An Orphan's Journey
Page 7
Early in April the gentleman, whose name, Mrs Bates informed them, was Mr Miller, again appeared. Once more they were singled out and led to the day room where he informed them that they and the four boys who had been chosen would be sailing to Quebec on The Dunbrody at the end of April. Pearl was pleased to hear that Nick was amongst them; they had become friends and she had been teaching him his alphabet on a Sunday afternoon as now she could proudly write her own name and quite a few little words. But still she held that tiny hope that her mother might oppose them being sent away, so she asked tremulously, ‘But what if our ma don’t want us to go?’
Mr Miller sniffed, setting his large grey moustache quivering. ‘You need have no concerns on that score. All the parents who are still alive have been contacted, and yours has given her consent for you to go.’
Pearl felt as if all the air had been knocked out of her. So her ma knew and hadn’t tried to oppose them going, or even bothered to come and say goodbye? Deep down she had believed this would be the trigger that would make their mother fetch them home, but now she realised there was no hope of that ever happening.
Blinking back tears, she raised her chin. ‘Then in that case I’ll look forward to it,’ she said. ‘But will we be allowed to go and see her to say goodbye?’
‘If Mrs Bates has no objections, I can’t see why not,’ Mr Miller answered, looking towards Mrs Bates.
She frowned. ‘Well, if I allowed it you would have to go on a Sunday afternoon,’ she said shortly. ‘I can’t have you having time off during work hours.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Bates,’ Pearl answered and reaching out she squeezed Eliza’s hand. It was something at least.
Over the following week, each of the children who would be sailing were kitted out with new clothes. They were very plain and drab, but serviceable and easily the best that Pearl had ever owned. They were even issued with black leather boots, very superior to the hard wooden clogs they wore about the workhouse. Even Eliza managed a smile when she saw the warm woollen coat they were given. Everything was slightly too big for them, but they didn’t care. As Mrs Bates pointed out, they would soon grow into them. Most of them had never even had warm clothes before and they all wondered if this was an omen of wonderful things to come.
On the last Sunday of the month before they were due to set sail, Pearl and Eliza set off for home one sunny afternoon. It seemed that the world was slowly coming back to life after the long, cold winter, and Pearl smiled to see the new green leaves on the sparsely dotted trees opening to the sunshine.
They were under strict instructions to be back within two hours and as they marched along with Pearl gripping tight to Eliza’s hand, she said, ‘It’ll be nice to see our ma an’ all the kids again, won’t it?’
Eliza shrugged, not much caring one way or another, and eventually they turned into the street where they’d lived, and there was little Amy playing marbles in the street. At sight of Pearl and Eliza, she let out a whoop of delight and flew towards them, throwing herself into Pearl’s arms so forcefully that Pearl almost fell over.
‘Pearl . . . I missed yer,’ she said as she swiped her bare arm across her snotty nose. She was barefoot and looked even thinner than Pearl remembered and her heart sank. The weather was improving but there was still a nip in the air so what was she doing outside half naked? She could see the head lice rampant in her little sister’s hair and her stick-like arms were covered in scabs.
‘I missed you too,’ she told the child, returning her hug. ‘Where’s Ma?’
Amy thumbed across her shoulder. ‘In there, but she ain’t in a very good mood.’
Pearl straightened. Good mood or not, she hadn’t come this far to turn back without seeing her.
The minute she opened the front door, the stench of stale urine and filth hit her. The stained wooden draining board was piled high with whatever dirty pots her mother possessed and the floor was strewn with rubbish. But it was her mother who gave her the biggest shock. She was huddled in a chair beside the empty fire grate and she looked grievously ill as she rocked to and fro. She was pitifully thin apart from her swollen stomach, and Pearl realised that she must be close to giving birth again. Her head turned in Pearl’s direction, but there was no welcoming smile. All she said was, ‘’Ave yer got any money on yer? I ain’t had a drop o’ gin since last night an’ I’m gaggin’ fer a drink.’
