A Mother's Courage (32 page)

Tibbie had saved a place for her at the main
table and she waved and beckoned to Eloise,
smiling broadly. 'You done it on purpose, didn't
you? You tipped the coke on the floor just so that
the old cow would fall flat on her backside.'

Becky had come to join them and she slapped
Eloise on the shoulder. 'I heard what you done,
Ellen. Good for you. The old bitch had it coming.'

Around her, everyone was smiling and winking
as though she was a heroine, and Eloise was
dazed by the sudden turn of events. She
acknowledged their unspoken approval with a
nod and a smile, and then she bent her head over
her plate of food, not wanting to draw any more
attention to herself. She had already made an
enemy of Mrs Cater and Miss Marchant; she
could not afford to offend them further.

Late that afternoon, when Matron was busy
supervising the children's teatime meal, Eloise
managed to slip upstairs to the nursery where
she found that Phoebe was still on duty. She was
sitting in a low chair giving one of the babies its
bottle. 'You just can't keep away, can you, Ellen?'

'I always wanted to be a nursemaid,' Eloise
said glibly. 'I thought if I got a bit of practice in, I
might be able to apply for a position in a big
house or even here.'

'Dunno why anyone would want to work with
nippers,' Phoebe replied, shrugging. 'I wanted to
be a proper nurse but they don't take on girls like
me. I'm too common to train in one of them
schools of nursing, so I ended up here, wiping
dirty bums and clearing up baby sick.'

'There are worse jobs,' Eloise said, craning her
neck to catch a glimpse of Joss and Beth.

'That's as maybe, but I'm not going to stay here
any longer than I have to. I'm stepping out with
a chap who works on the docks. We're going to
get hitched when we've saved up enough, or if I
happen to get in the family way, whichever
comes first. Not that I particularly want nippers,
not after putting up with this lot.'

Eloise edged closer to the cots where Joss and
Beth lay behind bars like tiny prisoners.
Although Beth slept peacefully enough, apart
from the occasional sneeze, Joss was wide awake,
lying on his back and staring at the ceiling.

'He won't eat,' Phoebe said, shaking her head.
'Won't touch nothing, but his little sister she took
her bottle all right at dinnertime in spite of her
nose being all blocked up, and she even
managed a bit of mashed tater and gravy. In fact,
she ain't no trouble, but him, he's a difficult one.'

Eloise lifted Joss from his cot, and as she held
his small body in her arms a frisson of fear ran
through her veins. His limbs were stiff and his
cheeks were pale. He rested his head against her
shoulder but he neither spoke nor gave any
obvious sign that he knew her. In the middle of
the room a table was set with tea, and those who
were big enough to sit unaided and feed themselves
were seated in high chairs eating bread
and butter. Eloise carried Joss to the table and she
tried to tempt him with a thin slice, but he turned
his head away. She poured milk into a cup and
held it to his lips. At first he shook his head, but
she persevered gently and finally he took a sip.
'Good boy, Joss,' Eloise whispered in his ear. 'Try
a little more, darling.'

Studying her face as if he was trying to place
her, Joss took another mouthful, and then seemed
to realise that he was thirsty and finished the
whole cupful. Eloise could have cried with relief,
but she schooled her features into a smile of
approval. 'Now, how about a little bit of bupper?'

The familiar baby name for his favourite teatime
food seemed to register with Joss and he
opened his mouth. Eloise broke off a morsel and
popped it between his lips, followed by another
and another until he had eaten the whole slice.

'Well, I said it afore and I'll say it again,'
Phoebe said, hitching the baby over her shoulder
and patting its back. 'You got a way with
nippers, Ellen. You can come in any time I'm on
duty and look after young master awkward
there. I can't do nothing with the little perisher.'

Eloise bit back a sharp retort and she hugged
Joss a little closer. 'Maybe if you knew his name
you might get more out of him.'

'I told you, he's not all there. He probably don't
know his own name, even if he could speak,
which he can't.'

'Maybe he'll speak to me,' Eloise said casually.
'I'll whisper in his ear and make out we're
playing a game.'

'Suit yourself, but you'll be wasting your time.
He's a mute if ever I saw one.'

