AN ORPHAN’S PROMISE
Cathy Sharp

Copyright

HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

Copyright © Cathy Sharp 2020

Cover photograph © Collaboration JS

Cover design by Claire Ward © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

Cathy Sharp asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008387617

Ebook Edition © April 2020 ISBN: 9780008387624

Version: 2020-04-01

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Cathy Sharp

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

‘I’m ’ungry,’ the child whined, dabbing miserably at her dripping nose. ‘I want Ma! I want ter go ’ome!’ She coughed harshly and rubbed at her thin chest.

‘You know that ain’t goin’ ter ’appen fer a while,’ Charlie said eyeing his sister with a mixture of brotherly affection and concern. Maisie was sickly, though the doctors said she would grow out of it; all she needed was warmth and care, but at the moment he had neither to offer her. ‘Ma is in the ’ospital and she’s proper bad after what that devil did to her.’

Maisie looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. He saw the fear behind the tears and knew that she was remembering the night when Ronnie the Greek, their mother’s pimp, had thrown them out of the house in a temper. Charlie had gone back in to find food for them and a coat for her, because it was chilly and that horrible man had caught him and given him a beating. He’d told Charlie to clear off before he broke his bleedin’ neck, but when their mother had protested that her children were cold and hungry, he’d turned on her, hammering at her with his fists until she fell unconscious to the ground and then kicking her in the head. Charlie had gone for him then, kicking, punching and biting until Ronnie had knocked him down and stormed out of the house.

Charlie had tried to wake his mother but she wouldn’t open her eyes so he’d run to a neighbour for help and then the police had come and his mother had been taken to the hospital. Charlie and Maisie had hidden behind the scullery door and listened until Ma was taken away in an ambulance and then made their escape with what food they could find in the pantry. The police had asked the neighbours to bring them in as soon as they came home and so they’d stayed clear of the house, hiding in derelict buildings of which there were many in the back alleys near the docks.

Charlie knew that he couldn’t look after his sister properly yet. He needed to find work and in these hard times that was easier said than done. Scores of men were standing on the corner of Button Street and the roads nearby, eyes dull, shoulders slumped with the despair of knowing that another day was passing without hope of finding a decent job, many already on the streets because they could not feed their children or keep a roof over their heads. Competition for somewhere to rest was fierce and the children had been chased away from all the places where it was safe to sleep.

‘Clear orf! We don’t want kids ’ere!’ Charlie had been yelled at and cuffed more than once as he tried to find a spot out of the wind and rain.

‘Come on,’ he told Maisie and took her hand. ‘We’ll go to the police station and tell them we ain’t got anywhere to live.’

‘They’ll lock us up,’ Maisie said fearfully.

‘Nah, they’ll take us somewhere warm and safe and feed us.’

‘I’m frightened, Charlie.’ Maisie looked up at him and he took her small hand gently in his. ‘I wish Ma was ’ome.’

‘So do I, but she ain’t,’ he said. ‘I’m not afraid of anyone or anything, Maisie.’ It wasn’t quite true but Charlie knew he had to protect his sister because there was no one else that would bother about them. So, it was down to him. ‘We’ll do what they tell us until I can earn a bit of money and then we’ll run away. Don’t worry, Maisie. I’ll look after yer.’

Maisie looked up at him with the trusting eyes of a little kitten. He smiled because she was his sister and he loved her. Ma had done her best but she’d fallen foul of a brute. That brute was going to pay one day. Charlie wasn’t sure how but he would find a way …

‘Come on then,’ he said. ‘If we’re lucky they will feed us – and I’m ’ungry too!’

‘I am concerned,’ Lady Rosalie said to the woman sitting opposite her in the parlour of her London house. A modest Georgian terrace, she preferred it to the larger house in the country where she’d lived with Sir George until his death – and to the historic but draughty castle where, as the daughter of an earl, she’d grown up. ‘I’m sure you will agree that the Adoption of Children Act of 1926 was done with the best intent, but too many adoptions are being granted to those who are not suitable – and, in some cases, utterly wrong for parenthood.’

‘I quite agree with you, my lady,’ said Mary Thurston, Matron of the Lady Rosalie Infirmary – affectionately called ‘the Rosie’ by the residents of Button Street and the surrounding lanes in the grimy district of Whitechapel in London’s East End. It was Lady Rosalie who, as a prominent member of the welfare committee interested in providing safe homes for damaged children, had first badgered the council into setting up the infirmary. They had named it for her, though in her opening speech she had dedicated it to her late husband, whose death had inspired her to fight for the poor of the East End.

Lady Rosalie nodded. ‘It was thought that adoption or fostering could only benefit the children, but some unscrupulous persons are misusing it and a new law needs to be brought in to safeguard the children.’

‘I fear that to be the case – a sad fact of life, my lady,’ Matron replied.

It was now 1936 and the Act that had, in 1926, been intended to help orphaned children was, in many cases, being sadly misused. People applied for the care of orphans only to abuse them, or for the small allowance given, very little of which was then spent on the children it was meant for.

‘My dear Mary,’ Lady Rosalie said, ‘I’ve told you before, no titles are necessary between us. You are not just Matron to me but a friend I know I can trust – and we are in perfect agreement on what needs to be done.’ She smiled at her friend of many years.

‘If only you had a free hand, Rosalie …’ Matron said. ‘We could do so much more.’

‘I raise funds for the infirmary and because of that my voice is listened to in committee,’ Lady Rosalie replied. ‘Unfortunately, I have only so much time and influence – and there is so much more I want to do.’ Her main work was in the provision of reliable foster parents and this took much time and research.

‘Are you speaking with regard to those refugee children you mentioned earlier?’

‘Yes – I’ve learned of a group of orphaned children who are coming in from Spain, escaping from the terrible violence there, and I would appreciate any help you can give me with placing them.’

Mary Thurston had been the senior nurse in the expensive private hospital where Lady Rosalie’s husband had died of a crippling illness some eight years earlier. It was during one of their long vigils by his bedside that the two women had bonded. Sister Thurston had confided that she wanted to devote her life to the poor of the East End, who could not always afford medical care, and the grieving widow had campaigned tirelessly to set up the Rosie in memory of her husband. She had one son, now fourteen and at boarding school. During the holidays she devoted her time to his happiness, thoroughly spoiling him, but she had longed for a large family and, to compensate for her lack, she had become active in several charitable institutions and sat on the boards of various committees, the most important set up to monitor foster carers.

‘I know you have been lobbying your friends in Parliament again,’ Mary replied, nodding her approval. ‘What chance is there of an amendment to this act, which would prevent those wicked advertisements in the papers?’

Lady Rosalie tutted, because it was scandalous that some people thought it perfectly acceptable to advertise babies – effectively for sale – through the medium of a newspaper, when fostering had never been intended to be used in that way.

‘Very little at the moment! I do not know who is worse – those who sell their own children, those who take the children of the poor and send them off to Australia or give them to unsuitable foster parents, who do it only for what they are paid – or those who have the power to change things and do nothing.’

Mary shook her head. ‘I thought, if we could use a part of the children’s ward at the infirmary to look after orphans on a temporary basis, particularly if they are sickly, as so many are, you might arrange something more permanent for them?’

‘Now that is a very good idea,’ Lady Rosalie said. ‘I do not have the power to act alone, naturally, but my recommendations go a long way …’

Mary Thurston, Matron to her staff and the patients, smiled. Very few would go against Lady Rosalie, a dynamic personality who was far too young to be a retiring widow. Married to a man ten years her senior when she was eighteen, she was now just thirty-five.

‘Then I shall implement the idea at once,’ Mary said. ‘We’ll use the small ward as a temporary refuge for orphans who are brought in sick, but we cannot keep them for longer than they need to be perfectly well to go to new homes.’

‘Good, we are agreed,’ Lady Rosalie said. She stood up as Mary prepared to leave and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘I bless the day that you came into my life, Mary. You helped me through a time when I felt I had nothing to live for – and now I have so much …’

CHAPTER 1

‘Eh, but you’re a lovely girl,’ Woody Jacobs said, causing Nurse Sarah to turn and look at him as he lay propped up against the pillows of his narrow cot in the infirmary ward for men. At past seventy years, his chest was weak and he’d been with them on and off through most of the winter. ‘You’ll make someone a fine wife, nurse.’

Sarah walked over to him, smiled and adjusted his pillows, then, as he began wheezing, she offered him a glass of water, holding it patiently as he sipped and pulled a face at the taste of lukewarm water.

‘I’d rather have a mug of beer.’

‘I expect you would.’ Sarah laughed. ‘But I’m afraid the infirmary’s funds don’t run to that sort of treat, Mr Jacobs.’

‘Pity, that,’ he said, a twinkle in his eye. ‘Tell me, why hasn’t some fine young man snapped you up yet?’

‘I have someone special,’ Sarah told him. She liked talking to Mr Jacobs and never minded his questions, though Sister Norton would have called some of them impertinent. ‘We’re saving for a home of our own and a proper wedding.’

‘Ah, so that’s it.’ Woody nodded his understanding. ‘I thought it was strange you not havin’ a ring on your finger – a lovely girl like you.’

‘They wouldn’t let me nurse you if I was married,’ Sarah told him, though she wasn’t sure that was strictly true. It was a regulation that nurses must not be married in hospitals run by the council or the state, but the infirmary relaxed these rules, because as Matron and Lady Rosalie agreed, the best nurses were often those that had married and returned to their work later in life. Woody was here, not because he was chronically sick, but because he had no home and, living on the streets in the winter, he contracted lots of colds and coughs making his chest painful for him. Matron said that he would always be admitted to the men’s ward, providing that there was a bed for him, and he treated it as a home from home. In the summer they wouldn’t see him, but in the winter he turned up regularly, coughing and wheezing.

‘Nurse Cartwright!’ Sister Norton’s tone was sharp. She did not approve of the way the old man came and went as often as he pleased. Had she been in charge he would not have been admitted, unless he really needed to be in the ward for the chronically sick. ‘I have a job for you if you’ve finished chatting.’

The sarcasm in the ward sister’s tone made Sarah flinch but she didn’t allow her expression to change as she said, ‘Yes, Sister, what can I do for you?’

‘The police have brought in two children,’ Sister Norton said. ‘There is only Nurse Anne on duty in the children’s ward this evening and I want them checked over. Go along and see if they need isolation or simply a good wash.’

‘Yes, Sister Norton.’

Sarah caught Woody’s wink and had to smother a laugh. She left him propped up against his pillows with his eyes shut. Sister Norton might intimidate her nurses and the cleaners if she caught them doing something wrong, but Woody took her scolding in his stride. Not for the first time, Sarah wondered what had led the old man to a life on the streets. Had he ever had a family? And if so, what had happened to them?

Walking briskly to the children’s ward, Sarah noticed that the smell of disinfectant was still strong. The walls were painted with a dark cream gloss, because that was easier to clean, and once a month the cleaners had to scrub them with a fluid that was so overpowering that it took Sarah’s breath. However, it helped to keep down the infection rate – or that was what Matron believed.

Matron was in charge of the day-to-day running of the infirmary. Sister Ruth Linton was her assistant on the critical ward and Nurse Anne was a probationer who had not yet taken her final exams. She spent much of her time looking after the children, some of whom were actually ill, while others were simply orphans brought in by the police if they were unwell, because there was no room for them anywhere else. The orphanages in London were always filled to capacity.

Hearing indignant squeals coming from the large washroom next to the children’s ward, Sarah went in and smiled as she saw the young probationer, her sleeves rolled up to the elbows, valiantly trying to cope with two very dirty and clearly rebellious children.

‘Hello,’ she said, ‘may I be of help?’

‘Oh yes, please!’ Nurse Anne looked relieved. ‘This is Charlie and his sister Maisie Howes. Their mother is in hospital and Constable Steve Jones brought them to us to look after until a place can be found at an orphanage—’

‘Ain’t goin’ to no orphanage,’ Charlie burst out, looking belligerent. ‘And I ain’t gettin’ in that there thing, neither.’

‘I ain’t neither,’ Maisie said copying her brother, her bottom lip pulled down, tears hovering on her lashes.

‘Don’t you want a nice ham sandwich and a bun with a cup of orange squash?’ Sarah asked and saw Charlie’s eyes light up at the mention of food.

‘I am ’ungry,’ Maisie said and the tears spilled over. ‘Ain’t ’ad nuthin’ for three days.’

‘You ’ad a bun day afore yesterday,’ Charlie said and glared at Sarah. ‘Why can’t we have the food now? The cops said yer would feed us.’

‘And so we will,’ Sarah promised with a smile. ‘But we need you to be clean so we can pop you into bed and then give you your supper.’

