The Throwaway Children (15 page)

Rosie nodded solemnly. ‘I won’t tell,’ she said, adding, ‘I don’t like the Dragon, Reet. She’s scary!’

‘Yeah, I know. So don’t tell no one, or she’ll find out.’

It wasn’t the Dragon who found out, it was the Hawk.

One Friday night Rita had slipped out of Purple Dorm, and not closed the door properly behind her. Later that night Mrs Hawkins, coming along the landing on her way to her flat in the tower, noticed the door open and looked in. All was quiet, she heard nothing but the soft breathing of six little girls, asleep in bed. She paused by the door, and then flicked on her torch, flashing it round the peaceful dormitory until the beam fell on the bed by the window. It was empty. Whose bed was that? She turned her torch onto the dormitory list on the back of the door. Bed number 4. Rita Stevens. Rita Stevens was not in bed… so where was she?

Mrs Hawkins was about to wake the whole dorm to ask where Rita was, when she had a better idea. First she would go and see if Rosie Stevens was there. She turned back to Green Dorm and softly easing the door open she flashed her torch round the room. Rosie Stevens was asleep in her bed, but so was Rita.

Mrs Hawkins switched on the light and strode across to Rosie’s bed. With a grunt of anger, she threw back the covers, leaving the two little girls exposed, curled up in each other’s arms. Rita’s nightdress had ridden up, so that her bare seat was on view. The slap that resounded on her bottom and her cry of pain woke the rest of the dormitory.

‘Get out of that bed,’ Mrs Hawkins snarled, dealing out another slap. Rita leaped from the bed, the marks of the superintendent’s hand red on her pale skin, and Rosie began to cry.

The other children stared, round-eyed, as the Hawk aimed another blow at Rita before turning to the hysterical Rosie. ‘Be quiet, Rose, or you’ll get a hiding too.’ She turned back to Rita. ‘Get back to your own bed,’ she hissed. ‘I’ll deal with you in the morning.’

Rita fled and jumping into her bed, buried herself under the covers. Her bum hurt like fury, and she was humiliated that the ‘babies’ had seen her slapped like that. She could still hear Rosie’s wails until they stopped abruptly. The Hawk must have slapped her too, or terrified her into silence in some other way.

Purple Dorm was still and quiet. No one had heard the commotion from down the landing. Rita lay among the peacefully sleeping girls, the thin blanket over her head, shivering, waiting for the Hawk to call her out again, but she heard nothing and eventually she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

When she woke, it was still dark. The light from the street lamp filtered into the room and Rita lay looking at the ghostly shapes, her mind swirling with what had happened in Green Dorm. How had the Hawk found them? What had she done to Rosie, and what was going to happen to
her
?

I’ll deal with you in the morning!
The Hawk’s words echoed in her brain. What was she going to do? What could she do? The more these thoughts churned in her mind, the more frightened Rita became.

When the rising bell rang, Rita felt almost sick with fear. She got out of bed and stripped it, but somehow she couldn’t move quickly enough. When it was time to go down for morning prayers and breakfast, though she was dressed, Rita’s bedclothes were still piled onto her stool.

‘Come on, Reet,’ hissed Daisy. ‘You’ll get us all into trouble.’ She pushed Rita aside and swiftly shook out the sheets and blanket, so that when the Dragon came into the room, Rita was just straightening her pillow, feeling the picture of Daddy safely in the pillowcase.

Matron made a quick inspection to see that each bed had the required hospital corners and then said, ‘You’re all behind in here. Hurry up and go down for prayers.’

The six girls scurried along the passage to the stairs, but as they passed Green Dorm, Rita glanced in. The room was empty, except for Rosie. Rosie was standing on her stool with her sheet draped over her head and round her shoulders. Rita stopped dead in her tracks.

‘Rosie?’ she said. ‘Rosie, what…?’

‘Come
on
.’ Daisy caught her hand and dragged her along the passage.

‘But Rosie—’ began Rita, trying to go back.

‘She’s wet her bed,’ said Daisy. ‘That’s all. Matron will make her stand there until after breakfast, and then she’ll have to wash the sheet. Come on, Reet,’ she insisted, ‘or we’re in trouble too.’

When Rita still held back Daisy said, ‘You can go back and help her after breakfast.’ But by the time breakfast was over, Rita was in no position to help her sister.

The Purples were the last into the playroom, reaching their usual place by the window only moments before Mrs Hawkins came in. She glanced round the room and for a moment her eyes rested on Rita, before she raised them to heaven and said, ‘Let us pray.’

