The Workhouse Girl (18 page)

‘Mind your own business, Mabel Smith.' Nettie gave Sarah a gentle shove towards the door. ‘Off you go then. I'll see you tomorrow morning.'

‘It's raining cats and dogs out there.' Mabel snatched a coarse grogram cape from the clothes rack and tossed it to Sarah. ‘Here, young 'un, put this on with my compliments. I've always hated the bloody thing anyway.'

‘Thank you.' Sarah slipped it around her shoulders. ‘I'm most grateful, but may I pay you for it?'

Mabel threw up her hands in mock surprise. ‘Lawks, we got a lady in our midst, girls.' She patted Sarah on the shoulder. ‘It's seen better days, like most of us here, but you're welcome to it. We can't have a delicate little thing like you falling sick with lung fever.'

‘I don't know what to say.' Sarah glanced anxiously at the other girls, who were grinning with approval. ‘You're all very kind.'

Nettie opened the door. ‘Time you wasn't here, girl.'

Sarah found herself alone in the dark corridor but she had a warm feeling inside and now she had a hooded cape to keep off the rain. She made her way out of the theatre, scurrying past the stage doorkeeper with her head down.

She found a second-hand clothes shop in Houghton Street where she bought a cambric nightgown for Elsie and a woollen shawl for herself. She was about to leave when she saw a pink silk bonnet trimmed with satin ribbons, and although it seemed like sheer extravagance she simply had to have it. Tucking it under the cape to protect it from the rain, she hurried back to Grey's lodgings.

The elegant bonnet might have had at least one previous owner, but it was new to Sarah and the first really pretty thing that she had owned. She was wearing it when she left for the hospital that afternoon and she held her head high. She was no longer the girl from the workhouse who lived with the crazy woman on the marsh. She was back home in her native London, and she had as fine a bonnet as any lady from one of the mansions up West. Despite the seemingly ever-present threat posed by Trigg and her concern over the injuries that Elsie had received during the fire, Sarah felt a surge of optimism as she walked briskly along the Strand.

She arrived at the hospital on the stroke of four and was shown into a ward with six beds, the occupants of which lay tucked up beneath white coverlets. Pale faces were turned hopefully towards her as she tiptoed across the scrubbed floorboards but none of them was Elsie. The last bed was hidden behind closed curtains and Sarah was about to draw them back when a nurse appeared at her side. ‘Have you come to see Miss Fitch?' she asked in a low voice. ‘Would you accompany me to the office, please, miss?'

SARAH COULD BARELY
take it in. Elsie, the rebel who had worshipped pagan deities and had spent her life making medicines to cure the sick, had succumbed to her injuries. She would not have believed it had she not seen her lying in the mortuary, stiff and cold. In death Elsie had the appearance of a wax effigy, but Sarah was certain that the untamed spirit who had danced naked in the moonlight and shunned polite society had gone to another place. Perhaps Elsie had joined the green man and Herne the Hunter in the greenwood. Sarah hoped so, although it was little comfort to her.

‘Will it be a pauper's burial, miss?'

Sarah came back to reality with a start. She stared at the mortuary attendant, momentarily at a loss, but the thought of Elsie's fragile body buried in a common grave was too appalling to contemplate. ‘No, certainly not. I'll make the necessary arrangements.'

She returned to Wych Street in a state of shock. Despite her confident assertion that Elsie would receive a proper send-off, she had no idea how they would find the money to pay for a decent burial, let alone a headstone.

Grey returned that evening and his smile faded as he walked into the cold room where only a single candle relieved the darkness. ‘It's not good news, then?'

Sarah shook her head. She could not speak. If she opened her mouth it would all flood out, the bitter resentment that she felt at the unfairness of Elsie's untimely death, the sorrow she felt for a lost friend and mentor and her fear of being alone and abandoned for a second time.

‘Have you eaten today, Sarah?'

‘I can't remember.'

‘It's freezing in here,' he said, taking in the empty grate and frowning.

‘There's no coal,' she said dully.

‘Get up.' He held out his hand.

‘What?'