‘I have a strip wash regular once a week. Ma puts washing soda in the bowl and sponges us both down.’

‘I’m sure she does,’ Sarah said, and moved her hand back and forth in the bath, making it splash a bit. ‘But the water is lovely and warm and you could have a bit of fun …’ She splashed a few drops of water at him and he recoiled and then moved closer. He leaned over and put his hand in the water, splashing her back. Sarah nodded. ‘Why don’t you both get in?’ She pointed at the two baths side by side.

‘I ain’t gettin’ naked in front of you!’

‘Keep your pants on then,’ Sarah said and he hesitated.

‘Ain’t got nuthin’ under me trousers …’

‘Oh, I see …’ Sarah looked round for inspiration and then handed him a small towel. ‘Hold this over your front, Charlie. I promise not to look.’

Still suspicious, he stripped off his things. Sarah and Nurse Anne turned their backs while he got into the water. Maisie stripped off her dress and a pair of tatty knickers before jumping into the adjoining bath. The pair of them indulged in a lot of splashing around, giggling as the water wetted the floor. It was clearly a new experience and one they enjoyed once they let go of their inhibitions. Neither of them objected when Sarah took a sponge and rubbed soap on it before scrubbing their backs.

Charlie winced a bit and she saw there were several yellowish bruises on his back and arms that were obviously still tender.

‘What happened to your back, Charlie?’

‘It were just a fight at school,’ he said but she sensed he was lying.

‘It was the bloke Ma brought ’ome,’ Maisie said and tears trickled down her cheeks. ‘He beat Charlie ’cos he went in the house to get some food for me when he’d thrown us out – and Charlie cheeked him when he asked what he was doin’ – and he beat Ma bad ’cos she stuck up fer us. That’s why she’s in the ’ospital!’

‘Shut up, Maisie,’ Charlie warned. ‘We don’t snitch!’

‘If that man hurt your mum he deserves to be snitched on,’ Sarah said. ‘Sometimes it’s best to tell the truth – as long as he isn’t around to hit you again.’

‘I ain’t scared of ’im,’ Charlie said. ‘I ain’t scared of nuthin’.’

‘Good,’ she told them. ‘You can finish washing yourselves and afterwards I’ll give your heads a good wash with this stuff, too.’

‘It smells awful,’ Charlie said sniffing the bottle.

‘That’s what the nits think – and it makes them hop off,’ Sarah said.

He grinned.

‘You ain’t bad,’ he told her. ‘You wash Maisie’s hair. She’s got ’em the worst and I can do me own.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you can,’ Sarah agreed and nodded at Nurse Anne as she brought a pile of clean clothes for the children. ‘How old are you, Charlie?’

‘Fourteen,’ he declared truculently. ‘I ought ter be at work …’

‘Not quite yet,’ Sarah said. She didn’t think he could be much more than twelve but didn’t contradict him. The police report would hopefully be more accurate and she would read it after she had brought these two their supper. ‘Well, you both seem healthy to me, apart from those bruises – just in need of a wash and some food. We might ask Dr Kent to take a look at you when he visits, but there’s no need to put you in the isolation ward.’

‘Ma looked after us good – leastwise, until she got in with that bloke.’ Charlie rubbed at his eyes. ‘I don’t know what he done to her – but she weren’t the same. I think he gives her somefin’ – funny stuff what changed ’er. Her eyes go all strange after he’s been. He’s a bad ’un, miss.’

‘Do you know his name?’

Maisie opened her mouth and shut it as her brother gave her a glare.

‘Nah,’ he said. ‘Ma was goin’ ter tell us but he told ’er ter shut up and ’it her.’

‘Charlie didn’t half kick his ankles and when he grabbed ’im he bit his hand,’ Maisie said, clearly in awe of her brother’s courage. ‘He give Charlie a proper pastin’ and threw us out – and we hadn’t had nuffin’ ter eat all day, ’cos we was waitin’ for Ma to come ’ome. We sneaked in again, though.’

Sarah nodded. The man who had bullied these children had also used force to subdue their mother, but besides that he might have given her drugs of some kind. Evil substances that changed personalities and made addicts do things they would not normally do. Sarah’s boyfriend Jim had told her about the prostitutes he saw when he was working at the pub.

‘They come in and they don’t know where they are or what they’re doin’,’ he’d said once. ‘The pimps give them these foul drugs and then set them to work and after a while they’re so mad for the heroin or whatever it is that they do whatever their pimp tells them to …’

Hearing the children’s story made her angry. These children had suffered because of what had happened to their mother and Sarah would have liked to punish the man who had used the unfortunate woman, but she knew there was nothing she could do. Charlie and Maisie were not the only children to tell similar tales, but the police never seemed to do much about it. They removed the children from their homes, but the men in the shadows got away with their crimes over and over again.

‘Thank you so much,’ Nurse Anne said when both children were wrapped in warm towels. ‘I don’t think I could have managed without you.’

Sarah nodded. The young probationer loved children and enjoyed looking after them, but children like Charlie and Maisie needed a firm hand when they first came in.

‘Well, if you can pop them into pyjamas and get them to bed, I’ll bring their supper. I might even find a little jelly and ice cream as well as that sandwich and bun.’

Sister Ruth Linton was in the kitchen making a pot of tea and setting a tray with cups and saucers.

‘Ah, Nurse Cartwright,’ she said and smiled. ‘Have you got those little tearaways settled then?’

‘Yes, we managed it between us,’ Sarah said diplomatically. ‘They just needed a little persuasion.’

‘Bribery, I presume,’ the senior nurse said with a twinkle in her eyes. ‘I find it is often the best way with these children. Nurse Anne will learn in time.’

Sarah liked Sister Linton. She had a sense of humour and seemed more approachable than Matron, who could be a little stern.

‘Nurse Anne is very good with the little children,’ Sarah said. ‘Charlie is about thirteen going on thirty and he thinks he is the man of the house and can take care of things.’

‘I expect that is because his father was lost at sea some years ago,’ Sister Ruth Linton said. ‘I read the police constable’s report. The mother looked after them well and they both attended school fairly regularly until about six months ago … but things have gone downhill since then.’

‘I expect it is this man – her pimp, I imagine. He is the reason she’s in hospital and Charlie’s back is covered in bruises.’

‘Should we have the doctor to him?’

‘Yes, when he comes but there is no need to call him out tonight,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s happened frequently by the look of the bruises – some old, some new. Still, it may be best to get Dr Kent to look when he comes.’

‘I’ll make sure he is told,’ Sister Linton said and picked up her tray. ‘I’m taking this to Matron. She has been sitting with a female patient all night. Sal is not expected to last until morning and Matron will not leave her while she lives.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Sarah said. She understood Matron’s wish to remain with a patient she cared for. The nurses were taught never to become fond of a patient but it happened just the same. When you looked after someone, day in and day out, it was always a wrench when they passed away. ‘It is a sad time for her.’

‘Sal is a believer and has made her peace with God; she will go to her rest soon,’ Ruth Linton said. ‘However, she is suffering and Matron is trying to ease her passing. I shall take them both a cup of tea.’

Sarah got on with her sandwich making. In a place like this death was a part of life; despite all the efforts of the nurses and doctors it could not be avoided.

She found some jelly and took two small ice creams from the refrigerator. They were kept for the sick children, but Sarah doubted Charlie and Maisie had ever tasted them before and wanted to give them a real treat. Returning to the ward, she discovered them sitting in bed, faces shining and clean, like a pair of little angels. They sat forward eagerly as she set the tray on Maisie’s bed, handing Charlie his sandwiches and a bun on a plate and placing the dishes of jelly and ice cream on the little cabinet between their beds.

‘Enjoy your supper. I have to go back to my own ward, but I’ll come and see how you’re getting on tomorrow night when I’m on duty.’

‘Yeah, all right,’ Charlie said, his mouth full of ham sandwich. ‘This is smashing, nurse – yer all right.’

‘Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Sarah said. On impulse she bent and kissed first his cheek and then Maisie’s. ‘Look after your sister, Charlie. You’re both safe now you’re here.’

She left them both eating happily. They were the only two in their part of the ward, which was divided by a screen. Nurse Jenny Brown was on the other side of the screen, attending to a young girl named Dora who had been brought in that day with a cut on her leg. It had been bandaged and she’d been fed and looked after earlier, but she was frightened, complaining that her leg was painful.

The worst thing about it was that her injury had come from the man who had been her foster carer. He and his wife had gone out to get drunk and when they returned he’d hit the child and sent her tumbling down the stairs. The wife had come to her senses quickly and sent for the doctor, who had acted immediately, sending the girl to the infirmary, whereupon, her husband had hit his wife and sent her flying to teach her to keep her mouth shut. She’d told the doctor that the girl had fallen, but he’d reported the incident to the police and they were investigating. However, cases like this often went unresolved, because the children and wives were too frightened to speak against the bullies that hurt them.

‘It will be a little sore for a while, Dora,’ Jenny told her. ‘But there’s no need to worry. I’ll get you a nice cup of cocoa and that will help you to sleep.’

‘I thought you were on the women’s ward this evening?’ Sarah queried as Jenny left the child to fetch her cocoa. ‘Isn’t Nurse Anne on duty here?’

‘I am on women’s, but Dora lives in my street so I thought I’d pop in and see her – her mother is on the women’s ward and was worried about her …’

‘Mother and daughter are in hospital together?’ Sarah was surprised.

‘Mrs Swan says they fell down the stairs but I know what her husband is like and I’ve heard he knocked them both about. Of course, Mrs Swan will never report him, though she called the doctor to the girl and he did, so maybe this time the police will give him a talking to.’ Not that she thought it would do much good! The only way would be to imprison him and that would leave the wife and children without financial support, so it was not a solution.

‘These bullied wives never do report it.’ The nurses shook their heads over the folly of women who put up with bullying husbands. ‘But when a child in their care gets hurt it is time something was done.’

Sarah nodded to Jenny and returned to her own ward. Sister Norton was sitting at the desk but rose as she walked towards her.

‘Everyone appears to be sleeping, nurse,’ she said. ‘Are those children in bed?’

‘Yes, eating their supper. They were just hungry and dirty – though Charlie had been beaten over the past few weeks.’

‘By the same person as attacked their mother?’ Sister Norton’s dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘Why will they get themselves into these predicaments?’

‘Her husband died at sea. She was probably just trying to earn a living to feed the kids.’

‘Surely there are other ways?’

‘For us, but not always for a mother with two growing children,’ Sarah said. ‘Jim’s mother found it very hard to bring up her four children after her husband died in an accident at work – that’s why we’re saving a nest egg before we marry. He doesn’t want it to happen to me.’

‘I dare say you would be missed – although Matron might keep you on if you marry. She is a law unto herself … a good nurse and caring, but I’m not sure she understands what it is like to live in the real world, and how often married nurses are obliged to take time off.’

Sarah was surprised; it was unusual for Sister to criticize Matron.

Sister Norton bid her good night and left and Sarah walked round her ward, making sure everyone was peaceful. It was easy to think someone was sleeping when they were actually lying awake and in discomfort. Medicine could be given to those it had been prescribed for, but for others a nice cup of tea would often do the trick – and if she knew Woody, he would be hoping she would take him one before the end of her shift. She would check everyone else first and then see if her favourite patient was really asleep or just ignoring Sister Norton.

CHAPTER 2

Jenny left the infirmary at the same time as Sarah Cartwright. They smiled at each other in understanding for both were yawning. It had been a long night and the wind was chilly this March day in 1936, a hint of rain in the air as they hurried for the bus. A shelter had recently been built for waiting passengers and it was a little warmer behind the glass panels.

‘I’ll be glad when spring finally comes,’ Sarah said. ‘I don’t like the winter.’

‘Nor me,’ Jenny said and moved a strand of long dark hair out of her eyes. She envied Sarah being blonde and having hair that waved naturally when she let it down from the tight knot she wore at work. Her own hair was straight and shiny and she normally wore it in a neat pleat at the back of her head. ‘Have you seen the Charlie Chaplin film that’s on at the Gaumont?’

‘No. It’s ages since Jim took me anywhere but the pub. We’re saving hard and we just go for a drink once a week … and I’d rather see Douglas Fairbanks Jr than Charlie Chaplin; he’s more romantic.’

‘Yes, dreamy. Anyway, who needs the cinema when you’ve got a chap like yours?’ Jenny said with a look of envy. ‘When are you gettin’ married?’

‘When Jim thinks we can afford it,’ Sarah said. ‘Oh, here’s my bus. Yours should be just behind. Probably see you tomorrow, then.’

Sarah leapt on her bus and Jenny craned her neck looking for the one she needed, which usually followed up behind the number forty-five, but this time there was no sign of it and she pulled her coat collar up round her neck.

