Never Look Back (29 page)

‘We can’t take her,’ he whispered back. ‘The governors of the Home stipulated no one over ten, but we could take the infant if she agrees.’

Matilda moved a couple of steps nearer. ‘We could take your baby too, that’s if you want us to,’ she said gently.

‘Take my babby?’ Cissie replid, her voice rising with indignation. ‘D’you think I’m so low I’d give me son away for the asking? He’s mine, and even if I ain’t got nothing, I loves him. Now, clear off out of here. I might’a known I couldn’t trust a bloody priest, he said he was only taking orphans.’

The light from the lantern quivered, indicating Giles was severely shaken by this verbal onslaught.

‘You
can
trust Reverend Milson. He wouldn’t separate a baby from its mother unless she was ready to give it up,’ Matilda said soothingly, wishing she had the courage to push on through the rats to get closer to the girl. ‘We only suggested taking Peter because we thought it would help you.’

‘That’s right, Cissie,’ Giles spoke up. ‘We only came for orphans, so if you’ll just give us Pearl and wake the other children up, then we’ll be off with them.’

Matilda looked down at the squirming rats and shuddered. ‘How long will it be before they get her baby if we leave her here?’ she muttered to her master.

When he didn’t reply she caught hold of his arm. ‘Look, sir, I know we don’t know anything about her,’ she whispered. ‘But she’s got a big heart or she wouldn’t be feeding the other baby. Please, sir! Don’t leave her here. Give her and her baby a chance in life too.’

He looked round at Matilda and his face was contorted with anguish, proving he was as moved by the girl’s plight as she was. ‘Please,’ she repeated. ‘You can blame me if the governors say anything.’

‘How could I blame you for something which is obviously so right?’ he replied, then, moving forwards and skirting around the rats, he spoke again to Cissie. ‘Would you like to come with us too? I can’t promise a permanent home for you and Peter, I’m afraid, but maybe we can keep you for a few weeks. If you’d agree to feed Pearl along with your son, and
help at the Home, then perhaps I can find a position for you later.’

Matilda watched the girl’s expression. She was frowning, clearly afraid this new offer might be a trick to take her baby.

‘Come with us, Cissie. I give you my word of honour no one will try to take Peter from you,’ she said. She glanced at the other children now waking at the sound of voices, and saw the way they all instinctively reached out to touch Cissie. ‘I’m sure all these others will be much happier with you there too.’

Cissie looked at the children’s hands on her, then her eyes went back to Matilda. ‘You mean it?’ she said incredulously. ‘You’d take me and Peter to the same place as them?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Giles reassured her, though his voice was cracking with uncertainty. ‘But first we go to a doctor’s house so he can check you all out, let you have a bath, food and clean clothes.’

Her smile was like a sunray lighting up the cellar. She took her baby from her breast, pulled her tattered dress over and fastened it, then, holding a baby on each shoulder, she stood up.

‘Come on, you lot,’ she said, nudging the pile of children around her. ‘We got a home to go to.’

It was not until after nine that same evening that Matilda got to hear Cissie’s story. They had gone through the same routine with this bunch of children as the previous one, fed them, bathed them, shaved their heads and dressed them in warm clothes. Both babies were very small, Peter five weeks, Pearl three, but the doctor had pronounced them healthy enough and Cissie capable of continuing to feed them both as long as she took care to eat and drink enough herself.

Her bathing and head shaving were left to last, with Matilda reluctantly supervising. It was easy enough to wash a child, but while she scrubbed away to give a mild lecture on the reasons why cleanliness was so important, although Cissie’s thin body was even filthier than the children’s, still daubed with dried blood from the recent birth, her engorged breasts were a reminder that young as she was, she was a mother and therefore had a right to be treated as an adult. It was also a poignant reminder of the day Matilda was bathed by Aggie, and she felt deeply for
the girl that she should be forced to have her dark hair shaved as the final humiliation.

‘It don’t matter to me, as long as you give me something to hide me head,’ Cissie replied with a disinterested shrug as Matilda tried to voice her sympathy. ‘I sure as hell ain’t going looking for any men in a while.’

