Never Look Back (35 page)

‘Get the towels if nothing else,’ she snapped as she lifted the child up into her arms. ‘And hurry.’

As Matilda moved with the child to the door, the woman let out a loud wail and began tugging at the back of her apron. ‘Put her down,’ she shrieked. ‘You are dismissed.’

‘I’ll leave when Tabby’s better,’ Matilda retorted through gritted teeth. ‘Just get the towels.’

As Matilda swept on down the stairs with the child in her arms, Giles came rushing out of the bedroom, still in his nightshirt.

‘What’s happened?’ he said in alarm.

‘Tabby needs to be cooled down, not prayed and sobbed over,’ Matilda shot at him, not even pausing for one second. ‘And for goodness’ sake stop that woman wailing. That won’t help.’

Nothing in Matilda’s life had been more painful than to see the blindfolded child she loved so fiercely jerk involuntarily at being submerged in the cold water. It felt so cruel, her whole being wanted to cuddle and comfort her. But she knew it was the only way to save her, and she had to keep her nerve.

Giles came running out just in time to see what she was doing.
‘Surely not, Matty!’ he exclaimed, his previously flushed face blanching. ‘Cold water!’

‘Trust me,’ she implored him. ‘She’s burning up, and it has to be done. Get towels, and some water for her to drink.’

‘You’ll feel better soon, Tabby,’ she murmured soothingly to the child as she held her down firmly under the water, soaking her hair. ‘Just a little while and I’ll put you in a clean dry nightgown and then you can go back to bed.’

After a minute or two of submersion Tabitha stopped jerking, and her breathing became less laboured. Giles came running out of the house again with towels, and she got him to hold one out to wrap the child in.

‘All better now,’ she murmured, cuddling her into her arms. ‘Matty’s got you safely.’

Dr Kupicha arrived an hour later, summoned by Giles who had run the whole way to his house and breathlessly described what had happened, but by the time the two men got back to State Street, Matilda had Tabitha back in a clean, dry bed, the window open to let in air, and the child was sleeping.

‘You did well, Matty,’ Dr Kupicha said as he examined the patient. ‘The crisis has passed now, and as long as no secondary infection sets in, I think she’ll make it.’

‘How is Mrs Milson?’ Matilda asked. She hadn’t seen her since she rushed down the stairs with Tabitha and until now she hadn’t given her a moment’s thought. But she was so relieved that Tabitha was out of danger she could even bring herself to feel some concern for the woman. ‘She said I was dismissed, but I said I was only going once Tabitha was better.’

Dr Kupicha half smiled. In his private opinion Lily Milson was a sad case, a woman so full of anxiety that she could easily slip over the edge into madness. ‘I don’t think you can take any notice of something said in the heat of the moment,’ he said. ‘Reverend Milson has put her to bed, and I suggest you both encourage her to stay there for a day or two as she is utterly exhausted. I’m sure I can count on you to look after Tabitha.’

‘Of course, I love her,’ she said.

The doctor thought that statement summed up the essence of this young nursemaid’s character. She was guided by her heart, and it was a great deal larger than most. She deserved a life of her own, children of her own, yet somehow he sensed she would
always be helping others to attain their dreams, putting her own on permanent hold.

‘I’ll pop in to see my little patient again tonight,’ he said, as he got up to leave. ‘You undoubtedly saved the little one’s life today, and I am going to tell Mrs Milson as much, but just remember, Matty, you have a life of your own too, and it isn’t necessarily here in this house, with this child.’

Matilda followed him out on to the landing. ‘How are Molly and the other children?’

His face clouded over. ‘Molly died yesterday,’ he said. ‘We may lose Ruth too, I fear. But there are no new cases, Pearl and Peter are in robust health. I think we are over the worst of it now.’

Matilda’s eyes filled with tears. It seemed so tragic that the two little girls had been rescued from hell, only to die less than a year later from a common childhood disease.

‘Matty!’

Matilda had fallen asleep in a chair beside the child’s bed, but at the sound of the weak little voice she woke with a start.

‘Is it morning yet?’ Tabitha asked as Matilda bent over her.

Such a question suggested Tabitha was on the mend because her father had said she hadn’t been aware of day or night since becoming ill. Matilda pulled back the thick curtains a crack, and saw the sun was just coming up.