‘Cold, isn’t it?’ a male voice said from behind her and Jenny turned to see a man in a fawn overcoat and a trilby hat pulled down over his brow. He looked smart, she thought, a bit like a film star with his dark, brooding good looks and she smiled. ‘It feels as if it might snow again.’

‘Oh, I do hope not,’ Jenny said. ‘I can’t wait for it to be summer again.’

‘Winter has its place, if you’ve got a nice log fire and someone to share it with,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing you and your friend just now – I like Chaplin’s films. I don’t suppose you’d like to come with me one evening?’

Jenny was taken aback by his boldness. She was just considering how she could make him aware that she wasn’t the sort of girl who could be picked up just like that when her bus came around the corner. Torn between taking the cheeky stranger down a peg or two and not wanting to miss her chance, she waved frantically at the bus to stop. Then, just as she leapt on, she turned her head and looked at him.

‘Maybe – when I know you better!’

‘Hey, don’t go!’ He moved towards the bus as if he would make a flying leap to catch it but it was too quick for him and Jenny laughed to herself as she saw the frustration in his face. Her abrupt departure had done all she’d wanted to, giving him a message she’d been unable to form in words. He was attractive, and Jenny really wanted a boyfriend to take her out and maybe to get serious with, but if he thought she was easy he would have to think again. She’d been brought up decently and her sister Lily would hit the roof if she knew Jenny had been in danger of agreeing to visit the cinema with a stranger.

Sitting in one of the front seats in the bus, Jenny smiled to herself. She’d definitely felt attracted to the handsome stranger who certainly had film star looks, but it wouldn’t do to let herself be picked up off the street, even though, for a moment, she’d been tempted.

If the stranger had also been attracted, he would return to the bus stop and introduce himself. Jenny would wait and hope – because she was nearly twenty and she’d never had a proper boyfriend, just friends who’d walked her back from school and sometimes offered a mint humbug.

Jenny’s smile vanished as she thought of her home life. She lived with her elder sister Lily and their grandmother, Mabel Brown. Mabel was half blind these days but in her own kitchen she knew exactly where everything was and refused to be made an invalid. The two sisters loved the woman who had brought them up single-handed after their parents died, and did their best to look after her now she wasn’t so well. Lily, and then Jenny, had trained to be nurses and they both worked for the Rosie Infirmary. At the moment, Lily worked days and Jenny worked nights and that meant they didn’t have to leave Gran alone much, though she was forever telling them to go out and have a good time while they were young.

‘I was courtin’ by the time I was your age,’ she’d told Jenny only a few days earlier. ‘We made it to the altar just before your father was born but not by much. I lost my man to the Great War – too old for the army, they said, so they gave him a job on the docks, cleaning the ships – and that’s what he was doin’ when one of them Zeppelins fell on the docks and killed him. That’s sod’s law, that is, my girl. If he’d gone to fight same as he wanted, he’d probably ’ave come back.’

Jenny knew Gran would have told her she should have grabbed her chance with the stranger, but Lily would say that no men were to be trusted and certainly not one who tried to pick her up at a bus stop! Jenny wondered if it was Lily’s attitude to men that had held her back, making her slow to respond to any overtures from the opposite sex, even the young curate who had come to ask after Gran and spent his time staring at Jenny. Her sister had had her heart broken by a man. Jenny knew that, even though she didn’t know the details of Lily’s unhappy love affair, which had happened when she was eighteen, and Jenny was still at junior school. If she asked, Lily just turned away and refused to answer. All she would say was that Jenny would be a fool to trust any man.

‘We’re dedicated nurses,’ she was fond of saying. ‘What do we want with marriage and a husband?’

‘What about children?’ Jenny asked once but the look on Lily’s face had made her wish she hadn’t spoken and since then she’d not mentioned the subject once. For herself, she knew that being a nurse was only a part of the life she wanted – a husband and children were her dream for the future, though she never mentioned it when Lily was around, because she didn’t want to remind her sister of what she’d lost.

As the bus slowed at her stop, Jenny got to her feet and made her way down the interior. She wanted to call in at the little shop on the corner of Little Lane and buy a packet of tea, some biscuits, and a tin of corned beef. She would get a fresh loaf too and then she could make some sandwiches for her and Gran; corned beef and sweet pickle was one of the elderly lady’s favourites and they nearly always had it on a Friday when Jenny got paid.

Sarah arrived home and put the kettle on minutes before Jim knocked on their back door. Her mother looked at her, eyebrows raised as she glanced in the mirror, fluffing out her hair before she went to answer it.

‘Set the clock by you, lad,’ Mrs Cartwright said as Jim entered and pulled her daughter into a loving embrace. ‘If my Bob had been as reliable in the mornings, he’d be gang master now instead of standing in line waiting for a job.’

‘You can’t blame Dad,’ Sarah said, even though she knew her father was sometimes the last to join the queue of jobless men waiting on the docks for a chance to earn a few quid. ‘With his back he ought to have retired years ago.’

‘He would if we could afford it,’ Mrs Cartwright said. ‘He keeps sayin’ we’ll be off to the country when you’re wed, my girl. A little cottage, vegetables, fruit, hens and a couple of pigs – that’s his dream.’

‘It’s not yours though, is it, Mum?’ Sarah said, leading Jim to the table and cutting him a slice of seed cake. ‘Eat that while I make the tea, love.’

‘Does it matter what I want?’ her mother asked ruefully. ‘Your father’s needs come first and always have.’

‘Don’t talk like that, Mum,’ Sarah chided. ‘He’s a lot better than most – just imagine how you’d feel if Dad came home drunk three or four times a week like Sid Harding.’

‘I wouldn’t put up with it like Ruby does!’ Mrs Cartwright spoke of her neighbour in a belligerent tone. ‘I told her only yesterday she should put her foot down – did you hear him shouting in their yard the other night? Keeping folk awake!’

‘I was at the infirmary,’ Sarah said. ‘Ruby works hard there, cleaning the wards. She must need her sleep and it can’t be easy living with a man like Sid.’

‘It’s because he can’t earn a living wage,’ Jim put in frowning. The one thing about living in the close-knit communities of the East End was that everyone knew everyone else in their own street and the roads nearby. Jim often saw Sid Harding propping up the bar of the pub where he worked. The Crown and Anchor was down near the East India Docks and always busy. Jim knew most of the men who frequented the docks well. ‘Don’t be too hard on him. He thinks the world of his daughter Julia – and Ruby too – but it makes him feel inadequate that he can’t keep them properly and his wife has to work as a skivvy at the Rosie. You know what the situation is like at the moment – there’s never enough work for all the men.’

‘It would be a help if Sid brought what he did earn home,’ Mrs Cartwright said. ‘Anyway, how are you getting on, lad? Any news on your promotion yet?’

Jim had applied to be the manager of the Crown and Anchor which had just been renovated. He was hoping that he would get the job, because the wages would be better and there would be living accommodation over the pub. If he got his wish, it would mean he and Sarah could bring their marriage forward. He sipped his tea and shook his head.

‘I wish they would hurry up and make up their minds. If I don’t get the job, I’ll have to think about doing something else. Life is running away with us and it’s time we were planning our wedding.’

‘Couldn’t agree more,’ Mrs Cartwright said. ‘I want to live to see my grandchildren – and Bob wants that cottage in the country.’

‘Mum!’ Sarah laughed. ‘If you don’t mind, I might have an opinion about all this.’

‘You know you adore me and can’t wait to be my wife,’ Jim said and kissed her on the lips. He winked at his future mother-in-law, with whom he got on like a house on fire. ‘I’ll give the brewery a ring today and see what they have to say – now I’ll go and let Sarah get some sleep. I’ll pop in around teatime, love.’

‘All right.’ Sarah gave him a quick hug and let him go. Working nights meant that the only times they got to see each other on a working day were if Jim popped round a couple of times. When Sarah wasn’t at the infirmary, he took a few hours off to be with her and they usually took a walk to a nice pub in the Whitechapel Road or spent some time in Mrs Cartwright’s front parlour, talking and kissing and making plans for a future when they had their own home. ‘Off you go then, I’m tired.’

Jim kissed her again and left. Mrs Cartwright gave her a plate with a thick slice of toast with butter and marmalade and Sarah smiled, biting into the crunchy treat with pleasure.

‘Lovely, Mum. I’ll take it up with me if that’s OK?’

‘He’s a good lad, that Jim,’ her mother said and smiled. ‘Not many would be here on the dot when you get back from work. He works late himself, but he’s always here for you.’

Sarah nodded, because she knew what her mother thought: if it had been her, she would have married and lived in a couple of rooms. Sarah and Jim wanted a house of their own but failing that, rooms over a pub would do – and that would make life easier for them both. Sarah wasn’t sure how long she would go on nursing when she was married; it depended on how soon the babies came along – and nursing was something she could go back to when they were older. She might not find work at the state hospitals until the rule on married nurses was changed, but she knew there would always be a job for her as long as Matron was in charge of the infirmary.

She wondered if Sister’s patient had died during the night and thought it likely. The elderly lady had advanced cancer, which the doctors had pronounced inoperable. With no one to look after her at her rather bleak home, the only place for her during the last few weeks of her life had been the Rosie. Matron took all the hopeless cases and said it was her duty to care for those most in need.

Sarah’s thoughts moved on to Ruby Harding as she washed her hands and face and cleaned her teeth before tumbling into bed. Ruby was the mainstay of the cleaning team at the infirmary and had a hard life. Sarah’s mother was right when she said Ruby shouldn’t put up with Sid’s drinking, but she probably felt she had no choice.

CHAPTER 3

‘I’m warning you, Sid Harding,’ Ruby was saying to her husband at that moment as she put a plate with thick doorsteps of toast spread with dripping in front of him, ‘it’s no use you moaning about eating rubbish for breakfast. I’ve just got back from scrubbin’ three wards on me ’ands and knees and me back aches something chronic. I’ve got a second shift at the infirmary this afternoon and even that will hardly pay enough to keep a roof over our heads. If you think you’re gettin’ a fry-up in the mornings on what you bring ’ome, you can think again!’

‘Ah, give over, Ruby love,’ Sid moaned and put a hand to his head. ‘Me ’ead feels like a thousand hammers is at work.’

‘They’re workin’ ’arder than you ever do then.’ Ruby glared at him. ‘What did you ’ave left in yer pocket when you got back last night, drunk as a skunk? Two bloody shillings, that’s all. And if I hadn’t snatched that you’d ’ave spent it down the pub this morning.’

‘I only earned six bob yesterday – they give me a job sweeping out a bone lorry and I was lucky ter get that, but the stink was so bad I ’ad to ’ave a pint, love.’

‘But one is never enough for you, Sid Harding,’ Ruby said. ‘Eat up or get out of me way. I’ve got work to do – unlike you, mine never stops.’

Sid muttered something rude beneath his breath, careful not to let Ruby hear what he said, because she wouldn’t stand for swearing. Grabbing his threadbare jacket, he slouched off with a glare at his wife.

Ruby nodded her satisfaction when she saw he’d only eaten one slice of toast and dripping. Sid wasn’t one for fatty stuff, but Ruby loved it. She ate the second slice with relish. It just served him right and she’d punished him for coming home drunk yet again. It was time he started looking for work properly and kept what he did earn for her and his daughter.

Julia was a bright girl, really clever. Ruby sometimes wondered where she’d got her brains from, because it certainly wasn’t Sid, and Ruby herself wasn’t one for book learning. Julia’s teachers said that she had a good future in front of her, providing she won a scholarship to the grammar school – but that only paid the tuition fees. The uniform – which included indoor shoes as well as outdoor ones, PE and sports outfits and a tennis racket and a hockey stick – and books, all cost a great deal of money and had to be paid for by the parents. Ruby had no idea where the funds were coming from. Her wages were just about keeping them afloat but unless Sid started pulling his weight, Ruby knew she couldn’t afford to buy all the things her daughter would need. And that was Sid’s fault.

Ruby knew that jobs were scarce at the moment, but she’d managed to find a job and so could Sid if he was willing to take any kind of work. He was just going to have to pull his socks up – and this time she meant it. If he let her down again, she would take Julia and leave him.

Telling herself what she would do was one thing but doing it was another. Sid wasn’t the worst of husbands; he didn’t hit her or Julia – if he had that really would be the end. The problem was, she still fancied him something rotten and there were times when he smiled and she just melted like an idiot. But Ruby had had enough of his drinking. He was going to have to stop and she would need to be firm, because otherwise he would end up on the scrap heap like so many others who drank to forget the misery of their lives.

Ruby had always wanted more children but after Julia they just hadn’t come. She sometimes thought she’d like to foster another child, give an orphan a home where the poor little bugger would be safe, but how could she when Sid spent all his wages and couldn’t be trusted?

