The Soldier's Daughter (24 page)

As Briony looked down at the child’s bent head she frowned. She could have sworn she had just seen something run across the parting. And then it came to her what it was and she gulped. They were headlice, or nits as Alfie and Sarah called them. The child was crawling with them!

Following Briony’s eyes the Red Cross woman rose and gently taking her elbow, led Briony towards the sink out of earshot of the child.

‘I’m so sorry, my dear. I see you’ve noticed Mabel’s little visitors.’ She looked back towards the child. ‘That’s one reason I have found her so hard to place, poor little lamb. She’s come from a very poor family in the East End and she’s one of eight. There were ten but two died apparently, and I’m not surprised after seeing how they were forced to live. The home was little more than a hovel and I’m afraid you may find her clothes will be sadly lacking too. Her father did a moonlight flit years ago by all accounts just after Mabel was born, and her mother is . . . well, I’ll just say she earns her keep by rather dubious means if you get my drift? I should imagine the child will be happy to get away from there once she’s settled; I shall leave her in your capable hands. But anyway, I’ll just finish my tea and then I’ll be on my way – unless you have anything you want to ask me?’

When Briony shook her head, she marched back to the table and after swallowing the tea that Briony had poured for her in two gulp she headed for the door, saying cheerfully, ‘Goodbye then, my dears. I’ll see myself out.’ And with that she was gone.

Briony just stood there for a moment wondering what the hell she had let herself in for. Everything had happened so fast that it was only now that the responsibility of what she had taken on began to sink in. Eventually she crossed to Mabel and stooping to her level she really looked at her for the first time as she said, ‘Don’t you want your tea? I made it nice and milky for you and put lots of sugar in it.’

A skinny arm suddenly snaked out from the sleeve of a very grubby cardigan, and grabbing the cup the child very noisily slurped the contents back in one go.

Briony suppressed a smile, dreading to think what her grandmother would say about her table manners. But then the poor kid had probably never been shown the right way to go about things, so it looked like she had her work cut out for her. First though, she would have to make the breakfast and get the children up for school. Lord knew what they were going to make of their new playmate!

The younger two were actually quite excited when they came down all neatly dressed with their hair shining and their faces scrubbed clean. Briony had briefly explained as she was getting them ready for school, and they were keen to meet Mabel.

‘Mabel, this is Alfie and Sarah,’ she introduced them, but again she got no response whatsoever. The child hadn’t said so much as one word yet.

‘What’s up wi’ her? Can’t she talk?’ Alfie asked bluntly as he scrambled up onto the chair for his breakfast. Sarah was regarding her solemnly.

‘She’s probably just feeling a bit shy at the minute,’ Briony excused her as she ladled porridge into their dishes. ‘So I want you to be extra kind to her for me and help her to settle in.’

‘Will she be comin’ to the village school with us?’ he asked next as he tucked into his breakfast.

‘Yes, she will, but I shall have to come to the school and have a word with the headmistress first to enrol her. For today though she can stay here with me and get used to things.’

The children seemed to accept that, and the rest of the meal was eaten in silence. It was then that their grandmother appeared, and after glaring at Mabel’s bent head she told Briony, ‘You can take the children to school today.’

It was obvious that she didn’t want to be seen with Mabel – until she had been cleaned up at least – but that suited Briony just fine so she nodded. She was learning that it paid to say as little as possible to her grandmother. That way, she wasn’t in danger of getting her head bitten off.

There was a mist floating across the fields when they set off twenty minutes later and a nip in the air. It was to be expected at this time of the year.

She saw the children to their classrooms, then, deciding that she might as well get Mabel enrolled whilst she was there, she tapped at the headmistress’s office door. Mrs Bracken was a stout woman with a large hooked nose and the most dreadful taste in clothes. But for all that she was kindly.

‘Of course we would be happy for Mabel to join us,’ she trilled. ‘What’s your other name, dear?’

‘Wilkes,’ Mabel muttered. Briony smiled. It was the first word she had heard her say.

‘And how old are you, dear?’

‘Seven.’

‘Well done. Can you tell me when your birthday is?’ The headmistress was furiously writing the details into the school register.

‘February the fourteenth, I fink.’

