The Girl From Penny Lane (40 page)

‘Ye-es, in many cases I would agree with you, but Mrs Drinkwater wasn’t a good or caring parent,’ Sister said firmly. ‘She disliked Kitty and used to beat her; the child had a broken arm, cracked ribs . . .’

‘What? She beat her children? I know it happens, but . . . how did you find out?’ Lilac said. ‘Did Kitty tell you?’

‘Not exactly. But the signs are there for anyone to read – a self-set arm doesn’t mend quite straight, one of the ribs had actually pierced the skin. It happened years ago, but we could see she’d been maltreated. So when she was more herself Nurse asked her how she broke her arm and so on and Kitty said frankly that her mother had done it when annoyed. And the neighbours said that Mrs Drinkwater gave the children almost nothing to eat and let them fend for themselves, though they seemed to think that Kitty had only lately returned to the house, which is no doubt the reason for her present good state of health.’

‘What a wicked woman!’ Lilac said, appalled. She thought she knew a good deal about life in the courts, but in Coronation Court there had been friendship and kindliness and a deep sense of loyalty as well as poverty. She remembered men fighting their wives and occasionally hitting their children, but not hitting to deliberately break bones. ‘Kitty’s well out of it, then.’

‘I agree. If the woman was to recover . . . but I don’t think that is likely to happen. And the family next door, though well-disposed to Kitty and the younger girl, have troubles of their own. One of the older girls and two of the children have taken scarlet fever and are being nursed on another ward here. But I mustn’t digress; what I called you in to discuss was how much we should tell Kitty.’

‘I’m inclined to think she should be told nothing, until their problems are resolved one way or the other,’ Lilac said after a moment. ‘There’s no sense in worrying her needlessly. Should the subject arise, however, it may be necessary to tell her how things stand. In the meantime I’ll visit the sisters at the Father Berry Home – I was in an orphan asylum myself a few years back, it wasn’t all that bad, we were fed and clothed. Only . . . you like to know you aren’t forgotten.’

‘That’s very good of you, Miss Larkin. You don’t think perhaps Kitty may resent not having been told later, when she’s better?’

‘I think perhaps she can deal with resentment then more easily than she can deal with worry now,’ Lilac said, again after thought. ‘I may be wrong, but that’s how I feel. She wouldn’t be allowed to visit the other hospital, would she?’

‘Indeed not.’

‘Then there can be no harm in leaving her ignorant for a little longer.’ She smiled at Sister and rose to her feet. ‘If I may, I’ll go along and have a quiet word with Kitty, tell her I’m off to the Berry Home, and then I’ll catch a tram up there and tell the children that Kitty’s improving fast. I won’t mention their mother or the other girl unless one of the children asks outright, and I’ll see how much I think Kitty can take.’

‘I wouldn’t want you to tell an untruth,’ Sister said doubtfully. ‘But I’m sure you’ll manage to satisfy them that all is well without actually . . . thank you for your time, Miss Larkin. Perhaps we may have another chat later in the week.’

Lilac left Sister’s office and went along to the ward. Kitty was sitting up in bed reading a book. She had chosen, or had had chosen for her, Lilac was not sure which, a book for very young children with very large print. Sensible, since she was still weak and lethargic and doubtless finding it difficult to focus – or concentrate – for long. She was following the adventures of a lively rag doll, but looked up and smiled as Lilac sat in the visitor’s chair on the other side of the glass.

‘Afternoon, Miss,’ she said. Lilac could just catch the words. ‘I’m ever so much better today – I ’ad an egg for me dinner!’

‘Well done,’ Lilac said, smiling. ‘Would you like me to bring you some books when I come tomorrow? I’ll choose more tales with big print, which will be easier for you until you’re rather stronger.’

‘They ’ave to stay on the fever ward, though,’ Kitty warned. ‘You can’t tek ’em ’ome with you . . . better leave it a while. Johnny, a friend of mine, ’e’d be shocked to ’ear they burns the books after a while.’

‘It’s to prevent the spread of infection, though,’ Lilac said, ‘so he mustn’t be shocked. Kitty, my dear, I’m going to visit the Father Berry when I leave here and Sister tells me you’ve sisters in there. Would you like to send them a message?’

‘You? Visit the Father Berry Home?’

‘Yes, indeed. I was at the Culler Orphan Asylum myself for many years. My sister Nellie, too. If you’ll give me your sisters’ names . . .’

