Cast the First Stone (19 page)

The superintendent's office was more welcoming, with a cherry red carpet and curtains, two armchairs, and pleasing pictures of country scenes on the walls. Miss Copeland rose from behind a large mahogany desk, a woman of indeterminate age – late fifties, or sixties? – with iron-grey hair cut short, and rimless spectacles from behind which her piercing brown eyes looked out searchingly. She was dressed in a tweed suit with a cameo brooch at the neck of her cream-coloured blouse. She stepped forward to greet them.

‘Fiona Dalton, I presume?' She held out a hand, and Fiona felt hers caught in a firm grasp. ‘I am pleased to welcome you to our home. And . . . your parents?'

Beattie explained again who they were, and when the introductions had been made Beattie and Donald sat in the armchairs with Fiona on one of the hard-backed chairs.

‘You will be here until late May or early June; that is correct, isn't it?' said Miss Copeland.

Fiona nodded. ‘Yes, that's right.'

The woman went on to explain about the rules and the running of the home. Visitors were allowed on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. The girls were expected to help with all the work in the house, apart from the actual cooking of the meals which was done by Mrs Walker, the housekeeper and cook. There were two non-medical assistants, Mrs Armstrong, whom they had already met, and Mrs Wagstaff. The nursing staff consisted of Sister Travers and Nurse Grant, both very experienced nurses and midwives. A doctor called every week to check the girls' health and was ready to help out should there be an emergency. The girls were allowed to go out each afternoon, but not on their own – they must go in twos or threes – and outings were arranged from time to time to the nearby seaside towns or to Hexham or Morpeth. No girl was allowed out in the evening, and ‘lights out' was at ten thirty. Morning prayers took place each day at nine o'clock, after breakfast, and there was a devotional service in the home each Sunday morning.

Fiona listened attentively; there seemed to be such a lot to take in. She was beginning to feel mesmerized by it all, but when she glanced now and again at her aunt, Beattie smiled encouragingly.

‘We like to think that we are strict but fair,' said Miss Copeland as her discourse drew to a close. She gave a half-smile and her eyes softened just a little. ‘You will be well looked after, Fiona, and we hope you will be contented here. You should be if you don't step out of line. We occasionally get young women who are wilful and don't appreciate what we are trying to do for them, but on the whole we don't have much trouble. Now . . . say goodbye to your aunt and uncle and I'll show you where you will be sleeping. You will be sharing a room with three other young women. We have twelve residents at the moment . . . and we usually find that as one leaves there is another one to take her place,' she added wryly.

‘Take care of yourself, love, and God bless you,' said her aunt, putting her arms around her and kissing her cheek. ‘You'll be alright here; I know you will. And we'll come and see you soon.'

Her uncle seemed too choked to speak. He just hugged her and whispered, ‘Chin up now, luv.'

It was clear that Miss Copeland did not want them to linger over their goodbyes. She picked up Fiona's large suitcase as though it weighed very little, and Fiona took the other bag and followed her up the stairs.

‘We have four dormitories,' Miss Copeland told her, when they stopped at the first floor, ‘two on this floor and two higher up, although we don't usually call them dormitories. It sounds too much like boarding school, doesn't it?'

‘Yes, like Enid Blyton and Angela Brazil,' Fiona dared to say.

‘Quite.' A hint of a smile moved the woman's lips. ‘Enid Blyton is more your era than mine, but I do remember reading the school stories by Angela Brazil.' It seemed that the superintendent might be quite human, not the martinet that Fiona had feared at a first glance.

‘However, as I was saying, we can accommodate up to sixteen young women, four in each room. We have only twelve at the moment but the vacancies will soon be filled. You will be in here, Fiona, so this room will have its full quota again.' She opened the door leading into a large room. A girl sitting on the bed nearest to the window looked up in some surprise. She stood up immediately.

‘Oh, hello there, Ginny,' said Miss Copeland. ‘I didn't realize there was anyone here. This is Fiona Dalton, your new room mate. So you can look after her and bring her down for lunch.' She glanced at a fob watch pinned to the lapel of her suit. ‘That will be in about twenty minutes. You've finished your chores for this morning, have you, Ginny?'

