A Mother's Courage (30 page)

'Come with me. I'll take you to Miss Marchant
and she will assign you to your duties.'

Miss Marchant was in the refectory supervising
the older children as they filed off to begin
the day's lessons. The girls, as Caine explained in
a low voice, were going to classes that would
equip them for life in service and the boys were
being educated for careers in the armed services,
but mainly the Navy. Eloise stood behind Caine,
watching the children as they marched out of the
hall silently and in single file. Her heart ached for
the orphans and abandoned children who had
never known the love of a parent, but even so she
had to admit that they looked healthy and were
probably quite happy in their ignorance of any
other kind of existence. Caine waited until they
had gone before informing Miss Marchant of his
decision. It was obvious from her tight-lipped
expression that she did not approve, but it was
equally plain that she dared not go against the
governor's wishes. 'Very well, sir. I'll take Monk
to the kitchens myself and introduce her to her
duties.'

'Thank you, Matron.' Caine acknowledged her
compliance with a nod of his head. 'And now I
must return home. Maria is unwell and I must be
there when the doctor calls.'

'Nothing serious, I hope, sir?'

'I think it's just a chill, but one cannot be too
careful.' Caine turned on his heel and strode
away.

Eloise was hardly interested in his domestic
arrangements. All she could think about was
finding Joss and Beth and being able to reassure
them that Mama was not far away. She would
tell them that they were playing a game in which
she was not Mama, but merely Ellen, the
maidservant, although she knew they would not
understand. Beth was still little more than a baby
and only just beginning to say a few words, but
Joss, who had mastered quite a large vocabulary,
might prove to be a problem. Still, she comforted
herself with the knowledge that very young
children were adaptable, and once they were
assured that she had not deserted them they
would be content. As soon as she had saved
enough money, she would take them away from
this place, but that was in the distant future. Now
she must convince the disapproving Miss
Marchant that she was a good and reliable
worker.

'Follow me,' Miss Marchant said coldly. 'I
want you to know that I disapprove heartily of
how you wheedled your way into this venerable
institution. I will be keeping my eye on you, and
at the slightest transgression, you will be sacked.
Do you understand me, Monk?'

Eloise bobbed a curtsey. 'Yes'm.'

'Yes, Matron.' Miss Marchant waited until
Eloise had repeated the correct form of address
and then she stalked off, leading the way
through a maze of corridors to the back stairs
and down to the basement kitchens. Eloise's first
impression was of steam, heat and noise. Women
wearing white mobcaps and starched aprons
worked at long trestle tables, chopping up gristly
cuts of meat, preparing vegetables or shredding
suet for the inevitable puddings. The babble of
voices ceased on the instant they saw Miss
Marchant and they bowed their heads over their
work. One woman, obviously the head cook,
strode forward to meet them wiping her floury
hands on a towel. 'Good morning, Matron. And
who is this?'

'This is Monk. Mr Caine has seen fit to employ
another skivvy, although I told him that we were
fully staffed.' Miss Marchant's expression was
hostile as she turned to glare at Eloise. 'You will
do exactly as Mrs Cater says, and she will report
daily to me, so don't think you can get away with
anything, Monk.' She swept up the staircase with
a rustle of starched moreen petticoats and the
jingling sound of the keys which hung from a
chatelaine at her waist.

Mrs Cater peered at Eloise through the thick
pebble lenses of her spectacles. 'You don't look
much like a scullery maid. Don't think you can
get away with airs and graces in my kitchen, girl.
I'm a fair woman but I expect people to do their
work properly.'

'Yes'm,' Eloise murmured, wondering how
soon she could slip away from the kitchens to
look for Joss and Beth. 'I'll work hard.'

'Tibbie!' Mrs Cater shrieked at the top of her
voice. 'Come here.'

A small face which was almost drowned by an
oversized mobcap peered round the corner of a
door at the far end of the kitchen. 'Yes, Cook.'

'This here is Monk, the new scullery maid.
Show her what to do, and bring me some clean
pans. I dunno what you've been doing all this
time.'

