The Quietness (18 page)

Queenie felt helpless. She knew Mrs Waters would not allow it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘But it is best you don’t see her. It’ll only make matters worse for you.’

‘Then I will get her myself. She is mine! Nobody can take her from me!’ Miss Swift struggled to get up. She sat on the edge of the bed and tried to stand.

‘Please,’ said Queenie. ‘Stay in bed. You ain’t well enough.’ Queenie saw the splashes of high colour on Miss Swift’s cheeks fade and her face turn a deathly pale. She looked like a wraith in a bloodied nightgown. Miss Swift stood for a moment, swaying on her feet. Then she went limp.

‘Oh!’ she gasped before collapsing back on the bed.

‘I told you,’ said Queenie. ‘You ain’t well.’ She tucked Miss Swift back into bed and stroked the hair from off her forehead.

‘My baby. My baby,’ sobbed Miss Swift. ‘Oh! What will happen to her?’ Her eyes grew wide. ‘All those other babies! Why are they all here? Have there been so many others like me?’

‘Hush. Don’t upset yourself,’ said Queenie. ‘They are all being looked after. And your little one will be looked after too.’

Queenie felt ashamed of herself. She wished she could bring Miss Swift’s baby to her. It didn’t seem right that Miss Swift wanted her child but was not allowed to have it. Her family had money. They would be able to feed another mouth. It was different for the other babies downstairs. They were either unloved and unwanted or
were
loved but their poor mams were destitute.

All day Queenie was up and down the stairs tending to Miss Swift and her other normal duties. She was fair worn out, but at least by late afternoon Miss Swift, apart from her distress, seemed much improved. She had taken some broth and the colour was back in her cheeks.

‘The carriage will be here as soon as it is dark,’ Mrs Waters said. ‘So see that Miss Swift’s bag is packed and she is dressed.’

Queenie took Miss Swift up a last bit of supper: a slice of ham pie and a baked rice pudding. She was out of bed and already dressed.

‘Your carriage will be here shortly,’ said Queenie. ‘I’ll help you pack up your things, shall I?’ Miss Swift’s face was like a cold stone carving. Queenie couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

‘Thank you, but I have already gathered together my belongings,’ she said. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. ‘And I have no need for any supper either.’

Queenie looked about the room. All of the few things Miss Swift had brought with her had indeed gone. Even, Queenie noticed, the tiny chemises she herself had brought. Why was she taking them home? thought Queenie. It would do her no good being reminded of her baby like that. Then Queenie realised she was being unfair. Maybe they would be the only things she
would
have to remember her baby by.

‘Just have a small bite of supper, won’t you?’ Queenie asked.’ You’ll be needing to keep your strength up.’ Miss Swift didn’t answer. She sat staring at the door and then a shudder ran through her body.

‘Miss?’ Queenie put her hand on Miss Swift’s shoulder. ‘What is it?’ Miss Swift grasped Queenie’s hand hard and pulled her down so they were face to face.

‘You are my friend, are you not?’ she asked.

‘Course I am!’ said Queenie. ‘We’re
good
friends, ain’t we? You and me?’

‘I hope so,’ said Miss Swift. ‘I hope with all my heart that it is true.’

‘It’s true,’ said Queenie. ‘Cross my heart it’s the truth.’

‘You need to help me, then,’ said Miss Swift. ‘I am taking my baby with me and you must help me to fetch her when the carriage comes.’

‘What . . . what do you mean?’ asked Queenie. ‘What about your father?’

‘I am taking her home with me,’ repeated Miss Swift. ‘She is the only thing worth having in my life. I will make Father see.’ Her mouth grew tight with determination. ‘I will make him understand.’

Queenie could see that Miss Swift would not be talked around. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘I’ll go and tell Mrs Waters, then. We’ll get the baby wrapped up warm for you.’ Queenie felt a slow fear creeping through her insides. She was afraid of what Mrs Waters would say and she was afraid of how things would be once Miss Swift had gone home. It was true, Miss Swift was her friend, the only one she’d ever had. She made Queenie feel like somebody and Queenie didn’t want that feeling to end.

‘No!’ Miss Swift said, as Queenie went to leave the room. ‘Wait! Do not speak to Mrs Waters. She will not allow it. I know she will not. We must surprise her with our intentions. You must bring my baby to me at the last minute.’

