The Surplus Girls' Orphans

by Polly Heron

  ‘The boys aren’t out the back,’ Aaron said as he returned, ‘and there’s no sign of them having been there. Let’s try the meadows.’ He closed the front door behind them. ‘Wait a minute. I’ll ask old Mrs Mulvey next door if she’ll keep an eye out.’ Stepping across, he knocked on the neighbour’s door and quickly explained about the missing lads.

  His elderly neighbour expressed concern and promised to keep an eye out. ‘Let’s hope they’re just having a lark. Boys will be boys.’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ said Aaron, but the tightness about his mouth told Molly he was as worried as she was.

  When Daniel resurfaced, spluttering and coughing, relief poured through Jacob from his scalp right down to the soles of his feet and he almost burst into tears. Instinctively he sprang to the edge of the hole, but the ground was slick, sending his feet scudding, and he had to throw himself backwards so as not to follow Daniel into the water. More water from the brook slopped over the top of the hole, drenching Daniel and making him cough and gasp.

  Jacob crawled to the edge. The face that stared up at him was wide-eyed with terror, but Jacob had his own fears to contend with. What if the ground gave way and tipped him in as well? Inching forward on his tummy, the ground slobbery-wet and squelchy beneath the front of his soaked gabardine, he got as near to the edge as he dared and thrust a hand downwards.

  ‘That’s nowhere near,’ cried Daniel.

  Jacob shuffled forwards another inch, but it wasn’t enough. Daniel seemed miles away. The water was up to his chest. There was a surge in the brook and more water poured over the edge, dousing him.

  ‘Come nearer.’ Jacob flexed his fingers, trying to elongate them. ‘Then you’ll be able to reach.’

  ‘I can’t. I’m stuck. My foot’s stuck. I can’t move.’

  ‘Wiggle it.’

  ‘It’s stuck, I tell you.’

  ‘Well…’ Well what? Damn damn damn. ‘Wait a minute and then try again, but gently.’ That would do it. It had to. It was bound to. ‘And I’ll…’ What could he do? His brain was frozen. He couldn’t think. ‘I’ll use my gaberdine as a rope and pull you out.’

  ‘It’s no good. I can’t move.’

  ‘Just try.’

  Hauling himself to his knees, Jacob undid the belt and fiddled with the buttons, making sure to lean away from the hole as he did so. Did that make him look cowardly? Self-preservation wasn’t cowardly, not really. They would be in an even worse mess if he fell in an’ all. As he started to roll up the gabardine lengthways, his hands found a lump in one of the pockets. Shirl’s packet! As more water cascaded over the edge into the hole and Daniel yelled at him for help, Jacob fumbled his way into the pocket and pulled out Shirl’s packet. Somewhere deep inside him, guilt wriggled. What sort of monster was he to worry about a rotten packet when Daniel was trapped in the overflow hole with water pouring in?

  He managed to roll up the coat, but as he dangled it over the edge, trying to cast it in Daniel’s direction, it unravelled. He could almost hear Thad’s voice sneering at him for having had such a damn fool idea in the first place and for being too much of a cack-handed idiot to carry it out properly. He heaved the gabardine out onto the side. It flapped against him, heavy and wet. He pushed it away.

  Wiping rain from his face, he called down to Daniel again. ‘Have you got your foot loose?’

  Daniel’s only reply was a glare that would have made Jacob recoil, except that he was lying flat out. But he recoiled inside. Daniel needed him. He was Daniel’s only hope and he was useless.

  ‘Do something!’ yelled Daniel.

  What the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn’t run for help in case that copper really was looking for them. But if he stayed here, the water in the hole would rise and…

  ‘Hang on. I’m going for help.’

  He scrambled to his feet, slipping and sprawling in the mud. Scrabbling his way backwards from the hole, he got to his feet and, bending almost double so that his hands could help him, he clambered up the bank, almost swooning with relief when he regained the gravel drive. He dived out between the gates, scudding to a standstill in time to throw himself against one of the stone gateposts. With his back plastered to it, he peered round to see if the policeman was still there. No sign. There were houses down that way, opposite the farm, but the copper might be down there too, so Jacob went the other way, back towards the Bowling Green. He would pound the door down if he had to.