A picture of the kids in the little room at the end of the children’s ward entered Ruby’s head. If Sid brought his wages home as he ought, she would have offered to have those kids – that boy’s cheeky smile made her laugh to herself and the girl was a poor little mite who needed some love. Ruby just hoped they wouldn’t stick them kids in a home …

‘Of course, they ought to be sent off to an orphanage,’ Lady Rosalie said to Mary Thurston that evening, when they spoke over a glass of sherry in Matron’s office. ‘However, the girl is poorly, and I think we should try to keep them together.’

‘Is there any chance of putting them with foster parents?’ Mary asked, frowning. ‘The children’s mother is still alive and they should be returned to her when she’s well enough.’

‘Perhaps …’ Lady Rosalie frowned. ‘I’m in the middle of moving that little girl in your ward to another set of foster carers. Mrs Swan says she loves Dora and wants to look after her when she’s on her feet again – but her husband is a brute when he’s drunk. I didn’t interview him myself or I should never have allowed him to become a foster carer. If I had my way, he would be locked up, but they tell me the police won’t prosecute without sufficient evidence.’

‘Dora is certainly afraid of Mr Swan and cannot be allowed to return to them,’ Mary agreed. ‘So, Dora gets priority and that means Charlie and his sister stay here for the time being?’

‘Unfortunately, that is the best I can come up with for the moment,’ Lady Rosalie apologized. ‘I only have one set of approved parents on my list right now – as you know, I am particular about who I take and that means there is sometimes a shortage, but unlike some others I will not place children in homes that might prove unstable.’

‘Indeed,’ Mary agreed. ‘You only have to look at Dora – she was placed with the Swan family ten months ago when her mother died and she has already been into the infirmary with injuries twice.’

‘Well, Mr and Mrs Phillips are decent people. They’ve been waiting for a long time because they wanted a baby, but I have persuaded them to take Dora – they might take Maisie too but they couldn’t manage Charlie as well.’

‘Oh, we mustn’t split them yet,’ Mary said. ‘I see plenty of children in my capacity as matron and they have not been treated as badly as some, despite Charlie’s bruises. I believe Maisie when she says her mother loves her and looks after her; the problem is this man the mother has taken in.’

‘It so often is when the father is dead,’ Lady Rosalie said and nodded. ‘So, I can take care of Dora for you – but you keep the other two until we see if their mother is likely to recover. After all, Maisie’s chest still needs treatment, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes, she could do with a week or two in bed with my nurses caring for her – he ought to be at school, of course, but perhaps they will send some work in for him to do. I think the pair of them might run off if I tried to split them up.’

‘Then we’ll leave it at that,’ Lady Rosalie agreed and stood up.

‘Do yer reckon that Matron is goin’ ter put us in an ’ome?’ Maisie asked as Charlie drank the hot milk one of the nurses had brought them to help them sleep. ‘I don’t want ter go in no ’ome …’ Tears welled in her eyes, running slowly down her cheeks.

‘Yer ain’t goin’ ter,’ Charlie said and set his mouth in a grim line. ‘I promise yer, Maisie. Whatever ’appens, we ain’t goin’ in no orphanage and we ain’t goin’ ter be split up. We’ll stop here fer a while until Ma gets better and then we’ll go ’ome wiv ’er.’

‘Supposin’ that bloke is still wiv ’er?’ Maisie asked looking fearful.

‘We’ll make sure we ain’t around when ’e’s there,’ Charlie said and glared. ‘He ain’t our dad, Maisie, and I ’ate ’im. We’ll go in when ’e’s not there and ’ide when ’e comes.’

‘Yeah.’ Maisie smiled at him adoringly. ‘Yer always know what to do, Charlie. You’ll look after me always, won’t yer?’

‘Yer know I will,’ Charlie said. ‘Me and you – we’re family and families look out fer each other.’

‘I know,’ Maisie said and smiled trustingly. ‘I wish Ma would get better soon, Charlie.’

‘So do I,’ he replied. ‘I’ll see what I can find out from the nurses here. That nice Nurse Sarah might find out for us if we ask her.’

CHAPTER 4

‘These are your new foster carers,’ Lady Rosalie said to the little girl standing just behind her and clutching at her skirt. ‘This is Mrs and Mr Phillips – and they will take good care of you now.’ She reached round and gently pushed Dora forward. ‘Say hello to Mr and Mrs Phillips, Dora.’

Dora’s greeting was a whisper only the most eager ears could hear, but Mrs Phillips bent down to be on her level and held out her arms to her. ‘Hello, Dora,’ she said and smiled at her in a way calculated to win over even a child who had been ill-treated by her last carers. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come to live with us!’

Dora looked at her uncertainly and her bottom lip wobbled. ‘How long will you keep me?’ she asked with tears in her eyes.

‘I want to keep you for as long as you want to stay with me – forever and ever,’ Helen Phillips said. ‘Would you like to call me Mummy or Penny?’

Dora hesitated, then, after looking into the loving eyes of her new carer, she said, ‘Mummy, please …’

Now the tears were running down Mrs Phillips’ cheeks and she bent down to swoop the child into her arms and kiss her. ‘Mummy has a lovely bedroom for you, Dora, darling. There are dollies and a teddy bear waiting for you – would you like to see them?’

‘What’s a teddy bear?’ Dora asked, a look of surprise in her eyes. ‘Is it nice?’

‘Very nice; you can cuddle him,’ Mrs Phillips told her. ‘Shall we go upstairs and see?’ Her eyes met those of Lady Rosalie, who nodded and Helen Phillips departed carrying the child she had waited so long for.

‘I can’t thank you enough,’ Mr Phillips said after his wife had gone. ‘I tried to tell her to accept a small child long ago when we knew we should never have our own – but you persuaded her and it has already made so much difference to our lives. Helen looks happy again …’ His voice broke with emotion. ‘If there is anything I can do to help you, ever …’

‘I may ask you to take another little girl or boy one day,’ Lady Rosalie said with a smile. ‘I can already see you are going to be good for Dora and people like you are not easy to find. I’m very glad your wife decided to take a little girl rather than a baby. It is the slightly older children we really need homes for.’

‘Give us a few months to get the hang of it,’ he said, ‘and then we will be pleased to give Dora a playmate.’

‘I hoped you would say that!’ Lady Rosalie offered him her hand to shake.

‘There won’t be anything we can’t handle,’ he took it firmly. ‘My wife has a lot of love to give a child and I would to anything to make her happy – besides, I’ve always wanted a family myself.’

‘I shall leave you to get to know each other,’ Lady Rosalie said and took her leave. ‘I just wish I could find another hundred couples like you and Mrs Phillips.’

She nodded to herself as she left the neat little home in the suburbs. She would visit the infirmary on her way back and tell Mary about Dora’s new foster parents.

Sarah saw the large car pull up outside the infirmary as she left. She watched the well-dressed woman get out and go inside, pausing for a moment before crossing the busy road. Lady Rosalie was a frequent and well-liked visitor at the Rosie.

On her way down Button Street, Sarah lingered in front of the dress shop and stared at the tartan skirt and the soft wool twinset displayed with it. She could do with a new skirt and she loved that fine knit with fully-fashioned sleeves. They fitted so well and that shade of green would suit her down to the ground. A sigh escaped her, because even though both the skirt and the twinset were reasonably priced at thirty-five shillings, she couldn’t afford to pay three pounds and ten shillings for a skirt and twinset. All her spare money went into the fund that would contribute to their new home.

Walking past the tempting window determinedly, Sarah turned into Shilling Street, thinking about the children that the police had brought in a few nights earlier. She’d asked Matron what would become of them and she had looked serious.

‘We are told that the mother is very ill,’ Matron had said looking sad. ‘It is a pity that she wasn’t brought to us – at least we could have arranged for her to spend some time with her children. If she dies, they will probably have to be placed in an orphanage. I have spoken to Lady Rosalie about it and she is making inquiries. A temporary foster home would be best, since they are neither of them ill. We are not equipped to care for children who are healthy and being idle will lead them into mischief.’

‘Yes, I suppose there is nothing else for them – if their mother dies …’ Sarah’s heart wrenched with pity as she pictured the children’s reaction to such an eventuality.

‘It might be that the Children’s Welfare department feels the mother is not fit to have the care of them, even if she recovers,’ Matron said thoughtfully. ‘I do not approve of taking children from their mothers unless really necessary – but if she is exposing them to a pimp who is likely to beat them …?’ Her shoulders moved in resignation, for such a situation could not be allowed to continue.

‘Yes, I understand,’ Sarah said. ‘I wondered if they had any other relatives other than their mother.’

‘The police knew of none but it might be an idea to ask the boy. He seems intelligent – though a little inclined to aggression and disobedience.’

‘Oh, what has he done?’ Sarah was surprised.

‘He is restless and impatient and he flicked pieces of bread at one of the other boys in the ward. I was forced to smack his leg hard.’

‘Oh dear,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s a shame he had to be punished. I know he thinks he is old enough to work – and if he has nothing to do, he will be bored.’

‘Yes, I am aware of that and it is the reason we must get him settled – either with a foster parent or an orphanage.’

‘He wouldn’t be happy parted from Maisie and I know she is frightened of being put in a home.’

‘I dare say, but we cannot keep them here forever.’

‘Just a little longer?’ Sarah pleaded.

Matron frowned. ‘We’ll see, nurse; I must get on and you have your duties.’

‘Yes, Matron,’ Sarah said and left to get on with her own work, feeling upset. She wondered if Lady Rosalie’s visit to the infirmary had anything to do with the two children and hoped she wasn’t about to send them away to an orphanage.

However, when Sarah called in to see them that evening in the children’s ward, taking a bag of sherbet lemons and some comic books, she found that Charlie was full of what he wanted to be when he could take up an apprenticeship.

‘I’m going to be a carpenter when I leave school next year, nurse,’ he confided. ‘I like throwing pots – that’s what they call it when you make a wheel turn and shape the clay with your hands like this and I learned at school …’ He mimed how he’d shaped his pot. ‘That was fun, but the best was turning a bit of wood on a lathe and carving too. I’ve made up me mind.’

‘Then, perhaps you will,’ Sarah said and smiled at him. ‘Maisie is a little better now – and perhaps your mother will be able to come home soon.’

‘Is she any better, nurse?’ Charlie asked eagerly.

‘I telephoned and they said no change but she was as well as could be expected – so I think that means you just have to be patient,’ Sarah said and saw the disappointment in his eyes. ‘It’s all we can do – wait and see what happens …’

CHAPTER 5

‘We ought ter be at ’ome,’ Charlie said to his sister as they wandered disconsolately about the small garden at the rear of the infirmary. It had a high wall and cherry trees, which were beginning to bud. Matron had sent them out to get some fresh air, but the wind was cool and Charlie was bored. ‘I want somethin’ ter do ’cos I ain’t in school.’

‘That nice nurse what looked after us when we come in brought us some books and that jigsaw puzzle,’ Maisie said. She looked up to her brother, who was four years her senior and the person she cared for most in the world, even more than Ma because Ma wasn’t the same any more and she frightened Maisie. ‘I like doin’ puzzles and the pictures are nice in the books, though the words are hard.’

‘You should ask that nurse who plays with the kids to ’elp wiv yer reading,’ Charlie said. ‘I ain’t got the patience, Maisie. Besides, I should be at work. If I ’ad a proper job I could look after us when Ma ain’t right. I have ter find somewhere we can live and someone ter give me a real job instead of just runnin’ errands.’

‘It’s that horrible bloke,’ Maisie said and two big tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. ‘Why did yer say we had to pretend we didn’t know ’is name? Everybody knows Ronnie the Greek.’

Most folk who lived in the narrow lanes that bordered the docks knew of Ronnie and his associates. Apart from running a few girls, Ronnie was the hard man for Mr Penfold and, though no one dared to whisper it, Mr Penfold was the man behind much of the violent crime that went on in Docklands. His was the shadow that lay over public houses, small cafés, shops and warehouses that struggled to survive and pay protection money to the gangs that ruled this part of the East End of London; they were an underlife, seen but unreported, ruling by fear and acts of terrible violence against those that rebelled. It was hard enough to earn a living these days and the gangs took much of what honest folk struggled to earn.

‘’Cos, we have ter be careful for Ma’s sake,’ Charlie told her. He knew Ronnie the Greek would squash Ma and them without blinking. The last time the bully had beaten him Charlie had bitten Ronnie’s hand so hard that he’d drawn blood and the bully had yelled and knocked him almost senseless. Charlie knew that the man he hated would as soon break his neck as look at him. He was willing to take his chances, but Charlie loved his little sister and Ma was Ma, whatever she did. Charlie might not approve of the way she went with men for money, but he knew that after his father’s ship was lost at sea, Ma had had it hard. She’d tried honest work but the boss wouldn’t leave her be and she’d been forced more than once before she decided that, if she was going to be a whore, she would be paid for it.