‘But . . . but,’ Queenie hesitated. ‘I think it’s best we let Mrs Waters know. I don’t think she’ll take on too kindly if we steal your baby from under her nose.’

‘How can it be stealing?’ asked Miss Swift. ‘It is not her child to keep.’

‘No,’ said Queenie. ‘But we’ll still need her agreement. And . . . and there’s something else.’ She felt bad having to say what was on her mind. It seemed like nothing when she thought how Miss Swift must be feeling. But all the same, it needed saying. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I ain’t going to be able to do what you’re asking of me. Mrs Waters won’t like me sneaking around behind her back one bit, and . . . and I need this job, and this is my home now.’

‘I see,’ said Miss Swift. ‘So you will not help me, then?’ She pulled her hand from Queenie’s and lowered her head. ‘I thought you were my friend.’

‘I am!’ protested Queenie. ‘I am your friend.’ Miss Swift could not know just how much she wanted to help.

‘But you are still going to tell Mrs Waters of my intentions?’ asked Miss Swift.

‘No,’ said Queenie. ‘Not if you don’t want me to. I won’t. But I swear I’ll help you as much as I can. I just ain’t going to be able to fetch the baby as you asked.’

Miss Swift said nothing. She slumped back in her chair and crossed her arms over her empty belly. Queenie felt wretched. She knew she could do what Miss Swift asked. It would be as easy as pie. But she also knew she would be kicked out on to the streets for her trouble. She tried to think of another way to help. A way of getting Miss Swift in the carriage with the baby in her arms.

‘Listen,’ she said to Miss Swift. ‘Listen to me. It’ll be dark soon, and the carriage will be coming. Think hard. If we put our heads together I’m sure we can find a way!’

I was sick with fear. I was weak and exhausted and still bleeding heavily. I fashioned a wrapping out of torn bed sheets. It felt thick and uncomfortable between my legs but I hoped at least it would keep the blood from flowing. My head felt loose and my whole body was trembling. All I wanted was my baby in my arms and to leave this place.

I was hiding in the bedroom along the landing from my own. I was standing with the door ajar listening for footsteps on the stairs. Queenie and I had decided what to do. It was the only thing we could think of in the short time we had. When the carriage arrived, Queenie was to take Mrs Ellis out into the backyard and distract her over some pretence. When Mrs Waters came to my room to fetch me, I was to run from this room, down the stairs and to the back kitchen to take my baby. Once she was in my arms there would be nothing anybody could do to take her from me.

I listened intently. All I could hear was the wind blowing down into the bedroom fireplace and my own heartbeat. I hoped I would be strong enough to hurry down the stairs as I would surely have to. The room behind me was in darkness. I had not dared to bring a candle with me for fear the light would be seen. Time seemed to have stood still and I was not sure how long I had been waiting, when I heard a distant knocking. There was a silent pause, then the muffled sound of voices. Had the carriage arrived at last? I took some deep breaths and readied myself. As I stared through the crack in the door on to the darkened landing, I saw candlelight flickering low down on the staircase walls and heard the soft tread of footsteps. She was coming! Mrs Waters was on her way to my bedroom. Her shadow appeared on the wall and grew larger and larger as she climbed to the top of the stairs. I shrank back into the room and held my breath as she walked past the door.

‘Miss Swift?’ I heard her say and the sound of one knock. Then I heard the click of a door handle and knew she had gone into my bedroom. Now I must move, I told myself. And quickly.

I stepped out onto the landing and walked swiftly to the stairs. A hot flush spread through my body and I felt my face grow damp with perspiration. Keep on! I told myself, and although my head felt odd – as though it was floating through the air on its own – I carried on down the stairs to the hallway and quickly made my way to the back kitchen. Mrs Waters was calling me.

‘Miss Swift! Miss Swift? Where are you?’

Her voice grew louder and I knew she was heading back downstairs. My heart pounded with fright and the kitchen door in front of me swam before my eyes. But I was nearly there. My baby would be in my arms in a moment. I hoped Queenie had got Mrs Ellis out of the way. All I needed was a few seconds.

I opened the door and stumbled into the kitchen. Mrs Ellis was sitting in a chair by the fire. She looked up at me in surprise.

‘Miss Swift! Your carriage is here. Mrs Waters is on her way to fetch you. Have you lost your way?’

