A Daughter's Duty (21 page)

‘So you’ve decided to join us, have you, young lady?’ The voice was young and jolly and kind. Oh, yes, the doctor, she remembered. The nurse had said he was coming. ‘I’m Dr Morris. How do you feel now?’ he asked, automatically feeling her pulse, looking at the drip in her arm, making notes on the clipboard he held.

‘Better,’ she said and he nodded, smiling professionally, and hooked a foot under a chair and pulled it to the side of the bed so he could sit down. A nurse came hurrying up with a screen.

‘Never mind that now,’ said the doctor, ‘I’m just taking notes.’ Rose watched him. He was shining clean, red hair brushed back from his freckled face, nails manicured short, white at the edges. She curled her own uneven nails out of sight.

‘First of all, we need to know who you are. You hadn’t an identity card on you when you were found.’

‘Found?’

‘In Shotton Dene. Can’t you remember?’

Oh, yes. The grass, the spaniel, the grey-haired man.

‘I didn’t know where it was.’

‘What do you remember?’

Rose was silent. She remembered her dad. Oh, yes, she remembered him hitting her in the stomach and the pain. She remembered Aunt Elsie’s white face, staring as she fell.

‘Your name then, that’ll be a start.’

‘I don’t remember.’

Dr Morris sighed. ‘Come on now, I know you hurt your head but it’s not too serious. Are you sure you don’t remember?’

‘I don’t. And my head
is
aching, there’s a bump here, look …’

‘I know. You were examined thoroughly when you were brought in.’ He decided on a more direct approach. ‘You know you have lost the baby?’

The baby! Her hand went to her stomach. It felt sore, tender. Rose turned her eyes away from him. All she could feel was an overwhelming relief. Instinctively she knew she shouldn’t let him see that.

His voice hardened. ‘Did you do something to yourself, is that it? You know it’s an offence to try to abort a baby?’

Tears began to roll from her eyes silently and he stood up immediately, changing tactic again.

‘Look, I don’t think you did but I had to ask, it’s the law. Lie quiet now, you have a bad bruise in the abdominal area. Staff Nurse will bring you some broth shortly. It’s past suppertime but I’m sure she’ll find some in the kitchens. Then you can have a tablet and get some rest. That’s what you need now. We’ll talk in the morning.’

She watched him disappear down the corridor, go into a room to one side, heard his voice faintly. He was talking it over with someone. If they thought she’d done it herself, the police would come, she knew, and she would be arrested. Maybe that was right, she should be punished.

The nurse brought chicken broth. Rose didn’t think she would be able to take any but it was delicious. The nurse was cheerful, eyes full of sympathy when Rose could bring herself to look her in her face, for she’d expected condemnation.

The nurse spooned the broth into her mouth, talking softly all the time. The lights in the rest of the ward were already dimmed, the patients quiet under the covers.

‘My name is Staff Nurse Benton. Rosalie Benton,’ she said.

‘Oh! I’m called … emm, Lily.’ Now why did she say that? It was stupid. But she had to give some name and Lily was as good as anything. The staff nurse looked pleased.

Rose took all the broth, and a cup of tea afterwards with a small pink tablet. Her head throbbed, her abdomen hurt, her arm ached. But she lay down on the pillow and gradually everything faded away and she slept.

‘I don’t know, Brian, I really don’t know what to do,’ said Marina. ‘If she’s not at Shotton and she’s not here in Jordan, where is she?’

‘We’ll find her. Girls don’t just disappear, not in this day and age,’ he replied. ‘Jeff had to go back to Easington, but you know him. He won’t rest until he finds her.’

Brian put an arm around Marina’s shoulders and hugged her comfortingly. ‘Did you ever think maybe she just wanted to get away by herself? You know what Alf Sharpe’s like, the slimy toad! You couldn’t blame any girl for wanting to lose herself if she had him for a father.’

She knew what Alf was like all right, better than Brian did. If he knew just what Alf had done … Marina shrugged away his arm and got to her feet. She walked to the window and looked out at the tiny garden. The flower bed under the window was bare so late in the year, except for a clump of Christmas roses just coming into bud. It would soon be Christmas, she thought. Rose had been gone for over a week now. Where was she? Marina asked herself for the thousandth time. Surely if she was all right she would have got in touch by now?

‘Will you come with me to see Alf Sharpe again?’ she asked.

