by Daisy Styles
Shirley crumpled on to her bed. ‘Can I at least say goodbye to Sister Ann?’
‘What kind of a fool do you take me for?’ Matron scoffed. ‘Why would I allow another show of your wild emotions? Isn’t that your game? Deceiving good, honest people to get your own selfish way?’
Dumping the remainder of Shirley’s clothes into the suitcase, she slammed it shut and then literally threw Shirley’s coat, hanging on the back of the door, at the girl.
‘Get up,’ she commanded. ‘And get out of Mary Vale.’
Before the residents of the Home had even come down for their breakfast, Matron had all but dragged Shirley down the garden path to Kents Bank Station, where she boarded the first train south. Not taking her eyes off Shirley for a minute, vengeful Matron stood on the deserted platform until the slow-cranking train disappeared into the mist swirling in from the marsh, where mournful seabirds swooped over the tidal waters slowly rolling in. Only then did Matron turn away and, with a triumphant smile on her face, retrace her steps back to Mary Vale, where she could prepare herself for all the questions that would inevitably be asked about Tom.
Shirley sat in her freezing-cold, empty compartment like a condemned prisoner going to the gallows. All the happiness and joy she’d experienced over the last few special months – the love, laughter and friendship – they were gone forever.
‘I always knew it was too good to be true,’ she thought to herself. ‘It was like a dream, one I prayed I would never wake up from, but now I have.’
Wiping the steam from the window, Shirley caught a last glimpse of Mary Vale disappearing from sight, and from her life too.
24. Shirley
Sister Ann was busy supervising the eight o’clock feeds when Ada arrived to take over. Ann smiled at her friend, who, as usual, was stuffing her glorious, thick, auburn hair under her white, starched cap. Even in the stark early-morning light, Ada’s blue eyes sparkled and the smile that was never far from her lips lit up when she saw her friend.
‘Good sleep?’ Ann inquired.
‘Yes, after all the comings and goings of yesterday, I virtually passed out and slept right round the clock,’ Ada admitted. ‘Any sign of Matron, or news of Tom?’
Sister Ann shook her head. ‘No, nothing. I left them alone as she requested.’
‘I’ll go and tap on the door,’ Ada said, once she’d finally fixed her cap with several kirby grips.
Sister Ann nodded. ‘She might be grateful for a cup of tea.’
After giving a few discreet knocks on the door, Ada called softly, ‘Is there anything I can get you, Matron?’
The door opened slowly and Matron appeared, looking unusually bleary-eyed and tousle-haired.
‘Excuse my appearance,’ she said wearily. ‘I’ve been up most of the night with little Tom.’
‘How is he?’ Ada asked, peering eagerly over Matron’s shoulder.
‘I’m sorry, Ada, the poor child died just before dawn,’ Matron said mournfully.
Ada clamped a hand to her mouth. ‘God! NO,’ she cried.
‘He just hadn’t the strength to fight any more; the infection finally got the better of him,’ Matron added with a heavy sigh.
‘Where is he?’ Ada exclaimed, as she bustled past Matron to peer into the empty cot.
‘He’s not here, Sister. Dr Jones arranged for him to be taken away,’ Matron told her. ‘He said I couldn’t have done any more for the child,’ she added in a martyred tone.
Ada wiped a tear from her eye. ‘Poor little chap,’ she murmured. ‘Did he suffer much?’
‘By the time the fever took hold of him, he wasn’t aware of much.’ Matron laid a stiff hand on Ada’s shoulder. ‘Be assured, Sister, he is at peace now.’ Rubbing her tired eyes, Matron added wearily, ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have a few things to do before I retire to my quarters and catch up on my sleep.’
Ada stepped out of her way. ‘Certainly, Matron. You must be exhausted.’
After she’d gone, Ada stood a few moments in the room where she’d been told that Tom had spent his last night on earth. ‘Goodbye, Tom,’ she breathed. ‘Rest in peace, darling.’