‘Yes, Miss Copeland,' replied the girl deferentially. ‘I've cleaned the baths and toilets. I was just going to write a letter home.'

‘Well, leave that now. You'll have plenty of time later. You can show Fiona where to put her belongings.' The woman turned to Fiona. ‘Come and see me in my room at two o'clock, when lunch is over, and we'll have a little chat.' She nodded briefly at the two girls as she left the room.

‘Hello, Fiona,' said the girl called Ginny as the door closed. ‘I expect you're feeling a bit lost and frightened, aren't you? But you don't need to be, honestly. We all felt like that at first, but it's not all that bad here, and we do manage to have some fun.'

‘Hello . . . Ginny, isn't it?' said Fiona. She smiled at the girl. ‘Do you know, you are making me feel better already.' She guessed that the girl might be about the same age as herself. She appeared to be a little further on in her pregnancy. She had ginger hair and freckles and bright blue eyes. It looked as though she might always have been on the plump side, notwithstanding her condition. She laughed easily.

‘Yes, I'm Ginny. Virginia, actually, but you might say that my name's not very appropriate.' She grinned as she glanced down at her spreading waistline. ‘Virginia Adams, that's me.' Fiona was not sure how to answer the girl's comment, but there was no need because Ginny went on talking.

‘Not a bad room, is it? Come on, let's get your case on to the bed. You'll be in this one, here.' Together they hauled the heavy case on to one of the iron-framed beds, resembling a hospital bed.

Glancing round Fiona noticed two large wardrobes, a little cupboard at the side of each bed, and just one large dressing table with a somewhat speckled mirror by the window. The candlewick bedspreads were green, as were the curtains and the rather worn carpet. In one corner of the room there was a wash basin and a towel rail.

‘The view's not bad,' said Ginny, pointing to the window. The room was at the front of the house overlooking the garden, and through the skeletal branches of the tall trees one could just make out the distant hills, their tops now covered in snow.

‘Where are you from then, Fiona?' asked Ginny. ‘I'm from South Shields, but I expect you guessed that from my accent.' Indeed, Fiona had realized from her sing-song way of talking that the girl was what was known as a Geordie.

‘My parents live in Leeds,' replied Fiona, ‘but I've been staying with my aunt and uncle near Alnwick. They brought me here, and they've said they'll come and see me.'

‘That'll be nice,' said Ginny, ‘that is, if you want to see them?'

‘Oh yes, I do,' said Fiona eagerly. ‘They've been very good to me, far more understanding than my parents.'

‘Yeah, same here,' said Ginny. ‘My parents are pretty annoyed with me, especially me da. It's me gran who's sticking up for me, and she's the one who comes to see me.'

‘Yes, my gran's the same,' agreed Fiona, ‘but it's too far for her to visit. She lives in Leeds as well.'

‘I'm just a nuisance, y'see,' said Ginny. ‘I'm the eldest of five, and me da hit the roof when he found out about this.' She patted her tummy. ‘I'm supposed to help me mam to look after the kids as well as going out to work. I got a job at Woolie's when I left school, and my wage has come in very handy. The rest of 'em are still at school, so now they've got to manage on what me da earns.'

‘And what does your father do?' asked Fiona.

‘Oh, he's a coal miner, like most of the fellers round our way,' said Ginny. ‘It's not bad money, with overtime, but they'll be waiting for me to get back home and start helping out again.'

‘So . . . will you keep the baby?' asked Fiona tentatively, wondering if it was permissible to ask the question.

‘No,' Ginny replied briefly. ‘It'd just be another mouth to feed, wouldn't it?' She shook her head sadly. ‘But . . . well, these things happen, don't they?'

‘I suppose so,' said Fiona. She didn't know yet whether the girls spoke openly to one another about their circumstances, or whether it was a question of the least said the better.

‘Anyway, this is where you can put your belongings,' said Ginny, opening the door of a huge wardrobe. ‘I've shoved my stuff up to make room. And the bottom drawer of the chest of drawers will be yours as well. We haven't got much time though, now.' She glanced at a clock on a bedside cupboard. ‘Oh crikey! It's five to one already. We'd best get moving. Do you want to spend a penny or anything?'

‘Yes, actually I think I do,' said Fiona.

