The Throwaway Children (17 page)

Rosie was sitting beside her, legs swinging, and singing to herself as she often did. Suddenly she grabbed Rita’s arm. ‘I haven’t got Knitty!’ she wailed. ‘I want to go back.’

‘No, we can’t,’ Rita said firmly. ‘We’ll ask Mum to get him… when we get home.’

‘But I won’t have him for tonight,’ Rosie cried, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks. ‘I want him.’

‘You’ll have me with you tonight,’ Rita reminded her. ‘You won’t be on your own.’ But Rosie wasn’t to be comforted, and other passengers began to look at them. Rita was still trying to quieten her when the conductor reappeared.

‘Here,’ he said, ‘you girls should’ve got off by now. Threepence don’t take you to the end of the line, you know. Come on, off you get!’

‘But we ain’t got to our stop yet,’ protested Rita.

‘Oh yes you have,’ said the conductor, and then added, ‘Which stop was it then?’

Thinking fast, Rita said, ‘The town hall.’

The man gave a bark of laughter. ‘The town hall,’ he repeated, ‘then you certainly need to get off. We’re going the other way.’

‘The other way?’ faltered Rita. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘I mean the other way. We’re going away from the town hall. Looks like you caught the bus from the wrong side of the street.’

‘But this is a number 37…’ began Rita.

‘So it is, dearie,’ the conductor agreed, ‘but it went to the town hall before you got on. So, off you get, both of you.’ He rang the bell and moments later the bus drew up at its next stop, and Rita and Rosie had to get off. There was a bench in the bus shelter, and Rita sat down, with Rosie beside her. Despair rose up inside her, making her feel sick. They had been on the bus for ages, been going the wrong way for ages.

‘I’m hungry,’ Rosie announced. ‘Are we nearly home now?’

‘No,’ answered Rita. ‘Quiet, Rosie, I’m thinking.’ They’d have to walk, she decided. They couldn’t stay where they were, and she’d no more money. They’d have to go back along the road and see if they could find someone to ask the way. There were quite a few people about, but Rita knew she wasn’t supposed to speak to strangers, Mum and Gran had both drummed that into her. She’d have to find someone who looked safe. Someone in uniform, Mum used to say. The bus conductor had been in uniform, but he’d just dumped them off the bus.

‘I’m hungry,’ moaned Rosie again. ‘Can we have tea soon?’

Rita was hungry too. It seemed a long time since they had trailed back to Laurel House for cottage pie and cabbage lunch.

‘Come on then,’ Rita said, getting off the bench and taking Rosie’s hand. ‘Let’s go home for tea.’

They walked through the streets, as far as possible in a straight line. When they came to a side road, Rita crossed them over carefully and kept on going straight. Every now and again she found a bench at a bus stop, or outside a pub, and she let Rosie have a rest. Her own legs were tired, and Rosie was walking more and more slowly, dragging her feet.

They reached a bridge which crossed over the river, and Rita remembered the 37 had gone over a bridge on their way to Laurel House, but was it the same bridge? She gave them another rest, sitting on a bench beside the river, and watched the water slipping away under the arches that spanned it. She was exhausted, and she knew Rosie couldn’t go much further. Tears welled up in her eyes and, despite her determination not to cry, they spilled down her cheeks. Her throat hurt with trying not to sob, but Rosie saw her tears and immediately began to cry too.

‘Well, now, what have we here?’ asked a voice. ‘You both look pretty miserable.’

Rita looked up to see a tall policeman standing beside them. He was looking down at them and as she raised her eyes he gave her an encouraging smile. ‘Are you lost?’ he asked. ‘You shouldn’t be out on the streets by yourselves, you know.’

‘I’m looking after Rosie.’ Rita’s voice came out croakily through her tears.

The policeman crouched down beside them. ‘I’m sure you are,’ he said, ‘but even so, you don’t look very happy. You should be at home. Where do you live?’

Rita, still struggling with her tears, said, ‘Ship Street.’

‘Ship Street?’ The policeman sounded surprised. ‘Well, you are quite a long way from home, aren’t you? Perhaps I’d better take you there. Would that make you happier, if I walked with you?’

‘Do you know the way?’ asked Rita.

The policeman nodded. ‘Yes, I know the way. It’s quite a step from here, though.’ He stood up again and added, ‘My name’s Constable Chapman. What’s your name then, love?’

‘Rita. And this is Rosie. She’s tired. She’s only five.’

‘Perhaps I can carry her a bit,’ suggested Constable Chapman. ‘But I think we should get going again. Your mother will be wondering where you are, won’t she?’

