In the end, Patty decided to have a talk with Maggie. ‘You mustn’t feel guilty because you bring back the odd flea or a few nits when you go to visit your father,’ she said gently. ‘It isn’t their fault that they are plagued with such things and I don’t mean to blame them for it. The courts were built over a hundred years ago. They have no running water and no indoor sanitation either. Most of the houses share one tap and one lavatory, and no matter how hard people try bed bugs, fleas, lice and black beetles are far too firmly entrenched to be easily killed off. But as you know, queen, a nurse has to be especially careful that she doesn’t carry germs – or insect life – into the homes she visits. You have seen me coming back some evenings and hanging all my clothing on the line outside whilst I get in the bath and give myself a good scrubbing. That’s when I can tell I’ve picked up fleas myself and must be rid of them before they take up residence in number twenty-four. So please, Maggie, don’t feel your family are letting us down, because they aren’t. Only – only you wouldn’t want to see Merrell covered in bites, would you? And I know how glad you are not to be plagued by such things yourself.’
She and Maggie had been sitting companionably on either side of the hearth; Maggie engaged in making a ball for the baby out of spare scraps of wool and two milk bottle tops and Patty sewing diligently away at a new overall for herself. ‘Oh, Auntie Patty, I know everything you’ve said is true, really, but I can’t help thinking if I never went home we wouldn’t have the problem,’ Maggie said distressfully. ‘But I do know you’re right. Just about everyone in the court, even Miss Edith Turnbull, who’s ever so smart and a piano teacher as well, gets sick and tired of trying to get rid of bed bugs and that. And if you’re afraid I might go back home to help me dad and the younger ones, I never ever will. It’s probably awful selfish but I don’t reckon I’d make any real difference to them and I
do
make a difference here, don’t I?’
Patty felt her heart lift with relief and knew that a broad smile spread right across her face. ‘You do make a difference, love,’ she said fervently. ‘You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, you and Merrell, and I hope you’ll stay with us … oh, until you marry some nice feller and want a home of your own.’
‘Well I will then,’ Maggie said decidedly. ‘We’s a real little family, ain’t we, Auntie Patty? And if it made things easier, I’d tell me dad I’ve gorra stop me weekly visits but would come every other week instead. Only I’m bound to say, if I did that, I think he’d come callin’, or send Biddy round to fetch the money. And that wouldn’t suit us, would it?’
‘No it wouldn’t,’ Patty agreed immediately. ‘But I never told your father my address, and he never asks. Have you mentioned it?’
‘Not me,’ Maggie said, stifling a giggle. ‘But you know what lads are, Auntie. They gets all over the city, poking their noses in where they ain’t wanted. I seen little Jacky, what lives next door, in Stanton’s Court, playin’ wi’ Reuben Pilling what lives on the bottom floor here, the other day. He saw me an’ all, said hello and watched me heavin’ the pram up the first few stairs, so I reckon everyone’ll know where we lives by now.’
Patty sighed. She had hoped to keep her address a secret, but had guessed it would be impossible. Children, even more than adults, roamed the city streets, inquisitive as cats, and the Mullins children would be no exception. And to do Mr Mullins credit, Maggie had been living in Ashfield Place for three months now, and he had never come calling. Maggie reported that he was extremely grateful for the weekly payments, and even though he was now working he had not suggested that Maggie might return to her own home. Things could be a lot worse, Patty told herself and turned to Maggie. ‘Now, how about a drink of cocoa before we go to bed?’
‘I’ll make it,’ Maggie said eagerly, laying down her own work. She went over to the cupboard and got out the tin of cocoa, spooned some into two mugs, then turned back to Patty. ‘Someone said the other day that – that you were in an orphan asylum when you was a little girl. Is it true, Auntie Patty? And is that why you wouldn’t put Merrell in one?’
For a moment, Patty was startled; who had been discussing her past so freely? Then she remembered an incautious remark she had made to Mrs Clarke about orphan asylums in general and Durrant House in particular and thought, ruefully, that her friend must have put two and two together. ‘That’s right. I was brought up in an orphanage,’ she said briefly. ‘It isn’t something I’d wish on anyone, Maggie. No one was cruel to me; we were fed and clothed, though never generously. I was often hungry. But there was no love, no feeling of belonging, no family affection. I didn’t want that for Merrell.’