Eloise placed her lips close to Joss's ear and
whispered the question. As she had feared, he
did not respond, but she forced her cold lips into
a smile and raised her voice so that Phoebe could
hear. 'Now you whisper to me, my boy. What is
your name?' She put her ear close to his face, but
Joss remained silent. She turned again to Phoebe.
'He says his name is Joss.'

'Well I never! Are you sure?'

'I heard him quite clearly. I think the poor child
is just too frightened to speak, but he whispered
his name in my ear.'

Phoebe rose to her feet and placed the baby
back in its cot. She hurried to the table to scold a
child who had spilt his milk. 'Naughty boy. You
shan't have any cake for that.'

'Oh, come now, Phoebe,' Eloise protested.
'That's not fair. It was an accident.'

'Yes, and you'd know all about accidents. I
heard what went on in the kitchen. You was
lucky that Matron didn't give you the sack, but
maybe she quite liked the idea of Cook sprawling
flat on her back like an upturned beetle. Wish
I'd seen it.'

Eloise gave Joss a last loving hug and set him
back in his cot. 'Mama will come again later,
sweetheart,' she whispered, and then as Beth
was stirring she picked her up in her arms.
'Would you like me to see to this one, Phoebe?'

'You can have her for all I care,' Phoebe replied
crossly. She made a tut-tutting sound as one of
the small girls spat a lump of half-chewed bread
and butter onto the table. 'I dunno! Bloody little
animals.'

'Mama!' Beth said in a loud clear voice.
'Mama.' She wrapped her small arms around
Eloise's neck and gave her a rather moist kiss on
the cheek.

'She thinks you're her ma,' Phoebe said scornfully.
'Both of them are soft in the head if you ask
me, but they seem to have taken to you. Why
don't you ask her what her name is?'

Eloise held a cup of milk to Beth's lips and
watched her drink with an inward sigh of relief.
'I think she's a bit young to tell me that, but
maybe Joss knows.'

'Go on then, you ask him.'

Eloise went through the same routine as
before, leaning over Joss in his cot and speaking
to him in whispers. She straightened up, settling
Beth on her hip as she went to fetch some bread
and butter from the table. 'He says she is called
Beth. He is quite sensible, Phoebe. You just have
to treat him right.'

'I got twelve little buggers to care for, mostly
single-handed. I ain't got the time to pander to
their carryings on.' Phoebe snatched up a child
who had fallen off her seat and was bawling
loudly. 'There, there, Dora. Rub it in. That's what
my mum always says to us.' She turned to glance
at the white-faced clock on the wall. 'Just look at
the time. You'd best get going, Ellen. It's almost
time for Matron's ward round. She inspects
every morning and every afternoon at teatime.
She'd better not find you here.'

Reluctantly, Eloise sat Beth in a high chair and
gave her some bread and butter. Although Beth
was full of cold and finding it difficult to eat and
breathe at the same time, she was obviously
hungry and that was a good sign. Eloise hesitated,
watching her daughter's attempts at eating
with an aching heart as she recalled happier
times in the days before Ronnie was lost at sea.
She thought of teatime at her little house in
Myrtle Street, sitting round the fire in winter
with Joss kneeling at her side as she impaled
slices of bread on the toasting fork and held them
close to the glowing coals. She could almost
smell the appetising aroma of hot toast which
they ate dripping with butter and jam or honey.
Beth was a tiny baby then, sleeping peacefully in
her cradle, and it had never occurred to Eloise
that life could change so drastically, and so much
for the worse.

'For Gawd's sake stop daydreaming, Ellen,'
Phoebe said pushing her towards the door.
'She'll be here any minute and we'll both be in
real trouble.'

Eloise came back to reality with a start. 'Yes, I'll
go now. But I'll come again tomorrow.'

'Good, but be careful. You don't want to get on
the wrong side of Miss Marchant.'