‘Course. But I wish someone ’ud get a message to me sister Betty for me; she’s at number 8 Paradise Court, off Burlington Street. I gits scared, ’cos me old woman can be ’ard to tek care of, an’ Bet’s only a bit of a kid really. You see, they’ll be took care of in the Berry ’Ome, I know that; Mam an’ Bet is on their own.’

‘I’ll get a message to her,’ Lilac said steadily. ‘I’ll see it’s passed to her even if I can’t see her myself.’

‘You would? Oh Miss . . . thanks,’ Kitty said eagerly. ‘You are real good.’

‘It’s no trouble, anyone would do the same. Now what do you want me to say?’

Kitty lay down her book and frowned at her white fingers on the cover.

‘Say . . . Kitty’s in ’ospickle but she’ll be jest fine soon, an’ back wi’ Bet soon’s she can. An’ say I’s awful sorry to ’ave left ’er in the lurch, an’ is there anything she needs real bad,’ Kitty said at last, all of a rush. ‘An if they’re mortal ’ungry, Miss, could you lend ’em a few coppers? I’ll pay you back when I git outer ’ere, honest to God.’

‘Don’t worry about it any more. I’ll see they’re fed and as comfortable as they can be,’ Lilac said. ‘I bet you think they’d be better off in hospital, like you!’

‘Well, they would be,’ Kitty said frankly. ‘I’s shamed for you to see that ’ouse, Miss, but there’s no ’elp for it.’

‘Yes there is,’ Lilac said. She leaned close to the glass, so that Kitty could hear her without possibility of a mistake. ‘Kitty, your mother and Betty
are
both in hospital, getting the best possible care. After you were taken ill there was an accident. Betty was helping your mother upstairs and somehow they stumbled and ended up in the cellar. It was a nasty fall but they’re being given every attention. They’re in the David Lewis Northern Hospital.’

Kitty’s furrowed brow cleared.

‘Oh, thank Gawd,’ she said fervently. ‘Oh, Miss, you don’t know ’ow you’ve relieved me mind! I ’ad visions of ’em starvin’, the pair of ’em, like I thought about me dear ole Patch till you said you’d got ’er safe. I spec’ me Mam were drunk an’ they fell down the Drop . . . it’s a wonder they weren’t smothered. Who gorrem out?’

‘Your next door neighbours, whose name escapes me for the moment. Kitty, dear, if you would like me to do so I can go and visit your mother and Betty when I come back from the Home, and see how they are.’

‘Oh Miss! Give Betty me love an’ tell ’er to bear up . . . tell ’er I’m gettin’ well, an’ she must, too.’ She looked anxious for the first time since Lilac had broken the news. ‘She will get better, won’t she, Miss?’

‘I see no reason why she shouldn’t,’ Lilac said stoutly. ‘She’s had a dreadful experience, but she’s in good hands. Anyway, Kitty, I’d better be off because I’m on the evening shift at the Delamere so I’ve got quite a lot to get done this afternoon!’

Kitty agreed and waved her off and Lilac made her way along the corridor and out into the fresh air.

It was not a nice day. It had started off with rain, light and drizzly, but now a yellowish fog hung over the city, with not a breath of wind to stir it. Lilac got a large silk handkerchief out of her coat pocket and looped it round her mouth and nose. It made breathing easier but it didn’t do much for seeing. However, she found the small confectioner’s shop she was looking for without much trouble, went in and bought a pound of toffee, and then walked a little further along to the tram stop. She didn’t have long to wait before the tram she wanted inched to a stop beside her, but already by then the fog was penetrating her handkerchief and she was glad to climb aboard and sit down in the relative warmth. ‘The Father Berry Home, on Shaw Street, please,’ she said to the conductor when he came to collect her fare. ‘When did this fog come down? I’ve been hospital visiting and when I went in it was just dampish.’

The conductor rattled her out a ticket and considered.

‘Let me see . . . sudden-like, it were,’ he said. ‘Must ’ave been an hour or more ago. Wind dropped away to nothing the way it does an’ the fog began to pour in from the river. If it stays thick like this Gawd knows what time I’ll git ’ome tonight.’

‘Same for me,’ Lilac said rather gloomily. She settled back in her seat as the conductor moved off down the tram. What a nuisance that she was committed to so much to-ing and fro-ing with the filthy yellow fog so thick! She knew from past experience that the trams got later and later, omnibuses simply ceased to run, people grew irritable and lost their way, and when darkness fell the traffic crawled, their headlamps unable to pierce the fog but merely lighting up the blanket so that seeing through it was even more impossible. Still, a promise was a promise, and she had made it clear that she would at least take a peep at the invalids in the David Lewis.

