Sapphire Battersea (2 page)

‘I won’t say a word to anyone, I promise,’ said Sheila, but her eyes were still bright. I feared she’d tell Monica the moment she was back in the dormitory.

I’ll never know how much she’d have told and whether she’d have deliberately betrayed Mama and me. We were discovered anyway. Mama and I were used to whispering, but Sheila had a high clear voice that travelled far. By terrible chance Matron Pigface Peters had shuffled down to the kitchen, seeking out a midnight snack from the pantry. She heard Sheila repeating, ‘Just fancy Ida being your real mother, Hetty!’

Matron Pigface barged her way into Mama’s crowded bedroom, a hideous sight in her nightcap and ruffled gown, her greasy hair coiling in true pig’s tails about her cheeks. She stared at Mama, at Sheila, at me.

‘Repeat what you said just now, Sheila Mayhew!’ she commanded.

‘I – I don’t remember what I said,’ Sheila stammered.

‘The girls were playing a silly game, Matron. I was about to scold them and send them back to their dormitory,’ said Mama.

‘Don’t lie to me, Ida Battersea!’ She was
squinting
at her now, then peering at me. ‘Can this really be
true
? Are you Hetty Feather’s mother?’

‘How could I be?’ said Ida. ‘It’s a game, I told you, an idle fancy, because the girls all long for their mothers.’

Matron Pigface Peters dragged me over to the candle, clutching my chin, turning my face this way and that. Then she went to grab hold of Mama.

‘Don’t you dare touch me! And take your hands off that child too – look, you’re hurting her!’

‘It’s the truth that hurts, Ida Battersea! I see the likeness now! How could you have been so devious? You’ve been deceiving us for years and years! You were supposed to give up your ill-gotten child for ever – not work here with her glorying in your disgraceful situation. Have you two been secretly communing all this time? It beggars belief! How
dare
you both deceive us like this!’

‘It wasn’t Hetty’s fault, Matron. She didn’t know – not for ever so long. I meant no harm. I just wanted a glimpse of her every day – that was enough,’ said Mama, starting to sob. ‘When she disappeared on the day of the Jubilee, I could hardly contain myself. I worried fit to burst. When she came back at last, I was so relieved I fainted dead away.’

‘Oh yes, I remember that!’ said Sheila. ‘We all
thought
you’d died on the spot! So did you tell Hetty then?’

‘Hold your tongue, Sheila Mayhew! This is nothing to do with you. Go back to the dormitory this instant. You are to keep utterly silent on this shameful matter,’ said Matron Pigface.

‘It’s not shameful to love your own child!’ I said furiously. ‘Mama’s done nothing wrong.’

‘We’ll see if the Board of Governors agrees with you! It’s my opinion they’ll take a very grave view of this deception. I would prepare yourself for instant dismissal, Ida Battersea – with no character reference, so don’t expect to get another job in any decent God-fearing establishment. You’re morally corrupt and an evil influence on all our girls.’

‘How dare you threaten Mama like that!’ I cried. ‘You wait, Matron Peters! My friend and benefactress Miss Sarah Smith is on the Board of Governors. She will never send my own mama away.
You
will be the one who’s sent away, because you’re cruel and wicked, and you have no heart at all inside your big fat chest!’

She dragged me away, shouting and screaming. I did not even have time to kiss Mama and say goodbye. I struggled hard, but Matron Pigface slapped me about the head and picked me up bodily. Half the girls from the dormitory were clustered on the stairs, gawping at me.

‘Go back to your beds this instant!’ Matron Pigface shrieked, and they scuttled away.

She carried on dragging me up another flight of stairs.

‘No! No, please don’t put me in the punishment room!’ I screamed. ‘I can’t stand it there, you know I can’t!’

‘You deserve to stay locked up in there for ever!’ said Matron Pigface, thrusting me into the terrifying dark cupboard.

‘No, please, I beg you! Don’t lock me in! Please, I haven’t done anything
wrong
!’

‘You’re the most evil child I’ve ever come across. You have no shame, show no respect! You act as if you’re as good as anyone else. Just remember you’re a common foundling, born in sin, without a father. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were the spawn of the Devil himself,’ she panted, and she locked the door on me.

It was the longest, most agonizing night of my life. I hit the door and walls until my knuckles were bloody – and then I cast myself down on the floor and wept. I called again and again for Mama, but she didn’t come. I was frightened they’d locked her up too.

When one of the nurses let me out in the morning, I pushed right past her and ran all the way downstairs to Mama’s room … but she wasn’t
there
! Her cap and apron and print dresses were gone from the pegs on her wall, her brush and comb and her cake of soap and her flannel were gone from her chest. The very pillowcase and sheets had been stripped from her bed, leaving a bare black-and-white striped mattress. There was no trace left of Mama. It was as if she had never existed.

I SOBBED MYSELF
into a stupor. I could not eat. I could not sleep. I became so fuddled I could barely stagger out of bed. Matron Bottomly and Matron Peters both declared I was faking illness, but I was burning with such a fever that the nurses were frightened and summoned the doctor.