In the middle of the night, Eloise awakened from
a deep sleep with the feeling that something was
terribly wrong. She sat up in her narrow bed,
grimacing as the iron bedstead groaned in
protest, but Tibbie and Becky were fast asleep
and did not stir even when the floorboards
creaked or the latch on the door made a loud
click. Barefoot and wearing nothing but her shift,
Eloise crept downstairs to the nursery. Even
before she reached the door, she could hear loud
wailing and she knew that it was Joss. The
keening noise was more like that of an animal in
distress than a small child and Eloise burst into
the room, not caring if she roused the whole
hospital as she ran to snatch her son from his cot.
His anguished sobs had awakened most of the
other infants and they had added their cries to
the cacophony of sound. Eloise rocked Joss in her
arms, pacing the floor and praying silently that
whoever was on night duty would not come
rushing into the nursery and discover her
presence. She began to sing a lullaby that she had
sung to Joss when he was a tiny baby, and
gradually he began to quieten. His small fingers
were entwined in her long hair, and his body
shook even though his sobbing had ceased.
Eloise went through her whole repertoire of
lullabies and the crying gradually ceased as
small faces turned towards her. She moved from
cot to cot, smiling and wiping away tears with a
clean napkin. One by one, the infants closed their
eyes and drifted off to sleep, and feeling Joss's
head heavy against her neck and hearing his soft,
rhythmic breathing, Eloise realised that he too
had succumbed, and she laid him gently in his
cot. She went round the nursery covering the
ones who had kicked off their blankets, and
finally checking again on Joss and Beth. As she
leaned over the cot rails to kiss them, the hairs on
the back of her neck prickled and Eloise knew
that she was being watched.

Slowly, hardly daring to breathe, she straightened
up and turned round to face the door.
There, standing in the shadows, was a tall figure
dressed in black. She could not see his face but
she knew instinctively that it was Caine. He
beckoned silently and she moved towards him
like a sleepwalker. He held the door open and
she went past him into the corridor, anticipating
the full force of his wrath.

He closed the door softly. 'This is not the place
to talk, Miss Monk. Be so good as to come to my
office.' Caine took a lighted oil lamp from a side
table and walked off along the corridor to a room
at the far end.

She was certain that this time she would be
dismissed, but she had no option other than to
follow him. In her agitated state Eloise had
almost forgotten that she was naked beneath her
shift, but as he ushered her into the room she
realised what a sight she must look. The skimpy
material of the garment left very little to the
imagination as it skimmed the curve of her
breasts and clung to her narrow hips, outlining
her thighs and stopping just above her ankles.
She flicked her long hair over her shoulders in an
attempt to cover her modesty and she wished the
floor would open up and swallow her.

Caine set the lamp down on his desk and
turned to give her a cursory glance. 'You're
shivering,' he said, taking off his frock coat and
slipping it around her shoulders. 'Take a seat by
the fire, Miss Monk.'

Eloise had expected an angry tirade but this
chivalrous treatment left her confused and even
more embarrassed. 'It's not what you think,' she
began tentatively.

'What do I think? Tell me. I would like to
know.'

'You're playing with words, Mr Caine.'

'I find you in the nursery, in the middle of the
night when those who are not on duty are asleep
in their beds. What am I to think?'

'I couldn't sleep and I heard a baby crying. No
one seemed to take any notice of the poor little
thing and so I went to see what was wrong.'

'It was none of your business. If anything you
should have reported the lapse to me or to
Matron.'

Eloise tossed her head. 'I wasn't to know that
you were about, sir. It seems that I am not the
only one who cannot sleep.'

'I do not need much sleep, Miss Monk. I catch
up on my paperwork at a time when I can usually
be certain of working without any interruptions.'

Eloise huddled beneath the satin lining of his
frock coat and a shiver ran down her spine.
Wearing a man's garment that was still warm
from his body and had the scent of him in every
fibre was oddly disconcerting and too personal
for comfort.

'You are still cold,' Caine said, frowning.
'Please go and sit by the fire.'

This time, Eloise did as she was told, and she
went to sit in a wingback chair at the side of the
carved oak fireplace, watching silently as Caine
moved to a side table and poured something
from a cut crystal decanter into two glasses. He
crossed the floor to hand one to her and a wry
smile curved his lips. 'It seems that we have been
here before, Miss Monk. Am I always to find you
in a state of distress?'

She eyed Caine warily and was surprised to
see how much more human and approachable he
looked in his shirtsleeves. Seeming to sense her
scrutiny he met her gaze with a questioning look,
and for a brief moment it felt as though they were
equals and she was not afraid. If he had been
really angry, surely he would have dismissed her
on the spot?