Eliza shrank into Pearl’s side. Suddenly this place made the workhouse look like a hotel.
‘Hello, Ma.’ Pearl ignored the question as she crossed to the sink and began to pump water into it. There was no way of heating it so she would just have to do the best she could with cold.
As she rolled her sleeves up and plunged the pots into the water to soak her mother asked again, ‘’Ave yer got any money?’
‘No, I haven’t,’ Pearl snapped as she took up the broom that stood in one corner. Judging by the state of the place, it hadn’t been used since she and Eliza left. ‘And even if I had I wouldn’t give it yer to waste on drink. Where’s Dad?’
‘Huh! That lousy bastard. I ain’t seen ’ide nor ’air of ’im fer over a week now.’ Her mother blinked back tears of self-pity. ‘I’s beginnin’ to think he’s got hisself a fancy woman.’
Pearl began to sweep the floor, noting the many rat droppings amongst the rubbish. ‘So why don’t you get yerself an’ the kids down to the soup kitchen then?’ she asked, smiling at the other children who were sitting quietly against the wall with their thumbs jammed in their mouths. ‘And where’s the baby?’ She had only just noticed that one of her siblings was missing.
‘The measles done fer ’im a while back – snuffed ’im out just like that.’ As her mother snapped her fingers, Pearl felt tears burn at the back of her eyes. She wasn’t really surprised. The children were so neglected that they had little strength to fight off any illness. She was just relieved that the others had survived, for now at least.
‘I think you ought to go an’ tell the parish that you’ve nothing in to feed the kids,’ Pearl suggested as she glanced into the empty food cupboard. All it contained was mice droppings.
‘I ain’t goin’ beggin’ fer charity.’ Her mother bristled.
‘No, but you don’t mind sending the little ’uns out beggin’, do yer?’ Pearl snapped.
Her mother’s mouth gaped before she ground out, ‘Ooh, hark at you. Yer think yer the bee’s knees now as you’re goin’ to live in another country, don’t yer?’
‘I don’t have to go,’ Pearl pointed out. ‘If I was to come home I could at least make the place look half decent again an’ see as the kids are fed.’
Her mother’s lip curled as she looked at her with contempt. ‘Oh yes, an’ then there’d be more of yer fer me to worry about again, wouldn’t there? Look at the pair o’ yer! One a cripple an’ one an idiot. No, yer best off where yer are out o’ my way.’
Pearl’s lip trembled as she stared at the woman who had given birth to her; she suddenly seemed like a stranger. ‘Come on, Eliza,’ she coaxed as she rolled her sleeves down and buttoned them back up. ‘We ain’t needed here anymore. Goodbye, Ma.’
Her mother sniffed but made no reply as slowly Pearl bent to kiss her siblings before leading Eliza back out into the street.
Her mother hadn’t even wished them well. No good luck . . . nothing, which finally brought home to Pearl just how little she and Eliza had meant to her. Pearl supposed that even though her parents were still alive, she and Eliza were orphans now and only had each other.
‘Come on sweet’eart,’ she whispered, giving Eliza’s hand an encouraging squeeze. ‘We’ve got to go an’ prepare ourselves fer our new life.’ And she walked away without looking back.
Chapter Eight
T
he following week, the girls were instructed to go for a medical in the infirmary.
‘It’s to make sure that none of you have any contagious diseases and that you’re fit enough to travel,’ Mrs Bates informed them shortly.
‘All ’e did were look in me mouth, me eyes an’ me froat.’
‘Same here,’ Pearl agreed. The time to sail was fast approaching and she could still hardly believe that they really were going.
A few days later they were each issued with bags to pack their new clothes into and Susan was delighted with hers.
‘I wonder ’ow many uvvers will be goin’,’ she said, but no one seemed to know, so all they could do was wait patiently for more news.
