Charity (6 page)

When Toby said it was lovely here that was an understatement. It was heaven. The kind of wonderland Charity had never even imagined in her dreams. But a voice of reason kept telling her that it was only temporary.

Downstairs a radio was playing and she could hear Prue laughing as she rolled out pastry with Auntie Lou. Uncle Geoff had taken James along to the shops and soon it would be dinnertime. The fire was such a short time ago, ahead was the funeral and she didn’t dare look beyond that point.

But Charity kept thinking of that word Miss Downes had used. ‘Assessing.’

For one thing Auntie Lou made notes about things they said and did. Her questions came out so naturally, with such interest that Toby and Prue fell over themselves to inform her about every aspect of their former life, about their school and how they felt. But Charity was more wary.

It was good to have smart new clothes. To see Prudence’s eyes light up with pleasure at a short grey pleated skirt, patent leather strap shoes and a pale blue jumper with a matching ribbon for her hair. It made her happy to see Toby making friends with other children as naturally as if he’d always lived here. But not so good to have James snatched away from her.

Auntie Lou said she was too young for so much responsibility and insisted on washing and dressing James herself. She wouldn’t even let him sleep in the same room as the girls. Was this preparing Charity for the time when she would be pushed out the door, not only to work, but to find lodgings of her own?

‘But I’ve always looked after James,’ Charity said on her second day there, when Auntie Lou took James off to bed. ‘It was my job.’

Auntie Lou let her come up to the big bathroom while she bathed James, but in her gentle way she spelt things out.

‘You’re only fifteen, Charity and I know you’ve shouldered a great deal of responsibility for your brothers and sister all your life.’ She sat back on her heels beside the bath as James splashed vigorously, her red hair loose and attractively tousled round her thin, expressive face. ‘But soon you’ll be going to work and they have to learn to lean on someone else. Now’s a golden opportunity for you to sit back and let them get used to new people. Because you
aren’t
their mother, only a loving sister, and you deserve a life of your own.’

Deep down she knew what Auntie Lou said was right but her feelings were so mixed up. On one hand she wanted an adult to take over, she wanted to be a little girl, to cry and be comforted the way Prue was. But she was angry and jealous, cut off from everything that was familiar, with a sense of betrayal that her brothers and sister were accepting this new woman as a mother.

‘Lunchtime!’ Auntie Lou bellowed up the stairs, startling Charity and Toby. ‘Wash your hands before you come down. Don’t be long now!’

Toby moved away from his sister, turning at the door of his room with a wide grin lighting up his pale face.

‘Don’t worry. All we have to do is make them like us so much they keep us for ever.’

‘They already like you, you little scamp.’ Charity forced herself to smile reassuringly. ‘Just be a good boy, that’s all.’

There were four rooms downstairs. A very grand one the Charleses called the drawing room. A dining room and a huge kitchen right along the back of the house, then the one they referred to as ‘the den’. It overlooked the Common, and had big bay windows and a settee big enough for five people all at once. There was a table to do jigsaws on, hundreds of books on shelves, games, paints and the television.

It was quite the jolliest room Charity had ever seen. Auntie Lou had a way of flinging herself down on the settee or carpet which encouraged them all to feel relaxed in here. She never told them to put things away, she watched the children’s programmes with as much enthusiasm as they did and let James curl up on her lap whenever he felt like it.

Charity waited until both younger children had gone up to bed. Uncle Geoff was working in his study and Auntie Lou had sat down with some sewing.

The den was very warm and cosy with a stove kind of fire that never went out. Two big lamps either side of the fireplace shed soft, golden pools of light and the bright print curtains were drawn tightly. Auntie Lou was on the settee. Charity sat opposite in an armchair, one eye on the television, the other weighing up the older woman.

Everything was remarkable about these people. They believed even children were entitled to an opinion. They never brought up God or church. They used the word ‘fun’ a great deal, a word that just hadn’t been in her parents’ vocabulary. They laughed uproariously at jokes, sometimes cuddled like sweethearts, and they argued quite heatedly at times. Their world felt so good, yet alien to everything Charity had been taught. Part of Charity’s mind still clung to her parents’ values, and it confused her.

‘Can we stay here for ever if we behave?’