‘Yes, it’s morning, but still very early,’ she said, putting her hand on Tabitha’s forehead. It felt naturally warm and moist, yesterday’s fever had gone. Her dark eyes were wide open and there was no matter coming from them. ‘How are you feeling, my darling?’

‘Thirsty,’ she said. ‘And I want to tinkle.’

Nothing had ever sounded so sweet to Matilda. If it hadn’t been quite so early she might have been tempted to rush downstairs to wake the Milsons and give them the good news. She lifted the little girl out of bed and sat her on the chamber-pot, then poured a glass of water from the pitcher.

‘I can hold it, I’m not a baby,’ Tabitha reproached her as Matilda held it to her lips, and her small hands grasped the glass firmly and drank deeply.

Matilda tidied the bed, shook the pillows, then lifted Tabitha back in.

‘Do you think you could eat something?’ she asked, astounded that the cough seemed to have gone too.

‘Maybe,’ she said, frowning as if confused. ‘Why were you in that chair?’

Matilda smiled. Clearly Tabitha had no recollection of any of the events of the last few days. ‘Because you’ve been ill, and I stayed in here to watch over you.’

‘Where are Mama and Papa?’

‘In bed still. But I shall wake them up and tell them you are better very soon. Can I leave you for a minute to go downstairs and find you something to eat?’

Tabitha nodded and reached out for her rag-doll further down the bed. She cuddled her into her arms and smiled at her. ‘Have you been ill too, Jenny?’

The clock in the parlour was just striking seven when Matilda heard Giles coming up the stairs to see his daughter. She smiled to herself, imagining his surprise and delight to see Tabitha sitting up in bed eating bread and milk. The door opened a crack, and Giles peeped round. As she had anticipated, he gasped.

‘Good morning, Papa,’ Tabitha said. ‘See, I’m better.’

‘Oh Tabby,’ he exclaimed, his face breaking into the widest smile. ‘Now that’s what I call a good start to the day.’

He was still in his flannel night-shirt, his dark curls tousled and a thick growth of stubble on his chin, and as he looked towards Matilda he clearly suddenly became aware of this, and half hid himself behind the door.

‘Neither of us care what you look like,’ Matilda laughed. ‘I’m sure I don’t look too grand either.’

Later on, as Matilda caught up with all the jobs left undone in the last few days, she thought how sad it was that Lily wasn’t able to express her joy with the same exuberance she and Giles could. She had burst into tears when told the good news, and although she’d got up to go and see her daughter for a short while, she had gone straight back to bed afterwards and had remained there, sobbing into her pillows.

When Dr Kupicha called he’d said she was suffering from shock, and bed was the best place for her. Matilda couldn’t help
but wonder how she’d cope with tragedy, if good news affected her so badly.

But her own joy sustained her even though she was exhausted and there was still so much work to be done. Her master’s gratitude for all she had done more than made up for Lily’s stilted apology and the retraction of her dismissal.

‘Matty, wake up.’

Matilda woke with a start to find Giles shaking her arm. It was a little over a week since Tabitha’s recovery. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, imagining she’d overslept. ‘Is it very late?’

But she could see it was pitch-dark aside from the lighted candle Giles was holding and he was in his night-clothes. Suddenly realizing he wouldn’t come up to her room except in an emergency, she sat up. ‘Is Tabby ill again?’

‘No, it’s Mrs Milson,’ he said, his voice shaking. ‘I fear she’s losing the baby, Matty. I must go and get the doctor immediately.’

Matilda gasped with horror, flung back the covers, and stopping only to grab her shawl, she followed him down the stairs.

Giles had lit two candles in their room, yet even in the dim light Matilda saw the anguish in her mistress’s eyes.

Her husband bent over her. ‘Matty’s here with you now. I’ll run all the way there if I don’t see a cab. Just hold on.’

Grabbing up his clothes, he disappeared down the stairs. Matilda moved over to her mistress and took her hand. ‘Are you losing blood?’ she asked gently.

She nodded. ‘I woke up with a pain, so I got up and it was all on my night-gown. I’m going to lose the baby, aren’t I?’

‘Not necessarily,’ Matilda said. ‘Some women lose blood all the time they are carrying.’ This wasn’t true, but she hoped Lily would believe it enough to stay calm until the doctor came. ‘Let me get you into a clean night-gown.’