‘I'm truly sorry that Elsie's gone, and I'll miss the old girl, but I know one thing for certain.'

‘What's that?'

‘She would want me to take care of you. She might not have shown it, but Elsie thought the world of you, Sarah.'

‘Don't,' Sarah said with a muffled sob. ‘You're making me feel even worse.'

‘That's because you're tired and hungry. I'm taking you to the Albion supper house in Russell Street. You've got to eat or you'll be joining Elsie in heaven or wherever the old girl's ended up.' He lifted her to her feet. ‘She wouldn't want you to waste away.' He held her at arm's length. ‘You look different, kid. I see you bought yourself a new gown. That's good.' He spotted the cape draped over the back of the chair and he picked it up. ‘But you could have found something a bit less like an old horse blanket. I'll have to take you shopping next time.'

Sarah allowed him to drape it around her shoulders. She realised that his unusually conversational mood was for her benefit and she managed a wobbly smile. ‘It was a gift. The dress was too.'

His fingers tightened momentarily on her shoulders. ‘You don't know anyone in this part of London.'

‘Yes, I do. I met an old friend today. Nettie and me were in the workhouse together and Mr Arbuthnot took both of us to Wellclose Square. We met by accident outside the Olympic Theatre where she's performing in a play.'

‘Well it's a pity you won't be here long enough to see it. Put on your bonnet and let's go. I'm starving.'

‘I did buy the bonnet,' she said guiltily. ‘It was expensive, and I bought Elsie a nearly new nightgown . . .' She broke off, choking back a sob. ‘I can't believe she's gone.'

‘Don't cry. I can't bear to see a woman crying.' He patted her clumsily on the shoulder. ‘You'll feel better when you've got some food in your belly.'

Sniffing and wiping her eyes on her sleeve she put her bonnet on, but she lacked the will to tie the ribbons and would have followed him outside with them dangling had he not stopped, shaking his head. ‘You can't go out to supper looking like something the cat dragged in, girl.' He tied the satin ribbons into a bow. ‘That's better. Now you look presentable and your expensive hat won't blow off in the first gust of wind.'

Surprised and diverted, she stared at him. ‘I never knew you were so particular.'

‘I wasn't raised on the streets.' He held the door open. ‘But I was the black sheep of the family and still am, so don't get any false ideas about me, kid. If I could choose your friends for you I certainly wouldn't pick a man like me. Now come on. We need to hurry or they'll stop serving and I fancy a large steak and a glass or two of claret. There's nothing we can do for Elsie now, but we'll raise a toast to her.' He closed the door and locked it.

‘That's part of the trouble, Grey,' Sarah said nervously. ‘I told them at the hospital that we'd be making the funeral arrangements. Is there any money left?'

He shook his head. ‘Not enough for that, but we'll see her right, kid. You mustn't worry.'

‘You won't borrow from Trigg, will you?'

‘No, I won't make that mistake again. I suppose I'll have to go cap in hand to the family.' He led the way along the dark corridor and when they reached the street he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. ‘Hold on to me, kid. You can't be too careful round here, especially at night.'

‘What did you mean about Elsie's family? I thought there was only you.'

He uttered a sharp bark of mirthless laughter. ‘If only that were true. The Fitches and the Greys populated half of Essex and moved on to London. Elsie's nearest would be her brother, my uncle George, who lives in Spital Square. We don't get on.'

‘But you will go and see him?'

‘It's unavoidable.' He pulled her out of the path of a drunken man who was thrown bodily from a pub door and landed in the gutter, swearing and shaking his fist at the men who had perpetrated the assault.

‘There's the theatre,' Sarah said, pointing across the street. ‘I promised to go to Wellclose Square with Nettie tomorrow, but that was before I knew about poor Elsie.'

‘She wouldn't want you to do anything different, and that doesn't change because she's gone to meet her maker. I'll go to the hospital in the morning and make the necessary arrangements and worry about the funds later.'

‘Don't you want me to go with you?'

‘No. I'll manage, but you can come to Spital Square later in the day. There's your future to think about as well as doing the decent thing by Elsie.'

‘What are you saying?'