And then at last, during the third week in April, Mr Miller paid them another visit. ‘You will be sailing a week on Friday with the morning tide on The Dunbrody,’ he informed them. ‘Very early in the morning someone will come to escort you to the docks. And that is really all you need to know for now.’
‘But what will ’appen to us when we get there?’ Susan queried.
Mr Miller sighed with annoyance. ‘There is accommodation arranged for you all until you are placed wherever you are going.’
‘But will we all be able to stay togevver?’ Susan asked, showing the first hint of nerves.
He raised his eyebrow. ‘I should think that would be highly unlikely. I doubt very much that a family would need all four of you, but you’ll just have to wait and see, and be grateful for any opportunity you are offered.’
Susan scowled and crossed her arms across her skinny chest. It had only just occurred to her that they might be separated when they got there and she didn’t like the thought of that at all. Pearl was the only real friend she had ever had.
‘Now, do you have any more questions?’ Mr Miller asked sarcastically and when Susan’s hand shot up again, he frowned impatiently.
‘Yes, ’ow long is it gonna take fer us to get there on the ship?’
‘That very much depends on the weather conditions,’ he answered truthfully. ‘But as a rule, it should take between four and five weeks.’
Pearl gulped. That sounded like an awful long time to be on a ship, but she didn’t say anything, knowing it couldn’t be changed and not wanting to worry the others, least of all Eliza.
Soon after, Mr Miller left with strict instructions that they should be ready early on the day of departure.
‘Don’t you worry on that score, they will be, sir,’ Mrs Bates told him as she showed him out, and Pearl had the feeling that she could hardly wait to get rid of them.
The atmosphere in the dormitory had changed towards them now. Those that hadn’t been selected to go were envious and Pearl found herself wishing the time away until they could leave. Once or twice she had tried to get Eliza to talk about how she felt about them going, but all her efforts had come to nothing as Eliza had simply shrugged. It was almost as if she didn’t care what happened to herself anymore. Pearl just hoped that a fresh start might bring her sister back out of her shell.
The time seemed to pass quickly, and suddenly it was the night before they were due to leave. They had done their last shift in the laundry and Pearl was glad about that at least. Mrs Bates ordered them to take a bath when the rest of the girls had retired to bed and it felt strange to Pearl to think that this was the last time she would ever bathe there. Will we be able to have a bath on the ship? she wondered, and then shuddered as she thought back to that first night when Mrs Bates had so cruelly bathed them and cut their hair. Pearl’s hair had grown quite a lot since that first night and the blonde waves now shone with cleanliness. Then they were ordered to pack their clothes, leaving out only the things they would be wearing the next morning.
‘There will be no time for breakfast before you go. No doubt they will give you some once you’re on board the ship,’ Mrs Bates informed them, not really caring if they starved. She was glad to see the back of them; Eliza was neither use nor ornament, Susan and Freda were lippy little creatures, and Pearl had a defiant air about her that irked Mrs Bates every time she set eyes on the damn girl. Pearl had not shed so much as a tear during her caning, and added to this, she was a cripple. Admittedly she was a worker and had earned her keep but as far as she was concerned it was goodbye to bad rubbish, which was why she had selected the four of them.
As she lay in bed later that night, Pearl’s only regret was having to leave behind her younger siblings, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she could only pray that they would survive their mother’s neglect.
It was a shock when a member of staff came to rouse them in the early hours of the following morning. Pearl was surprised that she had managed to get any sleep at all and tumbled out of bed bleary-eyed. All four girls shrugged themselves into their clothes before catching up their coats and bags and being led down into the foyer. Through the window they could see a cab waiting for them, the horse that pulled it pawing restlessly at the ground, and Susan’s eyes grew wide with excitement.
‘Ooh, I ain’t never been in a cab before,’ she said and Mrs Brewer, one of the kinder members of staff, smiled at her indulgently as the girls struggled into their coats. Thankfully Mrs Bates was still tucked up in bed. She hadn’t even bothered to get up to say goodbye to them.
