Finders and Keepers (57 page)

‘She is -'

‘I am aware what Robert Pritchard called her,' Harry cut in ruthlessly. ‘But surely no one here would take the word of a man who has been arrested and remanded in custody?'

‘Every man is innocent until found guilty in a court of law, Mr Evans.'

It was then Harry realized that the workhouse master was still hoping that Robert Pritchard would be found innocent, that the entire scandal of the agent's fraudulent business dealings could be swept aside and forgotten. He had the feeling that more than one ‘respectable person' in Brecon was holding their breath, waiting for the police to knock on their door.

‘“Innocent until proven guilty”,' Harry repeated. ‘Tell me, master, in what court of law was Mary Ellis found guilty?'

The master rang the bell on his desk. An assistant knocked on the door, opened it and waited for instructions.

‘Mr Evans wishes to visit the infirmary,' he informed the man. ‘You do realize that the matron will be within her rights to refuse you entry, Mr Evans?'

‘Yes.' Harry turned to Betty Morgan. ‘You'll wait here for the children?'

‘Yes, Mr Evans.' Betty had difficulty keeping a straight face. She had never called him anything other than Harry since childhood.

Chapter Twenty-four

The infirmary block was situated behind the workhouse. The assistant disappeared as soon as Harry stepped inside. Harry stood and took a few moments to accustom himself to the smell of boiled cabbage and urine mixed with the peculiar rotten odour of institution disinfectant. The corridor was empty and he was debating whether to try the door on his right or left when a woman appeared. She was dressed in a blue cotton gown, starched cuffs, collar and apron, and sister's veil.

‘Can I help you?' she enquired briskly.

‘I am looking for David Ellis.'

‘Police or relative?' she barked.

‘Representative of the Ellis children's legal guardians,' he answered cautiously, wondering why the police would want to see David Ellis again after bringing him in.

‘Follow me.' She walked past him and led the way towards the door on their right. Harry was used to walking quickly but he had difficulty keeping up with her. She opened the door to a ward that held two dozen beds, ranged exactly opposite one another.

‘He's here, Mr …'

‘Evans, Harry Evans.'

Harry walked towards the bed she pointed out. It was the one nearest to the nurse's desk in the centre of the ward and, when he approached, he could see why. David was lying pale and gaunt, eyes closed, on his stomach. The sheets above his back had been lifted by a cradle.

‘What happened to him?' He turned to the sister who was talking to the nurse at the desk.

‘You haven't been told?'

‘No.' He stretched the truth. ‘The workhouse master sent me here when I arrived to pick up David's sister and brothers. He said that he had been brought here by the police.' Harry knelt beside David's bed. The boy opened his eyes. ‘David,' he whispered.

‘You said you'd help us, Harry,' David croaked accusingly.

‘I'm sorry, it took time to organize. But I have a house waiting for you, for all your family, and someone to take care of you.'

David closed his eyes.

Harry rose to his feet. ‘What happened to him?' he repeated.

‘He was beaten, Mr Evans. With a steel-tipped horsewhip.'

Harry felt as though the room were moving around him. He clenched his fists and fought to keep his composure. ‘Will he recover?'

‘Hopefully, in time, with rest, care and good food. He is barely conscious now because he's been sedated to help him cope with the pain.'

‘Can I take him with me now?'

‘I wouldn't advise it. The doctor -'

‘Find him, get him on the telephone,' Harry ordered. ‘I don't care what it takes. I want this boy out of here now.'

‘He'll need an ambulance and medical care,' she warned.

‘I'll pay for the ambulance, there's a doctor in the Swansea Valley and I'll hire a nurse until he has recovered.' Harry clenched and unclenched his fists. He wished he'd knocked Robert Pritchard and all his bailiffs into the dirt and never allowed the workhouse master to take any of the Ellis children out of his sight.

‘You,' Harry pointed his finger at the workhouse master's chest, ‘You, and no one else, made the decision to hand a defenceless boy over to a man who whipped him within an inch of his life.'