‘Oh, how charming. That’s St Valentine ’s Day, dear. Right now I think I have all your details, so we’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Goodbye, Mabel.’

Mabel allowed Briony to take her hand and once they had left the school behind, Briony said tactfully, ‘We’ll unpack your case when we get back, shall we? Some of your clothes might have got grubby on the journey so we’ll get them all washed and ironed for you so that they’re ready for tomorrow. You can have a bath too and get your hair washed to save you having to have one tonight.’

Mabel looked worried. ‘Barf? What – yer mean get
right in
the water? Nah, I don’t fink I’ll like that.’

Briony was shocked. It sounded like the child had never had a proper bath before, and looking at the state of her, she could quite believe it. Her hair was so matted that it was hard to tell what colour it was, and the dress she was wearing was so faded and worn that it looked as if it might fall apart should she attempt to wash it.

‘Oh, you’ll love it,’ she promised her. ‘We’ll make it nice and warm so that you can have a play and a splash in it.’

This should be fun, she thought wryly to herself as they moved on. As if I haven’t got enough to do! But then she looked at Mabel’s pinched little face again and her heart softened. The poor mite looked as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders and it was up to Briony now to try and make things better for her.

‘There we are, just right,’ Mrs Dower said some time later as she rolled up her sleeve and dunked her elbow in the bathwater. She had taken to Mabel on sight and was keen to help with her.

‘I’ve still got some of Talwyn’s dresses from when she was a little maid, in a trunk up in the loft,’ she had told Briony as they unpacked the child’s case. There was nothing in there that was even worth washing – just a pile of rags that had been bundled in anyhow. ‘I’ll get Caden or Howel to climb up and fetch them down, and providing the moths haven’t got in, they should be good as new after they’ve been washed and pressed. She certainly can’t go to school in any of these!’

Briony was very grateful for the offer. Sarah’s clothes would be far too big for Mabel, who was very small for her age, and she had been wondering what she was going to be able to dress her in. That was one problem solved at least. Mrs Dower also came up with the solution to the second problem when Briony whispered to her that their evacuee had a bad infestation of nits.

‘I’ll pop back to the farm and grab my nit comb,’ the woman said. ‘Don’t you fret, my bird. By the time I’ve done with her, she’ll be as clean as a whistle.’

Now all they had to do was tempt the lass into the bath, which to judge from the mutinous look on her face was going to be no mean feat.

‘Come on then, sweetheart. Do you want to get undressed?’ Briony asked as the little girl eyed the water.

She shook her head and crossed her arms protectively as she backed towards the bathroom door.

Mrs Dower blocked it, saying in a wheedling voice, ‘Just think how nice and clean you’ll feel when you’re done.’

Up to now, the child had barely uttered a word and Mrs Dower was beginning to wonder if the cat had got her tongue. But she suddenly shocked them both when she screamed, ‘I ain’t gonna go in there, so yer can both fuck off!’

Briony’s mouth dropped open, but Mrs Dower took control of the situation immediately. She advanced on the child with a resolute glint in her eye and said firmly, ‘Oh yes, you are, my little maid. Come on, let’s be having you now.’

In front of Briony’s startled eyes the woman whipped the child’s dress off her before she could protest, leaving her standing there in nothing but a very grimy vest, smelling worse than a sewer rat. She didn’t even have any knickers on and both women were appalled to see that the dirt on her body was ingrained, especially on her elbows and her knees. She was painfully thin and her small body was covered in ugly bruises ranging from pale yellow to a deep purple.

Briony’s eyes brimmed with tears at the sight of her as she wondered who could ever possibly treat a child like that. But Mrs Dower was on a mission now and determined to get Mabel into the bath if it was the very last thing she did.

‘Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind,’ she muttered, and lifting the child, who struggled wildly, she plonked her unceremoniously into the warm water. Mabel immediately began to scream as if someone were attempting to murder her.

‘
Gerroff me, yer bleedin’ old cow
.’ Her arms and legs were flailing but Mrs Dower ignored her. Lifting a jug that she had put ready, she dipped it in the bath and poured the entire contents over the little girl’s head before snatching up a big bar of carbolic soap.