‘Now, let’s have a look at you. Have you all brushed your hair and put your brushes in your bags?’
Four heads nodded in unison and, smiling, she ushered them towards the door where the gentleman who had been sent to escort them to the docks stood waiting.
‘Good luck, my dears,’ Mrs Brewer said. ‘Off you go and make the best of this opportunity and may God go with you.’
‘Eeh, I feel just like gentry,’ Susan said as they clambered into the waiting cab and settled back against the worn leather swabs. And then they were off, the horse’s hooves making a clip-clop sound on the cobblestones as it rattled towards the docks.
Once they were there, a thick sea mist rising from the quay made it look like everyone was floating and they were surprised at the number of people milling about. The streets had been quiet due to the early hour, but in contrast the docks were teeming with people and activity. The girls were also astounded and somewhat in awe of the enormous boat sitting at anchor that would take them to their new life.
‘Bleedin’ ’ell! Would yer just look at that!’ Susan croaked. ‘How can sommat so big stay afloat . . . especially when all this lot get on it?’ For the first time she looked apprehensive. Even Freda was quiet for once.
The gentleman who had come to fetch them nudged them forwards through the jostling crowd towards the gangplank. When someone stood on Freda’s foot, she yelped, but still they were urged forwards, their bags gripped tightly in their hands until they stood at the end of the longest queue of children they had ever seen. Further down the ship stood another gangplank and they could see burly seamen rolling barrels and carrying huge crates of food up it.
‘I shall leave you here,’ the gentleman told them, as he took four folded documents from his pocket and handed one to each of them. ‘When you reach the end of the queue there will be someone to take your names. Just give them these documents. But now I must hurry to fetch some of the other children who will be travelling with you from the Dr Barnardo’s home. Hopefully you will be sailing this morning with the turning of the tide. Goodbye and good luck.’
It was so noisy that he had to shout to be heard and all Pearl could do was give him a grateful but nervous smile. It was still dark, although the dawn was just breaking, and she wondered how long it would be before they finally got on board – the queue seemed to be going down painfully slowly. Ahead she could see children of all shapes and sizes being ushered up the gangplank. Some of them were smiling, but others were openly sobbing and having to be urged along. Pearl gripped Eliza’s hand, needing the support as much as offering it.
Suddenly all Susan’s excitement was gone and she looked afraid as she stared at the enormous ship that stretched the entire length of the quay.
‘’Ere, what’ll ’appen t
o us if we get seasick?’ she asked anxiously.
Pearl smiled at her encouragingly. ‘There’s bound to be a doctor on board so we’ll be fine,’ she said, although she was feeling more than a little nervous herself. Even Freda had gone quiet and as usual Eliza was off in a world of her own, apparently oblivious of the adventure they were about to embark on.
Very, very slowly the queue inched forwards until they came to the bottom of the gangplank where two men with large clipboards stood waiting.
‘Names,’ the taller of the two asked, and Pearl haltingly told him as the other three hung back, happy for her to take charge. He ran his figure down the list in front of him then nodded and asked, ‘Boarding passes, please.’
They handed him the documents they had been given and were then ushered on to the gangplank where Susan hung on to the rope rail for dear life. ‘I ain’t much fer this,’ she said, staring down at the churning water beneath them, which was visible through the planks. It was a dirty brown colour and covered in floating debris that slapped relentlessly against the sides of the ship as if it was trying to find a way inside.
‘Just keep going; we’ll be all right.’ Pearl urged them on.
At last they reached the top and stepped on to the wooden deck where two ladies were waiting for them. At that moment a large seagull swooped dangerously close to Susan’s head and she instinctively ducked.
‘Bleedin’ ’ell. It’s dangerous on ’ere,’ she complained.
‘Less of that bad language, if you please,’ one of the ladies scolded as she stepped towards them. She was actually quite young and pretty with dark curly hair, Pearl noticed. ‘Follow me and I’ll show you to your quarters.’