The Workhouse Girl (37 page)

‘Yes, thank you.'

He continued to stare. ‘You look as though you could do with a nice hot cup of tea.'

She was hungry and thirsty but she needed to be careful with her money. She smiled vaguely and nodded. ‘I think I'll just go and sit in the waiting room.'

A gust of wind spiked with hard pellets of sleety snow almost blew her over as she made her way along the platform and she took shelter in the waiting room. A coal fire blazed up the chimney and she settled down on a wooden bench, warming her hands and feet on the hearth. She had been there for less than five minutes when the ticket clerk brought her a cup of strong, sweet tea and two jam tarts on a plate. ‘The missis baked these this morning. She always makes too many for us.' He handed her the cup and saucer and balanced the plate precariously on the narrow mantelshelf. ‘She can't get used to the fact that our nippers have grown up and left home. There's always a piece of cake or a slice of pie going begging in our house.'

Sarah sipped the tea. ‘That's very kind of her. Thank you.'

‘Not at all, miss. Just leave the crockery there when you've finished. I'll collect it later.' He went to the door but he hesitated, turning to her with a concerned look. ‘The train should be on time, but it depends on the weather up the line.'

‘I understand.' She took a jam tart and bit into it. ‘Please thank your wife. This is delicious.'

He puffed out his chest. ‘My Maggie is a fine cook. She used to work in a big house before we was wed. I'll pass on your message, miss.' He glanced out of the window as a man in a top hat strode past. ‘There's the station master. I'd best get back to my post.'

The train was ten minutes late, but at least it arrived. For a while Sarah had been afraid that the service would be cancelled due to the weather, but gradually the waiting room filled with people and the platform was crowded when the train pulled into the station. She found a seat in a third-class compartment and settled down for the journey to London, cramped between a travelling salesman who kept taking furtive nips from a flask which smelled strongly of gin, and a large woman with a wicker basket on her lap containing two live and extremely vocal chickens.

It was dark when the train arrived at its final destination and Sarah was stiff, tired and extremely hungry. It was, she thought, too late to go to Mr Moorcroft's office, and she decided to go straight to Mrs Arbuthnot's house in Elbow Lane. She toyed with the idea of walking in order to save money but when she saw the slushy state of the pavements and discovered that it had started to snow again, she hailed a cab.

It seemed strange to be back in the hustle and bustle of the city with its gaslit streets and tall buildings, but by the time they reached Shadwell and the cabby drew his horse to a halt Sarah was beginning to feel at home again. She paid the cabby, but as she knocked on the door she was suddenly nervous and unsure of her welcome. She waited, shivering in the cold night air as she listened for sounds of life within, and was rewarded by the pitter-patter of footsteps on the tiled floor. The door opened and it was Nettie who stood there with a look of astonishment on her face. ‘Gawd above, it's you!' She grabbed Sarah by the hand and dragged her over the threshold.

Hugged in a suffocating embrace, Sarah could scarcely breathe. ‘What are you doing here, Nettie?'

‘I could say the same to you.'

‘It's a long story, but why aren't you in the theatre?'

‘The show closed. I'm what we professionals call resting.'

‘You mean you're out of work.'

‘I'm looking for a better part. I ain't going to be in the chorus all me life, girl. Anyway, I came here on the off-chance that Mrs Arbuthnot might know someone who needed help in the house and I've been here ever since.' She held Sarah at arm's length. ‘You look terrible. What's been going on? Cook told me that you'd gone off on some wild goose chase with that bloke of yours. Wanted by the police, so Dorcas says.'

Sarah took off her bonnet and cape. ‘I'll tell you everything but first I ought to see Mrs Arbuthnot and ask her if I can stay here for a few days.'

‘She's in the parlour with Mr Moorcroft.' Nettie nudged Sarah in the ribs and winked. ‘I think there's romance in the air.'

‘Really?' Sarah could hardly believe such a thing. ‘They're a bit old for romance.'

‘Don't let Mr M hear you talking like that. He's been ever so kind to me. He's the one who persuaded the missis to let me stay and he's promised to introduce me to a chap who's casting a new musical comedy. I could be a leading lady before you know it.' Nettie skipped along the narrow hallway and burst into the parlour without knocking. ‘Look who's turned up on the doorstep.'

