Tall Poppies (3 page)

Livia went to see the harassed-looking matron, and said, ‘Most of my wages go into the support of my sister and brother, yet they look neglected.'

The woman shrugged. ‘We're overcrowded, so we don't have time to give the children individual attention, whatever their circumstance. We're also under-staffed, what with the war casualties – and there's an influenza outbreak.'

‘Flu  . . . that's the first I've heard of it.'

‘Well, you mightn't have, living in the country, and all. But you will, because they expect it to spread quickly once it takes a real hold. There's only a few cases as yet, but the death rate is high amongst those who are infected, and the soldiers are beginning to bring it back from the front. They're calling it Spanish flu. It's going to be a bad one.'

A chill of fear ran through Livia as she thought of Mrs Sangster. ‘Is there anything to help guard against it?'

The woman shook her head. ‘Otherwise perfectly healthy people are dying. If you can stay out of crowded areas it might help. Take your sister and brother to the country if you can. You must understand, that with so many children orphaned we can't give them the individual attention they need.'

The many empty rooms in Foxglove House came into her mind, and she wondered if she'd be allowed to take her brother and sister there. But no  . . . that's what orphanages were for  . . . and Foxglove House wasn't an orphanage.

‘Of course. I'm sorry I complained.'

‘They're good kids on the whole, though the boy is getting a bit sullen. He hasn't been well lately,' the woman told her. ‘They've both had colds on their chests. He's got a good brain, but he's not doing at all well at school.'

‘How did Chad get those bruises?'

The woman shrugged. ‘He's a boy  . . . they all get bruises. He's small for his age, and he's probably being picked on by the older boys. They tend to form into packs.'

Livia sighed. ‘I'll see if I can make other arrangements for them  . . . until I can, they'll have to stay here.'

The twins hadn't been expecting her and hadn't looked up when she approached them.

‘Esmé  . . . Chad  . . .? It's me  . . . Livia.'

Chad stared at her. Recognition flickered in his eyes, replaced by anger. ‘You've been gone a long time,' he accused. ‘We thought you'd died.'

Esmé gave a shuddering sniff then burst into tears. ‘I don't want to stay here any more, Livia. Have you come to take us away?'

Livia gathered them both into her arms. Esmé clung, but Chad's body was tense and resistant to her.

‘Let go else they'll think I'm a sissy,' he said. He relaxed a little when she did, but it nearly broke her heart. If only he knew how much she loved them.

Feeling wretched, she said, ‘My darlings, I can't at the moment  . . . I have nowhere for us to go. But I'll do my best to find somewhere where we can be closer to each other.' They were empty words, to give them hope. She made an attempt to cheer them both up by opening the tin. ‘I've brought you a birthday treat.'

The cook had been generous. There was three of everything.

A couple of boys who'd noticed what was going on sidled up like thin greyhounds and gazed through hungry eyes at the contents of the tin. Chad lashed out when one of them made a grab for the gingerbread, snarling, ‘Get away, you're not having any. It's ours.'

‘That's not very nice, Chad,' she remonstrated.

‘He spilled Esmé's porridge yesterday and she was hungry all day. I hate him! I hate them all!' He turned his head against her chest and burst into scalding tears.

‘I didn't do it on purpose; my sleeve caught on it and knocked it from the table,' the boy who'd tried to steal from them called out. ‘Stop being a cry-baby-bunting. Just you wait and see. When you're asleep I'm going to put a spider in your mouth and it will eat all your insides.'

‘No you won't.' Esmé jumped to her feet and kicked him in the shin. ‘If you don't go away I'll tell on you and you'll get the strap, Billy Bastard!'

Shocked, Livia stared at her. ‘
Esmé!
It's naughty to call people names like that.'

‘No it's not, because it's the truth. He is a bastard, so is his brother  . . . they haven't got a father and their mother's a jam tart.'

‘It's not my fault, and your mother and father are mouldy bones, so there,' the boy said, a dribble of saliva appearing at the corner of his mouth as his eyes went to the food again.