Rita didn’t reply to this but simply slipped off the bench, saying as she did so, ‘Come on, Rosie, it’s all right. He’s got a uniform.’

The policeman picked up the little girl and hoisted her onto his back, then he took Rita by the hand and they set off. Rita felt safe with her hand held firmly in Constable Chapman’s large, warm one. At first he didn’t speak as they walked in the early evening sunshine, but after a while he couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer.

‘What were you doing so far from home, Rita?’ he asked.

For a long minute Rita didn’t answer, and then she said, ‘We was going home, and we got on a bus going the wrong way by mistake. The conductor put us off. I ain’t got no more bus money, so we had to walk.’

‘Going home?’

‘From school, only we got the wrong bus by mistake.’

‘I see,’ said the policeman, but he didn’t. He couldn’t imagine why the two little girls were so far from home. He asked no more questions. They could wait until he had reunited the girls with their parents, who must be frantic with worry. School probably came out at about half-past three, and the church clock was striking six now.

At last Rita began to recognize the streets, and she knew they were nearly home. ‘I know the way from here,’ she said, coming to a standstill and pulling her hand away.

‘I’m sure you do,’ Constable Chapman replied easily, ‘but I think I’ll deliver you to the door. Rosie’s still tired.’

‘Well, she’s had a ride,’ Rita said. ‘She can walk the last bit, can’t you, Rosie?’

‘I want Mummy,’ was all Rosie said, and clung more tightly to the policeman’s neck.

‘That’s all right, love,’ he said. ‘Nearly there. Bet she’ll be pleased to see you!’ It was Rita dragging her feet now, but Constable Chapman ignored her dawdling, thinking she was afraid of getting into trouble for being so late.

‘Which is your house?’ he asked as they turned into Ship Street. Rita hesitated, but Rosie cried out with delight, ‘There it is!’ She pointed to one of the small terraced houses. ‘We live there.’

‘Right, come on then, let’s tell Mum you’re home safe and sound.’ He walked up to the front door and rang the bell. At first there was no reply, and he wondered if the parents were out looking for the two girls, but as he was about to press the bell again, the door opened.

‘Yes? What d’you want?’ A man peered out at them, the tall policeman with Rosie on his back, peeping over his shoulder, Rita shrinking behind him. His eyes widened as he took in what he was seeing. ‘What they doing here?’ he demanded.

‘I understand they live here,’ replied the policeman, surprise in his voice. ‘Isn’t this their home?’

‘No, it ain’t!’ replied the man fiercely. ‘Not any more it ain’t.’

Constable Chapman could feel Rita’s body rigid against him, and Rosie burst into tears, burying her face in his neck. ‘Is their mother here?’ he asked the man.

‘No, she ain’t…’ began the man, but the kitchen door behind him opened and a young woman carrying a small baby came out.

‘Who is it, Jimmy?’ she asked, but as she saw who was standing on her doorstep, she gave a little cry, her hand flying to her mouth as if to stifle it.

‘Good evening, madam,’ said Constable Chapman. ‘Are these your daughters?’

He didn’t have to wait for her reply as Rosie let out a shriek. ‘Mummy!’ She let go of the policeman’s neck and slithered to the ground. The man stood unmoving, blocking the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder. ‘I told him, Mav, they don’t live here no more.’

‘And you are…?’ Constable Chapman disliked the look of this man, standing so belligerently in the doorway.

‘Jimmy Randall. And this is my house.’

‘I see.’ Constable Chapman took a step forward. ‘Perhaps we could all come in and discuss this.’

‘There ain’t nothing to discuss,’ Jimmy Randall replied.

‘But you, madam, are their mother?’ The policeman looked past Jimmy and made eye-contact with the woman who cowered behind him. She said nothing but gave a brief nod.

‘Then I think we do have something to discuss,’ he said. ‘These children are exhausted, they need food and a bed. I’m sure you don’t want any trouble, Mr Randall, so perhaps we can all come indoors…’

Jimmy Randall glowered at him, but he stood aside to let them in. Rosie was now clinging to the constable’s leg, and Rita still stood, frozen behind him. Constable Chapman gave a hand to each and, with a reassuring smile, took them indoors, following their mother into the kitchen. A baby’s bottle was lying on the table, and it was clear that Mavis had been feeding the baby when they had arrived. She sat down and reaching for the bottle, began to feed him again. The two girls still kept close to the policeman as if for protection as Jimmy Randall followed them into the kitchen.

‘Now then,’ Jimmy said, ‘what you brought these girls here for?’

‘I found them wandering the streets,’ replied Constable Chapman, ‘and they said they lived here.’