Yet she sneered at herself in the plain dark brown serge dress and made a comment that she wouldn’t catch anyone’s eye in that. But once she’d put on a mob-cap she seemed cheered, and admitted it felt good to be clean and warm. Matilda thought she might even be a pretty girl once she’d put on some weight and her hair had grown again, for she had wide, green eyes and when she gave one of her rare smiles, they were the dazzling kind.

After Giles had gone home, and the children all been put to bed, Matilda and Cissie went into the kitchen where the two babies were sleeping peacefully, tucked one at each end of a drawer. Matilda had decided to sleep in the armchair, for she was concerned the children might wake during the night and be scared. Cissie gleefully pulled up the straw-filled mattress to the stove and settled down.

‘Tell me about yourself, Cissie,’ Matilda asked her. So far all she knew was what Cissie had told the doctor, that she thought she was fifteen but didn’t know her birth date, she’d been living on the streets since she was about eight, when her mother disappeared. She couldn’t tell them if she was born in America, or even what nationality her mother was, but there was a faint Irish inflection to her voice.

‘I told you’s everything,’ the girl replied.

‘No, you didn’t,’ Matilda argued. ‘You haven’t said who the father of your baby is, or anything about how you feel. Tell me that.’

‘I dunno who the father is, I went with a lot of men,’ she said in a sullen tone. ‘How d’you think I’d feed meself otherwise?’

Matilda blanched. She wondered if she really wanted to know any more. ‘Where were you when you had Peter?’ she asked. ‘Was anyone with you?’

‘In that same place you came to,’ she said. ‘Meg, Pearl’s ma, was with me.’

‘Were you scared?’

‘It were terrible. I thought I was gonna die,’ she admitted. ‘I
didn’t care much come the end. But one of the old biddies from upstairs come down and helped. She asked me if I wanted her to get one of the men to throw my babby in the river.’

Matilda gulped.

‘They do that all the time round there,’ Cissie said quite calmly. ‘But I wasn’t having none of that because Meg and me was gonna help one another. I loved her, see, we’d been together since we was little ‘uns.’

‘But you couldn’t have brought up your babies in that place, they would both have died the first winter there.’

‘We weren’t gonna stay there,’ she said, giving Matilda a pitying look. ‘We used to work the Bowery, see, we had a nice little room an’ all. But the landlord threw us out just before I was due, said he didn’t want no crying babies there. That’s how we ended up in Five Points, there weren’t no other place to go and we was too big to please men, know what I mean?’

Matilda nodded.

‘Well, we reckoned that if we just had the babbies, then we could take it in turn to mind them while the other worked. Soon as we’d got some money we’d get a place. But we didn’t know nothing about birthing, we thought that they just dropped out and you was on your way. It ain’t like that.’

Matilda could still remember her own mother’s cries when she had her last child, and young as she was it had left an indelible impression on her mind that it was a long, painful process that all too often led to death.

‘My mother died in childbirth,’ she said, hoping that by sharing her own experiences the girl would open up more. ‘I was brought up in a slum too, I was out selling flowers on the street in London when I was ten. If it wasn’t for the Reverend, I’d still be there.’

‘I thought you was a fine lady,’ Cissie said in some surprise.

Matilda laughed softly. ‘I wish I was! But go on, you had Peter and then Meg had Pearl, did anyone help her?’

‘The same old biddy again. But she was drunk and Meg got weaker and weaker and kept bleeding something awful. The rats came all round when they smelt the blood and I was so scared. I ran out to try and get help, but it was late at night and there weren’t anyone sober. I was scared to leave Meg any longer ‘cos of the rats and Peter was with her too. When I got back little
Pearl was there, the old biddy had cut the cord and that, but Meg was dying.’

Cissie broke down then, crying her heart out, and Matilda went over to her to comfort her, sensing this was the first time Cissie had allowed herself to grieve.

‘I wrapped up the babbies and took them with me to get help again,’ she said, tears running down her cheeks. ‘I found a policeman in the end, and he came back with me. But it was too late. Meg were dead, and the rats all over her.’

Matilda suddenly got a picture of those rats again and shuddered. She wanted to know who took Meg’s corpse away and a great deal more, but Cissie’s body was racking with sobs, so she just held her and waited until she grew calmer.