When prayers came to an end, she looked round the room again allowing her gaze to fall on several girls before it finally fixed, once more, on Rita.

The inmates of Laurel House knew their superintendent well. They had recognized the signs. Someone was in deep trouble, and for an awful, long moment as the Hawk’s eyes roved the room, each wondered if she had strayed or failed in some way that she had forgotten.

‘Stand forward, Rita Stevens,’ said the Hawk at last. Even as Rita took a small step forward, she could feel the rest of the room relaxing round her. It was Rita, the new girl, who had transgressed.

‘This girl has broken one of our most important rules,’ the Hawk announced. ‘Last night, not only was she out of bed and out of her dormitory after lights out, she was in another dormitory and in another girl’s bed!’

There was an audible gasp from the assembled girls.

‘Please, Mrs Hawkins,’ began Rita, ‘it was my sister, Rosie’s, bed—’

‘Keep silence, girl,’ thundered the Hawk. ‘When I want you to speak I shall ask you to. It is forbidden to leave the dormitory at night for any reason. You are on punishment for the rest of today, Rita, and if I hear another back answer from you, it will be for the whole week. Do you understand?’ Rita, almost mesmerized by the superintendent’s glare, nodded.

‘Do you understand?’ The question was put even more loudly, and at a dig in the back from Daisy, Rita mumbled, ‘Yes, Mrs Hawkins.’

‘You will remain in this room while everyone goes to breakfast. I will send for you when I want you.’ With this the Hawk stalked from the room.

The rest of the girls filed out, and Rita was left standing by the window. She had no idea what being ‘on punishment’ meant, but clearly she was in for big trouble.

Some minutes later Sheila entered the room. ‘Mrs Hawkins says to come into the dining room.’ She smirked at Rita. ‘Not so brave now, are you, Rita Stevens? Not biting anyone today? Going to bite Mrs Hawkins?’ She took Rita by the arm and marched her into the dining room, saying, ‘Punishment chair in the far corner. There ain’t no breakfast for you today.’

Mrs Hawkins said grace and then everyone sat down to their breakfast. As it was Saturday it was eggs, collected from the hens that Rosie had been feeding yesterday. Rita had her back to the room, so she couldn’t see if Rosie was in her place at the babies’ table. She knew that Rosie still wet her bed occasionally when she was frightened or worried; she’d done it several times when Uncle Jimmy had first moved in. Mum had been cross and scolded her, but she’d never made her stand wrapped up in the damp and smelly sheet.

Breakfast seemed to go on forever. Rita was hungry, but she was given no food. At the end of the meal, when grace had been said and everyone had filed out to get on with their chores, Sheila came and fetched her.

‘You got to go up to Mrs Hawkins’ room,’ she told her.

‘Where’s that?’ asked Rita.

Sheila laughed unkindly. ‘Up the stairs,’ she pointed to the main staircase, ‘and then up again. That’s the Hawk’s nest.’ She gave Rita a push towards the stairs. ‘Go on, she’s waiting and she don’t like to be kept waiting.’

Rita hurried up the stairs and turned along the landing, almost bumping into the maid, Betty Grover, as she did so.

‘You ain’t supposed to use them stairs,’ Betty whispered.

‘But Sheila said…’

‘That Sheila’s a bully,’ said Betty. ‘She meant to get you into more trouble ’cos you bit her. Good thing you only bumped into me an’ not the Dragon.’

‘I got to go up to Mrs Hawkins.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Betty nodded, ‘but when you come down again, look under your pillow. I put a bit of bread and marge there. Don’t get caught eating it, mind, or we’ll both be in trouble.’

Rita stared at the maid in surprise. Why would she give her some food when she knew that she was in disgrace? Was it a trap?

Betty seemed to read her mind, because she said, ‘I’m glad you bit that Sheila, an’ I’m not the only one!’ She gave Rita a little push towards the stairs. ‘Go on up,’ she urged, ‘or it’ll get worse.’

Betty scuttled away and Rita turned her steps towards the tower and Mrs Hawkins. When she reached the door she plucked up her courage and tapped.

‘Come in.’

Rita opened the door and found herself in a large room, with sunlight pouring in through wide windows that overlooked the garden. The Hawk was sitting in an armchair, her feet up on a sturdy footstool, reading the paper. Beside her was a coffee table, and on it rested a leather strap, a broad belt with a large buckle on the end. She glanced up as Rita came in. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘It’s you,’ as if she’d been expecting someone else. ‘Stand over there.’