‘We'll discuss this over supper. I'm not going to abandon you, but I can't look after you. I'm never in one place for any length of time and you're still a nipper even if you think you're a grown woman.'

‘You can't tell me what to do.'

‘I've got to make sure you're looked after, kid. You can't go back to the marshes and that's for certain.'

‘Can't I stay with you? I could keep house and look after you.'

‘As I just said, I'm away most of the time and I couldn't leave you on your own in London.'

‘I'd go back to the village if I had anywhere to stay. Davey and the young ones will be missing me, and I was filling in at the school until Mr Wills returned after his riding accident.'

‘Who would have thought that the little scrap I bundled up in my overcoat on that bitter cold Christmas morning would turn out to be a teacher? I never noticed that you'd grown up, kid.'

‘I'm not a kid any more and I wish you would stop calling me that.' She came to a sudden halt, staring at a dirt-encrusted street sign. ‘I know this place. It's Vinegar Yard. This is where I used to live when I was a little child. Ma used to scrub floors in the theatre.'

He patted her hand as it lay on his sleeve. ‘You've had a hard life. I'm going to see if I can't make it a bit better from now on. Leave it to me, kid – sorry, I mean, Sarah.'

‘That's much better,' she said with a nod of approval.

He grinned. ‘Thinking of you as anything but a little girl running barefoot over the marshes is going to take some doing, but maybe this is my chance to do something that isn't entirely rotten.'

‘You've always been good to me, Grey. And so was Elsie, in her own way. I'd like to know more about your family.'

‘That can wait until we've eaten. I'm starving; I don't know about you.'

He refused to discuss the subject any further until they were settled at a table in the supper house and he had ordered two steak dinners and a bottle of claret, although Sarah protested that she had no appetite.

‘What were you talking about earlier when you mentioned Elsie's brother?' She slipped off her cape as the warmth from the fire seeped into her bones. ‘What has her family got to do with me?'

‘Her brother, George, is an old skinflint but he's got a big house and a wife who likes to live in luxury. I thought he might be persuaded to take you on as a housemaid.' He held up his hand as she was about to protest. ‘I know it's not what you might want, but I've got to be certain you're taken care of before I go off on my travels. You can't support yourself in London, and that's for certain.'

Sarah opened her mouth to argue but the waiter glided over to their table to fill their glasses and Grey raised his in a toast. ‘To Elsie. God rest her soul.'

‘Elsie.' Sarah sipped the wine, wrinkling her nose at the slightly sour taste but as the alcohol reached her empty stomach she experienced a warm glow that was not entirely unpleasant. ‘I'll find work, Grey. I won't accept charity from Elsie's brother.'

He leaned back in his seat, eyeing her over the rim of his glass. ‘And what would you do?'

She frowned and took another sip of wine. ‘I've learned a lot helping Mr Wills. Maybe I could be a governess or a teacher. Nettie told me that Miss Parfitt works at a school near London Docks; I could go and see her and ask her advice.'

He put his glass down and reached across the table to lay his hand on hers. ‘Go and see her by all means, but I'll still take you to meet my uncle George, just in case your schoolmistress friend can't help. I think Elsie would want me to do that at the very least.'

She drank more deeply this time. ‘You're a good man, Grey. In spite of what you say about yourself, you're a kind person and not a villain.'

He smiled, taking the glass from her hand. ‘I think that's enough for now or you'll be tipsy and I'll have to carry you home.'

‘But I'm beginning to like the stuff,' she said, giggling. ‘It's quite nice really.'

The waiter returned with two steaming plates of food which he placed on the table in front of them. ‘Will there be anything else, sir?' He jerked his head in Sarah's direction. ‘Another bottle of wine perhaps?'

Grey fixed him with a hard stare. ‘That will be all.'

The waiter hurried off, muttering something unintelligible.

‘Eat up.' Grey refilled his own glass but shook his head when she reached for hers. ‘I'm sorry, kid. I'm not used to young females who can't hold their liquor. I usually take more worldly women out to dine.'

Her head felt slightly muzzy and she stared at him, trying to digest this piece of information. ‘Have you got a lady love, Grey?'