Without Sin (14 page)

Isaac strode through the children’s dormitory and opened the door into Miss Daley’s room. Meg peered beneath his arm, her glance going at once towards the bed. But she could not see
Bobbie, for now Miss Pendleton was there and bending over him.

‘What’s to do, then, Letitia?’ Isaac boomed. His sister turned an anxious face towards him and Meg caught her breath. There were tears in the matron’s eyes.

‘I think it could be diphtheria, Isaac. He’s very poorly, the poor little mite.’

‘Then we must have him moved at once to the infirmary and you must isolate him and yourself, Letitia. There’s no other course of action. We don’t want an outbreak. The
guardians would be most displeased . . .’

The hours dragged by. Darkness fell and supper passed, though Sarah and Meg could eat nothing. The other women were silent, leaving them alone with their worries.

‘If only they’d let us see him,’ Sarah moaned constantly and Meg bit her lip. Several times, Meg went outside and through the gate into the men’s yard to stand in front
of the long row of buildings across the yard from the main workhouse. She stared up at the dimly lit windows of the infirmary on the first floor above the bake house. She knew that was where they
had taken Bobbie.

On her fifth visit outside, when she had been standing in the darkness for some time, a soft voice spoke behind her in the shadows. ‘Meg? Meg, is that you?’

It was Jake. He had slipped out of the men’s quarters and along the side of the wall. He was standing near the door into the room at the end of the row. ‘Come on. Quick.’

With one last glance up at the windows, Meg ran lightly towards him.

‘In here.’ Jake took her hand and pulled her into the small room and closed the door. As her eyes became accustomed to the dark, Meg could just make out the shape of three coffins
lying across trestles. ‘Is there – is there anyone in them?’

‘Nah. No one’s died lately.’

Meg breathed more easily.

‘Now, tell me – what’s going on?’ Jake whispered.

‘It’s Bobbie. He’s sick and – and they won’t let us see him.’

‘That’s usual, Meg. They won’t let any of the mams see their kids, even if they’re ill.’

‘But if only they’d let Mam go to him. She could nurse him. She needn’t mix with the other women until – until he’s better again.’

‘But that’d mean she didn’t work, wouldn’t it?’

‘She’s not working anyway. Not really. She’s not well enough yet.’

‘There you are then.’ He tried to comfort her with common sense. ‘They don’t want her catching summat, do they?’

‘But no one can look after him better than his own mam,’ Meg cried passionately.

There was a long silence until Jake mumbled, ‘I wouldn’t know about that.’

Her mind on Bobbie, Meg didn’t notice the sadness in his tone. Instead she said, ‘I mean, you’d think they’d be glad of the help. You’d think they’d prefer
the mother to look after him instead of the matron having to devote all her time to one child.’

‘But it’s what Miss Pendleton always does.’ Jake paused significantly before adding, ‘Specially if it’s a little boy.’

‘They’ve not even let us know if the doctor’s been,’ Meg ranted. Suddenly she made up her mind. ‘I can’t stand this. I’m going to see the
master.’

‘Meg . . .’ Jake called after her, but she had wrenched open the door and was running across the men’s yard. Moments later she was knocking urgently on the master’s
office. There was no reply, so she rapped again. Nothing.

She hesitated only a moment before running up the stairs to the master’s bedroom. Before she could lose her nerve, she knocked on that door and Isaac’s voice boomed, ‘Come
in.’

Meg opened the door and stepped into the room. Immediately, she understood the reason for Isaac’s impatience. He was sitting on the sofa before a blazing log fire with his arm along the
back of the sofa around a woman, whose head rested on his shoulder. The sound of weeping reached Meg and, as she recognized the woman’s dark brown hair, she gasped aloud. ‘Mam –
what are you doing here?’

Gently, Isaac disentangled himself and stood up. Though irritation still showed in his eyes, he managed to say smoothly, ‘Come in, my dear. Come and sit down. We didn’t know where to
find you.’

‘I – I’ve been in the yard. I was trying to – I wanted to feel as close as I could to Bobbie.’

She moved forwards stiffly and sat down, her gaze going to her mother. But Sarah was sitting hunched up on the sofa, her hands covering her face.

‘Mam – what are you doing here?’ The sight of her mother with the master’s arm around her had disturbed Meg. But at Isaac’s next words any qualms she had about her
mother were driven from the girl’s mind.

‘My dear,’ he said in a solemn tone, ‘we have bad news, I’m afraid. Little Bobbie died an hour ago.’