‘I hate ’im,’ Maisie said tearfully and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. ‘I’m cold. I want ter go back inside.’

‘You go,’ Charlie told her. ‘You don’t want ter catch a chill, Maisie. I’m goin’ down the docks ter see if I can find some odd jobs.’

‘You can’t!’ Maisie cried, scared now and looking about her. ‘They won’t let you go and the wall is too high to climb.’

‘I’ll climb that tree …’ Charlie pointed to the cherry tree. ‘I can get up that and over the wall. I’ll be back for tea.’

‘Don’t go – you’ll get in trouble!’

‘If they ask where I am, say I went to the lavvy,’ Charlie said and grinned at her. ‘Don’t worry, Maisie, love, I’ll be back afore they miss me – and if I earn a bob, I’ll bring yer back a penny dip.’

Maisie was silenced. Penny dips, sherbet with either a lollipop or a bit of liquorice to dip in the packet, were her favourite. She watched as Charlie climbed the old tree, balanced on the wall, and then disappeared from view.

Feeling nervous, Maisie returned to the ward and sat on the bed she’d been given. Charlie was so brave. She’d never dare to do the things he did, but he was her big brother and she admired him for his courage. She knew Ma wanted them to go to school but neither of them attended more than they were forced; Charlie because he felt he was old enough to work, and Maisie because she got picked on by some of the other girls if her big brother wasn’t around to protect her.

‘Hello,’ Nurse Anne said, smiling at her. ‘I was just coming to find you. Would you like a cup of hot cocoa?’

‘Yes, please,’ Maisie said. She had taken to the young probationer. Charlie said she wasn’t a nurse yet, just training to be, but she had a lovely smile and she was kind. Nurse Anne didn’t ask where Charlie was and Maisie didn’t tell have to tell her lies, which was good.

She settled down on the bed and looked at the jigsaw puzzle that was set out on an old wooden tray. There were so many pieces and without Charlie’s quick eyes, Maisie knew she might not find any of the pieces that fitted. Charlie helped her do most things, but he didn’t like reading. Maisie wanted to read better than she could and she decided that she would ask the young nurse to help her as Charlie had suggested.

Sighing, she wished that she was as brave as her brother, because she would have liked to be with him, roaming the streets and looking for work. Work was scarce, even for the men who waited in line on the docks or stood on street corners, but sometimes folk would give a willing boy a small job like cleaning windows or delivering something. Maisie suspected that sometimes Charlie took bets to shops and that what he did wasn’t legal, but she never questioned his decisions. Whenever Charlie had a few pennies in his pocket, he spent most of them on her and she wished that the two of them could live somewhere together – somewhere that Ma’s men didn’t get a chance to hit them or leer at Maisie in a way that made her fear, though she did not know what she feared.

‘Nurse Anne is helpin’ me wiv my reading,’ Maisie told Sarah with a little giggle later that evening. She helped herself to one of the precious sherbet lemons the nurse had given them the previous night. ‘How did you know these were my favourites?’

‘I told ’er, you like anythin’ wiv sherbet,’ Charlie said and ruffled her fair curls.

When Maisie was clean, her hair freshly washed, face shining and blue eyes bright with pleasure, she looked like a little angel. Sarah found herself wishing she was in a position to offer these two a home. She wasn’t sure why they pulled at her heartstrings, because many children came to the ward.

Sarah smiled at them. ‘Charlie – do you have any other relatives besides your mother?’

‘Why?’ he asked suspiciously. ‘Ma ain’t dead, is she?’

‘No, but she is very ill and you might be placed in an orphanage because we can’t keep children who are not sick here for long and Maisie is getting better – but if you had an aunt or uncle, they might look after you until your mother is well again.’

Charlie nodded, taking it in. ‘There’s Auntie Jeanie,’ he said slowly. ‘She lives in the country somewhere. Ma said she’s a teacher and her name is the same as ours, ’cos the man she loved was killed in the Great War and she wouldn’t ’ave no one else.’

‘So, she is Miss Jeanie Howes?’ Sarah nodded. ‘And she lives in the country and is a teacher. Well, that is quite a lot, Charlie. Thank you. I’ll tell Matron and perhaps the police might be able to find your aunt.’

‘I want ter be with Ma!’ Maisie whined, on the verge of tears.

Sarah resisted the temptation to pick her up and cuddle her, knowing it was frowned on to make the children dependent on one particular nurse. ‘Yes, of course you do – but you’d rather be with your auntie than in an orphanage, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yeah,’ Charlie said. ‘Aunt Jeanie ain’t bad. Maisie wouldn’t remember – but she came to visit Dad once and she brought me a toy yacht and some sweets.’

Sarah smiled. Charlie was using his brains, working out that they would have more chance of a good life with an aunt than in a home for orphans. Maisie would come round when she saw that her brother was happy with the idea – and unless the aunt was found they might find themselves being taken into care even if their mother lived. Now that it had come to light that she was living with a man who ill-treated her, it was unlikely that she would be allowed to keep the children unless she gave him up …

‘Well, I’ll see what I can do,’ Sarah promised. ‘I’ll come and see you another evening when I’m on duty.’

‘I don’t want to go in no orphanage,’ Maisie moaned when they were alone. ‘And I don’t want ter live wiv Aunt Jeanie. I want ter be wiv Ma.’

‘So do I,’ Charlie said and put an arm about her shoulders protectively. ‘But Aunt Jeanie ain’t bad, Maisie – ’sides, if we don’t like livin’ wiv ’er we’ll run away soon as we’re ready. I’ll soon learn ter be a carpenter and then I can work and keep us both. I give yer me promise, Maisie – I’ll look after yer.’

Maisie’s tears dried as if by magic. Her brother was brave and he could do anything. She wanted her ma bad and when she lay in bed at night the tears came, because she missed her so much. It wasn’t Ma’s fault that she was in the hospital and they’d been brought here, it was that horrible man. Maisie wished she could stick Ma’s long hat pins in to his body and make him cry with pain the way he’d done with Ma – and all because she wouldn’t do what he told her. Maisie didn’t know what the man wanted Ma to do, but Charlie said it was bad and he said that man deserved to be punished. Maisie wished he would die.

‘Here, ’ave another sherbet lemon,’ Charlie said, ‘and stop snuffling. Ma might get better and then she’ll come and fetch us.’

‘Not if that horrible bloke is wiv ’er,’ Maisie muttered. ‘He told Ma he didn’t want us around no more.’

‘And Ma refused what he said she’d got ter do,’ Charlie said. ‘He wanted her to stick us in the orphanage and that’s when she refused and he hit her again and again. I tried to stop him, Maisie, but he just knocked me down and by the time I could think straight, he’d gone and left Ma lyin’ there. I reckon he thought she were dead.’

‘She must be very ill,’ Maisie said, her eyes shadowed with fear. ‘What we goin’ ter do, Charlie? What will they do to us if Ma dies?’

‘If they say we’re goin’ in an orphanage we’ll run away and hide until they stop looking for us. I know lots of places down the docks where we can sleep – and I’ll find work. But if Auntie Jeanie comes, we’ll go wiv ’er until I can look after you.’

‘Could we really do that?’ Maisie asked. Charlie was so brave. He would dare anything and she felt safe when he was with her.

‘Don’t you worry, Maisie,’ Charlie told her. ‘I’ll look after yer. I told yer so.’

CHAPTER 6

‘I don’t know why it upsets me,’ Sarah said when Jim came round for his breakfast the next morning. ‘She’s such a sweet little thing, looks as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but her brother – he’s made of stronger stuff. I should hate to see them put in an orphanage or split up with different foster carers. You know what some of these people are like – they won’t take two children, and some don’t want boys, because girls are easier. Sometimes they send the girls to one home and the boys to another – they might even send them to Canada or Australia.’

‘You say their aunt lives in the country and her name is Jeanie Howes?’ Sarah nodded and Jim looked thoughtful. ‘Right, I’ll ask in the pub. She may live in the country now, but if the children’s father was a local man then someone will remember the family and they may know where the sister lives. If we can discover the location then the police can probably find them.’

‘You’re a lovely man, Jim Rouse,’ Sarah said. ‘I think I might marry you.’

Jim put his arms around her and hugged her close. She felt a shiver of passion run through him as he kissed her hard on the mouth and knew that he wanted so much more than the touching and kissing they allowed themselves.

‘Now then, no more of that,’ Sarah’s mother said, coming in from the backyard where she had taken some potato peelings to the hens in the run Jim had made for them. They only had three hens but they were good layers and produced several fresh eggs each week. Most of their neighbours looked with envy at the hens but few had gone to the trouble of building a pen and buying their own. Mrs Cartwright didn’t understand why, when times were so hard; the hens ate any leftovers and had cost almost nothing. She’d bought a box of day-old chicks in the market and reared eight of the ten successfully – four had been killed for the pot as pullets but the three hens and one cockerel had survived until this day.

‘I was just telling Jim about those children,’ Sarah said, her cheeks warm, because she knew her mother’s eyes saw all.

‘Proper daft she is about them pair,’ Mrs Cartwright said and shook her head. ‘For two pins I think she’d bring them home to me.’

‘Oh, Mum!’ Sarah laughed and shook her head. ‘I know that’s out of the question. We couldn’t afford to feed and clothe them – and the Welfare would never let us have them anyway.’

‘Time is when I might have thought of offering them a temporary home,’ Mrs Cartwright said. ‘When your father was working full-time, Sarah, he would have taken on any waif or stray that came his way.’

Sarah nodded. As a child, she’d known her father to bring home children who needed a good meal and a bath. Her mother had fed them, cut down some of her husband’s old clothes to fit the lads and taken her own or Sarah’s for the girls. When the children’s parents were over whatever illness or setback they’d endured, they would go home brighter, healthier and usually cheeky. Sarah believed it was her father’s charity that had made her want to be a nurse and take care of those in need.

‘I know …’ Sarah smiled and touched her mother’s hand in sympathy.

‘I’ve not spoken,’ Mrs Cartwright said suddenly, ‘but your father agrees and I will make the offer and then it’s for you two to decide – if Jim’s job doesn’t materialize and you want to marry, you can come here until you’ve saved enough.’

Sarah saw the denial in Jim’s eyes. He wanted a house of their own – and his fear was that if they settled for living in a rented house that wasn’t even their own the children would come and their plans would be forgotten. It was his worst nightmare and she knew she had to refuse, even though it might hurt the mother she loved.

‘I love you for thinking of us, Mum,’ she said and put her arms about her mother, kissing and hugging her. ‘But you know our dream – we want to have our own home right from the start.’

‘Well, the offer is there, so don’t use the lack of somewhere to live as an excuse if you forget yourselves. Your father always holds his head high and so do I, Sarah, so make sure you don’t let us down.’

It was the severest warning her mother had ever given and Sarah knew it was her own fault. Jim couldn’t always control his passion, though they hadn’t yet gone all the way, even when they sneaked into his lodgings while his landlady was at the Mission Hall, but sometimes Sarah wondered how much longer they could wait. Was having a home they could call their own really so important? If they moved in with Sarah’s mother, they could still save but enjoy themselves a little more – and it would save them both being frustrated when the kisses just weren’t enough for either of them.

Uncannily, as though he read her thoughts, Jim said, ‘Tell you what, Sarah love, you’re not on duty for three nights now – I’ll take you to the flicks. Reg will stand in for me at the pub and we’ll have a special night out. We haven’t been anywhere much since your birthday.’

Sarah felt pleased. There were films showing at the Gaumont and the Odeon that she would like to see. She would choose one that Jim would like too and make it special for them both. She would miss seeing the children that evening but the other nurses would look out for them.

Charlie looked for Sarah that evening, feeling disappointed when he saw Nurse Jenny Brown take the day nurse’s place. She smiled at him as she made her round of the ward, visiting the sick children first and then coming to sit on his bed.

‘How are you this evening, Charlie?’

‘I’m all right,’ he said. ‘Where’s Nurse Sarah? She was goin’ to find out about me aunt.’

‘Sarah has three nights off now,’ Nurse Jenny said and plumped his pillows for him. ‘It will take a little time for anyone to trace your aunt, Charlie, but I know Nurse Sarah will do all she can.’

Charlie nodded, and then because he didn’t want the nurse to think he didn’t like her, he grinned cheekily. ‘Nurse Sarah is courtin’ – are you courtin’, nurse?’

