Memories of You (11 page)

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Authors: Benita Brown

BOOK: Memories of You
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‘Why do you want it? You're not planning to go and see her, are you, after everything that's been said? After all the arrangements that have been made?'
‘And what exactly are those arrangements?'
‘How dare you set yourself up against me!'
‘I'm not. I genuinely want to know what you and Mrs Partington have agreed to.'
‘Why?'
‘Because Elsie is my sister. And I need to know that she will be taken care of.'
‘What are you accusing me of? Do you think I would hand her over to someone who would treat her badly? Mrs Partington will care for her as if she were her own daughter and the child will have every advantage in life. You may be her sister but you could never provide for her, admit it.'
Helen stared down at her aunt who was sitting by the fire in the stuffy and overheated front parlour. Jane Roberts' cheeks were blotched red with anger, which made her almost comical to look at, but Helen did not feel like laughing.
‘I thought you understood all this from the beginning, Helen,' her aunt went on. ‘I distinctly remember telling you that Mrs Partington does not want Elsie to have any contact with her family. Even me. There are to be no visits, no letters and certainly no parcels containing a grubby old doll.'
‘Maisie is not grubby!'
‘For goodness' sake. If only you could see yourself. Any minute now you're going to start crying like a big baby. I've had enough of this. Instead of being grateful for everything I've done for you it seems you are determined to cause trouble and upset me. Go to bed now, Helen, and I refuse to discuss this matter with you ever again.'
That had been the evening before. Helen had accepted defeat because there was nothing else she could do. It sickened her to hear her aunt talk as if she really cared what happened to them and it had crossed her mind that money must have changed hands. The Partingtons were very rich and money could buy just about anything. Even a child.
The air was frosty and the ground iron-hard. Helen realized that her toes were so cold that she could hardly feel them. She glanced at her wristwatch. It had been a present from her mother when she had passed the scholarship exam to go to grammar school. She had stayed too long. Even if she ran all the way she was going to be late for afternoon school. That meant detention. Not that Helen cared. She would rather stay at school for an extra half-hour and sit in the classroom to do her homework than go back to her aunt's gloomy home any sooner than she had to.
Just as she had decided to leave she heard voices – a woman's voice and that of a child. She stepped back into the shadow of the large stone gatepost and waited, holding her breath as she watched the house opposite. The voices got nearer and eventually two figures appeared, rounding a curve in the drive. The child was running and the woman behind her lumbered along awkwardly, steams of breath misting in the air as she tried to catch up.
‘Miss Elise,' the unfortunate woman called, ‘will you please slow down a little!'
The little girl stopped and turned round laughing to face the round figure approaching her. ‘Hurry up, Barty,' she said.
It took Helen every ounce of self-control not to leave the sanctuary of the tall hedge and run across the road towards her sister. For Elsie it was, even though the woman with her had called her Elise.
Her sister was wearing a heather-coloured tweed coat with a velvet collar that would have been fit for little Princess Elizabeth. A matching beret was trimmed with white fur. Her gloves and stockings were white and she wore shiny black patent leather shoes. She looked beautiful; she was like a child in a film about high society. Except that Elsie was more beautiful than any child film star Helen had ever seen. But most of all she looked happy.
And it was that that caused Helen the most pain. She was immediately ashamed of herself. Surely she hadn't wanted Elsie to be miserable? Had she been hoping to see her sister's face awash with misery and tears? How selfish I am, she thought.
The woman – whoever she was, she certainly wasn't the sophisticated Mrs Partington – had caught up with Elsie and was standing on the pavement trying to catch her breath. She was dressed in a brown tweed coat and a matching felt hat. Helen had a surreal moment thinking that it was the belt of her coat that kept this cumbersome figure safely parcelled up.
‘That was naughty of you, Miss Elise,' the poor woman said. ‘You know I can't run as fast as you can. And anyway, you're supposed to hold my hand when we go out.'
‘But I had to run to keep warm.'
‘You really shouldn't answer back like that. You are supposed to do as I tell you.'
The woman Elsie had called Barty suddenly gave a grimace of pain and stooped to rub at one ankle.
‘What's the matter?' Elsie asked.
‘I went over on it while I was running.'
‘Did it hurt?'
‘Yes, it did.'
‘I'm sorry, Miss Barton. That was my fault. I shouldn't have made you run like that.'
The woman, who had been visibly irritated, suddenly melted. ‘There, there, I dare say I'll soon be as good as new. Now, will you take my hand and we'll get along to the Dene for our nature walk.'
When they turned to go Helen edged back until she was behind the gatepost. She knew with certainty that she didn't want Elsie to see her. It would be quite wrong to upset this happy, confident child just now when she was so obviously adapting to a new way of life. Mrs Andrews had been right; Eva was right. What could Helen offer Elsie now?
But one day, Helen thought as she watched the child and the woman walk away, one day we'll be together again, all of us: Joe, Danny, you and me. I promise you this, Elsie, and I can only pray that you will not have forgotten all about us.
Helen accepted her detention cheerfully and dealt with Eva's grumbles when she was late home for tea. That night she wrapped Maisie in an old scarf – the first scarf she had ever knitted when she was not much older than Elsie was now – and put the doll in her suitcase. She couldn't bear to throw her away.
Besides, she thought, no matter how many beautiful toys Elsie has now, I'm sure she'll be glad to see Maisie again. One day.
 