Having successfully dispatched Shirley back to where she came from and dealt with questions from her nursing staff over Tom’s whereabouts, Matron now had to turn her attention to preparing Tom – masquerading as Bertie – for his first meeting with his future parents. She desperately needed some sleep, but she couldn’t rest until she had covered all her tracks. And there was another reason Matron didn’t want to be in the Home that morning: she knew full well that, when Shirley’s absence was discovered, an emotional storm would break loose, not to mention a shower of awkward questions that she was determined to avoid. It was a mystery to Matron, who congratulated herself on being able to spot a manipulative operator from a mile away, how a poor, stupid girl like Shirley had wound her way into the residents’ and the staffs’ hearts. Matron dismissed them as simple, sentimental fools who could weep and rail till kingdom come – the girl was gone and any secrets she had were gone with her.
When the Bennetts arrived later that day, Matron left Sir Percival to welcome them with a proper Northern tea, sandwiches, rich fruit cake and scones, while she concentrated on preparing their son and heir for his introduction to a new and wonderful life. On her arrival at the Grange, she immediately ordered Olive to bathe Tom, then she personally dressed him in one of Bertie’s laundered white nighties, which was way too big for him. Looking at him with a dispassionate eye, and worried that the Bennetts might think the child a bit of a runt, Matron wrapped Bertie’s soft white shawl around Tom to give him some extra bulk before delivering him to Sir Percival.
Standing in the large marble-floored entrance hall, she whispered, ‘How does he look?’
Lowering his voice too, Percival replied, ‘Nothing like as impressive as the other one.’
‘Given the circumstances, we’re lucky we’ve got him,’ she sharply reminded him. ‘Make sure the Bennetts’ final fee is paid before they leave the premises,’ she bossed as Percival took the child into his arms.
‘Don’t worry – they’re keen to settle up,’ he confidently assured her. ‘They want no untidy loose ends,’ quoting Edgar’s own words.
Nervously holding Tom, Percival processed into the drawing room, where he grandly introduced the child to his new parents. Mercifully, in their desperate eagerness to claim a son, the Bennetts were thrilled with the baby, who slept sweetly and charmed them with, using Edgar’s words, ‘his noble visage’.
Watching the proceedings from the hallway, Matron could just about see the beaming Bennetts receiving their son in the drawing room. Smothering a smile, she thought to herself, ‘If they but knew that Tom – who, the Bennetts had announced, would be baptized Rupert Edgar Easterbrook – was the bastard son of two dirt-poor workers from Bolton, they might well have fainted right there and then on the spot! Nancy’s baby, Tom, would soon be growing up with a new name in a grand new home in London with the proverbial silver spoon stuck firmly in his mewling mouth.
Back at Mary Vale, there was deep, deep sadness at Tom’s passing, which it was Ada’s sorry task to announce to the residents after breakfast.
‘I’m told the poor little chap just couldn’t fight off the fever that gripped him,’ she said despairingly.
Gloria, who’d helped bring Tom into the world, was especially distraught. ‘It would have been nice to have had a final cuddle with Tom.’
Ada shook her head. ‘Once he was in that private room being nursed by Matron, nobody got a chance to see him.’
‘Well, somebody should write to Nancy and tell her what happened to her son,’ Isla said anxiously.
‘I’ll do that,’ Ada assured her.
Relieved, Emily exclaimed, ‘Thank God! At least you’ll find the right words to comfort her.’
‘If I found out that my baby had died before being adopted, I’d be utterly devastated,’ Isla blurted out.
‘Of course you would,�
� Ada soothed. ‘Any mother would; it’s a natural reaction to want the best for your child, whether you’ve given them up for adoption or not.’
Little knowing of Tom’s real new circumstances, Gloria spoke up. ‘I suppose you’ll have to inform the family who were planning to adopt Tom what’s happened to him?’
‘That’s Sir Percival’s job now that he’s taken over from Father Ben,’ Ada told her.
‘Poor things,’ Emily murmured. ‘They’re bound to be bitterly disappointed. Let’s hope another baby can be found for them soon.’
Seeing Isla’s startled expression, Emily suddenly realized what she might be thinking. ‘God! Isla’s baby might go to them,’ she thought, and could have kicked herself. ‘Me – and my stupid big mouth!’