Mrs Arbuthnot was seated in a chair by the fire but she rose to her feet when she saw Sarah, and held out her arms. ‘My dear girl, how glad I am to see you. Martin told me where you'd gone and why, but that didn't stop me worrying about you.'

Mr Moorcroft had been sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the fireplace and he raised himself, giving her a searching look. ‘How are things, Sarah? Is all well?'

Overwhelmed by her welcome and overcome with exhaustion after her long journey, Sarah could not speak. She hugged Mrs Arbuthnot, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender, tuberose and patchouli that reminded her of their first meeting when she was a frightened child fresh from the horrors of the workhouse. ‘I need help,' she murmured.

‘Oh dear.' Mrs Arbuthnot sank down on her chair, fanning herself with her hand. ‘What's happened, Sarah? It's not that dreadful man you were trying to save, is it?'

‘What's up?' Nettie asked anxiously. ‘Has he been ill-treating you, nipper?'

Sarah shook her head. ‘No, of course not. It's nothing like that.'

Moorcroft cleared his throat. ‘Nettie, my dear, would you be so kind as to fetch a glass of port wine for Sarah, and something to eat. She looks as though she needs sustenance.'

‘Yes, of course.' Nettie backed towards the doorway. ‘But what's going on, Sarah?'

‘Wine, please.' Moorcroft sent her a warning look and Nettie scuttled from the room. He turned to Sarah, smiling. ‘That girl is a law unto herself, and she needs a firm hand, but she's a breath of fresh air.'

‘Never mind her, Martin,' Mrs Arbuthnot said firmly. ‘I want to hear what Sarah has to say and what led her to brave a long journey in this awful weather.'

‘Grey killed a man.' There was no way to dress up the facts and Sarah was too tired to dissemble. ‘It wasn't his fault,' she added hastily, seeing the shocked look on their faces. ‘Trigg attacked him and he fell on the knife, but he died all the same.'

Mrs Arbuthnot clapped her hands. ‘Serves him right. That man ruined us and he was responsible for what happened to my poor James. I'm glad he's dead.'

Moorcroft frowned. ‘Even so, it doesn't look good for Tobias. Where is he now, Sarah?'

‘That's just it. He's in France.' Sarah paused as Nettie rushed into the room carrying a tray which she deposited on a sofa table.

‘Stop,' she cried dramatically. ‘Don't utter another word, Sarah. I want to hear it all from the beginning.'

In between sips of the wine, which warmed her stomach and made her feel pleasantly relaxed, Sarah told them everything down to the last detail.

‘Smugglers.' Nettie's eyes shone with excitement. ‘How wonderful. Were they big and bold and handsome?'

Sarah smiled. ‘No, actually both of them were quite short and not particularly good-looking. And if we're talking about Moses, he's ancient and he has one blue eye and one brown eye. It's not romantic or exciting, Nettie. In fact it's all quite sordid and frightening, especially knowing that I've left the children in a den of thieves with only Parker to look after them.'

‘The poor dears,' Mrs Arbuthnot cried, covering her face with her hands. ‘Poor motherless little things.'

‘You mustn't upset yourself, Sophia,' Moorcroft said calmly. ‘I'm sure that young Mary is a very capable child. Isn't that so, Sarah?'

‘Yes, indeed.' Sarah swallowed a mouthful of cake. ‘She's a good girl, but I do worry about them. That's why I must get to France as soon as possible so that I can bring Davey back to look after them, and that's where I was hoping you'd be able to help me, Mr Moorcroft.'

‘Yes, Martin, you must do something.' Mrs Arbuthnot sent him a pleading look. ‘You will help, won't you?'

He was silent for a moment, regarding Sarah intently. ‘You said that a certain person's remains have yet to be interred.'

‘Yes, and that worries me too.'

‘We could sell the body to a hospital,' Nettie suggested. ‘No questions asked.'

‘I think it's too late for that.' Moorcroft stood up and began pacing the floor, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. ‘In my professional capacity I would have to report this matter to the police, but in the present circumstances I will act merely as a concerned friend.'

‘I should hope so, Martin.' Mrs Arbuthnot nodded with approval. ‘Tobias has suffered enough at the hands of that villain Trigg. It may not be justice as far as the law is concerned, but as Mr Dickens put it, “the law is a ass – a idiot”. I do so love the story of Oliver Twist.'