‘I told meself I’d never go in that cellar again,’ Cissie said at length, drying her eyes on the blanket. ‘The police let me stay in their barracks for a coupla nights, but when they turned me out I couldn’t get in anywhere and I was scared they’d stick me in The Tombs and take the babbies from me. So when it turned cold and wet that cellar was the only place to go.

‘It were those little kids who kept me going,’ she went on, thumbing at the room next door. ‘They used to bring me things to eat, and cuddle up to me like I was their ma too. That’s why when I heard about the Reverend taking that other lot of kids away somewhere good, I made up my mind to find him and get him to take those, and little Pearl too. I never thought he’d take me an’ all.’

She pulled back from Matilda, looking right into her eyes. ‘But then it was you what made him take me. I owe you for that, miss.’

‘You don’t owe me anything, my reward is to see you and the babies safe and well,’ Matilda rebuked her. ‘But if you do feel you owe me something, pay me back by behaving yourself out in New Jersey, no men, no drinking or anything like that, and make yourself useful. I reckon that if you do that, you’ll probably get to stay there.’

She laid out what it was like at the Home, about Miss Row-bottom, the two girls and Job that helped her. ‘It’s a really good place,’ she finished up. ‘And maybe your life is about to change for the better, just like mine did.’

Cissie took her hand and lifted it to her lips. ‘You might say
you ain’t a lady, but you’re a real one to me.’ Her green eyes were full of tears. ‘Don’t you worry none about me. I won’t let you down and I won’t ever forget you helped me.’

It was only after Cissie had fallen asleep on her mattress and Matilda had turned out the lamp that she gave way to thinking about Flynn. She’d successfully blocked him out of her mind all day, told herself that rescuing waifs was a far better thing to be doing than meeting a young man, yet now, all alone, she could not derive any comfort from that. If it was fate that she couldn’t be his sweetheart, why then had she been allowed to fall for him? For she knew she had, her mind, soul and body ached for him.

On Sunday morning Matilda woke very early. It was still dark and she could hear fog horns sounding out in the bay. After church this morning she would have the rest of the day off, but that wasn’t a pleasing prospect, she had no idea how she could pass the time all on her own and she knew she’d never get her mind off Flynn. But at least Lily seemed to have forgiven her at last. When she and Giles came in the previous evening Lily had been very solicitous about them being cold and tired. She showed far more interest in the Home too. She thought it might be a good idea to organize a sewing bee to make clothes for the children.

Touched by Lily’s enthusiasm, and aware Mrs Kirkbright might very well tell her that they had taken a young woman there too, Giles told her about Cissie and the two babies. As he omitted the cellar and Cissie’s previous profession, and leaned more on her kindness in trying to care for her dead friend’s baby, along with her own, Lily clearly imagined she was a wronged servant girl who had been turned out by her mistress, and she praised Giles for being so kindly.

Matilda found it almost laughable that her mistress could feel some compassion for an unmarried mother because she imagined her clean and decently dressed, nursing two plump healthy babies, yet if she’d passed by Cissie in her rags begging on the streets she would have rushed past, averting her eyes. But it was good to be able to talk about the Home now without guarding every single word.

As it turned out, rescuing Cissie had been a very good move
for everyone. The children weren’t frightened to get on the ferry to New Jersey because she was with them, and only one was sick. Miss Rowbottom was none too pleased at first to have a mother and two babies on her hands, but within a couple of hours she had come round when she saw that the children would do anything Cissie asked. By the time Matilda and Giles left, the new children had mingled so well with the old that apart from the difference between the shaved heads and the ones with an inch of stubble, it was hard to tell them apart.

Matilda lay there wondering how an abandoned child like Cissie could turn into such a loving mother. Giles gave God credit for it, but Matilda thought that was poppycock. From her viewpoint God was an uncaring fellow. He sent disaster to the believers and non-believers equally. He allowed men to grow rich on the sufferings of others, and the evil to prey on the good. He’d even robbed her of the opportunity to see Flynn ever again.

She was laying the table for breakfast just before eight, when she heard the ice man coming up the street. He came at the same time every morning, the wheels of his cart and the slow plodding of his horse over the cobbles distinct from any other merchant’s.