‘Cheeky monkey!’ Nurse Jenny said and laughed, because she liked him and didn’t really mind him asking. ‘No, I haven’t got anyone special, worse luck.’ She sighed, because her hopes that the stranger would return to her bus stop had not materialized. ‘Sarah is pretty and lovely-natured. Her boyfriend goes round there all the time. She is lucky to have him.’

‘You’re not bad yerself,’ Charlie said and grinned. ‘You should ’ave yer ’air cut and mebbe one of them perms. Ma had a perm, curls all over. She looked grand but when she had it peroxided, the ends broke off and she said she wouldn’t have no more perms.’

‘Well, I shan’t do that then,’ Jenny said. ‘My hair waves a bit when I let it down. Perhaps if I had it cut it would curl at the ends.’ She smiled and ruffled his hair. ‘Why don’t you read a comic until lights out? I’ll bring you a mug of cocoa soon. Do you think Maisie would like one?’

Charlie looked at his sleeping sister and his mouth curved. ‘She sleeps sound as a bell once she’s away.’ He grinned at the nurse. ‘To look at her you’d think she’d never said boo to a goose, wouldn’t yer?’

‘Yes, you would,’ Jenny agreed. ‘I’ll bring you some cocoa later.’

Charlie watched her walk away, checking beds and attending to children who were too sick to sleep. He knew that he and Maisie were lucky compared with many of those brought in here. Ma had done her best by them after his father died and it wasn’t her fault she’d got in with a wrong ’un. Charlie thought vengefully of what he’d like to do to the man who had hurt his mother. He wasn’t big or strong enough yet to thrash him, though that hadn’t stopped him from attacking Ronnie the Greek. He’d gone in with fists and feet but he ought to have used a knife, except the coppers would put him in prison if he killed the bully and then there would be no one to look out for Maisie and Ma. Charlie couldn’t help wishing that someone would do it, though. The man was evil and one day someone would do for him!

Charlie went to sleep with his head full of what he’d like to do to the man who had hurt his mum and made them flee their home. Little did he know as he finally lay peacefully asleep, something even worse was about to break his heart and wrench his life apart …

CHAPTER 7

Ruby Harding stared at her husband with something that was in that moment close to hatred. He’d come home from work late, drunk and swearing because there was no hot supper waiting on the table.

‘Where’s my grub, woman?’ Sid demanded recklessly. He was too drunk to know what he was saying or doing. ‘Is it too much to expect me supper when I get in from a hard day’s work?’

‘Hard day’s work?’ Ruby mocked furiously, arms akimbo as she faced him. ‘Don’t make me laugh, Sid Harding – you ain’t done a day’s work in years, let alone raised a sweat. I’ve done two shifts at the infirmary today – scrubbing floors, washing windows and walls – I know what hard work is. You’ve stood on the docks wiv yer hands in yer pockets—’

Ruby’s tirade was cut short as he struck out with his fist, catching her a glancing blow on the shoulder as she jerked back to avoid it. Ruby was capable of giving as good as she got but Julia entered the kitchen and ran at her father as he swung his arm back, preparing to hit his long-suffering wife again, and his elbow took her right in the face, making her cry out in pain. The young girl recoiled in dismay as her father whirled on her, his drunken rage robbing him of sensible thought.

‘Serves yer right,’ he said and raised his arm as if he would hit her on purpose this time, but Ruby’s rolling pin hit his arm and made him howl with pain. He stumbled and half fell on to the old sofa, looking dazed and bewildered.

‘What was that for?’ he asked. Ruby knew he would never do such a thing sober, because he doted on the girl, but his mood had been black and he’d lost his temper.

‘You hurt Julia,’ Ruby told him sharply. ‘And it’s the last time you enter this house drunk, Sid Harding. On yer feet! I want yer out right now and yer don’t come back until you can show me a wage packet and give me a reason to take yer back.’

Sid’s rage had receded and he was now just bemused and weary. All he wanted was to lie down and sleep off the bellyful of beer he’d consumed after another day of humiliation on the docks as he was passed over again and again, all the decent jobs given to others and him forced to take the work others wouldn’t do. He’d unloaded slurry from the cesspits and cleaned down the lorry before hosing himself with cold water to rid his nostrils of the foul stink. He was sick of being a failure, sick of never having enough money, and he’d drunk away the few pence he’d earned because of his shame. Once, he’d been a qualified bricklayer and then the war came and his injury had made it difficult for him to keep up with the others. When the pain got too bad in his leg the gaffer laid him off and he’d taken to waiting in line down the docks.

Ruby was pulling at him, forcing him to his feet, and he felt her shoving him towards the kitchen door, which his daughter opened for her. Sid was not a small man and had he used his strength he might have resisted, but the belligerence had gone, replaced by shame, and he allowed her to push him out into the backyard without fighting back. After all, it was what he deserved.

Tears trickled down his face as he lurched off into the lane behind the house. He wasn’t fit to lick Ruby’s boots. Sid knew how hard she worked to keep the house going, feed and clothe them, and it was all his fault because he couldn’t get a decent job and keep his family the way a man should.

Sid’s cheeks were wet as he wended his way down towards the docks, past the now darkened windows of the pub where he too often spent his money, and on towards the dark shadows of the cranes, warehouses and barges that clustered on the river, waiting for morning. It was not a cold night but the air was sobering Sid, bringing him to a stinging awareness that he’d let his family down. He’d tried to hit his Ruby and he’d accidentally hit Julia in the face, hurting her – he vaguely recalled raising his hand to hit her again and the remorse was like a knife stabbing his heart. He would die before he hurt his beautiful little girl and he’d done it without meaning to. Julia was the only thing left in this world worth trying for and without her he might as well end it in the river.

His morbid thoughts were suspended by the sound of an unearthly scream. Sid froze as he heard someone sobbing in pain and then his instinct to help took him towards the sound, but he stopped suddenly as he saw three dark figures outlined by the faint illumination from an old-fashioned streetlight. It was some distance away, the only one to survive the kids who wrecked everything they came across when rampaging. Someone ought to give the lads a good hiding but no one seemed interested and the cops hardly ever ventured this far into what was accepted as a really rough area,

As Sid hesitated, unsure of what to do, he heard a man begging for his life and then another scream as a knife was plunged into his stomach. The killer stabbed three times and then his companion laughed.

‘That will make a few of them pay up, boss,’ he said and Sid recognized the voice of Ronnie the Greek. He was well-known in these streets and could be seen regularly each week on his rounds collecting the protection money he extorted from small businesses in the docklands.

‘I shouldn’t have to do it,’ another voice said coldly and Sid knew that too. It was Mr Penfold. He owned much of the property in the better streets and several clubs, betting shops and brothels, too, though Sid knew it would be impossible for the police to prove it. ‘It’s your job to keep them in line – see it doesn’t happen again or I might decide that you’re not up to your job.’

Sid shrank back into the shadows as the two men passed him. If Mr Penfold knew that he’d seen him kill, he would end up with his throat cut. A witness to his crime would never be allowed to live, unless he was already on the payroll and under the boss’s thumb.

Sid stood without daring to move for a long time. He was terrified that the two thugs would come back and kill him and he knew that their victim was dead. He could do nothing to help the poor man, whoever it was. If he hadn’t got drunk, he might have been at home, eating supper and listening to Henry Hall on the wireless. If only he hadn’t seen it! But he wasn’t going to tell anyone. He couldn’t, because he knew how ruthless those men were. If Sid went to the police with what he knew, it would not be just him who paid the price. His wife and child would also suffer. Sid had to keep his mouth shut and carry on as if nothing had happened.

He made up his mind as he finally began to walk back home to find a corner in the shed in his backyard that from this moment he would make a new start in his personal life. Ruby had told him he had to take her a wage packet and give her a good reason before she let him back in and that’s what he would do. He was capable of doing many jobs if he put his mind to it, so in the morning, when Ruby was at work and Julia had gone to school, he would sneak in and have a wash and shave, and then he’d put on his Sunday suit and go looking for a decent job.

He couldn’t let his Ruby go scrubbing at the Rosie and not help her by bringing in his own wage. It would just serve him right if she threw him out for good. He’d make sure he found something that paid at least as much as she earned, and when he’d got money in his pocket he’d go home and beg her to take him back.

His Ruby worked hard down that place and he knew they appreciated her. Folk round here couldn’t manage without the Rosie and he couldn’t manage without his Ruby. He just hoped what he’d witnessed that night didn’t come back to haunt him … Hesitating for a moment, Sid moved silently to retrace his steps to where the knife lay. It might just come in handy to hide that somewhere only he knew about, just in case …

CHAPTER 8

Charlie was sitting by Maisie’s bed, looking at her anxiously when the nurse everyone called Matron walked in accompanied by another lady he’d never met. Maisie had been coughing harshly all morning and Matron bent over her, feeling her forehead.

‘How long has she been like this?’ Matron asked him.

‘Most of the morning, miss.’ He felt his stomach contract with fear. ‘Is she bad?’

‘Lady Rosalie wants to talk to you,’ Matron replied sternly. ‘I’ll make sure that your sister gets the attention she needs – it is obvious she isn’t going anywhere for a while.’ This last was directed at the lady Charlie didn’t know and his stomach twisted. She wasn’t a nurse and she had a posh look about her, something that warned Charlie he wasn’t going to like what she had to tell him.

In Matron’s office, Charlie stood like a frozen statue, wishing he was back with his sister and feeling fear prickle at the back of his neck.

‘It’s Charlie, isn’t it?’ the lady said and gave him what was meant to be a kind smile but instead filled him with terror. ‘I don’t want to upset you, Charlie – and we had intended to keep you together if we could – but a chance has come up that I feel we ought to take, although it means that you will be parted from Maisie for a time—’

‘No! I ain’t goin’ in no orphanage!’ Charlie protested, poised to run but tied to the spot because Maisie was still in the ward and sick. ‘I ain’t goin’ ter leave her – she’ll die without me!’

‘She might die if she went with you,’ Lady Rosalie said. ‘Maisie will be looked after here, Charlie. I give you my word. The couple who have promised to take you run a little baker’s shop only a short bus ride from here. I’m sure you can visit her often – and Mrs Robinson will make sure you go to school and are properly cared for. I know it isn’t ideal but it is the best we can do for now – at least you will still be in London and near enough to visit Maisie.’

‘Can I visit her as often as I want?’ Charlie forced the words out. He recognized authority when he heard it and it was in this woman’s voice. He might have wheedled round one of the nurses but this woman wouldn’t take no for an answer.

‘Yes, certainly. We’ll let you visit whenever you can – we will not force you to come at a certain time.’

‘I just don’t want to leave Maisie …’ Charlie said throatily. He was close to tears but boys didn’t cry just because they couldn’t get their own way; they fought back and Charlie’s jaw set determinedly. He had to do what this woman said, even though he hated her for taking him from Maisie, but he would find a way to get what Maisie and he both wanted, which was to be together and back with their mother. ‘What about me Ma?’

‘She is still very ill, Charlie,’ the lady said and she looked sad. ‘Perhaps Mrs Robinson will take you to see her if you ask her.’

Charlie nodded, seeing one small advantage in what he was being forced to accept. If he could see his mum, he could talk to her – and once she knew what was happening, she would soon get out of that hospital and come home to take care of Maisie and him.

‘I don’t want to go until Maisie is better,’ he said, stubborn to the last.

‘Maisie will need a lot of treatment and she may be here weeks, even months.’ The lady seemed hesitant but then sighed. ‘I don’t have a choice, Charlie. We can only keep sick children here. I will promise you that I’ll arrange for you to be together as soon as I can – will that content you?’

Charlie looked her in the face. He hated her for what she was doing but he thought she meant to do right and his shoulders sagged. He wasn’t old enough or able to look after his sister yet and for the moment had little choice but to do as he was told.

‘When do I have to leave?’ he asked reluctantly.

‘On Monday,’ she said and looked relieved. ‘Mr Robinson will come for you then – and so you have a few days with your sister.’

‘She might be better and able to come with me by then,’ Charlie said and felt more cheerful. He liked being at the Rosie because the nurses were kind, fed them well and didn’t bother him much; it was like being at home with Mum without the chores he’d always done, a holiday. Still, it might be all right living at a baker’s shop, because there was a chance of cake.

‘That is doubtful,’ Lady Rosalie said. ‘I believe your sister will prove to have an illness of the lungs, Charlie, and that means weeks and weeks of treatment, I’m afraid.’

Charlie nodded. It was hard to accept that he had to go to live with people he didn’t know and leave Maisie here. She would be upset and he felt guilty, as if he were breaking his promise to her – but he was only thirteen and these people ruled their lives. The alternative was to run now and, in his heart, Charlie knew his sister could not live on the streets as she was now; her illness would get worse and she might be in danger.

Hiding his tears and his anger, Charlie nodded. ‘You promise I’ve got until Monday?’