Moorcroft smiled indulgently. ‘I'm sure that many would agree, Sophia, but this is real life and I must think of a way round this particular problem.'

‘And I desperately need to get to France, sir.' Sarah gulped the last of the wine. ‘I want to get Davey home as soon as possible and I must make certain that Grey is all right.'

‘I can fund your journey,' Moorcroft said slowly. ‘But you will travel by the normal route. That means taking the train to Dover and the packet to Calais. I'll make the necessary bookings first thing in the morning.'

‘And I'm coming with you.' Nettie fluttered her eyelashes at Moorcroft. ‘Please say that I can, sir.'

‘Yes, Martin.' Mrs Arbuthnot reached out to touch his hand. ‘I think that's an excellent idea. I wouldn't like to think of Sarah travelling to the Continent on her own.'

‘Of course Nettie must accompany her.' He raised her hand to his lips in a gallant gesture. ‘I must leave now, Sophia. But I'll return tomorrow with the necessary travel documents.'

She stood up, still clutching his hand. ‘Won't you stay for dinner, Martin?'

‘Not tonight, my dear. I still have some work to do at the office.' He turned to Sarah. ‘You must get some rest before you set off on your travels, and don't worry. I'll arrange everything.'

Nettie waited until they had left the room and as soon as the door closed she threw herself down on a chair beside Sarah. ‘D'you see what I mean? They're so sweet together.'

A wave of tiredness washed over Sarah and she found she could hardly keep her eyes open. ‘I'm glad for both of them,' she murmured. ‘Mrs Arbuthnot is such a lovely lady and Mr Moorcroft is a real gentleman.'

‘He's been kindness itself to me. He says I remind him of someone he once knew, but I can't imagine that he'd have known anyone who'd allow their baby to end up in the workhouse. Anyway, you and me are going on a big adventure. I never been further than Limehouse so you got a head start on me.' She jumped to her feet. ‘Let's go to the kitchen. Cook and Dorcas are itching to find out what's been going on and Betty wants to see you too.' She grabbed Sarah by the hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘Come on. Don't fall asleep.' She looked her up and down with a critical eye. ‘Where on earth did you get that frock? That style went out twenty years ago. Never mind, I'm sure I've got something that will fit you.'

The packet boat pitched and tossed mid-Channel and Sarah hung over the side, wanting to die. Nettie tried to persuade her to go below, but Sarah could not move. In the end Nettie produced a boat cloak that she had somehow managed to procure, although she refused to say how, and wrapped it round Sarah, assuring her that her torment would be over soon and that once ashore she would feel fine again.

It was dark when they docked in Calais but Sarah had no idea of the time. She had slept for the last four hours of the crossing, and although she was reluctant to admit that Nettie had been right, she started to feel better the moment she stepped onto dry land. It was then she discovered that, during the voyage while she had been indisposed, Nettie had found someone who could speak English who was willing to interpret for them when they landed in France. It was no surprise to Sarah that this person was young, male and good-looking, and it was his cloak that had kept the chill from Sarah while she was unwell. The Frenchman was charming and Nettie flirted outrageously with him over supper at the inn, which he not only recommended but coincidentally was where he was also putting up for the night. Next morning he was waiting to escort them to their destination, the village a few miles to the west of the town as named by one of the men who had pulled Davey and Grey from the sea.

‘Are you sure this is a good idea?' Sarah said in a whisper as Nettie sent her latest conquest to see if the vehicle he had hired on their behalf had arrived.

‘Can you speak the lingo?'

‘No, of course not.'

‘Then how are we to find your blokes if we can't communicate with the natives?'

‘But what if he gets the wrong idea, Nettie? He might think you're easy. You've been playing up to him ever since we arrived.'

‘Gaston's all right. Anyway, it's just a bit of fun. Don't be so prissy.'

Sarah bit her lip. The most important thing was to find Grey and Davey, but a small warning voice in her head was making her feel uncomfortable in handsome Gaston's presence. Nettie might think that he had fallen for her charms in a gentlemanly way, but Sarah was not so sure. ‘What's his business, Nettie? Why is he going out of his way for us?'