’ Beatrice said. She was thoughtful as Sergeant Sallis took his leave. June would soon be leaving for Halfpenny House and out of the way of the bad influence from next door, but did she ought to visit the prison and tell June’s mother any of this? Mrs Miller surely had a right to know whatever she’d done … Perhaps she would wait until she had better news to pass on, when June was settled in Essex and doing better. Surely, it couldn’t help to give Mrs Miller bad news, because she must be worried enough as it was …

  Ruby replaced her telephone receiver and smiled in satisfaction. After what had happened today, Sister Beatrice wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if she tried to hang on to June Miller. Ruby had rung the Children’s Department as soon as she’d heard and told them she was moving Betty into secure care. Her call to Miss Sampson had turned out to be more worthwhile than she’d hoped, because her supervisor from when she worked in the Children’s Welfare Department had agreed with everything she said; they were alike in more ways than one, though Ruth was a few years older, but neither of them was interested in marriage or men. Ruby suspected that Miss Sampson’s reasons might be different from hers, but it did mean that they got on well, and Ruby took care to consult her about important decisions, even though she was in charge of her girls, within the Department rules.

  ‘I know that strictly speaking it isn’t my affair, but I felt in the interests of the child I should consult you. In my opinion she has been allowed to run wild for years and even if the mother were not in prison I believe she would be better with a decent family. Otherwise she will end in a remand home like so many others.’

  ‘You were very sensible to contact me,’ Miss Sampson said primly. ‘I have always thought that St Saviour’s would be better run by someone like you, Ruby – especially now that Angela Adderbury has retired. Sister Beatrice was kept there because a lot of influential people refused to move her, despite my advice. Sister Beatrice is well-meaning, I have no doubt, and I believe she is strict – but I think I shall look into this matter and quite possibly make an order for fostering.’

  ‘I’m so glad I rang you. I thought you might reprimand me for interfering?’

  ‘Not at all, Ruby. Did you have anyone in mind for foster parents?’

  ‘Well, I do know of a couple who have asked about fostering one of my girls. Mr and Mrs Bailey said they wanted to give a child a good home. I explained that my girls are here to be disciplined and could not be considered for fostering or adoption, but then I thought of June …’

  ‘What kind of people are they?’

  ‘She is a school teacher and he owns a grocery business; he helps to run a youth club in the evenings. They are both in their thirties and childless – and willing to foster older children, but they did ask for a girl.’

  ‘They sound ideal,’ Miss Sampson said. ‘Yes, give me their details in writing and I’ll make some inquiries. We are a little short of available foster parents at the moment, so they might very well be suitable.’

  ‘I am so pleased I rang you now. I was afraid you might think I was interfering in St Saviour’s business.’

  ‘Not at all, Ruby. You are a woman after my own heart and I trust your judgement. Please keep me informed of anything that attracts your notice.’

  Ruby glowed under her superior’s praise. It was exactly what she wanted – for Ruth to notice her and approve. Perhaps it was the first step to a relationship between them … but she still needed to be very careful; she must be sure her affection was returned before she made a suggestion. ‘I’m so glad you agree, because I am sure Sister Beatrice will not …’

  ‘Well you know my opinion there. Leave it with me, but as soon as I’ve verified this couple, I shall make an order for June Miller to be taken into custody …’

  Ruby was feeling elated when she finished her call; Ruth Sampson had thought she’d behaved properly, though Sister Beatrice would almost certainly be furious. She would believe that Ruby had gone beyond her remit and would no doubt be angry to receive an order for one of her children to be taken into care and then fostered. Ruby pushed the thought from her mind. She’d acted in the best interests of the child, which any bystander was entitled to do …

  Archie was pleased as he fingered the half-crown in his pocket. Ted Hastings had praised him for his work and rewarded him generously. He’d been so pleased that he’d told Archie he could have the job every Saturday morning if he wanted it.

  ‘I’ve been lookin’ for a likely lad to work on the stalls,’ he’d said as he handed Archie a plastic mug of tea and a sticky bun. ‘If you keep up the good work I could take you on when you leave school. In time you could be running a stall yourself and you might even own one in time …’

  Archie knew that Ted Hastings own
ed several market stalls. His daughter Maggie ran a stall selling material and she’d been busy the whole morning. Ted had sent Archie over with a cup of tea for her and Maggie had been just as friendly as her father.

  ‘Thanks, Archie,’ she’d said after he’d told her his name. ‘That’s just what I could do with. I hope you’re going to work for us every week?’

  ‘Mr Hastings said I can work for him when I leave school,’ Archie said. ‘I could leave next term, but Mum wanted me to stay at school and learn to be something proper – in an office or a mechanic or somethin’ …’

  ‘Dad says you never get anywhere as a wage-slave,’ Maggie told him. ‘I think you should come and work for us as soon as you leave. You’ll do all right for yourself with us. When Dad takes to someone he looks after them …’

  Archie wondered what Mr Hastings would think if he knew his mum was in prison for theft … a theft she hadn’t committed. Perhaps he should have told him, but it wasn’t something he was proud of. He might have believed Archie, but if he didn’t he probably wouldn’t have let him help on the stall.

  Archie was just going to have to prove himself, before he told his new friend.

  ‘Where did you get to all day?’

  June’s sulky tones made him turn to look at her. He’d been sitting in the little garden behind St Saviour’s because it was quiet and he wanted to think but now he was suddenly angry.

  ‘I should think you’re the one who should be telling me that,’ Archie said and stood up. ‘Why did you take those lipsticks? You know Mum would be furious if she thought you’d pinched anything.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ June said truculently. ‘Betty gave them to me …’

  ‘But she stole them and you knew what she’d done,’ Archie said. ‘It was stupid, June. Do you want to end up in a remand home like her?’

  ‘No …’ June looked fit to burst into tears. ‘I want to be at home with Mum but she’s in prison …’

  ‘Because someone lied about her,’ Archie said. ‘You’ve still got your freedom and it’s not too bad here. Sister Beatrice looks stern but she’s fair – and Wendy is lovely, so are Sally and Nancy. All of them are … We could be in a lot worse places, June.’