Polly saw the troubled look on her sister’s face, saw her lips begin to frame ‘Back from where?’ and nudged her hastily. Hannah had enough on her plate looking after the twins and cooking the blind scouse which would go with the mashed potatoes; she did not need a clack across the head which would send her dizzy for quite ten minutes, in Polly’s experience. She waited until Mrs Smith was struggling into her stained and shrunken coat, then whispered, ‘Don’t worry; I’ll tell you where we’ve been when we gets back, or mebbe when we’s in bed, if Mam don’t want me to tell.’
But Mrs Smith was now slamming her black cloche hat down on her untidy thatch of greying hair and gesturing to Polly to accompany her out of the house. As they crossed the court and headed for the main road Polly spotted her friend Nat. If she was the dirtiest child in the court, she reflected, then Nat ran her a close second. He was about her own age, the middle child in a large family, and Polly knew his hair was yellow because when he’d been swimming in the Scaldy the dirt floated off and what had looked like a crop of brown curls became as yellow as a day-old chick. Despite being the fourth or fifth child in a family of eleven, Nat was cheerful, reasonably well nourished and well loved. Mr Harris was a seaman aboard a coaster and seldom home, but he was not a drinker, hardly ever struck his children and was unashamedly fond of his fat and feckless wife. The Harris family had very little money, but Mrs Harris cleaned at a couple of local pubs and frequently sent Nat out with a bit of bread and scrape or even a sugar bun for his pal Polly. Polly longed to be a Harris too, but being Nat’s friend was the next best thing, so now despite her mother’s tight grip on her thin little shoulder she broke free and ran across to where Nat was beckoning. The blue gingham frock was far too big and she had to gather the skirt up in one hand to avoid treading on it, but when she reached him Nat whistled admiringly. ‘Cripes, queen, you’re that smart I near on didn’t reckernise you,’ he said. ‘Where’s you off to, then?’
‘Dunno, but I don’t suppose we’ll be long; I think it may be something to do wi’ school,’ Polly hissed. ‘I’ll tell you when I get back.’
She and her mother scarcely spoke a word as they
walked. Polly ventured several remarks and after twenty minutes of plodding along hard and crowded pavements suggested timidly that they might take a tram. This however only caused her mother to call her a lazy little tyke, which was unfair because Polly had not suggested catching a tram for her own sake but for her mother’s. Mrs Smith was scarlet-faced and puffing like a steam train, for though it was four o’clock in the afternoon the day was still humid, and Mrs Smith was both overweight and unfit.
After they had passed well out of the area of the city which Polly knew, a most unpleasant thought suddenly occurred to her. If Hannah was in a good mood and had the time she told the children bedtime stories, and she had recently related the tale of the Babes in the Wood. She had told how the wicked stepmother had led the babes deeper and deeper into unknown country, following this trail and then that until the children were thoroughly lost. She told herself she was being fanciful and foolish but there was no doubt about it: Mrs Smith might be able to find her way back, but she, Polly, would not. If her mother were to jump aboard a tram as it passed, shouting to her daughter to make her own way home, Polly would not have the slightest idea even of the direction in which she lived. She comforted herself with the thought that Mrs Smith, scarlet-cheeked and with sweat pouring down her face, was about as capable of jumping aboard a moving tram as of flying to the moon; no need to worry about that then. And presently they reached a road lined with very smart houses indeed. They passed a number of these without pausing but then Mrs Smith stopped before a particularly large one, three storeys
high, its entrance guarded by tall wrought iron gates. It looked like a school, and as they approached the front door up a flight of impressively whitened steps they could hear the sound of children’s voices within.
Mrs Smith rang the bell and presently the door was opened by a severe looking woman in black. She wore a tiny pair of spectacles on a long black ribbon and her hair was pulled back into a tight bun on the nape of her neck. Her dress was very plain, long-sleeved and high-necked with a skirt reaching to her ankles, and she raised her eyebrows as she spoke. ‘Yes?’
‘Me name’s Smith, Mrs Smith, and this here’s me daughter Polly,’ Mrs Smith said. ‘I’m in desperate need, ma’am … I’d best see the principal.’
The woman nodded. ‘Very well.’ She turned to Polly. ‘Do you see that little chair? You sit there while your mother explains herself to Miss Hebden. And don’t move. I don’t suppose you can read?’
Polly shook her head. ‘No, but I knows all me letters and me numbers too.’ She screwed her eyes up tight. ‘Twelve pennies make a shilling, twenty shillings make a pound. A, B, C, D …’
‘Yes, all right. Sit there and don’t move a muscle while I take your mother into the principal’s office, then I’ll come back and give you a picture book to look at. Would you like that?’