Tibbie scuttled out of the scullery like a small
crab, beckoned to Eloise and then disappeared
back into a cloud of steam, which smelt strongly
of grease mixed with washing soda and carbolic
soap. Eloise followed her, very much aware that
the rest of the women were eyeing her surreptitiously,
whispering and giggling. She braced her
shoulders and rolled up her sleeves as she
entered the fog-like atmosphere of the scullery.

Red-faced and sweating, Tibbie was searching
through a pile of clean dishes and saucepans for
the cooking pots that Mrs Cater had demanded.
'They got to be in here somewhere,' she muttered.

'Here, let me help you,' Eloise said, catching a
plate as it was about to fall to the floor.

'Oh, would you?' Tibbie wiped her small hand
across her brow, pushing back her mobcap and
exposing a head covered with matted mouse coloured
hair.

Eloise realised then that the scullery maid was
little more than a child and the poor little
creature seemed half demented in her frantic
search. Eloise laid her hand on her stick-thin
arm. 'Look, behind the big mixing bowl at the
back of the draining board.'

Tibbie stood on tiptoe, and with a shout of glee
she reached across to seize the pans by their
handles. 'Oh, ta. I couldn't see for looking.' She
darted out of the scullery with them and
returned seconds later clutching her ear. 'The old
cow boxed me ears for nothing. That's what she's
like, though I doubt if she'll hit you.'

Eloise took a cloth and began methodically to
wipe the crockery, setting it neatly on a side
table. 'Why do you say that, Tibbie?'

'You're not like the rest of us.'

'Oh, yes I am. I am just like you, and I'll need
you to show me what to do so that I don't upset
Cook.'

Tibbie's pinched features cracked into a wide,
gap-toothed grin. 'Me? Help you? That's a laugh,
but I'll do me level best, Miss Monk.'

'It's Ellie, and I'll be very grateful. Perhaps
when we've finished you could show me round
the building, just so that I know where everything
is.'

Tibbie plunged her arms into the stone sink,
which was filled with grey, greasy water. 'I can
do that all right. I growed up here, so I knows the
place like the back of me hand.'

At the end of a long and extremely gruelling
day, Eloise was fit to drop, but even more desperate
to find Joss and Beth. They had never been
parted for more than an hour or two and now it
was more than twelve hours since she had seen
them. She had spent the best part of the day in
the scullery, helping Tibbie with the mountains
of dirty plates, pots and pans, until the skin was
peeling off her hands, her back ached and her
feet were swollen from standing for so many
hours on the flagstone floor. It was not until the
last piece of crockery from the supper tables in
the refectory had been washed, dried and put
away, the sink scoured clean with a mixture of
sand and soda, and the floors scrubbed, that they
were allowed to finish work. Tibbie, who Eloise
had discovered was just thirteen and had been
working in the kitchen for more than a year, had
introduced her to the other servants and had
made sure that Eloise had a seat at the table in the
servants' hall at mealtimes. Now that they were
done for the day, Tibbie took a candle and led
Eloise up the back staircase to their sleeping
quarters in the attics. There were three narrow
iron bedsteads in the room that she was to share
with Tibbie and an older girl called Becky who
worked in the laundry. A small window beneath
the eaves looked down onto Guildford Street,
and the roughly plastered walls were bare of any
form of decoration. There was brown oilcloth on
the floor and a pine chest of drawers which they
had to share.

'You can have the bottom drawer,' Tibbie said,
slumping down on her bed. 'We don't have
nowhere to hang our clothes. They don't seem to
think that us common girls need cupboards or
wardrobes.'

Eloise set her valise down on the floor with a
sigh. 'That won't worry me, Tibbie. What I've got
won't take up much space.'

'I don't understand how a person like you
wants to live and work with the likes of us?'
Tibbie eyed Eloise with her head on one side like
an inquisitive sparrow. 'You don't talk like the
rest of us, Ellen. How come you're here?'

'It's a long story,' Eloise said, smiling. 'One day
I'll tell you, but now you promised to show me
round the hospital.'

'I'm tired out. Won't it wait until the morning?'

Eloise lifted Tibbie to her feet. 'No, it will not.
A promise is a promise.'