Queenie was standing by the kitchen table folding linen. Her eyes were wide and she mouthed,
I’m sorry
, before bending her head back to her task. Panicked sobs began to rise in my throat. What had happened? Why had Queenie not done as she had said?

‘Miss Swift?’ Mrs Ellis said again. I looked wildly around the room. I could still grab my baby; Mrs Ellis would not be expecting it. I walked a few paces towards the sofa where the babies I had seen the night before lay quietly sleeping. Where was she? Where was my child? I stared at each bundle in turn. Which one was her? I could not make out her face among all the tiny features. The babies were too big or too small, and none had the tuft of black hair that I had caressed, only hours ago. Mrs Ellis was striding towards me.

‘What are you doing, Miss Swift? Where is your bag? It is time for you to go now.’

‘Where is my baby?’ I screamed. ‘Where is she?’ Queenie ran and put her arms out to steady me.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘There weren’t nothing I could do.’

The kitchen door banged opened and I turned to see Mrs Waters enter the room.

‘Ah . . .’ she said. ‘There you are. I have been looking all over for you. Now what’s all this fuss about?’

I couldn’t answer her; I could only stare in horror. I heard myself moan and the scene before me began to disappear in a grey haze. My last thought before all went black, was of my baby. My beautiful baby, who was cradled in the crook of Mrs Waters’ arm.

It was cold. There was a chill creeping down the back of my neck. I felt movement. There were arms around me and I was being lifted. I opened my eyes and saw the night sky and blinking stars. There was a carriage in front of me, the doors open and my packed bag already inside.

‘I knew you’d come round once the fresh air got to you. You just had a little swoon, is all.’

It was Mrs Ellis. She was to one side of me. My arm was flung over her shoulder and she was holding me around my waist. I turned my head and saw Queenie on my other side. She was holding on to me too.

‘Queenie,’ I managed to say. ‘My baby . . . please . . .’

She shook her head slightly and looked straight ahead.

‘Please!’ I begged. ‘Please!’

We were at the steps of the carriage and the driver came forward and held on to my arm. He was not one of Father’s usual drivers. This one was unkempt, with long oiled hair that fell across his face. Mrs Ellis and Queenie moved away and the man gripped me hard around my middle. I still looked as though I was with child, my belly still tender and swollen, and I cried out in shock at the roughness of his handling. I thought for an instant to struggle free and run back to the house, but even as the thought flashed through my mind I knew it was useless to try. The driver grunted as he lifted me into the carriage with one movement. I landed awkwardly on the seat.

‘Be careful!’ I shouted. ‘How dare you treat me like this. I will report you to my father!’

The man turned and sneered at me, showing a mouthful of blackened teeth. ‘Little whore!’ he hissed under his breath.

I felt as though he had slapped me in the face. Is that what I had become? An outcast? A nobody that could be insulted by the likes of this man? The thought did not shock me as much as it should have. I realised I had grown used to being a nobody. I was a nobody at home; I was undeserving of love and attention. Jacob had told me I was a nobody, and he had treated me as such.

‘Goodbye, Miss Swift,’ said Mrs Ellis as she moved forward to close the carriage door. ‘I trust you will have a safe journey home.’

Queenie was standing behind her, looking downcast and nervous. Then a great thought struck me. I
was
no longer a nobody. I was
somebody
now.

I was a mother.

The thought filled me with pride and determination. Whatever happened tonight would not prevent me from being with my child. Nothing would stop me being a mother.

‘Wait!’ I said. ‘Before I leave I would like to thank Queenie for attending to me so kindly during my stay.’

Queenie came to the door of the carriage. She looked up at me uncertainly. I reached out for her hand and quickly whispered, ‘Listen . . . you must promise me that you will look after my daughter. Keep her safe. Come and let me know how she is. Come to the house on Bedford Square. The house with the horse-head door knocker. Ask for Mary. Please do this for me, Queenie. I will be back to get my baby. I promise you. As soon as I can.’

Queenie squeezed my hand in reply and I said in a louder voice, ‘Thank you for all your kind attentions, Queenie. They have been much appreciated.’

Mrs Ellis came forward again. She nodded at me once and closed the carriage door. There was a jolt, I steadied myself on the seat, and the carriage was away.

I allowed myself to cry then. Great heaving sobs that tore at my insides. ‘I will be back soon,’ I sobbed into the darkness. ‘I will be back for you soon. I promise.’