She regretted the rash question the moment the words had left her lips and, worse still, she saw a flicker of uncertainty in the woman’s green eyes.

‘Come and sit beside me.’ Lou patted the settee. ‘Come on! I like to be close when I talk to people about important things.’

Lou was very anxious about Charity. She was concerned with the future of all four of them, but could sense that this child was deeply troubled.

Such a sad little girl. Of course she looked forlorn because of her bandages and sticking plaster, but it went deeper than that. In many ways she seemed younger than Prue, even though she was very maternal and protective. She was so thin and underdeveloped for a girl of fifteen.

Lou had already had a glimpse into the Stratton household from things Toby and Prue had said and she shuddered. A chronically depressed mother, a bible-thumping father, a home that was ruled by fear. She’d planned to wait until after the funeral to discuss their future, when she herself knew what would happen, but she wasn’t going to tell lies now, not even to soothe.

‘I can’t say what will happen for certain.’ Lou’s thin, vivacious face took on a slightly tense look. ‘You see right now Miss Downes, your social worker, is trying to discover if your parents had any close relations. If they did, one of them might become your legal guardian. But at the moment we have to take each day as it comes. I wish I could promise you that you’ll all stay here for ever. But I can’t, Charity.’

‘I don’t think we have any relations,’ Charity said quickly. ‘I’ve never heard of any.’

‘What do you know about your mother and father?’ Lou raised one fair eyebrow. ‘Where did they grow up?’

Charity thought hard, then shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’ve often wondered about it. How she came to meet Father and why she was always so sad.’

‘Tell me what your mother was like.’ Lou changed tack. ‘Describe her to me.’ She had already been given a description by Miss Downes, of both parents.

‘She looked older than she was,’ Charity said.

Lou was surprised by this sparse description. Children usually listed the things their mothers were noted for: their cooking, sewing or reading stories.

‘Was she blonde, like you? Did she like reading, or music?’

Charity shrugged again.

‘I think she liked birds, she used to put the breadcrumbs out in the yard. She was good at sewing.’

Lou could tell by the children’s speech and their manners that Mrs Stratton hadn’t been from a working-class background.

‘Did you talk together much?’

Charity looked baffled at the question.

‘I don’t mean about everyday things. But feelings, what you wanted to do when you were grown up.’

Charity shook her head.

‘Well what about other things? Did she ever explain about getting married and having babies?’

Lou expected a blush, even an embarrassed giggle, but she didn’t expect the fearful look that came into the girl’s eyes, or the way her fingers nervously picked at the hem of her skirt.

‘No! I mean, I knew about babies because I was there when James was born.’

‘Well that’s good,’ Lou smiled warmly. ‘No wonder you’re so close to him. Lots of girls of your age find all that a complete mystery. I know I did. Can you believe, I never even knew about periods? I was terrified when it happened. I thought I was dying.’

Charity had a blank look on her face.

‘You have started them, haven’t you?’ Lou asked.

Charity felt herself growing very hot and uncomfortable.

‘No,’ she whispered.

Lou wasn’t surprised. Charity showed no sign of any kind of development, but she felt the girl’s anxiety.

‘Well perhaps I should explain the whole thing.’ Lou smiled, putting down her sewing and picking up a pad and pencil. ‘It’s bound to happen soon and when it does you’ll be prepared.’

She drew a sketch of a woman, putting in the Fallopian tubes and the womb, then proceeded to go through what would happen.

‘We all pick up some funny ideas,’ Lou grinned. ‘I always thought our tummy buttons had some vital purpose, but of course they don’t. We just go along having a period once a month until such time as we get married.’ She paused at that point to make sure charity was taking it in.

When a couple marry they make love to have babies. The man puts his penis in here and his sperm travels all the way up here –’ she pointed to the womb on her sketch. ‘Then the female egg comes down and joins it, and snuggles down in this nice cosy place and grows into a baby. I’ve got a good book about all this, would you like to read it?’

‘No,’ Charity snapped. Just the mention of the word ‘penis’ made her feel sick. She wanted Lou to shut up, to tear up that sketch and leave her in peace.

‘Oh dear, I’ve embarrassed you.’ Lou put one hand on Charity’s face and tried to draw it round to hers. ‘I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry, but girls have to know these things.’