Polly began to say that she would rather accompany her mother but saw the involuntary twitch of her mother’s hand and changed her mind. No use asking for a clack round the ear in front of a total stranger, so instead she said humbly that a picture book would be very nice, especially if it contained letters as well as pictures. Truth
to tell Polly had never handled a book in all her life, though she had seen such things in shop windows and had marvelled at the beautiful pictures on their covers.
The stern lady waited until Polly had settled herself in the small chair then beckoned to Mrs Smith and the pair of them disappeared down a long corridor. If Mrs Smith had been a fond parent, Polly thought she would have run after her begging not to be left alone in the dark and lofty hall, but this not being the case she gripped her hands into fists so tightly that the nails dug into her palms and began to say her letters; anything to take her mind off the babes in the wood.
She wondered how long she would have to wait, but the lady with the little gold spectacles came back quite quickly with a large and somewhat tattered picture book, which she placed upon Polly’s skinny gingham-covered knees. ‘There you are; that will keep you happy until your mother and Miss Hebden have settled things,’ she said rather obscurely. ‘I expect she’s explained to you why you have come to Egremont House?’
Polly shook her head but the lady continued to talk as though she had not noticed the movement. ‘My name is Miss Eleri Williams. There are two Miss Williams on the staff, myself and Miss Mildred Williams, so you must learn to use our Christian names – to avoid confusion, you know.’
She seemed to expect a reply so Polly, now completely at sea, muttered that she understood, ducked her head and began to turn over the pages of the picture book. At first she scarcely noticed what was before her eyes, but suddenly she came upon a picture of a nursery rhyme which Hannah often sang to the baby twins. Yes, there
she was, Little Bo Peep searching for her sheep, plain as a pikestaff! It was a beautiful picture of a girl in a wonderful fairytale dress, a shepherd’s crook in one hand and the other shading her eyes as she gazed at a distant hilltop upon which grazed a number of incredibly white and woolly sheep. And beneath the picture, words … words that she knew! She traced them with a finger, saying each one beneath her breath. ‘
Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep and doesn’t know where to find them. Leave them alone and they’ll come home, bringing their tails behind them
.’
I can read! And it’s not difficult, it’s easy, Polly told herself ecstatically. Wait till I tell Mam – well, no, she won’t be interested, but Hannah will be so pleased. She said I needed proper books, old newspapers wasn’t enough.
Excitedly she turned the page, first identifying from the picture which nursery rhyme would be found below, then reading it just to be sure. She found ‘Jack and Jill’, ‘Oranges and Lemons’, ‘The Grand Old Duke of York’ and ‘Higgledy Piggledy My Black Hen’ before Miss Williams returned, with Polly’s mother beside her. ‘Come and say goodbye to your mother, my dear,’ Miss Williams said. ‘You’ve come to stay with us for a few weeks at Egremont House, just until Mrs Smith has managed to sort out her problems. With eight other children, the birth of yet another pair of twins has made things very difficult, but I’m sure your family will rally round and help with the new babies. Then you will be able to return to your home.’
Polly began to say that the twins were six months old and could scarcely be counted as newborns, but before
she could get the words out her mother bent over her, almost smothering her against her huge wobbling breasts, and hissed in her ear that if she so much as opened her mouth she would regret it. When Polly was released her mouth was already opening to demand an explanation, but her mother glared at her so threateningly that she said nothing, save to squeak ‘When’s I coming home?’ in a small, desperate voice.
Mrs Smith, already standing beside the opening door, glanced over her shoulder and spoke as she was descending the steps. ‘As soon as the twins is a bit older and your dad’s gorra job. Goodbye Polly; be good or I’ll skelp the hide off of you.’ And with that she was gone.
Polly turned what must have been a white and bewildered face towards Miss Eleri Williams. ‘Why’s I here? I ain’t done nothing wrong,’ she whispered. ‘Where’s Mam gone? What is this place?’
Miss Eleri Williams hissed in her breath. ‘Did your mother not explain? I understand that your father has recently lost his job and your mother, who already has a great many children, gave birth to twins two or three weeks back. Someone told her that Egremont House takes in girls for short or sometimes longer periods when times are hard. I’m sure your mother will return for you in a month or two.’
Polly’s eyes dilated with horror. Her home in the court might be pretty horrible, the food scarce and parental love non-existent – though she was sure Hannah loved her – but that home was all she knew. This place was utterly alien. If her mother had appeared at that moment, ready to batter her for not complying with her wishes,
she would have welcomed her with open arms. But Miss Eleri was talking.