‘Mr Ianto Williams is a respectable member of the community -'

‘I am sick to death of hearing that word from you,' Harry shouted. ‘Your interpretation of “respectable” and mine are very different.'

‘I had no idea -'

‘Considering that you have the power to make life and death decisions that affect the people in the care of the parish, you should have,' Harry cut in savagely. ‘They told me in the infirmary that the police took Williams into custody when they found the boy lying, more dead than alive, in his cellar. Ianto Williams is facing serious charges over his treatment of David Ellis. And if the boy dies, he will be facing the most serious charge of all. You knew Williams did business with the agent and that the agent hated the boy. It's no thanks to you, Ianto Williams or Robert Pritchard that David Ellis is alive. In fact, given what he knew about the agent's thieving, from which the three of you profited, I believe that all of you would prefer to see the boy dead.'

‘They were both respectable men and I never profited from any fraud … I resent your tone … I resent your implications … I … I …'

‘I was there, at the eviction of the Ellises, remember?' Harry pressed his advantage for all it was worth. ‘I have spoken to the doctor who admitted the boy to the infirmary and I have sent for an ambulance to take the boy to the house I have taken for his family. I want his eldest sister released into my care so she can nurse him. And I want her released
now!'

‘It would be most irregular -'

‘You'd prefer to wait for another one of your cronies to come and take her as a kitchen maid, so she can be beaten like her brother or,' he narrowed his eyes and gave the master a look of utter contempt, ‘raped.'

‘I did my duty -'

Harry had no compunction about interrupting him again. ‘I will ask you one more time. Send for Mary Ellis so she can take care of her brother on the journey to the Ellises' new home and during his convalescence. If you refuse to release her along with her brothers and sister, I will call the police.'

‘And tell them what, Mr Evans?'

‘That I am concerned for her welfare after the way you deliberately placed the Ellis boy in harm's way.'

‘I was not to know -'

‘You expect me to believe that after I saw you whispering with Ianto Williams and Robert Pritchard in the farmyard of the Ellis Estate? What was your share of the goods and livestock that were taken that day?'

The master reached for the bell on his desk and rang it.

Harry hadn't been prepared for the change in Martha and Matthew in three short weeks. Martha's long black hair had been cropped shorter than a boy's, and Matthew's head had been completely shaved. Both were dressed in workhouse smocks as grey, pasty and faded as their complexions. They were huddled in a corner, so close together it was difficult to see where one child began and the other ended. They stared up at him, all terrified eyes and quivering limbs, like puppies that had been locked into a dark kennel for the breaking period shepherds use before training.

They were on the opposite side of the waiting room, as far away from Betty Morgan as they could get. Harry looked questioningly at her. She shook her head. He had long since realized that the Ellis children were wary of strangers and didn't make friends easily, but Betty Morgan was not only one of the kindest women he knew, she was also one of the most adept at thawing shy children. Even the most timid guests at his family's and cousins' birthday parties had blossomed into sociability under Betty's gentle guidance.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor. He turned and saw a nurse carrying a baby wrapped in a blanket of the inevitable grey flannel. Presuming the child was Luke, he stopped her before she reached the office door and held out his arms. ‘If that's Luke Ellis, I'm here to pick him up.'

She handed him over, and the smile he'd intended for Luke froze on his lips. The plump, contented toddler had been transformed into a child as thin, weightless and delicate as a bird. His skin was the same ashen shade as his brother and sister's, and beneath the blanket he was dressed in a miniature version of the workhouse smock, fashioned from rough institution flannel. Harry noticed the rough cloth had raised welts and sores on his delicate skin.

‘Luke?' Harry whispered but the toddler stared unblinkingly at him without a spark of recognition. He carried him into the waiting room and over to where Matthew and Martha were glued together. They backed further into the corner. He fell to his knees, setting himself on the same level as them. To his horror, close up he saw bruises on their faces, arms and legs.

‘Martha, Matthew?' He held the baby out to them.

They didn't make a move.

‘Don't you recognize your brother?'

They tried to press even closer to the wall as if they wanted it to swallow them up.