  As he careered through sheets of rain towards the pub, he thought he heard a voice, but of course he couldn’t have. It must have been Thad in his head. Then a hand clamped onto his shoulder and he almost shrieked in fear as he was swung round – Shirl? Thad? The copper? No, it was –

  ‘Bunny!’ His knees buckled with relief and Bunny yanked him upright.

  ‘What’s up?’

  He had never heard Bunny sound so sharp. Sharp meant capable and Jacob felt bolstered by it.

  ‘It’s Daniel Cropper. He’s fallen into the overflow hole and the water’s coming in. He’s stuck. He can’t get out. Please help us.’ He made a grab for Bunny’s hand, but Bunny was already on the move.

  ‘Show me.’

  And off Bunny went, with Jacob racing behind, trying to keep up and stop Bunny from overshooting the gates.

  ‘Here! He’s in here!’ Jacob was forced to shout when it looked like Bunny would go straight past.

  Bunny gave him a look he couldn’t fathom. ‘What were you doing in here?’ He strode through the gates. Who would have thought that shambling, good-natured Bunny could stride out like that? Jacob bumbled along beside him.

  ‘Down here. Be careful. It’s slippy.’

  But the slipperiness seemed only to affect Jacob. Bunny didn’t break his stride. Jacob burst through the sopping bushes in time to hear Bunny exclaim, ‘Well, bugger me!’ as he dropped to his knees and shuffled forwards, then slumped onto his stomach, reaching out an arm.

  ‘I can’t.’ Danny’s voice was thick with panic. ‘I’m stuck. My foot’s stuck. I can’t move.’

  Jacob jammed his hands into his armpits, trying to hold himself in one piece. Time seemed skewed. Had it sped up or slowed right down?

  Bunny hissed something under his breath and scrambled up, almost losing his balance as his feet got tangled in Jacob’s discarded gabardine. His hand plunged to the ground to steady himself, then he came upright.

  ‘You stay here,’ he ordered Jacob. ‘I’ll fetch help.’

  Jacob watched him vanish, wanting to call him back. He didn’t want to be left alone. He was useless, a complete dud. More water spilled over into the hole, deluging Daniel, who emerged spluttering and crying. Jacob felt like crying too. His chest was hot and tight.

  Please let Bunny be in time.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  ‘WON’T YOU PLEASE talk to me about it?’ Mrs Atwood spoke softly. Her initial distress had subsided and, though she looked drawn, her posture was upright, her manner composed; but how composed was she on the inside? ‘If you refuse, I want you to know I shan’t trouble you with it again.’

  ‘You mean you aren’t threatening me with exposure,’ Prudence challenged her. Why react so sharply? Why couldn’t she take a leaf from Mrs Atwood’s book and speak in a moderate voice? Mrs Atwood’s voice was almost gentle.

  The snub brought a flicker to the steadiness in Mrs Atwood’s eyes, but in no other regard did her manner falter. ‘I’m not threatening you with anything. I wouldn’t dream of it. Might it help if I talked a little to start with, while you overcome the shock? At the very least, you’re entitled to an explanation for my presence here, even if you elect not to confide in me afterwards.’

  ‘You said you found your birth certificate after your mother’s death.’ The sound of Prudence’s heartbeat ought to have been running amok in her ears, but instead it was rock-steady in her chest, sending solemnity around her body. ‘After Elspeth’s death.’

  ‘Elspeth,’ breathed Mrs Atwood.

  And there
it was. Acknowledgement. Admission.

  Elspeth. Dear Elspeth from long ago.

  Mrs Atwood’s hand fluttered to her chest and pressed against it, fingers splayed. She gave a little shake of the head, her breaths quick and shallow. She pursed her lips as if about to whistle and blew out a stream of air.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Elspeth. My mother – my adoptive mother. I want you to know I couldn’t have had a better mother; she was my true mother in every way that mattered – in every sense but one.’