‘Come along, my dear, and I’ll show you to your dormitory. Most of the children here are orphans, but we have a special bedroom for short-stay children whose parent or parents are temporarily unable to cope. You will soon make friends and grow accustomed to our ways. During term time the children attend school, but now as it’s holiday time they work at various tasks, assist the staff and do a couple of hours of school work each day. You will soon—’
Desperate, Polly broke in without compunction. ‘Please, Miss Eleri, a lot of what you’ve just said ain’t true. The twins is past six months old, not new babbies at all, and me dad’s a stoker aboard a transatlantic liner …’
Miss Eleri sighed. ‘And now you’re going to tell me there aren’t ten children in the family, counting the twins,’ she said resignedly.
‘No, there’s just Hannah, Alex and Andrew, me and the littl’uns,’ Polly told her. ‘I don’t know why Mam said different.’
‘Well, I’ll have a word with the principal. Do you know your address?’
‘Oh aye, it’s four Spencer Court,’ Polly said eagerly. ‘Can I go now, miss? Only someone will have to show me which way to go ’cos I never been in this here street before.’
Miss Eleri Williams shook her head. ‘We are responsible for you until one or other of your parents comes to claim you,’ she said. ‘Come along. I’ll take you up to your room and tonight after you’re in bed I’ll alter that frock
so that it fits you and doesn’t drag on the ground.’ She took Polly’s hand, no doubt meaning it kindly, but to Polly it felt like the grip of a prison warder. ‘Don’t be afraid; Egremont House isn’t a bad place and your mother may return sooner than you expect.’ They reached the head of the stairs, crossed the landing and entered a bedroom with a large figure six on the door. It contained six beds, six lockers and a rail upon which hung a variety of garments. Miss Eleri pointed. ‘That will be your bed, the one with the blue counterpane. Now I’ll take you downstairs and introduce you to the other girls in dormitory six. I’m sure it won’t be long before your mother returns for you.’
Dana had listened to Polly’s story without once interrupting, but now she stared at her friend, and Polly saw the shock on her face. ‘And did she come back?’ she asked breathlessly. ‘Or did you decide that you would rather stay at Egremont House? I guess it was a much nicer place than that court where you’d lived till your mam took you off. I mean, from what you’ve said, when you lived with your mam you were lucky to get one decent meal a day, let alone three. So go on, Poll; were you happier at Egremont House? It must’ve been quite exciting, because of course you’d go to school, which you’d always wanted to do. I read all the Angela Brazil books when I was a kid; life in a boarding school sounded great fun.’
Polly grimaced. ‘It might be hard for you to understand, but at first I spent all my time waiting. Remember, I was only four or five and the only life I’d known had been in Spencer Court. I know what you’re thinking: it
weren’t a good life. Apart from Hannah and my friend Nat, no one took any notice of me; I were just one more dirty underfed kid folks saw playing out in the court or trailing to the shops with a great marketing bag, far too heavy for skinny little arms. But it was all I knew, and there was Hannah who did her best to look after me, and Nat who were me bezzie. Egremont House was huge, and though the girls in my dorm meant well, they couldn’t understand when I woke in the night crying for my old life.’
‘So your mam never came back for you?’ Dana said sympathetically. ‘Did you never see her again? But she sounds so horrible – sorry, Poll – that I should think you were glad of that. And I suppose as time passed …’
Polly nodded. ‘You’re right about one thing; as time passed I began to accept that my old life was lost to me. I ran away twice in the early days but the scuffers found me after a day or two and took me back to Egremont House. They were nice the first time – I think they’d been trying to find my family but hadn’t been able to because they’d moved – but the second time I got a walloping, and only bread and water to eat for two whole days. Then I had a lecture from the principal saying that I must be a sensible girl, learn my lessons and make friends with others in my position. She explained that my family were no longer at Spencer Court so the sensible thing to do was to make the best of my time at Egremont House. I don’t mind telling you, Dana, that it were hard. When I was in the infants we had three teachers who saw to it that food was evenly divided, but later on supervision weren’t up to much so the best food and the biggest helpings went to the strongest girls. It weren’t until I
were working at the Willows that I realised I’d not been properly fed for years.’ She grinned at her friend. ‘So now you know why I gobbled up even boiled cabbage and spuds in stew so thin you were lucky to find one bit of scrag end, and apple pudding which were all crust and no fruit. Before, I always had a cold or a cough ’cos the doctor who come round the home when we was ill said I had no resistance to fight germs, but once I got to the Willows I never had any call to see the doctor, ’cos me resistance were built up by the grub I got, or so I reckon.’