Charity was mortified, sure she’d given herself away, but she didn’t know how to put it right.

‘I knew all that,’ she said, twisting her hands together, the sick feeling growing stronger. In fact she didn’t know properly, even though technically she was no longer a virgin.

‘Well that’s good.’ Lou refused to be frozen out. ‘But I think I should take you along to my doctor and get him to check you out.’

‘I’m not going to a doctor,’ Charity panicked and jumped up. ‘I don’t want a man looking at me!’

‘Charity!’ Lou caught hold of Charity’s arms and held her. She knew such a violent reaction had to mean something more than plain embarrassment, and she knew she couldn’t ignore it. ‘It doesn’t have to be a man. I know a lady doctor too and it’s only a blood sample, nothing more.’

The moment passed. Lou made a cup of tea, dropped the subject and they watched
Wagon Train
together.

That night Charity dreamed of splashing through a pool of water and woke suddenly to find she had wet the bed. In the dark she lay there sobbing, not knowing what to do. It turned cold and she got out of bed, stripped off her nightdress and shoved it down the back of the radiator. She put her clothes on, then lay on the floor wrapped in the eiderdown till morning.

She didn’t sleep again. Terror gnawed at her. If Auntie Lou was to find out she’d surely throw them all out. Should she run away now? Leave a note begging Lou to look after the others?

Charity felt like a five-year-old as she lay on the floor. She had no money, nowhere to go. This was God’s way of paying her back for all the bad things she’d done. No one would ever like her; she was tainted.

Geoff was surprised to find Charity down in the kitchen fully dressed when he came down at seven to make some tea.

‘Couldn’t sleep?’ He rubbed his eyes, then wrapped himself tighter into his plaid dressing-gown. He noted that the table was laid for breakfast and also, more importantly, the dark circles under Charity’s eyes.

‘I had a bad dream.’ She tried to smile but her lips refused to co-operate. ‘I think it was just the burns prickling.’

‘Well let’s have some tea then,’ he said, glancing down at Charity’s legs. He noticed she’d removed the bandages. ‘Lou will look at them later. I expect a touch of ointment will soothe them.’

Charity was in the den looking at a book when Lou called her into the kitchen. Toby and Prue were sitting at the table, drawing. James was pushing around a woolly dog on wheels. It was eleven o’clock, no one had remarked on anything unusual over breakfast and the fear inside her was gradually subsiding.

She saw Auntie Lou bundling sheets and her nightdress into the washing machine. The blood froze in her veins, and panic overwhelmed her.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Lou turned towards Charity and opened her arms. ‘Did you think I’d be cross?’

Charity avoided her arms and just hung her head in silence. She was sure Auntie Lou would find out the truth. The temptation to spill it all out was so strong, she felt as if she was being drawn into a wind tunnel. But in the back of her mind was that embroidered text on the parlour wall: ‘Honour thy Father and Mother’.

Father couldn’t hurt her again. Prudence was safe. What good would it do bringing something so shameful out into the open? It wouldn’t make her forget, she couldn’t go back to being as innocent as Prue. All a confession would do was bring shame to the family name.

‘Life’s been hard,’ she whispered. ‘Sometimes I wished I could just leave home. But I never wanted anything like this to happen.’

‘You’ll feel better soon,’ Lou murmured, enveloping Charity in an aroma of Blue Grass perfume and newly shampooed hair. ‘It’s nature’s way of healing, don’t try to hold it back.’

The funeral service would have pleased Father. The sun shone and Babylon Hall was full to capacity with all his reformed drunks, the sad and the lonely people who thought so much of him. There in the one place Charity had felt proud of her father she was able to mourn. Silently she promised her parents she would take care of her brothers and sister and vowed to keep her secrets to herself. Auntie Lou had said no more about seeing a doctor. Everything was over.

Easter came with the suggestion that happy times were here to stay. Uncle Geoff led an Easter egg hunt in the garden after church. Prudence was beside herself with happiness because Auntie Lou had bought her the pale blue dress with a smocked yoke she’d admired for so long. Charity got a full circular skirt, a wonderful emerald green one with a separate can-can petticoat and a white ‘Goosegirl’ blouse with a ruffle round the scoop neck.