Maggie said no more, and went off to bed apparently satisfied. But when Patty went to her own room, her mind flew back across the years to the Durrant and to her life there. She climbed between the sheets and burrowed into the pillow, remembering, remembering …
Outside the windows of Durrant House a light and drizzling rain was falling. Patty, sitting next to Laura, nudged her friend in the ribs with an impatient elbow. ‘Look at that,’ she hissed, nodding towards one of the long windows. ‘It’s raining
again
, and I bet Miss Arnold won’t let us go to the park.’ She sighed impatiently. ‘And if anyone else says it’s because
there’s a war on
, I’m sure I shall scream!’
It was a Saturday morning so the day, though by no means free, was less rigidly disciplined than weekdays. Patty had been hoping that they might be taken to the park where they were now allowed, occasionally, to play sedate games of ball, or even such things as Grandmother’s Footsteps or Relievio. Matron had softened with the years and had agreed with some of the older girls that if they were willing to supervise such games, they helped to keep the younger children healthy and happy.
‘Well, I don’t see why you should expect to go to the park. Today’s the day the new matron takes over,’ Laura pointed out. ‘Everything will change; it’s bound to. New brooms sweep clean, they say, and they call this matron the prison wardress, don’t they? I’m going to write a letter to my mam to remind her again that I’m supposed to go home from time to time, now I’m eleven. If things get strict again, like they was when we were younger, I’ll scream even louder than—’
‘Laura! You are quite old enough to know the rules and to obey them! If I see you talking again, you will get a detention.’
Laura and Patty immediately bent over the thin gruel which was all they had for breakfast, though Patty flashed an indignant look at the prefect who had spoken. Her name was Maria Wickes and she was disliked by almost everyone at the Durrant. How different from Selina, Patty thought sorrowfully, who had been universally popular. And of course, Laura was probably right. This Miss O’Dowd was bound to try to make herself felt as soon as she took command. Life was never easy for the inhabitants of Durrant House, but Patty was sure that a new matron would see to it that the girls had even less freedom than before. As she neared retirement, the present matron had slackened the reins a good deal, and a good many of the rules had not been so strictly enforced. Naturally, other teachers had followed her example, so that, despite the shortages caused by the war, life at Durrant House was actually easier.
With the prefect’s eye upon them, Patty and Laura dared not talk again, but spooned in the thin gruel, drank their milk and water mixture and, as soon as the word was given, left the dining room. They made their way to their common room, glancing hopefully out of the windows as they entered, but rain was still falling steadily, which probably meant that they would not be allowed to go outside until the weather improved. However, there were no classes to be attended, and the girls were free to chat among themselves as they got out the knitting that had become a part of their attempt to help with the war effort. The teachers and the Board of Governors supplied them with old woollen garments, which they unpicked, washed and rolled into balls. At present the girls in Patty’s class were knitting squares, which were then crocheted together by some of the older girls, to make a whole blanket.
‘I wonder if Selina will have a few hours off today,’ Patty said wistfully as she and Laura carried their knitting over to the window seat. ‘If she has, perhaps she’ll call for me and take me out somewhere. Even a walk round the park or up and down Ullet Road would be a treat after being cooped up in the Durrant all week.’
‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ Laura said, rather dolefully. Ever since Selina had left, she and Patty had visited Mrs Thornton in Peel Street on Friday afternoons, sometimes meeting Selina there and always being treated by the cook with warmth and generosity. Mrs Thornton saw to it that they enjoyed a good tea at least one day a week. Her employer, a Miss Jessica Larkin, was a well-known philanthropist, giving both time and money to a number of good causes. She very rarely visited the kitchen regions, but had done so on one occasion when Patty and Laura had been enjoying hot buttered scones and cups of tea at the kitchen table. Mrs Thornton had unblushingly introduced the girls as ‘me nieces, what’s in the Durrant House orphan asylum up the road and comes to visit me from time to time’, and Miss Larkin had greeted the girls in a friendly but absent manner, assuring them that they were welcome to visit her house whenever they were free to do so.
‘Your aunt is an excellent cook and a good, kind woman,’ she said in her high, fluting voice. ‘I know these orphan asylums do their best, but what with the war and shortness of money the children have a restricted diet and very few treats, which does not lead to strong bones and general good health.’ She smiled kindly, if myopically, down at the two girls. ‘So you must visit your aunt whenever you can and have a good tea,’ she instructed them. ‘Then you will grow up to be strong and healthy, able to hold your own in the world.’