‘Yes, Charlie, I promise you,’ the lady said and then in a tone that sounded false to him, ‘I’m sure you’ll be very happy with Mr and Mrs Robinson …’

‘Yes, miss,’ he said obediently, though he didn’t believe it. Charlie didn’t want to go to these people and if he didn’t like them, he would leave as soon as he got the chance. Maisie might not be able to survive on the streets but he could – and he would find work he could do, search for somewhere for his sister and him to live if Ma didn’t come home soon …

Maisie was a little better on Sunday afternoon. For a couple of days, she’d been so ill that Charlie had feared she might die; the nurses were always coming to her and they took her somewhere for treatment that she came back from looking like a lifeless doll, but on Sunday, she looked better.

‘I’m goin’ ter stop wiv someone fer a while,’ he told her, throwing it into a conversation about her puzzle as if he were just asking what she wanted for tea. ‘It’s a baker’s shop and I reckon I’ll do all right there, Maisie – probably deliver cakes or bread or somethin’ when I’m not at school.’

‘You’ll sleep here with me?’ Maisie looked alarmed as he shook his head and tears welled in her eyes. ‘No, you can’t leave me, Charlie. I’ll be frightened ’ere on me own.’

‘’Course yer won’t, Maisie,’ he said and grinned at her, though inside he was hurting because she was hurt. ‘The nurses are ’ere all the time and they’re nice; they’ll look after yer.’

‘You promised yer would never leave me,’ she whimpered, tears on her cheeks. ‘It ain’t fair – you promised me faithful!’

He had and it wasn’t fair and Charlie wanted to hug her and defy those in authority who were making him break his promise.

‘It’s just until you’re better, Maisie,’ he told her. ‘I’ll visit as much as I can and I’ll come back for yer – and I shan’t break my promise. I’ll always look after yer, love. I’m goin’ ter tell Ma what they’ve done and she’ll come home and look after us.’

‘I want Mum,’ Maisie said tearfully.

Charlie wanted his mum too, wanted her so badly that he felt like howling. He considered making a fuss when they came to fetch him but realized it wouldn’t help him. He would still be made to go and they would watch him more closely. Brought up on the streets of the East End, Charlie knew enough to think before he committed to anything. He was old before his time, because he’d had to be – Mum would never have managed if he hadn’t brought home wood and coal he’d scavenged for the fire and popped a few pennies in her housekeeping pot when she wasn’t watching. She’d never known that he did odd jobs for anyone who would take him on and she hadn’t asked where the extra came from.

Charlie had washed windows and carted stuff since he was seven. The cart his dad had made him was still in the shed at home and he’d fetch it the moment he could. There was sure to be someone on the docks that would give him work – he looked the fourteen which was what he told anyone who asked and most didn’t.

‘I’ll be bringing yer sweets,’ he told Maisie. ‘It will be like now but I shan’t be in the next bed.’ He reached for her hand but she pulled it away, her face sullen. ‘It ain’t my fault, Maisie – that woman arranged it. I don’t ’ave a choice!’

Maisie sniffed and looked at him as if searching for the truth.

‘I give yer me word on Dad’s memory,’ he said and she sniffed harder.

‘I ’ate ’er,’ she said, still miserable but no longer looking at him through the eyes of betrayal. ‘She’s rotten, Charlie.’

‘No, Maisie, I suppose she’s right,’ he acknowledged with a sigh. ‘I ain’t sick and this is an ’ospital. I ain’t allowed to stop here no more – but I shall never abandon you and she promised we’ll be together again as soon as Ma is better.’

Maisie nodded. She didn’t like it but now she was looking with concern at her brother. ‘Do yer think they’ll be all right wiv yer, Charlie?’

‘If they ain’t I shan’t stay there,’ he said. ‘I’ve got plans up ’ere.’ He touched the side of his head. ‘No matter what they say or do I’ll be back fer yer, Maisie, and as soon as yer better I’ll have yer out of ’ere – and on me life, I shan’t break that promise …’

Charlie was summoned to Matron’s office after breakfast. He hugged his sister, told her to be good and went reluctantly. He’d had to be brave for Maisie’s sake and he wouldn’t let anyone see how scared he was but, just as he was wise to the way of the streets, he knew that everyone wasn’t kind or to be trusted, even on Button Street, and he was wary of what would happen to him in his new foster home – that was what the lady had called it.

The man standing in Matron’s office was of medium height; he didn’t look like the kind of men Ma had sometimes brought home and Charlie’s stomach settled a bit. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad …

‘Charlie,’ Matron said and something in her voice made him look at her sharply, ‘this is Mr Robinson. Mrs Robinson is busy in the shop so your new foster father has come to fetch you – say hello to him.’

Charlie’s skin prickled. Matron didn’t like Mr Robinson. She wouldn’t say so, but he knew it instinctively. Something had made her doubtful and that warned Charlie to be careful.

‘Thank you, sir,’ he said and held out his hand politely. Mr Robinson nodded, made a sound in his throat and ignored Charlie’s hand.

‘We need to be goin’,’ he said gruffly. ‘Thank you, Miss Thurston. My wife will take good care of the boy, treat him like a son.’

‘So I should hope,’ Matron said and she seemed hesitant as she turned to Charlie. ‘Remember you’re always welcome here, child. We’ll look after Maisie for you and you can visit when you like.’ She saw the small paper bag he was carrying. ‘Do you have all your things?’

‘Yes, thank you, Matron,’ he said in a small voice. His courage was at a low ebb and he almost flung himself at her and begged her to let him stay but knew he couldn’t let this man see how vulnerable he was inside. He had to be strong for Maisie and his mother; they would need him in future and this was just temporary. The thought restored his confidence and he turned to the man waiting. ‘I’m ready, sir.’

‘You’d better be,’ Mr Robinson said in a voice Charlie knew Matron wasn’t meant to hear. ‘Come along, boy, I have work to do.’

Charlie forced his feet to move, even though they felt like lead. He was screaming inside, begging someone to stop them and say he need not go, but he knew it wouldn’t happen. He was going to live in this man’s house and his senses told him it wouldn’t be what had been promised him; this man might speak politely to Matron but there was cruelty in him and Charlie knew it – had seen it before in the man that had terrorized his mother. He was being delivered to the enemy and there was nothing he could do.

CHAPTER 9

Jenny saw the headlines as she called in to get a paper at the corner shop that morning. A few nights previously a man had been murdered on the docks, knifed in the stomach. The police seemed to think it was a gangland killing, so she read the article as she waited for her bus to come.

‘Makes you wonder what things are coming to, doesn’t it?’ a man’s voice said close to her. Jenny tingled as she turned to face him. ‘Those thugs want hanging.’

Jenny stared. He looked even more attractive today, and the fact that he’d come back this way when she’d thought he never would, robbed her of the power to think properly.

‘It is awful that things like this go on round here. My sister Lily always tells me never to come home late at night alone – but I work nights and it’s usually early morning when I finish.’

‘Yes, I know,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen you catching your bus a few mornings.’ He extended his gloved hand. He was wearing black gloves and a light-coloured coat over narrow trousers and black leather shoes. ‘My name is Chris Moore – short for Christophe, my mother’s choice – she is German. May I ask yours?’

‘I’m Jenny Brown,’ she said, blushing a little as he smiled at her. ‘I’m a nurse at the Lady Rosalie infirmary and I’ve been on night duty.’

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Jenny,’ he said and his hand felt cool as it closed about hers. ‘I wonder if you would permit me to take you for coffee one day – or we could meet for afternoon tea, perhaps. I have a car, just a small Morris. I could take you home or fetch you …’

He looked so eager at that moment that Jenny’s caution was lost and she smiled. ‘Do you know, I should love to go for tea with you. We could meet before I go to work at six – if you don’t mind me wearing my uniform?’

‘I think you look beautiful in your uniform,’ he said, his eyes dwelling on her with approval. ‘Why don’t we meet later today? I could pick you up at home – or meet somewhere?’

‘I think we might meet this time …’ Jenny said and then blushed hotly as she realized that sounded as if she expected to meet often. ‘I mean … there is a nice little teashop around the corner. It is run by Lavender and Lace …’ She laughed as his eyebrows rose. ‘Two sisters who wear lavender and lace. They’re both widows from the last war with Germany and they run the teashop together.’

‘Ah, I see,’ he nodded. ‘I had thought to take you up the West End but it would be easier for your work here – we’ll save the high lights for when you have time off, shall we?’

Jenny gave an embarrassed little nod and then laughed. It was exciting – and she knew she shouldn’t let his words go to her head but couldn’t help herself. She’d thought about him so often, hoping he would return, and now he had and it was all turning out the way she’d dreamed. She felt like pinching herself to make sure she was awake.

Somehow it was no surprise to her that he got on the bus when it came and sat down next to her. He asked the conductor for a tuppeny fare for them both, as if he already knew where she was going. Jenny’s head was whirling; she felt flattered by his smile and the attention he was paying her.

‘Did you know that it is hoped that a new German car costing £61 will be produced? Hitler is the inspiration behind it. They were speaking about it on the wireless last night and saying we ought to have something similar here for the working man.’

‘I don’t have much time for listening to the wireless,’ she told him. ‘I read the papers for news because I can take them up to my room or skim them on the bus in the mornings.’

‘Then you will have seen that the government is blaming the ladies’ craze for slimming for the drop in potatoes sales.’ His eyes danced with mischief and she knew he was bent on catching her interest. ‘And Cambridge won the boat race in twenty-one minutes and six seconds, the slowest winning time since 1925 when the Oxford boat sank …’

‘I read more important things!’ Jenny glared at him.

‘When I was last in Germany, they had banned the British film Catherine the Great because its star and director are Jewish. Doesn’t seem fair to me …’ He frowned as if he disapproved of something but she wasn’t sure if it was of Jews or the banning of the film.

‘Do you often travel to Germany?’ Jenny asked.

‘I travel all over,’ he said, ‘but my mother still lives there so, yes, quite often.’

‘Have you been to America?’ She looked at him with interest.

‘Yes. I was there last year,’ he replied. ‘I travelled by sea – it only takes a few days now – but Pan American is developing planes that they believe will carry passengers non-stop from New York to Britain one day.’

‘That sounds exciting.’ She looked at him curiously. ‘Do you travel a lot?’

He nodded and looked thoughtful. ‘I travel for my work.’

Jenny wanted to ask more but he was not forthcoming and she didn’t want to seem curious. When they arrived at her bus stop, he stood up to let her out into the aisle.

‘I shall see you at Lavender and Lace this afternoon,’ he said and Jenny smiled.

‘Yes, please,’ she said and hurried down the bus to get off before the impatient conductor rang his bell again. She turned to wave to Chris from the pavement but he wasn’t looking, his head bent as he wrote something in a little black notebook. She felt disappointed that he hadn’t looked for her and then dismissed it as foolish.

Lily had the kettle on when she walked into the kitchen of the small terraced house. It had belonged to their father and been left to their mother and then equally to the two sisters. They shared all the expenses and the chores and Jenny would normally have been back too late to see her sister but Lily had the day off.

‘Where is Gran?’ Jenny asked, looking round.

‘In bed,’ Lily told her. ‘She had a bit of a chill and said she would go up rather than infect us both.’

‘I’ll pop up and see if she wants a cup of tea before I have mine.’

‘I’ve made you some toast and there’s a new pot of marmalade,’ Lily said. ‘If you’re tired, I could bring a tray up for you later?’

‘No, I’ll eat now,’ Jenny said. ‘I was tired when I came off duty but I’m not now.’ It was the excitement of talking to her new friend – but Jenny wouldn’t tell her sister that, because she knew Lily would not approve.

‘I’m off today so I’m going shopping when we’ve eaten,’ Lily said. ‘I need some new shoes and I’ll bring back some food – bread and ham and tomatoes – for tea before you go.’

‘That sounds lovely but I shan’t be here,’ Jenny said, feeling mean as she saw Lily’s face fall. ‘I have to get in early for a meeting …’

The lie came awkwardly and Lily sensed that it wasn’t the truth but Jenny seldom lied to anyone and so Lily accepted it despite her instincts. Jenny knew she ought to have told her sister the truth but she hadn’t wanted to be subjected to one of Lily’s lectures on the dangers of having anything to do with men. She wanted to dwell on the pleasures awaiting her later that day and savour the thought of what might come in the future.

‘I’ll pop up to Gran,’ she said, avoiding her sister’s eyes and feeling guilty as she went up to the elderly lady’s room. She peeped round the door, looking at her grandmother. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘Not yet. I’ll have some cocoa when you’ve had your tea,’ Gran said. ‘You look pretty, Jenny. Did you meet someone nice today?’