  Prudence nodded. She had never doubted that Elspeth and Graham would make good parents. In the midst of her turmoil and fear all those years ago, it was the one certainty she had clung to.

  ‘As you know,’ Mrs Atwood continued, ‘I was widowed in the war. I was working in one of the family hotels at the time.’ She glanced at Prudence. Waiting for an acknowledgement that Prudence remembered the hotel business Elspeth had married into? ‘I loved my husband dearly and I was dreadfully upset to lose him, but part of my bereavement was the sense of futility. What was the point of working in a hotel when things were happening that were so much more important? I lived with that feeling for some time without telling anyone until finally I decided to do something about it. I flirted with the idea of war work, but I wanted something permanent, so I went to work for a charity called Projects for the Ignorant Poor. Have you heard of it? They do good work, but the name says it all: Ignorant Poor. The charity had an attitude that I found frustrating. I did my best, though.’

  Of course she did. Elspeth and Graham would have instilled that into her at an early age. Possibly – oh, it was madness to entertain the thought – she had no business thinking it – but might some of Vivienne’s determination to do her best be a tiny Hesketh legacy running through her veins?

  Good lord. Vivienne. Not Mrs Atwood. Vivienne. She had thought of her as Vivienne. It was part of the process of admission. No, it was more than that. It was part of the process of acceptance. No – not the process of acceptance, but acceptance itself.

  My daughter.

  Vivienne.

  ‘After the war, I got out of PIP as fast as I could and went to work for a local corporation in their housing department. I thought it would be a useful and interesting job, and it was, but there was a limit to what I was allowed to do, being a woman. I soon found out that I’d never be allowed to be involved in the new Housing Committee, organising the street improvement schemes and slum clearances. I stayed in that job for a year, so that no one could say I hadn’t given it a jolly good go; then I moved into what, during the war, had been the rationing department, which now looked after matters such as providing extra milk to expectant mothers and making sure that, in families where the children were entitled to free school meals, the children actually ate them on the school premises instead of bundling them up and taking them home. I found as well that if I used my initiative, there was scope for me to extend my day-to-day duties, as long as what I did centred around working with families.’

  Prudence nodded. ‘So that no one, by which, of course, I mean no man, could claim you were working on something that was unsuitable for a woman.’

  Mrs Atwood – Vivienne – leaned forward with a smile. ‘Exactly.’ There was a suggestion of relaxation about her, as if she felt the worst was over and now the two of them could make a fresh start. Could they? ‘Last year, as I said, my mother passed away.’

  ‘I’m very sorry.’ And she was. She hadn’t seen Elspeth in years. They had parted knowing there would never be contact of any description between them. Yet knowing she was dead made the world a smaller place. A tiny piece chipped off Prudence and vanished for ever, leaving her diminished.

  ‘I found my birth certificate, with your name on it. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if there was anything I could do, other than ask my father, and how could I do that, so soon after Mother’s death? So I let it be and returned to work. I was already interested in trying for a position in one of the new Boards of Health. I thought it would give me the chance to do the kind of thing I was already doing, and more besides. Then, a few months ago, in the spring, I saw that article in Vera’s Voice about this business school – and there was your name. Goodness, my heart has given a little jump, just thinking of it. Naturally I told myself that it might not be you; it might simply be someone with the same name.’ Vivienne sucked in a breath. ‘That was when I approached my father.’

  ‘Graham.’ Yes, Graham. The man who had taken on his wife’s friend’s child to bring up as his own. It took a special sort of man to do that. Had she realised it at the time? Truly understood it? Or had she been too embroiled in her own desperate situation?

  ‘I told him about the birth certificate and the article and asked if you had lived in Manchester and had a sister called Patience. He said yes. He said you had worked in one of the family hotels for a time, up in Scotland; he remembered Miss Patience as well; he said she once came to visit you.’