So far as Mrs Thornton, Patty and Laura were concerned, this made the girls’ visits official, and whenever they were able to do so the girls made their way to the kitchen of the big house on Peel Street and were always welcomed there. However, for the past two Fridays they had been unable to see Mrs Thornton. Miss Larkin, immensely relieved now that America had entered the war, had given two garden parties in aid of the troops, and because of all the preparation – and cooking – that this had entailed Mrs Thornton had regretfully advised them to steer clear for a couple of weeks.
‘After dear old George’s proclamation concerning food shortages and cutting down on bread consumption, you’d expect Madam to think twice about holding a cream tea in aid of the troops, but not she! “If we aren’t to be allowed to eat bread, then you must make a great many scones, Cook,” she telled me – as if she didn’t realise that scones are made with flour and it’s flour the country’s short of! But there you are, we shall just have to contrive.’ Mrs Thornton had looked at the girls worriedly. ‘I feel that mean, askin’ you to miss your weekly visit twice, but I’ll be that busy … but the following week, just you come round as usual and I’ll make sure you get a good tea, shortages or no shortages.’
The girls had heard the king’s proclamation read out in church and had thought, with real dismay, that this would mean even less food set out for them in the dining room. Bread and margarine was served to them for tea almost every day and dinners, never lavish, had been reduced to a thin vegetable stew two or three times a week, with baked beans in gravy or a bowl of virulent green pea soup the only alternatives. But it was no use grumbling; when the girls did so, they were informed, frostily, by the hated Miss Briggs, that the king and queen and the rest of the royal family had been restricting their intake of bread since February and had also cut down on potatoes.
‘But I bet the king and the rest of the royal family get lots of things to eat that we could never dream of,’ Laura had muttered rebelliously in her friend’s ear. ‘It’s all very well to cut bread and potatoes down when you’ve got alternatives, but we haven’t. I’m sure there are no children in the whole of England as skinny – and as hungry – as we are. I’m sure that if they really cut the bread and potatoes they give us by a quarter, we’d bleedin’ well starve.’
Patty had agreed wholeheartedly with her friend’s conclusion but it appeared that even the Board of Governors – and Cook, of course – realised that the girls could not survive on anything less than they were getting already, so though the slices of bread at teatime were possibly a little thinner cut, everyone was still given a complete round together with their mug of milk and water. Jam had disappeared two years earlier and tea was just a memory. ‘Well, tea is brought in from abroad, and the German U-boats sink a great many of our ships, so they say,’ Selina had said. ‘I suppose tea is a luxury really, which we must learn to do without. But the other things the ships bring – flour, sugar, and such – are essential to keep body and soul together.’ She had smiled teasingly down at Patty. ‘I know the food at Durrant House is terrible and never nearly enough, but I promise you, queen, that nurses don’t fare much better. We’re often so hungry that we hang around the kitchen waiting for the patients to finish their food and if they leave so much as half a round of bread and butter, or a piece of potato, someone will gobble it down at once.’
‘But you do have some money so you can buy yourselves extras,’ Patty had pointed out, her mouth watering at the thought. ‘I remember you telling me that all your spare money went on food when you first started training as a probationer.’
Selina had chuckled. ‘I shouldn’t grumble,’ she said with a smile lighting her beautiful grey eyes. ‘The patients are ever so good, particularly the soldiers. Their relatives bring in fruit and sweets and little cakes and the soldiers hand a good few such presents on to the nursing staff. But you’ve got Mrs Thornton, haven’t you, queen? I know she treats you right well.’ She had paused for a moment, and then had said thoughtfully: ‘When I’ve passed my exams, Mrs Thornton has promised to teach me how to cook. I’m looking forward to it quite as much as I’m looking forward to being a fully fledged nurse.’
So now Patty and Laura sat in their common room, knitting half-heartedly and hoping that the rain would soon stop. Patty’s tummy was rumbling aggressively, as though the mere thought of food had made it realise how empty it was, and when she spoke she actually raised her voice to drown out its mutterings. ‘I wish your mam would ask us home, Laura,’ she said wistfully. ‘Of course it’s grand going to visit Selina but I don’t think they really approve of her having someone who is not quite ten in the nurses’ home. When it’s raining, we sneak up the stairs to her room and toast bread in front of her gas fire. But we aren’t supposed to so if the weather’s fine we wander round the shops or just go for walks.’
‘Selina’s working today, isn’t she?’ Laura asked, diligently knitting away. ‘I wonder whether the new matron will let Selina take you out, though, Patty. It’s not as though she were a relative, after all.’
‘I shall say she’s me cousin,’ Patty said loftily.
