Hope for Tomorrow (15 page)

“
Mary and Alf are out,” John said. “Jenny died.”

Martha took a deep breath; by the looks of these children, it wouldn't be long before some of them joined Jenny.

The fire which usually burned in the hearth was out, though the fireplace was filled with old ash.

“
Don't you ever clean this place?” she said softly.

“
After Ma got sick, Jenny used to do it.”

Martha rounded on him. “You have arms don't you? Why can't you clean?”

“
I've got to look after this lot!” he said defensively.

“
You must be twelve now, why aren't you working?”

“
Because the bairns need someone to watch 'em and Ma can't do it.”

“
You call this looking after them? They haven't seen a bar of soap in months!”

“
I ain't bathing no bairns!” he said.

“
Then at least bathe yourself! You're filthy, this whole place is filthy. If Mum could see this she would be ashamed! Have you no self-respect at all?”

“
That's rich coming from you,” he spat. “We know all about you!”

“
And even when I was homeless and penniless, I still washed myself and my clothes in cold streams! This is sheer laziness and you know it!”

John sulked but he didn't have a retort.

“
Why is there not a fire, it's freezing in here?”

“
Can't afford no fire.”

Martha wanted to cry with frustration. She couldn't believe her other siblings would let things get this bad, even if they didn't live at home. She got her purse out and handed some coins to John. She saw his eyes light up as though it was Christmas time so she grabbed the lapels on his jacket and pulled him close, bending over so that her face was inches from his.

“
There's something of our father about you,” she said, her voice low but menacing. “Look around you, this is the kind of misery he brought to every life that he touched. You're still young, you still have a chance. Don't waste it.”

John looked up into her eyes; clearly he was frightened of her.

“
Now, take that money and go and buy some coal with it. I expect a receipt and change, understand?”

John nodded.

“
Go, and be quick about it!”

He ran out and Martha stood upright, wondering where to start. If she washed the children, she'd only have to dress them in dirty clothes and nappies again. She couldn't feed them because there was nothing clean to eat on or prepare food in. It would take days of cleaning to make any kind of impact on this hovel.

“
They can't stay here,” she said, wondering how she could get them out. The hotel certainly wouldn't allow them to stay there, no matter how much she paid.

“
There's a property on our estate,” Lucien offered. “One of the labourers, Mr Baxter, died last year and his wife and children went to stay with her brother. I haven't been able to let it since.”

Marchwood Hall itself was about ten miles from the town but it's grounds were much larger and came almost to the edges of the town.

“
How far away?” she asked.

“
They call it Woods Hole.”

Martha knew it. It was no more than a hamlet really, about two miles from the edge of town.

“
We'll take it,” she said, offering him a grateful smile.

“
I'll make the arrangements,” he informed her. “Don't go out on your own while I'm gone, please. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

Martha nodded and he left. That left only one thing for her to do, go into the bedroom and see how her mother was.

She approached with trepidation, because for the house to be in this state, then her mother must be very ill indeed.

She pushed the door and entered the darkened room.

“
Mum?” she called softly as she walked over to the bed.

There wasn't a lot of light but she could make out her mother's shape where she lay in bed. 

“
Martha? Is it really you, love?”

“
It's really me, Mum.” She sat on the edge of the bed beside her mother.

She was so thin that her skin seemed to be stretched taut over her cheekbones. Clearly Lizzy still made an effort to keep herself clean, though her bed and bedding were badly in need of a wash.

“
I thought I heard you scolding John. Don't be too hard on him, he's been a big help to me. He's a good boy.”

Not from where Martha was standing.

“
Mum...” she couldn't tell her about how squalid things were in the other room so she asked the next most pressing question. “Why are the children so hungry? I know Dad's been taking the money I sent you but the older children are helping you, aren't they? Giving you a little each week?”

“
John says prices keep rising, he can't afford to buy good stuff.”

“
But I think the toddler has rickets and the baby is half-starved.”

“
John does his best.”

“
Then why is John the only child who looks properly fed?”

“
He does the best he can,” her mother repeated. “I'll sort it out in a minute, I just need a little rest first.” She turned her face away and closed her eyes.

Martha stood up and scratched the back of her neck where she could feel her skin rising from a bite. Clearly her family weren't the only creatures living here.

She went out into the kitchen again and began looking through drawers and cupboards but other than one dried out bar of soap, there was nothing clean enough to take with them to the new house and she finally gave up. She would just have to hope that Mrs Baxter had left some things behind when she moved. If not, maybe they could beg and borrow from a neighbour for a night or two.

Lucien returned a few minutes later.

“
The driver will meet us where we left him to take us to the house,” he said. “I also stopped in at the butcher's, baker's and greengrocer's and ordered some food to be delivered out there this afternoon.”

“
Thank you,” she smiled, pleased that someone had an idea of what to do.

“
Where can I buy some simple clothes?” she asked. Working class families usually made their own clothes and while Martha was certain that she was still a good sewer, she couldn't make all their clothes in one day.