  ‘Yes.’ That had spelled the end of everything. If Patience hadn’t come…

  ‘I carried on as normal. I didn’t make any plans to contact you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I didn’t make any decisions, either way. Part of me thought I should leave well alone; but then the position came up in the Board of Health in Manchester and it all seemed to fit in perfectly. I wrote to you, care of Vera’s Voice, asking if you took resident pupils and – here I am. I’m truly sorry for any deception on my part, but I couldn’t risk being told to go to blazes. Then, when Lucy admitted to her condition, it all got rather overwhelming. I had this idea that the way you treated her would show me how you regarded what had happened to you and how you felt about your own child…about me.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘That’s my side of the story. Are you going to tell me to go to blazes?’

  Molly and Aaron passed the handsome lych-gate at the entrance to the old churchyard and turned the corner to walk down the road, where the rain raced down the slope faster than they did, Molly’s galoshes and Aaron’s boots raising a splash with every footfall. Aaron took her arm in a light but firm grip.

  ‘Careful. Don’t slip.’

  At the bottom of the slope, Aaron started to guide her across the road so they could head down Hawthorn Road and reach the meadows. They were now walking into the rain and Molly ducked her face, freeing herself from Aaron so she could wipe away a lock of hair that had become smeared across her cheek. Before they could reach the far pavement, a yell made them look round. Bunny!

  ‘You didn’t say Bunny was out searching,’ she said as they swung round to hurry in his direction.

  ‘He isn’t. I hope he doesn’t need anything. We can’t stop and help him. The boys are our priority.’

  When they met in the road, Bunny bent right over, gasping to catch his breath and waving a hand to show the urgency of what he needed to say. He brought himself upright, still struggling for breath, his face red with exertion.

  He pointed back the way he had come. ‘Emergency – one of your lads.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ Aaron was already on the move.

  ‘Wait. We need…tools. I was on my way to…the Bowler.’ A couple of puffs and he brought his breathing under control. ‘Young Layton and another lad…He’s fallen in the overflow hole. His foot’s stuck and the water’s rising.’

  ‘You two go on ahead,’ Aaron ordered. ‘I’ll bring whatever tools they’ve got.’ He strode in the direction of the pub, throwing the words over his shoulder.

  Molly started to run, but Bunny couldn’t keep up with her.

  She slowed and looked round. ‘Where?’ she demanded.

  ‘Through the open gates on the left. Turn right immediately. Through the bushes. Yell and the boys’ll hear you.’

  As she began to run, she heard him call a warning to be careful. The tall gates giving access to Brookburn House were indeed standing open. She darted inside and swerved to the right, pushing her way through soaked bushes and undergrowth, spluttering and s
hielding her eyes as stems and branches covered in saturated leaves sprang at her. She burst out the other side, her stomach swooping as she slipped to a standstill, waving her arms to regain her balance.

  The scene before her turned her skin clammy all over in a way that was nothing to do with the rain. Jacob was on his knees at the edge of a deep hole, inside which, up to his armpits in water, was Danny. Her entrance made Jacob look round. He got up, but maybe being crouched like that had given him pins and needles, because he wobbled and picked his feet up a few times. She went straight to the edge of the hole, just as another surge from the overfull brook washed over the side. For one horrifying moment, Danny vanished. Then his head bobbed into view again.

  ‘Hang on,’ Molly called. ‘Help is on the way.’

  She looked back the way she had come. The bushes shifted and swayed. Thank goodness! But it was only Bunny.

  Another gush of water tipped into the hole, landing squarely on Danny’s head. Pushing out breaths at triple the normal speed, he stared up at her, his eyes huge with fear. More water poured in – and more – and Danny’s shoulders vanished from view. Where was Aaron?

  She couldn’t stand it any more. She sat down on the side of the hole, legs dangling.

  ‘Wait! You can’t,’ called Bunny, but she paid no attention.

  ‘I’m coming in,’ she told Danny, whose gaze was riveted to her. ‘I’ll try not to splash you.’

  He nodded. She tried to turn round and hold on to lower herself in gradually, but with a whoosh she plunged downwards. Shock – freezing – panic – then she found her feet and stood up, gasping, trying not to look as terrified as she felt. The surge of water she had caused had made Danny swallow some and he was coughing and gasping. She stepped across and placed herself behind him, rubbing his back in big circles to ease his breathing.