Laura snorted. ‘If you think old Briggsy wouldn’t tell her it were a lie, you’ve got a higher opinion of the woman than I have,’ she said roundly. ‘Still an’ all, I suppose it’s worth a try. And anyway, the staff like us to go out of a weekend because there’s more food for the others to share around.’
‘That’s true,’ Patty said thoughtfully. ‘I tell you what, though, Laura, if your mam does invite us to go round to her place even once, then whenever Selina’s free we can pretend we’re going to see your mam. The staff are far too busy to check up on things like that and you know Selina is happy for you to come out with us from time to time.’
Laura put down her knitting and stared admiringly at her friend. ‘I always knew you were the brightest of us,’ she remarked. ‘Why, if you and Selina went off together and then met me at an agreed place, I could have an afternoon to meself, wandering round the shops and mebbe visiting some of me relatives. I still remembers where they live, more or less, and though they haven’t taken any notice of me since I’ve been in the Durrant, I reckon it’s just out of sight, out of mind. I’ve often thought if I turned up on their doorstep they’d welcome me in, especially me Aunt Annie. She’s got a dozen kids and her old feller’s in an’ out of work like a jack-in-the-box, but they’re all real good-natured. Me mam used to say Aunt Annie ’ud share her last crust with a blind beggar, so I’m sure she’d ask me in so we could have a good jangle over a cuppa.’ She beamed at Patty. ‘Oh aye, that’s a grand thought of yours, so it is.’
‘Ye-es, only first of all, we’ve got to persuade your mam to ask us round to her place,’ Patty reminded her friend. ‘They’ll check up the first time, you know they will. From what other girls have said, your mam will have to come round here in person and agree times, dates and so on. Tell you what, Laura, let’s write to her this very afternoon. Or … I wonder if I could persuade Selina to take me round to your mam’s place? I could ask her meself, explain what a lot it means to us.’
‘We’ll try both,’ Laura said. ‘I’ll fetch paper and a pencil.’
She was on her feet and heading for the door when it opened abruptly. Miss Briggs stood there, and beside her, already dressed in the familiar uniform, was a woman who must be the new matron. Patty stared. The woman was massive. She must be six foot tall and was as broad as a policeman with enormous shoulders and a great, jutting bust. The uniform looked as though it were already straining at the seams and the little white frilled cap perched on her bob of thick dark hair made her head look even larger. Her face, when Patty’s eyes fell upon it, was not prepossessing. Her eyes were small and set amidst rolls of fat, her red cheeks looked as hard as apples and her mouth was just a thin, determined line above her rolling chins. No wonder the older girls had christened her the prison wardress, Patty thought. Their old matron had been gaunt and spare but her expression had not been unpleasant and Patty could not remember her ever glaring at the assembled orphans in such a ferocious manner.
Patty was just wondering whether she ought to get up when Miss Briggs stepped forward and spoke in ringing tones. ‘Girls! All stand to welcome our new matron, Miss O’Dowd. She would like to say a few words.’
Miss Briggs stepped back as the girls rose obediently to their feet and Miss O’Dowd stepped forward. Patty thought she probably smiled at them – at least the rolls of fat rearranged themselves – and then she spoke. For such an enormous woman she had an extraordinarily thin, high voice but Patty, stealing a glance around, saw that no one smiled. ‘Good morning, children.’ She paused and the girls chorused obediently: ‘Good morning, Matron.’ There was another pause before Miss O’Dowd spoke again. ‘As you know, I came to Durrant House a couple of weeks ago to meet the staff and the senior girls, and from today I take up my position here. I am sure I don’t need to tell you that I have a great admiration for the work done by Miss Capper, your previous matron. However, she was nearing retirement and became, I believe, rather – lax in her attitude to some of the rules.’ She paused again to sweep the assembled girls with a cold and fishy eye. ‘You will soon find that I am not the type of person to relax any rules unless, of course, I think it would be for the good of Durrant House. I may make changes but I must emphasise that I shall expect instant obedience from all of you. Punishments have not been particularly severe in the past but I am a great believer in showing my displeasure in a way which will not be easily forgotten. Spare the rod and spoil the child is my motto; there is a cane in the corner cupboard of my study and I shall not hesitate to use it upon wrongdoers. Bear this in mind, obey the rules and do nothing without first asking permission, and I am sure we shall get along very comfortably. And now I will leave you to continue with your war work – I take it you are all employed in doing something towards the war effort?’