Jenny blushed and shook her head. ‘I’ll bring you a cup of cocoa up later …’

Gran saw right through her, but she wouldn’t tease Jenny and she wouldn’t tell Lily. Jenny smiled as she ran down the stairs again. She might tell Gran later that she’d met someone she liked …

Jenny wore her uniform but put her best coat on over it and a little red hat with a feather that she knew gave her a mischievous look. She would take her nursing cap with her and put it on at work – though if Sister Norton caught her in uniform without her cap, she would catch the sharp edge of her tongue.

Gran gave her an approving look. ‘He’ll think he’s meetin’ a film star,’ she said and grinned. ‘Get off, love, and have a good time.’

‘Will you be all right?’

‘Of course, I shall. It’s just a little chill.’

Jenny threw her a loving smile and left.

Chris was waiting outside the little teashop when she arrived. His face lit up and he came to meet her with outstretched hands, looking into her eyes and smiling.

‘You are beautiful,’ he said. ‘That colour suits you – but shouldn’t you be wearing your cap?’

‘I’ll put it on when I get to work,’ Jenny said. ‘This is a special treat for me and I wanted to look decent.’

‘You couldn’t look anything else,’ he told her. ‘Please, call me Chris and I’ll call you Jenny, if I may?’

‘Yes, please,’ she said. She looked up at him as he ushered her inside. ‘Have you been waiting long?’

‘I booked our table earlier but I only arrived a few minutes ago.’

Jenny saw that a table had been set for them with flowers and a fancy cake stand with delicious sandwiches, almond comfits and cream eclairs, and a rich fruit cake was brought out together with a large pot of fragrant tea and two cups. Jenny poured, asking if he took milk and sugar.

‘Milk, no sugar,’ he said and laughed softly. ‘My mother says I’m sweet enough.’

Jenny gave a little giggle. ‘I need two lumps in mine. I have a sweet tooth.’

‘Good – you will enjoy these, then.’ Chris took a small box of Fry’s chocolates from his coat pocket and passed them to her. ‘I wanted to bring you flowers but I thought you couldn’t take them to work …’

Jenny thanked him, her cheeks a little flushed. She had never been made such a fuss of before and felt a little overwhelmed. To cover her slight embarrassment, she asked, ‘Does your mother like living in Germany – wouldn’t she rather live here with you? Mine died when I was only twelve and I live with my sister Lily and Gran.’

He nodded, as if he already knew. ‘My mother lives in – or rather near – a forest in Germany, well away from Berlin. Her family were once rather posh but the money ran out years ago. I came to England for my education and lived with my uncle after my father died. He was English. I visit Mama several times a year; it seems to be enough for her.’

Jenny studied his face, noticing the little flicker at his temples as a nerve jumped. Speaking of his mother disturbed him. ‘I’m sorry. It was a personal question to ask.’

‘Not at all, you must ask what you want to know, Jenny,’ he said and she noticed a faint accent that she hadn’t particularly observed before, probably because he was disturbed. ‘My father’s family were wealthy and Mama married him because of the money, but his estate passed to me when I was twenty-one and I was not prepared to waste it all on her family’s old schloss that is almost falling down.’ He saw her puzzlement and nodded. ‘It’s a small castle or chateau.’

Jenny nodded, once more in awe. She’d known from the start that there was something different about him. He wasn’t from the East End and he’d been reared as a gentleman.

‘I’m sorry …’ she said because it seemed the right thing but he shook his head.

‘My father knew she never loved him. He thought marriage to someone of her class would take his family up the social scale to marry into the German aristocracy, but a minor title meant nothing and he was disappointed. He left her and came home to die when he knew he had a terminal illness.’

Jenny nodded, but was not sure what to say. Chris wasn’t asking for sympathy. ‘So, do you live here or in Germany?’

‘I have a nice country house in Hampshire and spend most of my time in England,’ he told her. ‘I travel when I have to and my father’s money enables me to choose what I do. I do not despise where it comes from – which is a factory in Northampton making boots and shoes.’

Chris was telling her all his family history or so it seemed to Jenny. She responded by telling him about her life and her sister and before she knew it, he reminded her that it was twenty minutes to six. Jenny stared at her watch and jumped up in panic.

‘I’m sorry, I have to go,’ she said. ‘It has been lovely – but Sister Norton will murder me if I’m late!’

‘Of course, you must go,’ he agreed and smiled. ‘Tomorrow I shall be away – but will you meet me again on Friday?’

‘Yes, please,’ Jenny said. ‘Thank you so much for my lovely tea and the chocolates. Where shall I see you on Friday?’

‘We shall make this our meeting place – until I can take you somewhere special. You must have time off?’

‘Yes, I have three days next week.’

‘Then next week we shall go somewhere special but on the days you work we shall come here.’

Jenny agreed, smiled, thanked him again and fled.

‘Evening, nurse,’ Bert Rush, the caretaker said as she passed him on her way to the cloakroom. ‘Look out for Sister tonight. She’s on the warpath!’ He winked at her as she hurried into the nurses’ rest room.

Jenny hung up her coat and hat and fixed her cap before walking as quickly as she dared to the children’s ward. Sister Norton was making her first round of the evening and looked pointedly at the silver watch she had pinned to her uniform, but since Jenny had made it on time by the skin of her teeth, she did no more than send her a warning look.

Jenny went up to her and was given a report on the admissions that day. A young boy had fallen from a wall he’d been climbing on and broken his wrist and was in a lot of pain.

‘Ned will need watching this evening, nurse,’ Sister Norton said, ‘but otherwise there is nothing out of the ordinary. Unless we have some new admissions brought in, it should be a quiet night.’

CHAPTER 10

Sarah was feeling weary when she got in from work that evening. Maisie had been miserable when she’d popped in to see her and needed reassurance, because Charlie hadn’t been.

‘He’s settling into his new home,’ she’d told the little girl, feeling a tug at her heartstrings as she saw her wan face. Sarah hoped he was all right and truthfully, she missed the sight of his cheerful grin.

She’d been kept late by Sister Norton on the ward, missed her bus and had to wait for the next to come along and she was cold and cross. Yet the moment she entered the warm kitchen and saw the terrible look on her mother’s face she knew something was badly wrong.

‘What is it, Mum?’ she asked and her heart started beating too fast, making her breathless. ‘Where’s Dad?’

‘He’s in the London Hospital,’ her mother said. ‘He had a heart attack in the night, Sarah. I ran down to the corner and phoned from the box. Dr Park had him rushed in immediately and I went with him. They told me to go home at about three this morning and I’ve been sitting here ever since …’

Sarah sat down heavily because it was such a shock. Her father suffered with a bad back and they’d all thought he was fine otherwise but this explained why he didn’t get on with things these days. He’d been suffering but he hadn’t told them, because he didn’t want to worry them … just as her mother hadn’t contacted the infirmary because Sarah was working and she didn’t want her upset.

‘He will get better,’ she began but her mother shook her head.

‘No, Sarah. I rang them a few moments ago – and they told me he passed away a few minutes after I left the hospital. They were going to send the police to let us know this morning.’

‘Mum – no!’ Sarah was stunned. ‘He can’t be dead just like that!’

‘They told me he must have been ill a long time. They seemed to think he knew but he never told us …’ Now, Mrs Cartwright had tears trickling down her cheeks. ‘Why didn’t he tell me? I used to tell him off for not fetching in the wood and stuff like that – if I’d known I wouldn’t have said a word …’

‘Oh, Mum,’ Sarah sobbed, feeling sick and stunned, ‘to think he kept it to himself all this time! Why?’

‘I wish I knew,’ her mother said and looked angry. ‘He should have told me, Sarah. I could have looked after him more, wouldn’t have let him go to work. He could have been here with me.’ She dashed away her tears. ‘I’ll never forgive him for doing this to me – never!’

‘Dad was just trying to protect us the way he always did,’ Sarah said. ‘Dad loved us too much to have us worrying about him …’

‘I know …’ Sarah’s mother bent her head and wept, her body wracked with deep, painful sobs. Sarah knelt and put her arms about her as they both cried out their loss. ‘But I loved him too and he didn’t know …’

‘Of course he did, Mum,’ Sarah said. ‘You moaned a bit but we all do. You were a good wife and he knew it.’

‘I can’t forgive myself for not knowing,’ Mrs Cartwright said, lifting her head to look at Sarah. ‘I should have taken more care of him and then he would still be with us.’

Sarah felt guilty too. She was a nurse and should have seen the signs. It was more her fault than her mother’s, but they would both feel this guilt because they’d lost the man they loved so much …

Sarah stood by her mother in church a week later and listened to the singing. These hymns had been her father’s favourite and when she’d been younger, he’d been a regular churchgoer, taking her every Sunday morning. When she’d left school and started work, he’d stopped going to church and Sarah wondered if that was a sign that he’d known he was very ill. Had he lost his faith because it was so unfair? He was only fifty and should have had another twenty years at least.

Sarah had thought she might find peace in the church but she hadn’t. As she and her mother placed a rose each in the grave, she found herself asking: why her father? What had he done to deserve this?

‘I’m really sorry, Sarah, love.’ Ruby Harding came up to her as they walked away from the churchyard. ‘Your dad was one of the good ones. If there’s anything I can do …?’

‘Thanks, but no one can do anything,’ Sarah said. ‘Mum will get a tiny pension he’d paid in for and they had some small savings so we’ll manage without her having to work – but that won’t make up for him not being around.’

‘Nothing makes up for that,’ Ruby said. ‘It’s strange the way the heart just gives out. My brother was working down the docks when he died. One minute they said he looked as right as rain and then he just dropped where he stood – and he was only twenty-three. It broke my mother and she died a few weeks later.’

‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,’ Sarah said and her gaze went to her mother, who was looking pale and anxious. ‘I’d better look after Mum …’

‘Yes, you do that,’ Ruby said, ‘but your ma is made of sterner stuff than mine. She will go on, Sarah, and so must you.’

Sarah turned as Jim touched her arm. ‘Are you ready to go, Sarah? Your mother is in need of a cup of tea and a sit down.’

‘Yes, I know,’ she said. ‘You’ll come back with us, won’t you?’

‘I can’t, love,’ he replied. ‘I’m on duty this lunchtime. I took an hour off but I have to get back.’

‘All right …’ Sarah allowed him to kiss her cheek and then hurried after her mother, slipping her arm about her waist. ‘We’ll soon be home, Mum.’

‘Yes.’ Mrs Cartwright looked at her. ‘I’ll be all right now, Sarah. You don’t need to worry about me.’

‘I love you, Mum,’ Sarah said. ‘You’re special …’ She smiled and held the door of the car they’d hired to take them home. ‘You’re my mum …’

Her mother smiled and for the first time in days it reached her eyes. Sarah’s throat caught. She’d told her mother how much she loved her but she would never stop wishing that she’d told her father the same thing more often, because perhaps then he would have shared his burden with her.

Shaking her head, Sarah made a determined effort to stop moping. Her father had loved them and if he’d kept his secret it was because he wanted it that way. She’d loved him and he’d loved her, but now she had to look forward to the future. Jim would pop round the next day and they would have a little time together before she went to work and he was taking her out in the evening …

On her way home the next evening, Sarah saw Sid Harding at the end of the lane that led to his house and smiled at him. He gave her a half-hearted grin and hesitated, then approached her.

‘Ruby ain’t in – do yer happen to know where she is?’

‘I think she’ll still be at work,’ Sarah told him. ‘She is on late shift today – didn’t she say?’

Sid coloured and then mumbled. ‘Ruby threw me out the other week. I deserved it, but I’ve got somethin’ for ’er and I’m hopin’ she’ll take me back.’

Sarah couldn’t help giving a little laugh as she saw his hangdog expression. ‘I’m sure she will, Mr Harding. We all know Ruby has got a temper but she soon gets over it – and I’m certain she cares about you.’

‘I hope yer right – yer won’t tell ’er I said anythin’?’ He hesitated, then, ‘I was right sorry about yer dad. I knew he was under the weather, of course, but he were never one fer makin’ a fuss. Nice chap, do anythin’ fer anyone.’

‘Thank you, Sid, and of course I shan’t say anything to Ruby. ‘And good luck. I’m sure it will be all right …’

He nodded but didn’t look convinced and Sarah hid her amusement because it wasn’t funny for Sid. He must have been sleeping rough – probably in the shed at the bottom of their garden. It was his own fault for coming home drunk once too often, but she hoped Ruby would relent and let him in. Sid wasn’t a bad man, not when you thought about what went on in some of the houses around here. Sarah knew from her work at the infirmary that some men regularly beat their wives on a Friday night. Drinking was the problem – men who had been humiliated all week drank to forget and then took their frustration out on those they were supposed to love and care for.

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