‘Well, they don’t,’ asserted Jimmy, looking challengingly at the copper who’d pushed his way into the house. ‘We ain’t got room for them. They live in an ’ome now, where they can be looked after proper. Their mother, my wife, signed all the papers, so it was done proper. Best all round, eh?’

‘Is that right, Mrs Randall?’ asked Constable Chapman.

Mavis looked up from the baby and nodded.

‘They must have run away,’ said Jimmy. He pointed at Rita. ‘She’ll be behind it. She’s always trouble, that one.’

As he was speaking, Rosie let go of the policeman’s hand and edged her way to where her mother sat. She put a hand on the baby. ‘Is that my brother?’ she asked.

Her mother nodded, unable to speak, the tears streaming down her cheeks. She reached out an arm and gathered her daughter to her, burying her face in the blonde curls. Rita stood beside Constable Chapman, watching. She longed to run to her mother too, but something held her back.

The policeman turned to her. ‘Have you run away?’ he asked gently.

Rita nodded, and PC Chapman crouched down beside her and took her hand in his. ‘Why? Why did you run away?’

Rita gulped and then whispered, ‘I wanted to come home. I want my mum.’

The simplicity of this statement brought unexpected tears to the big man’s eyes. He blinked them away, saying, ‘I’m sure you do. Why don’t you give her a hug now?’ He gave her a little push, and she moved round the table.

‘Mum,’ she said and reached out her arms. Mavis looked at her stricken; with baby Richard in one arm and the other round Rosie, she had no hand to extend to Rita. Rita saw this and stopped. For a moment they were still, a family group that wasn’t a family, then Constable Chapman stepped forward and gently took the baby from Mavis’s arms, so that Rita could take his place.

‘Here,’ growled Jimmy, ‘that’s my baby.’

Chapman turned to him, and without a word passed him the child. Turning back he saw the mother had gathered both her daughters against her, and all three were weeping.

A ring on the doorbell, loud and long, demanded entry. Mavis didn’t look up and as the sound was repeated, louder and longer, Jimmy answered the door. A woman’s voice sounded in the narrow hallway, harsh and strident. It was the pig-faced woman.

‘There you are,’ she cried. ‘You wicked, wicked children. How dare you run off like that!’

Chapman stepped forward, barring her way forward. ‘Good evening, madam,’ he said. ‘May I ask who you are?’

The woman faltered for a moment in the face of his uniform but then said, ‘Good evening, Constable, I am May Hopkins, Children’s Officer for this district. I have come to retrieve these naughty girls and return them to their home.’

‘Which is…?’

‘Laurel House EVER-Care home. They disappeared from school today. Everyone has been so worried.’ She turned again to the two girls, still clinging to their mother. ‘You’re very bad girls,’ she told them. ‘You’ve caused a great deal of trouble. Now then, you’re coming with me.’

Rosie immediately began to scream, a high-pitched scream, and Rita simply allowed the tears to flood down her cheeks.

‘We just wanted to come home,’ she gulped. ‘We wanted to see Mum.’

‘Well, now you’ve seen her,’ growled Jimmy, ‘you can go back where you belong.’

‘Don’t they belong here?’ asked the policeman quietly.

‘No they bloody don’t,’ said Jimmy. ‘We signed the papers, right and tight. She ain’t their mum no more.’

‘Jimmy, couldn’t we just—’ began Mavis, her eyes pleading, her arms still tight about her girls.

‘No, Mavis. I told you,’ he snapped, holding the baby up in the air, ‘you and me and Rick’s a family now.’

‘Just for tonight, Jimmy, let them stay just for tonight? I promise—’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Randall,’ interrupted Miss Hopkins, ‘but that won’t be possible. I have to take them with me now. Miss Vanstone’s sent a car.’

‘Miss Vanstone? Who’s she?’ asked the constable.

‘She is the founder and benefactress of the EVER-Care children’s home,’ announced Miss Hopkins. ‘When she heard that these children had gone missing, she very generously sent a car so I could bring them back.’

‘I don’t want to go back,’ cried Rita, finding her voice at last. ‘It’s horrible there. When Rosie wet her bed, they wrapped her in the wet sheet, and…’ She took a deep breath. ‘And they beat me with a belt.’

‘’Spect you deserved it,’ retorted Jimmy.

‘Rubbish,’ snapped Miss Hopkins, with a quick glance at the policeman. ‘There’s no such chastisement at Laurel House.’ She turned on Rita. ‘You’re a wicked child to tell such lies. Everything is provided for you at Laurel House, you lack nothing.’