As Matilda pulled back the covers she had to stifle a gasp. Lily’s night-gown and the sheet beneath her were soaked in blood. Quickly covering her up so she wouldn’t see, and moving the candle further from the bed, Matilda found the cloths Lily kept for her monthlies, a clean gown and a sheet, and went back to wash and change her, talking all the while to distract her.

Fortunately Lily was so embarrassed at Matilda washing her in such an intimate place that she kept her face averted and didn’t
see the bloody night-gown or sheet, but just as Matilda finished she screamed out in pain. Matilda had never felt so helpless as her mistress writhed in agony, veins popped out all over her face and neck, and she arched her back away from the mattress, the screaming gradually changing to a low bellow. Matilda could do nothing more than hold her hands and urge her to stay calm and try not to cry aloud as Tabitha might wake and come down.

The spasm passed and Lily sank back, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘Giles wanted another child so badly,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘I’ll be letting him down again.’

All the irritation Matilda had ever felt for this woman, the hurt that she had blamed her for the measles, the anger she’d felt when she was intending to leave, even her callousness towards the children at the Home, left her with that plaintive statement. It seemed incredible that Lily would see losing a child as
letting her husband down again.
But for her to say such a thing now, at a time when most women would only be thinking of their own loss, there had to be a root cause, perhaps some incident in the past which deeply troubled her. Maybe it was that too which triggered off the deranged behaviour when Tabby became sick.

Matilda knew Giles really loved his wife, she saw that daily. But perhaps Lily couldn’t see it herself. Matilda remembered how cold her parents had been with her before leaving England, the fact that they didn’t even come to see the ship sail away. Neglect of children came in many forms, and perhaps lack of interest was the cruellest, for it robbed the child of confidence.

In a sudden flash of insight Matilda saw that all Lily’s fears could have sprung from just this. She didn’t believe in herself enough to deal with anything unknown, whether that was disease, poverty, or a new country. She even imagined she was unworthy of her husband.

‘You haven’t let him down,’ Matilda said firmly. ‘Sir knows as well as I do that things like this are acts of God. He loves you, madam. I never saw a man love his wife so much.’

Lily lost the baby just minutes before Giles and the doctor came in. She asked for the chamber-pot, one last huge pain engulfed her, and as Matilda held her securely in her arms, the four-month foetus slithered out.

Matilda covered the pot quickly and slid it under the bed. It was anger rather than distress that she felt. Here was a couple
who believed so strongly in God and his goodness but he had chosen to rob them of a child which would be loved and well cared for. Yet nightly he allowed babies to be born to those without even a roof over their heads, when to them a miscarriage would be a blessing.

A couple of hours later, as Giles and Matilda sat either side of Mrs Milson’s bed, they heard Tabitha’s feet padding across the landing overhead. ‘You go and see to Tabby,’ Giles said. ‘I know I can count on you not to alarm her. I’ll stay and care for my wife.’

It was only then that Matilda cried. She had held back her tears when Giles wept with his wife, seen Dr Kupicha out after taking instructions on how she must be cared for in the next few days, and as she washed and changed her mistress. Lily had fallen asleep, her small face so like Tabitha’s, peaceful again now the pain was gone. Yet she knew the physical pain of losing a baby would be nothing to the sadness and heartache which would come once the sleeping draught the doctor had given her wore off.

‘Don’t cry,’ Giles said, and got up from his seat to comfort her. ‘You have always been the strong one, don’t fail me now.’

‘I won’t fail you,’ she said, wiping her eyes on her apron. ‘It’s your dammed God who has failed you this time. I wonder how you can serve Him when he rewards you like this.’

‘This is how He tests us,’ he said, lifting her chin up so he could look right into her eyes. ‘But I’ll tell you a secret, sometimes I wish I was a non-believer just like you, Matty. It must be a great deal easier to deal with anger when you believe that you alone control your own destiny, than for someone like me who has to bend to God’s will.’

She saw the pain in his eyes, and wished there was something she could say to ease it. But there was nothing, only time was going to do that.

Nearly three weeks later Matilda was dusting the parlour when a long-awaited letter from Flynn arrived. Giles and Tabitha were upstairs with Lily, but Matilda didn’t give a thought to them and ran straight out to the back yard to read it.

The address at the top was High Oaks, near Charleston.