With Tom’s loss on everybody’s mind, it took until lunch-time before anybody noticed that Shirley was missing. When Gloria saw Sister Mary Paul breathlessly laying out crockery and cutlery on the vast dining-room table, she said cheerfully, ‘You’re hard at work, Sister. Where’s Shirley?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ the flustered nun replied. ‘She never showed up for work, which is quite unlike her.’
‘She didn’t come to the dining room for her lessons either,’ Gloria remarked. ‘She might be ill,’ she added, suddenly worried. ‘I’ll go and check her room.’
When she found the girl’s room bare and her chest of drawers and wardrobe empty, Gloria began to panic; quickening her pace, she ran as fast as her big tummy would allow downstairs to the ward, where she found Sister Ada and Sister Ann in the office making their notes.
‘Have either of you seen Shirley?’ she asked. ‘Her room’s empty and her clothes are gone.’
After an extensive search, it was clear that Shirley had left. Everybody was troubled, but Sister Ann was particularly devastated. In the privacy of their shared office, with the door firmly closed, she collapsed in floods of tears.
‘The child would never leave here of her own accord,’ she blurted out to Ada. ‘I absolutely know she wouldn’t. Somebody must have forced her or frightened her – I know it!’
Ada nodded in total agreement with her friend; both knew better than most exactly why Shirley had chosen to stay on at Mary Vale.
‘And to leave without a note or an explanation,’ Sister Ann cried. ‘It’s not as if Shirley can’t write now. I just don’t understand it,’ she sobbed. ‘It makes no sense.’
Seeing the poor, heartbroken nun weeping into her hands moved Ada to tears. ‘Dearest,’ she murmured, as she drew Ann into her arms. ‘Let’s be hopeful – she may come back as quickly as she went,’ she said, though in truth she didn’t believe a word she spoke.
Sister Ann slowly nodded. ‘I’ll pray for her safety and for God’s guidance,’ she said feebly.
So it was once more Ada’s woeful task to break further bad news to the residents of Mary Vale.
‘Why on earth didn’t she tell anybody?’ Sister Mary Paul exclaimed in a voice choked with emotion.
With a home full of pregnant women all on the point of giving birth, Ada’s first job was to calm them down.
‘Ladies, if any of you would care to join Sister Ann, she’ll be leading prayers in the chapel for the repose of baby Tom’s soul, and now’ – she caught her breath as words momentarily failed her – ‘for Shirley’s safe homecoming.’
Unable to understand what was going on, poor Robin stamped his foot in frustration. ‘I want Shirley to come back!’ he cried.
Forcing herself to stay balanced in the midst of a highly emotional storm, Gloria gathered her son into her arms and comforted him.
‘Shirley’s just gone home for a little holiday,’ she murmured. ‘When she’s back, we’ll read The Enchanted Wood together, just like we always have.’
‘And I’ll carry on learning her,’ Robin staunchly insisted.
‘Yes, darling,’ Gloria agreed as she gazed up at Sister Mary Paul, who, seeing her favourite little boy so upset, managed to swallow her own tears and hold out her hand to him. ‘Come on now, Robin, I’ve got a few eggs to spare – let’s go and make some pancakes.’
Later that evening, as they prepared for bed after a long and sorrowful day, Gloria, Emily, Isla and Ada – who’d taken a quick ten-minute break with her friends before she went back on duty – confided in each other over comforting mugs of cocoa.
‘I wish I could have said goodbye to Shirley,’ Emily confessed. ‘She was such a cheerful little soul.’
‘I still wonder why she left so abruptly?’ Isla said, puzzled.
‘Maybe she just couldn’t face telling us?’ Gloria speculated.
‘Perhaps she’ll write once she’s settled back home?’ Emily said hopefully.
Ada, who knew the real truth about Shirley’s background, very much doubted that Shirley would be in any state to write letters now she was back home, if indeed that was where she had gone.
Isla suddenly got to her feet and started to pace restlessly around the room.
‘What is it, Isla?’ Ada, concerned, inquired. ‘Have you got cramp? Can I get you anything?’
