Sapphire Battersea (31 page)

‘
HETTY? HETTY, IS
that you?’

I sat up, dazed, squinting in the sunlight. I didn’t have any idea how long I’d been lying there on the sands. I’d cried for so long, but then I must have fallen asleep. Perhaps I was still dreaming now, because a strangely familiar child was squatting beside me, calling my name and looking at me with concern – and yet I felt sure I didn’t have a friend in the world.

‘Hetty, don’t you remember me? I’m Maisie. We met on the train,’ she said, tucking her hair behind her ears.

I stared at her. I’d only met her a day ago, and yet it seemed like months and months. I’d been travelling with such joy and optimism, so happy at the thought of seeing Mama. Yet now she was incarcerated in the infirmary, and though I hoped otherwise, I wasn’t sure she would ever walk out. I had been trying so hard to do the best thing by calling the doctor, but maybe it would have been better
to
do nothing. Then Mama would at least have had her position and we could have been together. Miss Roberts might never have noticed I was there.

I started crying so bitterly that Maisie looked frightened.

‘Don’t cry so, Hetty, please! What’s the matter? Are you lost? I am lost, but I don’t mind a bit. I went for a paddle in the sea and I wandered in the water a little because it was so delightful, but when I went back up the beach, I couldn’t find Mama and the others. I’ve been walking along the sands looking and looking for them, but
I’m
not crying one bit, see. I’m trying to be a big brave girl.’

‘You
are
a big brave girl,’ I said, wiping my eyes. I took several deep breaths, trying hard to calm myself. ‘There now, I’m not crying either, not any more. Let me gather up my things and we’ll walk along the sands together and I’m sure we’ll find your family soon.’

I stood up, grasped my suitcase and Mama’s box, and we started trudging along the beach together. Maisie set off to the right, but I felt sure she was going the wrong way.

‘No, Maisie, I think your family will be
this
way, near the pier. I think you’ve been walking away from them all this time.’

‘I’m not always very good at knowing which way
to
go,’ Maisie admitted. ‘Will you stay with me until we find them again, Hetty?’

‘Of course I will.’

‘Shall I carry that box for you, as you have your suitcase?’

‘No, I can manage it perfectly myself,’ I said. My arms were aching, but I could not bear to relinquish Mama’s box.

We travelled further along the beach. I had sand in my boots now, chafing my feet uncomfortably. Maisie had the advantage, running along in bare feet, her sailor dress tucked up comfortably in her drawers.

‘This is such an adventure, isn’t it, Hetty?’ she said, giving a little skip.

I tried to smile at her. I wished with all my heart I could be a blessed child like Maisie, when the worst thing that could happen to her was getting lost on a beach. And she wasn’t even lost any more, because I suddenly spotted a familiar little family. The mama was calling anxiously, clutching the baby, the papa was striding up and down, his head turning this way and that, and the big sister was running to the sea and back, gazing wildly about her.

‘See, Maisie? There’s your family,’ I said.

‘Oh! Yes, so it is! And see how they are searching for me!’ said Maisie. She started running. ‘Mama!
Papa
! Charlotte! Here I am! Don’t worry, I’m not a bit lost now.’

I watched her run over to them, and saw how her papa picked her up and whirled her round and round, her mama gave her a big kiss, and her sister Charlotte hugged her hard.

I felt tears pricking my eyes all over again. I turned my head and started walking quickly away – but I heard the family calling my name, and then thudding footsteps across the sand. It was Charlotte. She gave me a hug too, as if I were part of the family.

‘Dear Hetty! Maisie says you found her. We’re so grateful. We were all going frantic. Won’t you come and let Mama and Papa thank you properly?’

She took my hand in hers and led me back to the little group.

‘Well done, Hetty! We were looking everywhere for our silly little girl,’ said the papa. ‘How can we reward you?’

‘Yes, we are considerably in your debt,’ said the mama. ‘I was nearly going out of my mind with worry. But what about
your
mother, Hetty? Have you not found her yet, dear?’

‘Oh yes, I have, but – but she is very ill, and now she is in the infirmary and – and I don’t know what to do,’ I said, sobbing.

‘My poor child!’ She gave the baby to Charlotte and put her arms round me. I laid my head on her soft muslin blouse and wept, while she patted me gently on the back.

‘There, now,’ she said softly.

‘I’m so sorry! It’s just – I don’t know what to do!’

‘I know what you’re going to do. You’re going to come back to our lodgings and have supper with us,’ said Papa.

‘Yes, yes, yes!’ said Charlotte and Maisie.

So I walked back with them to their lodgings, a big pink-washed house in a street leading off the promenade. I was still crying, and cowered away when their landlady came to the door. I knew I must look a terrible sight in my grubby dress, my face covered in tears and my nose running.

I thought they would send me to the kitchen to beg a morsel there – but not a bit of it.

‘This little girl is a friend of ours, Mrs Brooke,’ the mama said firmly. ‘She will be having supper with us.’

‘Certainly, Mrs Greenwood,’ said the landlady, though she took in my cheap maid’s dress and raised an eyebrow.

‘Come, girls, let us tidy ourselves before supper,’ said the mama.

She led the way upstairs to their rooms. She and
her
husband shared a big blue bedroom, while Flora the baby had a cot beside their bed. The girls’ room was next door, a pretty pink, with two single beds with patchwork quilts, and a proper dressing table and a washstand with pink-and-white patterned china.

Mrs Brooke brought jugs of hot water for each room and we washed in turn. The girls put on fresh clean sailor dresses, while I wore my Sunday green velvet. I felt it was too hot and formal for the seaside but the girls admired it enormously, stroking the velvet and fingering the yellow fringing.