Meg felt as if her heart had stopped beating. She began to shiver uncontrollably. ‘Oh no, no. Not that. Not Bobbie too.’

They were used to death in the workhouse. It happened to the young as well as in the dormitories for the old and infirm, where death was to be expected. Indeed, many elderly
folk, too infirm to work, knew that they were entering the workhouse to die.

And, amongst the young, many were undernourished and weak when they arrived. In such conditions, infectious diseases spread rapidly and there was little care available beyond a perfunctory visit
from the doctor and the ministrations of the matron. One whole section of the local cemetery, where paupers were buried, gave testament to this fact. A flat area, broken only by gentle mounds with
no marked graves, no headstones erected by loving relatives, spoke of the desperate circumstances of the departed. No one mourned them, no one had cared enough about them in life to give them
shelter and now no one cared about them in death.

But Meg cared. She was incensed that her little brother should have been allowed to die. For the first time since the misunderstanding over the watch, Meg sought out Louisa Daley. She found her
alone in the classroom before the start of morning lessons.

‘You killed him,’ she cried passionately. Fists clenched, she stormed towards the young schoolmistress. ‘You
let
him die.’

Louisa blanched. She stepped back behind the desk, trying to put a barrier between herself and the distraught girl. ‘Meg, there was nothing that could have been done. It – it was
diphtheria. Philip – Dr Collins – said so.’

‘Ah yes! Dr Collins!’ Meg’s eyes blazed. ‘Too busy paying court to you to attend to his patients.’

Louisa gasped. ‘That’s not fair.’

‘Not fair? Not
fair
? Is it fair that my poor mam has lost four babies and now her little boy? And I’ve lost my Bobbie.’ Tears threatened to choke her, but anger carried
her on. She shook her fist in Louisa’s face. ‘First, you call me a thief and then you let my brother die. I won’t forget this. I swear – one day – I’ll make you
pay.’

She turned away but then swung back to deliver one last salvo. ‘And don’t you dare to think of coming to his funeral.’

It was the custom for the matron and the schoolmistress to attend the funeral of any child who had been in their care. But this time Meg made sure that Louisa Daley knew she was not wanted.

Sarah and Meg stood beside each other after the brief and soulless committal of the pathetically small rough wooden coffin into the cold earth. Only one other person attended
the brief service held at the graveside: the matron. She stood on the opposite side of the deep hole, holding a handkerchief to her face.

‘Another of my little boys gone,’ she wept.

Meg wanted to shout:
He wasn’t yours. He was ours. Mam’s and mine
. But she said nothing. The woman’s sorrow was genuine and, strangely, the fact that someone else was
grieving for little Bobbie seemed to comfort Sarah. It was she who stepped around the grave and took Letitia’s arm to lead her gently away. Poor Sarah had become so used to heartache in her
life that she expected it now.

With one last glance down into the grave, Meg whispered, ‘Goodnight, my darling little brother. Sleep tight.’ It was what she’d always said to him when she’d tucked him
in bed at night. She was heartsore that even that small, loving action had been denied to her, and to Sarah too, during the past few weeks. Only the matron – or Louisa Daley – had had
that privilege. Meg turned away, tears blurring her vision, and stumbled after the two women.

It was only then that she remembered. Today was her sixteenth birthday.

On their return to the workhouse, Jake was hovering near the gate leading from the men’s yard into the women’s.

Letitia put her arm around him and hugged him to her, even though he was as tall as she was now. Her little Jake. She’d cared for him since the day he was born. She wouldn’t lose
him. Jake would always be with her. ‘What are you doing here, Jake? If the master sees you—’

‘Sorry, Matron, but – but—’ He nodded towards Meg and her mother, now crossing the yard towards the back door into the women’s quarters. ‘I wanted to see how
Meg and her mam were.’

Letitia shook her head. ‘Ah, poor souls.’ She glanced across the yard and then up to the windows of her brother’s rooms. Then she smiled at the anxious boy in front of her.
‘You’re a good boy, Jake.’ She patted his cheek and seemed to come to a swift decision. ‘I know. Walk across the yard with me. You can have a few minutes with the lass just
inside the back door. If he sees you with me, he’ll not say anything.’

Jake grinned at her. ‘You’re a diamond, Matron.’