Reluctantly, Tibbie led the way back down the
stairs and along the corridors in between the
dormitories where the children had already gone
to bed. It was strangely silent, but Tibbie
explained in whispers that Matron walked the
corridors at night and woe betide any children
who were caught out of bed or talking when they
should be sleeping. At the very far end of the
building they came to the night nurseries for the
babies and toddlers. Eloise could hardly breathe
as they tiptoed up to the large room where Tibbie
said the newcomers were isolated until the
doctor was certain that they were not incubating
one of the dreaded childhood diseases that could
quickly turn into an epidemic.

'You don't want to go in there,' Tibbie said,
standing nervously outside the door. 'Suppose
one of the night nurses should hear you, you'd
be in trouble then.'

'I just want to see the little ones,' Eloise said,
containing her excitement with difficulty and
making a huge effort to appear calm and casual.
'Just a few minutes, Tibbie. If you like you can
leave me here. I can find my own way back to the
room.'

Tibbie yawned. 'I suppose it'll be all right, but
if you gets caught, don't tell 'em it were me what
brought you here.'

'Cross my heart,' Eloise whispered, lifting the
latch and letting herself into a long, dark room.
Holding the candle high, she moved silently
between the rows of high-sided cots. Her heart
was beating so fast that she was certain it could
be heard from the corridor outside, and she held
her breath as she bent over the two cots at the far
end of the room. She clamped her hand over her
mouth to stifle a sob of pure joy as she gazed
down at her sleeping children. Joss's blond curls
were sticking damply to his forehead and his lips
were parted, but as she laid her hand gently on
his forehead, Eloise was relieved to find that he
was quite cool. His slight snuffling reassured her
that he had caught a cold and nothing worse. She
leaned over to kiss him softly on his round cheek.
Beth stirred in her sleep and Eloise moved to her
cot and felt her brow, which again was cool to the
touch. Her nose was runny and she too was
breathing through her mouth. Eloise took the
corner of her apron and wiped Beth's nose,
leaning down again to kiss her on the cheek. Her
arms ached to hold them both and she longed to
be able to snatch them from their cots, but she
knew that would be fatal. At least they were safe
here in the Foundling Hospital. They would be
well cared for and she would find some excuse to
come to the nursery every day. She sank down
on her knees, content just to be close to her babies
for even a short while. It was almost too
tempting to wake Joss and to reassure him that
Mama was close by, but he would undoubtedly
cry and that would awaken the whole nursery,
bringing the night nurse rushing in to see what
had disturbed them. Eloise had to content herself
with just being with them, and it was only when
she heard the sound of approaching footsteps
that she scrambled to her feet and hid behind the
door. A uniformed night nurse holding a lantern
in her hand progressed along the line of cots.
Eloise crept out of the door unseen and made her
way back to the attic room where she found
Tibbie and Becky sound asleep in their beds.
Eloise slipped off her outer clothes, folding them
neatly on the end of her bed. It creaked as she
climbed in, but the sound did not disturb her
companions who were sleeping so soundly that
nothing short of a trumpet call would have
woken them. As she huddled beneath the
coverlet, Eloise could think of nothing but her
children, and how they would feel when they
awakened next morning amongst strangers. As
she drifted off into sleep she vowed to be there
when they opened their eyes. They must be
reassured that their mama was close by and
would never leave them.

She woke up with a start. At first she could not
remember where she was, or why she was lying
in a narrow iron bed beneath the sloping roof of
an attic room. She blinked and rubbed the sleep
from her eyes, and then she snapped upright.

'Best get dressed quick,' Tibbie said, struggling
on with her boots. 'Cook will tan our hides if
we're late.' She went to shake Becky who was
still curled up in a ball and fast asleep. 'Get up,
you lazy mare. You've been late twice this week
already and you'll be out on your ear if you do it
again.'

'Eh? What's the matter?' Becky sat up in bed,
her ginger hair standing out around her head
like a dandelion clock.

'You'd best get down to the laundry or you'll
be for it.' Tibbie lifted the latch on the door and
hurried from the room, calling over her
shoulder, 'Hurry up, Ellen, do.'