‘No, thanks,’ Isla answered almost impatiently. ‘We’re going around in circles asking lots of questions about Shirley, and I just had a thought – could she have been discharged?’
‘I don’t think so!’ Ada answered robustly. ‘That’s very much my domain. If Shirley had been discharged, I would have had to enter the date on her admin file; as it is, I’ll now have to record the day she left Mary Vale. I keep all the admin files in my office,’ she went on to explain.
As Ada returned to her duties on the ward, she could only conclude that somebody had forced Shirley or frightened her away from Mary Vale.
‘And only Shirley knows who that was,’ she thought with a mournful sigh.
At the Grange, after smoking his way through half a packet of Pall Mall cigarettes, Percival had barely given a thought to the couple who’d originally been selected to be Tom’s adoptive parents and who would now have to be told of his ‘demise’. Basking in the knowledge that, after months of anxiety, he finally had a sound amount of money in his bank account, he decided he’d attend to the matter later; right now, he had better things on his mind. He’d calculated that if he could get the same amount every three months, he could live comfortably for the rest of his life. He was hoping that, on the back of his success with the Bennetts, he’d be able to dip into their vast social network of wealthy contacts, but he’d have to be discreet and Matron would have to do her bit too. There’d be no point in sourcing an eager couple if there wasn’t a suitable baby on offer. They’d passed Tom off as Bertie, but it would be dangerous to make a habit of deceiving their clients, who’d take a very dim view of being duped. The consequences of being discovered smuggling and selling babies for his own profit would bring ruin and imprisonment; he had to tread warily – and keep Matron in check too.
Percival was well satisfied with the way things had worked out: Tom was safely miles away; Olive had been sent packing with the promise of more money if she kept her mouth shut; and the convent had kindly taken it upon themselves to organize a funeral service in the convent chapel for the child that they believed to be Baby Tom.
He was pleased to note that Matron was already confidently plotting her next business venture. She had gone down the register of women presently resident at Mary Vale with him and had pointed out that, apart from young Isla Ross, most of them were dirt poor. Gloria Baxter and Emily Todd were ruled out anyway, as they’d both declared their intentions of keeping their babies. Returning her focus to Isla, who had already signed adoption papers, Matron had flicked through her file. She was certainly of good stock, university educated, and the father of the child was an acclaimed academic. Matron decided to lock Isla’s file away in her desk with the other two, in her personal suite, when she went off-duty. Percival was more than happy for her to do this. He knew that if their elite baby business was to succeed, it was vital always to have a suitable child on their books, a
nd Isla Ross’s baby might just be the next one to offer for consideration.
The chapel service and funeral, attended by the Reverend Mother and her order, plus all the staff and residents from Mary Vale, was deeply moving and reduced many to tears. Ada made sure she sat with the women who had known Tom well: Emily, Isla and Gloria. She knew they would feel his loss the most, and she kept a watchful eye on them throughout the sad little service. The women stayed strong throughout, singing hymns and joining in all the prayers, but in the small chapel cemetery, when the nuns stood singing ‘Ave Maria’ around the little grave covered in flowers, all three women, and many more too, completely broke down. Sad though she was, Ada was relieved when the ceremony was over and she could get her charges back into Mary Vale, where, as she knew better than most, life went on.
25. Life Goes On
The atmosphere in Mary Vale turned oppressive. Nobody wanted to make things worse by talking about Shirley’s departure, but there wasn’t a person in the Home who didn’t feel her absence everywhere they looked. They missed her smiling face in the entrance hall that she used to mop and polish every morning; they missed her in the kitchen where she washed up and cleared away pots, pans and crockery after every meal; they missed her in the dining room pouring out tea and handing around plates at breakfast, dinner and supper; and they missed her in the garden where, even in the winter months, she could be found weeding out the flowerbeds. Though young, small and completely unassuming, Shirley had filled the Home with her presence, which had been so gentle and benign that nobody had really appreciated it until she was gone.
It was sweet relief to have visitors to lift the heavy atmosphere in the Home, so Jeannie’s visit with a hefty hamper was most welcome. After struggling to get the hamper out of the boot of her car, Jeannie staggered indoors, where she was met by her smiling granddaughter.