The woman’s round cheeks flushed and for a moment tears sparkled in her eyes. Then she smiled fondly. ‘And you’re a rogue, Jake Bosley. You know how to twist me round your
little finger, don’t you? Always have done.’ But she turned and walked across the yard, Jake falling into step beside her. ‘Now, don’t let me down,’ she murmured as
they walked. ‘Only a few minutes, mind.’

The two young people were left alone just inside the back entrance.

‘You all right?’ Jake asked softly. Meg nodded, unable to speak for a moment.

‘And – and your mam?’

Meg sighed. ‘Sad. We both are. But—’

‘What?’ Jake pressed gently.

‘It was funny, really. Miss Pendleton seemed even more upset than us.’

Jake shrugged. ‘She always is when one of the little ones dies.’

There was silence between them until Jake asked hesitantly, ‘Shall you – shall you try to find yer dad again? To tell him about Bobbie, I mean?’

Meg gave an explosive snort. ‘No, I shan’t. He doesn’t care about us. Any of us. Made that plain, hasn’t he? I don’t care if I never set eyes on him
again.’

‘I just thought – well – he is Bobbie’s dad and I thought he ought to know.’

Meg thrust her face close to Jake’s. ‘He doesn’t deserve to know anything,’ she hissed. ‘And if you want me an’ you to go on being friends, then shut up about
him. As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t got a dad. Not any more.’

Jake blinked at her vitriolic words. Then, despite himself, he grinned. ‘By, no wonder you’re a redhead. Fiery, aren’t yer?’

But Meg could not share his attempt at fun. She glowered at him. ‘Yeah, I’m fiery. Looks like I’m going to have to be to get anywhere in this world. I’m on me own now,
aren’t I?’

‘You’ve still got yer mam.’ The wistfulness in his tone was lost on Meg, who was too wrapped up in her own tragedies. She pulled a face. ‘By the look of things,
it’s going to be me looking after her, not the other way about.’

Jake gave a weak smile and shuffled his feet in embarrassment. ‘You – you can count on me, Meg. I’ll always be there for you.’

Meg stared at him for a moment and then softened enough to touch his arm and say huskily, ‘Thanks, Jake, but let’s face it, you don’t know much about the world outside these
walls, do yer? And I’m damned if I’m staying in the workhouse the rest of me life.’

Jake squared his shoulders and puffed out his thin chest as far as he could. ‘Neither am I,’ he declared boldly. ‘I’ve talked to Ron and I’m off to see the mester
at the farm come Monday. And if he teks me on, Ron says I can move in with him and his family in the little cottage—’ He stopped suddenly, appalled to realize that he was talking about
Meg’s former home. ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ she said harshly. ‘Look after yourself, Jake.’ She smiled wistfully as she added, ‘Try and get the little room above the kitchen. It was mine and
it was always warm from the chimney above the range. And – and think of me.’ She turned away to run up the stairs, her hobnailed boots clattering on the stone steps.

Jake gazed after her. ‘Oh, I will, Meg,’ he whispered, even though she could not hear him. ‘I’ll think of you all the time.’

Meg was waiting outside Mr Rodwell’s tailor’s shop well before opening time the following Monday. It was a wet morning and cool for July. The wind whistled round
the corner, making her shiver. She hopped from one foot to the other, trying to keep warm, and was thankful when at last she saw a figure hurrying up the street, his umbrella held low in front of
him against the driving rain. He didn’t see her until he was almost at the door and lifted his umbrella, searching in his pocket for the keys to his shop.

‘Ah, there you are,’ Percy said.

‘Yes, sir. Here I am.’

‘Dear me, you must be soaked. Come in quickly . . .’ He fumbled with the keys, dropping them to the ground in his haste. Meg bent and picked them up, handing them to him with a
smile. She was about to say:
Don’t worry about me, Mr Rodwell. I’m used to working out in all weathers. A bit of rain doesn’t bother me
. But then she thought better of it.
Instead, she smiled shyly. ‘It’s very kind of you to be so concerned, Mr Rodwell.’

At last he got the door open and held it for her to step inside ahead of him. ‘Have you been waiting long?’

‘A bit,’ she said, as if reluctant to admit it. ‘I didn’t want to be late.’

‘Very commendable, my dear,’ Percy said, a smile creasing his thin face. ‘But I don’t like to think of you standing in the cold waiting for me.’

He moved about the shop opening the window blinds and letting in what early-morning light there was on this dull day. Then he beckoned her to the back of the shop and ushered her through a door
and into his workroom. Meg glanced about her.