‘You’ll thank me when I’m done,’ she said as she began to rub it vigorously into the matted mess that was the child’s hair.

Mabel coughed and spluttered as Mrs Dower worked on, and eventually realising that her strength was no match for the woman’s she became still and resigned herself to what she thought of as torture. In actual fact, after a while she quite liked the sensation of being immersed in warm soapy water, but she had no intention of admitting it.

Briony was still reeling with shock following the torrent of abuse that had spilled from Mabel’s mouth. She had appeared to be such a quiet, unassuming little girl but she had obviously misjudged her. Goodness knew what Marion Frasier would have said if she had heard her! It didn’t bear thinking about. Briony had no doubt whatsoever that she would have given the evacuee her marching orders there and then!

Mrs Dower worked doggedly on, the sweat standing out on her brow until at last she had massaged the soap thoroughly into Mabel’s hair. She then took up the nit comb, and to loud complaints from Mabel, began to tug it through the tangled mass. Briony was aghast that so many lice could live on one such small head as the comb came away full time after time.

‘
Ouch – oohyah – gerroff!
’ Mabel shouted, but after a time she gave up again as she realised she was wasting her breath.

And to think I thought she was a quiet little Cockney sparrow, Briony thought as her lips finally twitched with amusement.

At last the comb started to come through the hair cleanly. ‘That’s about got rid of the nasty little mites,’ Mrs Dower panted, and she then went on to soap Mabel from head to toe, paying special attention to the particularly grimy areas. Soft pink skin began to emerge from beneath the layers of dirt and Mabel looked astounded as she gazed down at herself. She had always thought that her skin was dark, like some of the black men she had glimpsed at the docks back at home and who had sometimes come to visit her mother – and she felt as if she had suddenly been painted a different colour. She smelled different too, although she couldn’t really say she was fond of the smell of carbolic. But she was forced to admit to herself that being clean felt good – even if she wasn’t about to share that thought.

Finally Mrs Dower pulled the plug before proceeding to tip large jugs of clean warm water all over her.

‘There, doesn’t that feel better now?’ she said as she lifted the child onto the mat and wrapped a towel about her. Mabel answered by making a face but Mrs Dower merely laughed. ‘I can see we’re going to have some fun with you!’ she chortled.

Once Mabel was thoroughly dried, Briony slipped Sarah’s dressing gown onto her. It was too big but at least it was clean and would do until Mrs Dower produced some of Talwyn’s old clothes. Briony advanced on her then with a hairbrush, which again elicited squeals and objections from Mabel, and five minutes later it was hard to believe that this was the same child they had dragged into the bathroom half an hour ago. Now that her hair was clean they saw that it was a lovely rich shade of brown. Already it was beginning to curl about her face, and her eyes reminded Briony of soft sticky toffee.

‘Oh Mabel, you look
lovely
,’ she said softly.

The child scowled. ‘Yeah, well, if yer fink I’m ever gonna go in there again you’ve got anuvver fink comin’!’ she answered obstinately.

‘Right, well, I’m going back home to pick up those clothes now,’ Mrs Dower said as she dried her hands. ‘In the meantime, Briony, I suggest you get some food into the child. She’s as skinny as my clothes-line.’

Briony ushered Mabel out in front of her and soon the girl was sitting at the kitchen table with a big pile of ham sandwiches in front of her.

‘Are these all fer me?’ she asked incredulously, and when Briony nodded she fell on the food as if she were starving. Crumbs flew in all directions as she stuffed one sandwich after another into her mouth.

Briony was both disgusted and saddened all at the same time. It was as if the child were fearful that someone was going to snatch the food away from her. But she didn’t say anything. Mabel Wilkes had had quite enough to contend with for one day, and there would be time to teach her better manners when she had settled in a little.

She gave a wry little smile as she went to fetch Mabel a second glass of milk, thinking to herself: I’m going to have my work cut out with this one!

‘Ma’s sent me over to help you move a bed or something,’ Howel informed her as he poked his head round the kitchen door later that afternoon. He glanced curiously at Mabel, who was curled up at the side of the fire looking at the pictures in one of Alfie’s comics. ‘She said to tell you she’ll be over in a minute to start the evening meal. Oh, and she asked me to give you these.’