‘I would give anything to wear such a grown-up dress,’ said Charlotte enviously. ‘And you’re allowed to put your hair up too, Hetty!’

‘It doesn’t stay pinned up for long though,’ I said, and I brushed it out loose so that it fell a long way past my shoulders.

‘You look like the lovely advertisement for Edwards’ “Harlene” Hair Restorer!’ said Charlotte.

‘Oh, let me have a turn brushing it!’ Maisie begged. Her own hair was limp and straggly, and she marvelled at mine.

‘I wish I had lovely long hair like yours, Hetty! It’s just like a mermaid’s.’ She pulled my green skirts tight around my legs. ‘There, now you have a mermaid’s tail too!’

I could hear the baby wailing fretfully, so I decided to make myself useful and went and knocked next door.

‘Excuse me, Mrs Greenwood – would you like me to take care of the baby while you get ready in peace?’ I offered.

‘Why, Hetty, you’re such a kind girl!’ she said. ‘All right, dear, see if you can work your magic with little Flora all over again. I have changed her napkin so I don’t know why she’s crying so. Perhaps you might ask Mrs Brooke to prepare her another bottle of boiled milk?’

‘Certainly,’ I carried the cross little baby carefully down the stairs and found my way to the kitchen.

Mrs Brooke was cutting thin slices of bread and butter, while fat yellow slabs of smoked haddock poached pungently on the stove.

‘Please may I have a bottle for the baby?’ I asked.

‘Certainly … miss,’ she said. The word came out grudgingly, but she said it all the same.

I took the bottle of baby milk and fed Flora in the window seat of the sitting room. She was clearly thirsty because she attacked the bottle with great vigour, making comically loud sucking sounds. I held her close, wondering at her intent little face, her long lashes and tiny delicate ears. I especially
liked
her perfect little toes peeping out beneath her rucked-up petticoats.

I thought of poor dear Mama and how she’d been forced to give me away when I was even younger than little Flora, denied the chance of holding me close like this.

We had had so short a time together. She had missed my first five years altogether, she had kept a wary distance when I came back to the hospital – and then she’d been cruelly banished. I’d planned for us to be together when I was grown up. I’d thought we’d have many, many precious years ahead, enough to make up for the sad time apart, but now …

I started crying again. Flora stopped sucking and stared up at me, her forehead puckering. She waved her tiny starfish hands, almost as if she were trying to comfort me.

‘I’m sorry, little Flora,’ I whispered, sniffing. ‘I’ll try to concentrate on you again.’

She drained her bottle completely, her eyes closing as she took the last few mouthfuls. She gave several contented sighs, snuggled her head right into my chest, and fell fast asleep. I held her close, and wouldn’t put her down even when Mrs Brooke banged a gong and the family assembled in the dining room for supper.

I ate a few morsels of fish carefully with one hand while still holding the baby. There was fruit pie for pudding. The pastry was a little pale and uninteresting compared to my own. I was in such a turmoil I could eat very little.

‘There now, children! Are you quite full now?’ said Mr Greenwood, consulting his pocket watch. ‘Good heavens, is that the time? Off to bed with you this minute!’

‘Oh, Papa,
please
mayn’t we stay up a little longer! It’s still sunny outside. Are you
sure
it’s bedtime?’ Maisie wailed, as if the world were suddenly coming to an end.

Mr Greenwood’s mouth twitched under his moustache, and Charlotte burst out laughing.

‘Oh, Maisie, can’t you tell when Papa is joking?’

‘Don’t you remember, Maisie?’ Mrs Greenwood said, fondly pinching her daughter’s cheek. ‘We always go for a little walk along the sea front after supper.’

‘Oh, so we do! Oh hurray, hurray!’ said Maisie.

So we all went for a walk. I insisted on carrying little Flora, who was muffled in another shawl against the sea breeze. My heart beat hard against the baby, thinking that at any moment they would say goodbye to me and send me on my way to
nowhere
– but they seemed to take my company for granted. I left my suitcase and Mama’s box back at the boarding house so at least I had an excuse for returning with them.

We set off down the road to the sea front.

‘Now, which way shall we go, my dears?’ said Mr Greenwood, standing before the painted map.

‘Oh, please,’ I whispered, my mouth so dry I could barely make myself heard. ‘Could we – oh, could we—?’

‘Let’s see the pierrots!’ Charlotte shouted.

‘No, no, let’s listen to the band,’ Maisie clamoured.

‘We can do both –
and
take a little stroll along the pier,’ said Mr Greenwood.

Mrs Greenwood was looking at me. ‘Where did
you
want to go, Hetty?’ she asked.

‘I – I wondered if I might possibly just run along to the infirmary. Perhaps Mama will be looking out of her window. I should so like to reassure her that I am all right.’

‘You’re a good thoughtful girl, Hetty. We will come with you, and then perhaps your mother will see you’re among friends,’ she said.

‘Among very
dear
friends,’ I said. ‘Oh please, may we?’

It was a good fifteen minutes’ walk away. I knew
everyone
must be longing to see all their favourite seaside entertainments but they walked cheerfully beside me. Maisie skipped in circles, while Charlotte talked nineteen to the dozen about her school, and her best friends, and her favourite teachers, and the very worst cruel teacher ever, who made even great girls of Charlotte’s age stand in a corner with a dunce’s cap upon their heads. I did not think this very cruel at all compared to Matron Stinking Bottomly and Matron Pigface Peters, but I simply nodded or shook my head or tutted at appropriate times.