‘There is nothing wrong with the child, Dr March,’ said Matron Bottomly. ‘She simply screamed herself into a passion. I have never known such a wilful child as Hetty Feather. She deserves a good whipping – though of course we would never lay a finger on any of our foundlings,’ she added hastily.

Dr March laid the back of his hand on my forehead, then listened to my chest. ‘The child is clearly ill, Matron, wilful or not,’ he said. ‘She’s a frail little creature and I fear her chest is weak. She must be kept here in bed, wrapped in wet sheets to lower her fever, and be fed an invalid diet of bread and milk.’

‘I think it is criminal to cosset such a wicked girl,’ Matron Bottomly murmured to the nurse, but she did not dare disobey the doctor’s orders. I was kept isolated in the infirmary. My fever left me after several days but I was still strangely ailing. I could barely sit up in bed. I ate nothing, took just a few sips of water, and lay with my eyes closed, not talking to anyone.

‘Come along, Hetty Feather,’ said Matron Stinking Bottomly. ‘Get up at once.’

‘Stir yourself, you lazy girl. We know you’re faking,’ said Matron Pigface Peters.

They pulled back the sheets but I didn’t move, though it was freezing cold.

‘Get on your
feet
!’ they screamed, and dragged me out of bed.

I stood shivering in my nightgown, while the room whirled violently round and round. The two shouting matrons whirled too, playing a crazy game of ring-a-roses before my eyes. I fainted clean away, cracking my head on the stone floor.

I came round to find blood trickling down my cheek and into the neck of my nightgown. The two matrons were the colour of the infirmary sheets, thinking I had died there and then. Dr March was hastily sent for again. He dabbed at the great gash on my temple, sighing, and told both matrons that it was dangerous to try and rouse me in such a manner.

‘But her fever is gone, I am sure. There is nothing wrong with her physically,’ said Matron Bottomly.

‘Ah, physically, maybe, though she’ll be groggy for a couple of days after that bang on the head. No, it’s what’s going on
inside
her head that concerns me.’

‘I’m all too aware of what’s going on in that red head of hers. Mischief, lies and total insubordination!’ Matron Peters murmured to Matron Bottomly.

Dr March sat beside me, taking my hand in his and patting it gently. I was so overcome by this unexpected kindness I started weeping.

‘There now, child. What is troubling you so? What is it you want?’

I swallowed, licked my dry lips and croaked, ‘I want
Mama
!’

‘Ah, I thought that might be the reason for this bizarre performance,’ said Matron Peters. ‘Well, want away, Hetty Feather. Your mother has been sent packing and she’s never coming back.’

I wept as the word
never
tolled in my head like a mourning bell. I lay in my bed. My head throbbed but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything, only Mama.

Then one morning I had a new visitor. I smelled lemon verbena soap and freshly ironed linen. I
opened
my eyes and saw the plain neat form of Miss Sarah Smith. She looked at me gravely.

‘Oh dear, Hetty,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You look like a little ghost!’

‘Miss Smith!’ I forced my head up off the pillow. The room lurched and tilted but I made a fierce effort to steady myself. ‘Oh, Miss Smith, you have to help me!’

‘What can I do for you, child?’

‘What can you
do
?’ I was so desperate I forgot to be polite and deferential. ‘You can get Mama back, that’s what you can do!’

‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, my dear,’ she said.

‘Yes you can! You’re on the Board of Governors! You do all that charity work and publish all those books. They will listen to you. Listen to me! Mama didn’t do anything
wrong
–’

‘She had a child out of wedlock, Hetty,’ Miss Smith said quietly.

‘So did the mother of every foundling in this whole hateful institution!’

‘They all gave up their babies to the hospital. They didn’t sneak back here under false pretences.’

‘Surely that proves just how much Mama loves me. And I love
her
, and I cannot bear it that she’s been cast out like a common criminal and denied a character reference.’

Miss Smith tried to interrupt, but I went on
talking
, sitting bolt upright and shouting now. The infirmary nurse came rushing to restrain me, but Miss Smith stopped her.

‘What will poor Mama do? She can’t get a new position without a character reference. She’s only ever worked here – and three terrible years in the workhouse. What if
they
won’t take her back? Then she will be left to fend for herself on the streets. You dare ask me what the matter is! How do you think I feel, knowing my own dear mother is sitting in some mire-filled, squalid gutter, weeping–’

Oh, Hetty, you have such a majestic imagination! Don’t get too carried away now! I assure you, your mother is
not
weeping in any mire-filled, squalid gutter. I like that phrase! I might well borrow it for one of my books.’

‘Are you
mocking
me?’

‘Only a little. I understand your anguish, but it’s unfounded. Your mother, Ida, is well provided for. She has a new position already.’

‘You’re lying!’

The nurse gasped. ‘Hetty Feather, how dare you address the lady like that!’

‘It’s quite all right, Nurse. It’s good to see Hetty in a passion. It tells me that she’s on the mend already,’ said Miss Smith. ‘I suggest you go and attend to your other patients, while Hetty and I continue our little chat.’

When the nurse left, with obvious reluctance, Miss Smith put her pale plain face close to mine, looking me straight in the eye. ‘Do you really think I’m a liar, Hetty?’

I took a deep breath and then shook my head.