It took almost twice as long as usual to reach Shaw Street. Lilac hurried up it and along to the Home. She knocked, explained her errand, was admitted. She was a little surprised to be told by a friendly nun that she was not visiting two children, but four.

‘Phyllis and Maureen have been here almost two years; they’re a great support to their sisters,’ the nun said. ‘I daresay Kitty forgot that they were already with us when she asked you to visit. But come into the sitting room and I’ll send the girls down to you.’

The four little girls who came into the superintendent’s sitting room were not at all like Kitty to look at. They were all fair and blue-eyed, with round, rather blank faces. They had none of the sharpness of their elder sister, nor her ready smile, though when Lilac explained who she was, said that their mother had had a fall and was in hospital but that Kitty, also in hospital, was feeling much better and asking for them, and got out the toffee, divided into four small, brown bags by the kindly nun, smiles peeped for a moment.

‘When I was your age I would have been mobbed for that toffee,’ Lilac said as she handed it over. ‘Have you got pockets?’

Four small heads nodded. Each child stuck a chunk of toffee in one cheek and the rest of each bag disappeared into the capacious pockets of their pinafores.

‘I’ll give Kitty your love,’ Lilac said gently. ‘And I’ll come back and see you next week. When she’s well enough she’ll come herself, of course.’

The children watched, expressionless, as Lilac headed for the door. They did not ask about their mother, nor about Betty. Lilac was thinking them dull and unsympathetic when, just as she took hold of the handle, one of the children nudged the one next to her.

‘Thanks, Miss,’ the two of them said in chorus, and one added, ‘Tell ’er we’re awright, would you, Miss? Tell our Mam to get well an’ all. An’ tell our Kit as ’ow Eth’s takin’ care of the kids in ’ere.’

‘I will,’ Lilac said warmly, and made her way down Shaw Street and back to her tram stop, feeling that she had judged them rather too harshly. They looked stupid, they appeared indifferent, but that was what an institution did for you if you didn’t exert your personality, and those poor little kids were probably still stunned by what had happened to them.

Outside, the fog caught at her throat and stung her eyes, making her reach into her pocket for the silk handkerchief. She fumbled in the narrow opening, but the handkerchief wasn’t there. Cross with herself, for she remembered now that she had jammed it in carelessly when she climbed aboard the tram, she retraced her steps, but it wasn’t in the street nor on the steps of the Father Berry Home.

Shrugging, Lilac turned back towards her tram stop. It was a nuisance, but she didn’t need the handkerchief to get back to the Delamere safely, she could turn her coat collar up and keep her chin tucked down and she would still be able to visit the hospital and be back at the Delamere in plenty of time for her shift.

The trouble was, it was just not possible to get a tram on Shaw Street – or on Islington Square for that matter – which would take her straight to the David Lewis Northern. She would have to change. And whichever way you looked at it, this was no weather to be hanging around at a tram stop whilst time ticked by and your shift got nearer and nearer.

Liverpool’s pretty compact; if I go by tram as far as the Old Haymarket and change onto a Vauxhall Road one, then I can easily nip through to the hospital, do my visiting and then walk to Tythebarn Street, Lilac decided. Once she got in the general area of Exchange Station, in fact, the hotel and the hospital were quite close. But the fog was horribly thick and the tram, when it came, was the wrong one. Lilac squeezed herself aboard, wedged between two bad-tempered shawlies with enormous shopping baskets, and stood, peering out at the swirling yellow fog. She realised she was aboard the wrong vehicle when someone announced they were on Great George Street, so she pushed her way crossly out of the vehicle and waited for a tram going in the opposite direction.

She was lucky; a tram sailed up almost immediately and she climbed aboard, but the fog was getting thicker by the minute and to make matters worse the conductor was clearly new to this particular route, so whenever the tram slowed and stopped every passenger gave his or her opinion of their whereabouts.

‘Dis is Renshaw Street – sure an’ d’you t’ink I don’t know me own social club? It’s dat big buildin’ . . .’

‘Renshaw? And ’aven’t I bin stoppin’ off at Meece’s o’ Ranelagh Place to buy me taffy an’ lickerish since I were a nipper; I can smell it, we’re alongside Meece’s.’