‘Don't you know me?' he persisted. ‘I said I'd try to get you out of here.'

Matthew spat full in his face.

‘You disgusting, dirty little brat!' The nurse who had remained in the doorway stepped inside the room, but Harry held up his hand to stop her coming any closer.

‘They've been through enough, Nurse. Give them time to accept me again. Martha, don't you remember how much you wanted to learn to read and write? The lessons I gave you… Martha …' He sensed that she had focused on him and was actually looking at him for the first time. ‘Martha?' he repeated hopefully.

She uttered an incomprehensible sob before flinging her arms around both him and Luke.

Harry freed the hand on the arm he had wrapped around her and stroked the stubble on her head. ‘It's all right, Martha, it is going to be all right. I'm here to take you away from this place.' He continued to kneel, uncomfortably crouched, pinned down by Martha, listening to her cries.

Matthew crept towards them, and Harry reached out, managing to wrap his left arm around both children. They remained, knotted together in the corner, until Harry's muscles began to cramp.

‘Do you think we can move now?' He pulled his head back and glanced from Matthew to Martha.

Betty Morgan left her chair and crossed the room. ‘I'm sure this young lady and gentleman would like to see the house you've rented for them and the bedrooms we've made up for them, Mr Evans?'

‘A house?' Martha's tear-stained eyes rounded in wonder.

‘Yes, Martha, a house,' Harry repeated. ‘And this is Mrs Morgan. She is going to look after you.'

‘Mary looks after us. Where's Mary?' Matthew demanded fractiously.

‘I'm not sure, Matthew. But I'm hoping we'll see her soon.' Harry crossed his fingers.

‘This house? Is it our house?' Matthew wriggled free from Harry's arms.

‘No, Matthew, I'm sorry, I couldn't get you back into your house,' Harry apologized.

‘Then who's living in it?' Matthew demanded. ‘The agent?'

‘Not the agent, Matthew. No one is living in it because there's nothing there,' Harry reminded him gently.

‘You let them take all our things. All the chickens, the pigs, the ducks, the cows, even Davy's dogs and the kittens,' Matthew said accusingly.

‘I wish I could have stopped them, Matthew. But I couldn't.'

‘I want everything back the way it was.'

Harry found himself struggling to contain his emotions. ‘So do I, Matthew. But it may not be possible. I won't lie to you, or make promises I can't keep. But I will get you a house that you can live in that will be yours. Just not that one.'

‘Don't want any other house,' Matthew retorted, with a trace of his old spirit.

‘Yes, you do, young man,' Betty countered firmly. ‘And you'll go to the house Mr Evans has rented for you right now.'

‘Won't!' Matthew's bottom lip began to tremble.

‘You'd rather stay here?'

‘No!' Matthew shouted at Betty.

‘Then I think it's time that we went and settled you in the back of Mr Evans's car. There are warm blankets waiting for you, and bottles of milk and packets of biscuits. You and your sister can snuggle down, talk to this little one and remind him that he has a family who care for him.'

She took Luke from Harry, and held out her free hand.

Matthew stared at it for a full minute before reaching out and clasping it.

‘Mary Ellis, the master wants to see you right away.' Joyce Crocker, a recent elevation from inmate to ward maid, shouted as she ran into the yard that separated the entrance block from the building that housed the wards.

Mary dropped her scrubbing brush back into her pail of cold water. A trickle of fear coursed down her spine, momentarily paralysing her. Like every other inmate she knew the master only sent for people when he wanted to punish them.

‘You want permission to rise, Ellis,' the supervising orderly prompted.

‘Permission to rise, miss?' Mary murmured tremulously.

‘Granted. You'd better tidy yourself up,' the middle-aged woman advised brusquely. ‘You can't walk into the public areas or see the master looking the way you do right now.'

Mary gazed ruefully at her grimy, dirt-smeared smock as she rose to her feet. She would have liked to have asked, ‘How can I tidy myself up when this is all I have to wear?' But every question she had put to people in positions of authority during the last three weeks had culminated in a blow, and she was loath to risk another.