‘Oh, I don’t know …’ Marina turned round sharply and frowned at Brian and he changed his mind abruptly. ‘All right. But it won’t make any difference. You know what he’s like.’

They had gone with Jeff to Alf’s house on the Wednesday night. At least Alf was at home then, the light was on in the kitchen, though the curtains were drawn and they couldn’t see anything. He didn’t answer their knock at first but Jeff persevered, thumping with his fist on the wooden panel of the door.

‘Come on, answer the door!’ he shouted. ‘We know you’re in there, Alf Sharpe!’

There was an exclamation from inside and eventually the door opened. Alf stood in the doorway, barring their entrance.

‘It’s you, you young buggers, is it? And what the hell do you want? I don’t know how you have the nerve to come round here, disturbing a man’s peace,’ he snarled.

‘We want to see Rose,’ said Jeff. ‘Where is she?’

‘You do, do you? Haven’t I told you not to come sniffing round my lass?’

‘Stand aside, we’re coming in,’ said Jeff. ‘I’m not prepared to have this out on the step.’ He shouldered the older man to one side and marched into the kitchen. In the short time since Rose had gone, the appearance of the room had undergone a dramatic change. There were dirty cups on the table, spilt grease on the bar of the range. To one side was a tin bath holding cold, black, scummy water. A pile of pit clothes was laid over the white cover on the back of the couch, specks of coal which must have fallen off them glistened there. He must be going to work then, surmised Marina. Yet he stank of spirit, his face covered in stubble and his eyes bloodshot. Surely not even Alf Sharpe would go down the pit drunk? And him an overman.

‘Where is she?’ demanded Jeff.

‘Well, she’s not here, is she? What did you think, I had her tied up somewhere?’ Alf was looking even shiftier than normal, Marina reckoned. He didn’t meet Jeff’s eyes when he answered but hawked and spat into the fire, then lit a cigarette with trembling fingers, drawing hard on it so that it burned halfway down its length.

‘I wouldn’t put it past you,’ growled Jeff. ‘You made the poor lass’s life a nightmare.’

‘Go on then, have a look,’ Alf snarled. ‘Gan on! I’m not stopping you.’ He gestured with the hand holding the cigarette, dropping an arc of ash on the mat.

‘I will,’ said Jeff. ‘Come on, Marina, come with me. You stay there, Brian.’

Marina followed him up the stairs, though she had a fair idea Alf was telling the truth. Rose wasn’t here. And so it proved. The only signs of her were a few clothes hanging in a wardrobe.

‘What did I tell you?’ Alf said truculently when they returned to the kitchen.

‘Well, she’s somewhere, Mr Sharpe,’ said Marina. ‘And she’s not at Shotton, I went to see and she’s not there. And your sister’s neighbour said she had come back here with you.’

‘You’re a sight too interested in our business!’ Alf flared up suddenly, rising from his chair and taking up a threatening posture over the girl.

Brian stepped in front of Marina protectively. ‘Don’t you bully her!’ he said. ‘She’s only trying to find out where her friend is. Anybody would think you’d be worried about Rose’s whereabouts too.’ He turned his head to Marina. ‘Go on, go outside, pet. We won’t be but a minute.’

‘Aye, you can all of you get outside. Go on, I’m going to work, you’re holding me up. If our Rose has gone off, what can I do about it? Here, look about you. She’s left me in a right mess, hasn’t she? No one to see to the place –’

‘Aw, shut your mouth!’ snapped Jeff contemptuously. ‘We’re going anyway.’

Outside Marina couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief. Since Rose’s revelations she hated to be in the same room as Alf Sharpe. Her skin had crawled in his presence. For the first time she realised what the saying meant. It literally felt as though it was crawling. She shuddered and Brian took her hand.

‘Never mind, pet,’ he said. ‘Rose must be all right or we would have seen something in the paper.’

They walked up the street to the end where Jeff’s car was parked. ‘I have to go, I’m on fore shift,’ he said, but was reluctant, they could see. He kept looking back towards where Rose had lived.

‘You’ll let us know if you find anything out, won’t you?’ Marina asked.

‘I will,’ he promised. They watched as he climbed into the car, started the engine and set off, waving as he went.

Now it was Friday teatime and Marina had persuaded Brian to go with her to visit Alf Sharpe once again, see if they could find out something, anything, about where Rose was and what was happening to her. But after all it was a waste of time for the Sharpe house was empty.