‘The lav's along the corridor, and the bathroom's next door,' said Ginny. ‘And this towel is yours.' She handed her a pink towel from off the rail. ‘We have different colours so we don't get mixed up. Off you go now – the door at the end – and I'll wait for you.'

Interested faces looked up as Ginny and Fiona entered the dining room. Most of the girls were already there, awaiting the arrival of the members of staff who would sit at a table at the end of the room.

‘This is Fiona,' said Ginny, going to a table where four young women were seated. ‘Mandy, Judith, Hazel and Bridget.' She pointed to each girl in turn and Fiona smiled at them.

‘Hello,' she said. ‘Pleased to meet you.' They all smiled and nodded in return, with a chorus of ‘hellos'.

‘Hazel and Bridget are our room mates,' Ginny was just starting to explain when the members of staff entered the room. All the girls stood up and bowed their heads as Miss Copeland said grace.

‘For what we are about to receive may we be truly thankful and ever mindful of the needs of others.'

Fiona realized she was quite hungry. It seemed a long time since she had had her breakfast at the farmhouse. The meal consisted of steak and kidney pie with mashed potatoes and – as she had already guessed – cabbage. It was followed by rice pudding; a good nourishing meal, far better than she had expected.

‘So how far gone are you?' asked the girl called Hazel, who was sitting next to her.

‘Er . . . I'm due at the end of May,' replied Fiona, a little taken aback at the blunt remark. ‘And . . . what about you?'

‘End of March, two months to go,' said Hazel. ‘Can't wait to get rid, I can tell you. I was going to have an abortion. It was all arranged, and then – well – I chickened out. So now I've got to go through the whole damned business. I shall keep my legs crossed in future, believe me!'

Fiona was embarrassed at hearing such revelations from a complete stranger. She wasn't used to such plain speaking, but she guessed that in such a place as this there would be girls from all sorts of backgrounds and with differing personalities. She realized that this girl, Hazel, fitted into the category that her mother would call ‘common', and her gran might say ‘was no better than she should be', whatever such a silly expression might mean. She was a full-bosomed girl with blonde hair that was dark at the roots, growing out to its normal shade, it seemed. She wore a good deal of blue eyeshadow and bright-red lipstick, and was wearing a tight sweater with stripes of pink and black. Fiona had been pleased to learn that the girls were allowed to wear their own clothes and not some sort of uniform resembling prison garb, which might have been the norm not all that long ago. She was determined, though, not to make a hasty judgement about Hazel. The girl might turn out to be quite likeable on further acquaintance.

‘Now, you've got your tête-à-tête with Connie at two o'clock,' said Ginny as they cleared away their pots at the end of the meal.

‘Connie?' queried Fiona.

‘Connie Copeland,' said Ginny. ‘We call her Connie behind her back, of course. She's called Constance. We all get the same pep talk when we arrive. She's alright though, provided you keep your nose clean. Off you go then. Some of us have to help with the washing up, so I'll see you in our room afterwards. OK?'

Fiona was pleasantly surprised to be invited to drink coffee with Miss Copeland.

‘As I said before, I hope you will settle down here, Fiona,' she began. ‘It is not our business to pass judgement on any of you, or to seek to punish you in any way. I know that may have happened in homes such as this, and not all that long ago either. And, regrettably, sometimes done in the name of religion. This is a home run by Christians who try to live up to that name. We know that you have all been foolish and have made a mistake, and most of you realize that; but we are here to help you and to try to offer you some guidance for the future, if we can . . . Now, is there anything you would like to ask, Fiona?'

She couldn't think of anything, so she shook her head and answered, ‘No, thank you, Miss Copeland.'

The woman went on to enquire about her general health and whether she had suffered any complications so far in her pregnancy. She explained that the doctor would see her in the morning, and she would soon get to know Sister Travers and Nurse Grant who would take care of her at the birth. ‘You are not worried about giving birth, are you?' she asked.

‘A little apprehensive, maybe,' Fiona began. Then, ‘Well, yes, I suppose I am rather anxious about it,' she admitted.

‘Try not to be,' said Miss Copeland. ‘Our nursing staff make it as easy as they can for you. We don't regard it as your punishment for wrongdoing, which I am afraid used to be the case in some homes. I am sure you will find that there's nothing to fear.'