“
I took the liberty of sending my driver to speak to the Misses Nelson at the haberdashery, I'm hoping that they may have some items lying around.”

“
Even baby clothes?” she asked, looking at the baby and toddler who still hadn't moved very far from their original places. They both looked so thin that she couldn't believe they weren't crying for food, but then perhaps they were used to being ignored and had learned that crying made no difference. The twins at the table also hadn't moved far but they at least seemed interested in what was happening around them.

“
I don't know,” he confessed. “I told him to ask for all sizes if they had them and I would settle the bill but if they don't include baby clothes, we have plenty at the house. Mother boxed up our clothes and stored them in the attic.”

The idea of her siblings in clothes for the Earl's children made her smile, especially when she imagined how Lady Beaumont would react if she ever found out.

“
Thank you.”

Lucien nodded in acceptance of her praise. “How is your mother?”

“
Very weak,” she said. “I cannot tell if it's an illness or if she's starving though.”

“
We only keep a small herd of dairy cows but I am certain that we can spare some milk and cheese. I will ask Mrs Lassiter and the steward to ensure that your family receives some daily.”

“
Thank you. I'll reimburse you for the cost of course.”

“
There's really no need,” he assured her.

“
There is every need,” she replied; she didn't want to feel indebted to him any more than she had to be. “Is the house furnished?”

“
Mostly. I don't think Mrs Baxter's brother had room for her larger belongings, but I can't say for certain what is there and what is missing.”

“
There is time to buy what is missing. We will just have to make do for a few days.”

“
We?” he asked.

“
Mother is in no state to look after a family and John clearly has his own interests at heart. I might try and find her a nurse,” she said. “Or perhaps another family in the hamlet would accept a wage to look after them.”

“
Can your mother walk?” Lucien asked.

“
I don't know. If she can, probably not far, she's very weak. I was thinking that perhaps we could take the door off and lay her on that to move her to the carriage.”

“
I'll carry her,” Lucien offered. He didn't actually do manual labour as such but he wasn't above getting his hands dirty, plus riding helped to keep him fit. “If she is as frail as you say, it won't be difficult.”

Martha thought about that for a moment before deciding that it really would be better for her mother to be carried in someone's arms than being carted through the streets on a hard wooden door.

Mary and Alf arrived back at the house with a loaf of clearly stolen bread. They seemed pleased with themselves until they noticed Martha and Lucien, at which point they looked terrified.

Then Alf stepped forward.

“
Wot you doin' in our 'ome?”

“
I'm your big sister,” she said. “And I'm here to take you away from this hovel.”

“
We int goin' nowhere.”

“
In which case, you must be going somewhere,” she quipped.

“
Wot?”

“
You used a double negative,
'are not'
and
'nowhere'
,” she said, “If you
'aren't going nowhere'
then you must be going somewhere.”

“
Now 'old on, who died and made you queen?”

“
Our mother is dying and that gives me the right to move her somewhere nicer so that she can appreciate a little care and kindness before she dies. But if you'd rather stay here with no food, no fire and a flea-ridden mattress, be my guest.”

Her sadness, her anger, her frustration and her guilt were making her argumentative. She knew that she shouldn't blame these children for the plight of their mother, or indeed their own plight. On some level she also knew that the responsibility for this whole situation belonged to their father but she still felt guilty that she didn't know what had been happening. She had thought that sending a few pounds home every six months was enough and were it not for her father, it probably would have been. She still felt that she should have done more.

The truth was, she was ashamed to come back here. Ashamed to remember the conditions that she had been raised in and afraid that her new life would be ruined by her old secret.

“
I'm sorry,” she said with a sigh. “I didn't know that father had run away with the money I was sending or I would have sent more and come sooner.”

“
He'll be back soon,” Alf assured her. “He's been takin' the money for 'bout two year now; it lasts 'im 'about four month, then he comes crawlin' 'ome.”

“
Not this time,” she assured him. “He will never be a part of your lives again.”

“
What can you do?” he asked.

“
I won't be sending money any longer,” she explained. “I'll pay your rent in advance and arrange for the shopkeepers to bill me for your food. Even if he does come back, there will be nothing for him to gain.”

Lucien took her arm and gently guided her to the corner of the room.

“
I would think that your father would be happy to spend your money in the shops and live in the nice house that you pay for.”

“
I'll tell the shopkeepers not to accept orders from him.”

“
Then he'll get one of the children to do it for him. I remember what you used to tell me about him, Martha, he wouldn't think twice about hurting them if they refuse.”

“
I know,” she admitted with a sigh. “But I have to find some way to keep him out of their lives.”

“
We will,” he tried to reassure her. “For the moment, while they're renting a house on my land, I can have him barred and arrested for trespassing.”

“
How can you enforce that though?” she asked. “You don't have a watchman and this town doesn't even have a full-time police officer!”