‘He might have had to go into the pit early,’ said Brian. He glanced at Marina, could tell she had built herself up to confront Alf again and now was disappointed that he wasn’t there.

‘Never mind, love,’ he said. ‘I’m sure she’s all right.’

‘How can you be? Anything could have happened to her.’

‘Well, we can’t do anything about it now, can we?’

‘If you had a car like Jeff’s …’

‘Yes, there’s something to be said for having your own transport,’ Brian said, rather wistfully.

‘Can you afford a car?’ asked Marina, rather startled at the possibility.

‘Not really.’ He grinned. ‘Not if we’re going to get wed. But maybe a motorbike …’ He watched her face for her reaction.

‘A motorbike! By, Brian, that would be grand,’ she exclaimed and they walked off down the road, arm in arm.

‘I’ve seen a Norton I could afford, I think,’ he confided. ‘Come with me on Saturday, it’s in Morrison’s in Bishop.’

Later, as she lay in bed, Marina was horrified to realise she had almost forgotten about Rose for the remainder of the evening. Kate had commented that probably she had simply run away to be on her own. ‘The lass is entitled to a life,’ she had declared. ‘Stop worrying about her all the time. She’d want you to get on with your own life, our Marina.’

Maybe that was true, she thought. But, by heck, she hoped and prayed that Rose hadn’t come to any harm. Maybe she’d gone into one of those mother and baby homes which they’d heard about during the war and after. And if she needed help she would surely get in touch. She knew where they were, didn’t she? But if Alf Sharpe brought the twins home to live with him, she, Marina Morland, wouldn’t keep her mouth shut, no she wouldn’t. She’d lay him in to the police, she would.

‘How would you like to go home today, young lady?’ Rose’s face must have shown her dismay for Dr Morris stopped smiling and looked concerned. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t you want to go home?’

‘I can’t, I’m never going home,’ she said flatly. ‘Anyway, I can’t recall where home is,’ she added, remembering she was supposed to have lost her memory.

He looked at her impatiently. ‘Nonsense. Come on now, Lily, we know you’re putting it on. It often happens with girls in your position. You don’t think you’re the first to be afraid to tell your parents you’ve made a mistake, do you? I’m sure your mother will be only too pleased to have you back, she must have been worried to death.’

‘My mother’s dead.’

‘Oh. Oh, I’m sorry, stupid of me.’ He patted her hand awkwardly. ‘Your father getting married again, is that it? I know that sometimes girls can’t accept a stepmother, sometimes they run wild. Is that what happened?’

‘No, it isn’t, Doctor. Please don’t ask me.’ Rose had to accept that her story had worn far too thin to hold up now but she certainly wasn’t going to tell him the truth. ‘Don’t worry about me, Dr Morris, I’ll be fine. I’ll find a room somewhere. And a job. I’m a sewing machinist, you know. I can get work in a clothing factory, there are plenty of them around here.’

Well pleased with the way he had got her thinking and planning for her future, Dr Morris smiled. These silly girls! How easily they were led astray by a man. No doubt she had thought herself in love. He had a sudden idea and made for the door. ‘I’ll be back in ten minutes or so,’ he said and went off down the ward.

Rose looked around her. Though the ward was spartan with its worn furniture – shabby lockers by the iron bedsteads standing in regimented rows down the sides of the ward, a steel cabinet at the end with a sink and boiler for sterilising instruments and such – it was bright and cheerful enough. Flowers stood on most lockers, and by the table in the centre patients who were mobile moved about chatting to those in bed. A cleaner was buffing the shining floor, a nurse pushing a trolley from bed to bed.

Rose liked it here. These few days had been a haven for her, she had felt safe. No one had actually pestered her to find out who she was, just a gentle questioning which she had resisted easily. She was grateful that she hadn’t been reported to the police, accused of aborting her baby. She supposed it looked as though she had simply fallen on something and hurt herself. Her baby. The phrase sounded strange in her ears. She felt no distress at losing it, only relief. Was she unnatural? No, never, of course she wasn’t. Instinctively she denied the thought.

The door at the entrance to the ward opened and Dr Morris came in, his open white coat flying behind him, stethoscope swinging from side to side around his neck.

‘Just having a word with Lily, Sister,’ he said as she looked up at him enquiringly and he walked over to Rose’s bed.

‘How would you like working in the sewing room here?’ he asked. ‘Just plain sewing, I know, but it’s a job. It will help you get on to your feet.’

‘Oh, could I? Is there a vacancy?’