Rita moved to the spot she had indicated, and waited… and waited.

The Hawk continued to read the paper for a while and then looked up again. ‘Take your knickers down,’ she instructed.

Rita stared at her in amazement, not sure she’d heard correctly.

‘I said, take your knickers down… and then come over here.’

‘Please, Mrs Hawkins,’ whispered Rita, ‘I don’t want to.’

‘You’ll learn to do as you’re told, my girl,’ snapped the superintendent, ‘and the sooner you do, the better.’ She paused and fixed Rita with a gimlet glare. ‘Now, take your knickers down and come here.’

Shaking with fear and mortification, Rita approached.

‘You heard what I said,’ purred Mrs Hawkins, her eyes gleaming. ‘If you don’t take your knickers down now, I’ll do this in the dining room in front of everyone else. Take them down and bend over the stool.’

She was standing up now, and at last Rita did as she was told, tears of humiliation streaming down her face. With her bare bottom exposed, she knelt face down across the footstool. She heard the Hawk pick up the belt, heard the rasp of the leather as she ran it through her hands. Then nothing. For nearly five minutes she knelt there; to Rita it could have been five hours as she waited, tensed and terrified, for the first lash of the belt across her backside, but nothing happened. Just as she was beginning to think that the Hawk had changed her mind, she heard it… and felt it. The swish of the belt through the air, the sharp sting as the leather licked across her buttocks. Rita let out a cry of pain and anguish. Her tears slid, unchecked, down her cheeks, and she tasted their salt on her lips.

Then nothing. Another wait. Was that it? When was the next lash coming? In one minute? Or two? It was nearly three. The anticipation was far worse than the actual strike, and the Hawk knew it. She had seen the rebellion in Rita’s eyes from the first, had heard how she had bitten Sheila Nevin, a girl nearly five years older, and she knew that she had to break Rita’s spirit once and for all, or she would continue to cause trouble and unrest among the other girls.

It was more than twenty minutes later when Rita found herself back downstairs. Six lashes with the belt, but they had taken twenty minutes.

‘You’ll go to your dormitory and sit on your stool,’ commanded the Hawk when she finally let Rita stand up. ‘You will stay there until I send for you. Do you understand?’

Though still choking with tears of pain, mortification and anger, Rita managed to say, ‘Yes, Mrs Hawkins.’

‘This punishment is a private thing between you and me,’ the Hawk said. ‘If you mention it, or discuss it with anyone else, I shall call you in again, and next time I’ll use the other end of the belt. Do you understand, Rita?’

‘Yes, Mrs Hawkins.’

‘Good. I hope you do. Go to your dormitory and speak to no one for the rest of the day.’

Rita went to the dormitory, and sat on her stool. That hurt, but she dare not disobey, and she found that if she sat still, it was bearable. Her tears dried on her face as she sat in the silence of the room, listening to the other girls going about their Saturday chores. Girls who had been here for years. Girls like Daisy, who had learned to work the system, girls like Sheila who got her own back by bullying where she herself was bullied, girls like Wetty Betty, the maid, who had been here forever and still hadn’t managed to escape. Thinking of Betty, Rita remembered the promised bread, and though she did not feel hungry, she crept off her stool to look, and to check with sudden panic that the picture of Daddy was still there. It was. She still didn’t risk taking it out to look at him, in case the Dragon came in, but she could feel the shape of the photo, and under the edge of her pillow was a bread and marge sandwich.

Rita strained her ears to hear if anyone was outside in the passage, and when she heard nothing, she bit into the sandwich. Suddenly she was ravenous, and crammed the whole thing into her mouth. She looked on the floor and retrieved the few crumbs that she had dropped, eating those as well. No crumbs for the Dragon or the Hawk to find.

At lunchtime Sheila Nevin came to fetch her. Once again it was the punishment chair and no food. As she walked to the chair, she looked across at the babies’ table and saw Rosie standing behind her chair with all the others. She had red blotches on her cheeks, the traces of earlier tears, but she gave no sign of having seen Rita, keeping her eyes firmly on the table.

Rita longed to go and give her a hug, but she knew that it would be the worse for both of them if she did. At least Rosie was having her meals. Rita was very hungry, and very thirsty, but no one came near her as everyone else ate Saturday lunch. At the end of the meal she was brought a large glass of water by Sheila, who stood over her until she had drained it, then she was sent back to her dormitory stool, to spend the afternoon alone. Her bottom still hurt, but the first pain had subsided, and Rita had other things on her mind. Escape and revenge. Revenge would be impossible, but escape might not be.