A yelp of pain woke everyone up. The boys sat up in their beds and looked down the dormitory to see Tod Hunter lying on the floor with one of the twins kneeling over him and apparently throttling him. Ginger sprang out of bed and raced towards the struggling boys, and while the other twin was still yawning and getting out of bed he tried to pull the figures apart.
‘Whatever he did, leave him alone. Now. You've given him a bloody nose. That's enough.'
The twin allowed Ginger to pull him up and then nodded towards the bed. ‘Look at that,' he said. ‘A whole pisspot. He's drenched me, too, the dirty bastard.'
‘Don't use language, it's not allowed here,' Ginger responded automatically, but when he saw the bed his nose wrinkled in disgust. ‘Pooh, it stinks – and you do, too. He must have been saving it for days.'
Tod, dabbing his nose with a handkerchief, sniggered as he began to get up. ‘Thanks for dragging him off me, Ginger, but I didn't need any help. I'd soon have got the better of him.'
‘Yeah, I'm sure,' the twin said.
Tod began to stroll away. He turned and said, ‘You'd better go and ask Matron for some clean sheets. Tell her you've pissed the bed like the dirty little slum kid that you are.'
The twin looked as though he was going to retaliate but Ginger grabbed a fistful of his pyjamas and held him back. ‘Let it go, Joe,' he said, and he looked straight into his eyes.
When Tod was out of earshot the twin said softly so that no one else could hear, ‘You know, don't you?'
Ginger leaned in towards him and spoke just as quietly. ‘Yeah, you swapped beds. You've been doing that regularly. You guessed that Tod would go after Danny and you wanted to fool him as long as you could. You knew I would work it out, didn't you? Danny's left-handed and you're right-handed. Easy. Have to tell you some of the others have noticed, and even Tod won't be fooled much longer. You're going to have to teach Danny to stick up for himself.'
A mutinous look crossed Joe's face and Ginger let go of his pyjamas. He sniffed his hand and wrinkled his nose in disgust. ‘Now you've got me smelling like cat's piss,' he said. ‘Hawway, grab a quick shower and if you get some clean bedclothes, I'll help you make your bed. What is it?'
‘Will Matron be angry?'
‘Very. Are you bothered?'
‘No.'
‘Don't lie. Not to me.'
‘Well, yes, I am. What shall I say?'
‘Well, you can't tell her the truth. No one tells tales, not even on Tod Hunter. You'll just have to take it like a man. Can you do that?'
Joe suddenly grinned. ‘I reckon I can.'
Before they went to the bathroom Joe and Ginger stripped the bed. As Joe picked the sheets up from the floor he found the enamel chamber pot that Tod had left behind. He looked inside and saw that it was not quite empty. He walked down the dormitory until he reached his tormentor's bed.
‘This is your property, I think,' he said. He emptied the remains over Tod's slippers then tossed the chamber pot on the bed before carrying on his way to the bathroom.
‘Bad move,' Ginger said to him when they got there. ‘For all his bluster I think he was beginning to realize he was on a loser trying to better you. Now you'll only have made him worse than ever.'
Chapter Six
Dear Danny and Joe,
I hope you have settled in by now and that all is going well for you. I think about you all the time and I'd like you to write and tell me all about Haven House; whether it's comfortable, whether you are well fed and what sort of lessons you are doing. You know our mother was proud of you both and the progress you were making at school so I hope you will continue to work hard. Does that sound bossy? Sorry.
Have you made any friends? I hope you have, because although you'll always have each other, it's good to have other people, too. Remember Mother used to tell you that you should both have a life of your own instead of behaving like carbon copies of each other. Even though you look so alike you don't always think and behave the same way, do you? And that's a good thing. Everyone should be an individual with a personality of his own. Do you know what I mean? Or will you just say, ‘There goes our Helen spouting from the dictionary again!'
If you've been wondering about Elsie and me I'd better tell you that we are not both living with Aunt Jane. After you had left for Haven House a rich lady called Mrs Partington came and took Elsie away with her. It was the same lady who came to the church on the day of our mother's funeral. Do you remember her? She sat in the back pew and then she talked to Aunt Jane after the service. She found out that we would be alone and she wanted to help. In fact it was her husband who got you places in Haven House. As for Elsie, you mustn't worry about her. This lady has no children and she wants Elsie to be her own little daughter.
Now don't start worrying about this. The lady is really kind and Elsie seemed happy to go with her. And although I miss her as much as I miss you I believe she's better off with the Partingtons than with Aunt Jane. I went along to see where Elsie is living and I could see that she was happy and well-cared for. And I promise you I'll always keep an eye on things. And one day we will all be together again.
As for me, I'm living in Aunt Jane's posh house and I'm going to school as usual. And here's a thing: Aunt Jane doesn't want me to come home at lunchtime so the old skinflint actually gives me ninepence a day to get something for myself. Imagine ninepence! I've found a nice little café not far from school. It's called the Cosy Café, which is a good name for it, because it's a friendly place. I treat myself just about every day to a proper dinner and sometimes a pudding too. Imagine your big sister sitting in a café like Lady Muck ordering dinner from a menu and having her meal brought to the table by a waitress!
I've got to know the waitress, who is called Margery. She has one daughter, Dorothy, who is also a waitress but she's working in London.
Some of the regular customers are quite interesting and one or two have started to say ‘hello' to me. The office girls think it's funny to see me sitting there in my school uniform but they are quite friendly.
I don't spend much time with Aunt Jane but I have made friends with Eva, her maid-of-all-work. She's a funny sort of girl. Sometimes friendly, sometimes sulky, but I really like her and we often have a laugh together. She says she doesn't mind coming to work so much now that I'm here to have a good old chinwag with and we certainly can talk when we get started!

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