She sighed. He wasn't going to go away. In fact he seemed the type of lad who would fall on the floor and lick up the crumbs, just to make her feel guilty. All the same she felt sorry for him. ‘Come here, Billy.' He slid towards her like a beaten dog, and if he'd had a tail she knew it would have been tucked firmly between his legs.

‘I suppose you're going to tell me off, Miss?'

‘No, though some better manners from all of you wouldn't go astray. I was having a celebration with Chad and Esmé for their eighth birthday. It's not much use having a party without guests, but I don't want you to ruin it for them. Here, you and your brother sit with us. You can share it if you wish, but don't snatch anything.'

She divided the repast into four, ignoring her own hunger, as well as the glares Esmé and Chad were exchanging with the boys. They'd get over it. As for herself, cook would keep her dinner warm for when she got back.

The four of them forgot their angst at the sight of the boiled eggs, cheese, and some ham and bread. They pushed the food into their mouths, eating quickly, and barely chewing it before swallowing. By the time they got to the gingerbread men they had slowed down and were smiling at each other.

Their parents would have been ashamed of the twins, behaving like this, she thought. But then, if they hadn't died, the twins wouldn't be in here. They'd be at home.

Livia knew she couldn't act as an example to them, either. The children were surviving as best they could, in an environment, which, although not the best, had become a familiar one to them over the years. It
was
their home. They'd adapted to it, and knew how it worked better than she did. It was she who was the outsider – she who didn't understand.

‘Thank you, Miss,' Billy said afterwards, and grinned at her surprise.

‘I really will try to arrange something better, even if it's only to get here to see you more often. Give me a hug now, the pair of you.' And she whispered in Chad's ear when they did, ‘Chad, slide your hand into my bag. There's a bar of chocolate on top for you to share with Esmé when you're on your own. The lady I work for gave it to me to give to you. Put it in your own pocket, and don't eat it all at once in case it makes you sick.'

She kissed his cheek while the exchange was taking place. ‘Promise me you'll try and do better at school. The matron said you're clever and only need to put your mind to it. Your future depends on getting the best education you can, you know, so don't waste what's on offer.'

‘I promise.'

Esmé clung tightly to her as Livia told her, ‘I want you to stop saying dreadful things to other people. Mummy and Daddy would have wanted you to grow up being polite, and they would have been ashamed to hear you sounding so  . . .
rough
.'

‘Were they a nice mummy and daddy?'

‘They were the best in the whole world. Our mother was like a princess, and you look very much like her, Es. Daddy was so handsome. He was very clever, and was a parliamentary secretary.'

‘What's that?' Chad asked.

Livia wasn't sure. All she knew was that when her parents died in a boating accident they were in so much debt that there was nothing left to support their children. ‘It means he was an important man and worked for the government. They loved us all, and I love you both. Always remember that.'

‘I love you too, Livia,' Esmé said. ‘I'll be good, I promise.'

Livia sighed as her gaze went to her brother. ‘You as well, Chad.'

He rolled his eyes. ‘I promise.'

It was a promise they'd probably forget as soon as she was out of sight, and an impractical one under the circumstances. But she was doing her best to keep the thread between them intact.

She was surprised when Billy's brother crept up to gaze at her through large dog-like eyes.

Billy laughed. ‘Tom's a sissy. He wants a hug too. He hasn't said a word to nobody since we've been in here. He misses our mum, I reckon.'

She slid her arm about the boy's waist and pulled him close. He was a thin little thing. ‘Do you miss your mum, Tom?'

When he nodded she gave him a big hug and kissed his cheek.

Billy tousled the grinning boy's head. ‘That will have to do you till the next time she visits.'

‘What about you, Billy?'

Alarm filled his eyes. ‘I'm not much for hugging.'

In any case, Chad pushed between them, making it obvious that, although he'd been forced to share the food, he didn't intend that his elder sister should share her affection with anyone except his twin.

It was hard tearing herself away, since the children clung to her. Livia was as upset as her siblings seemed to be at the parting.

The train was crowded, but once again she managed to get a seat in a corner. The smell of bodies mingled with the tobacco smoke, and the sniffs and coughs from the travellers reminded her of what the matron had said about the coming flu epidemic. She placed her handkerchief against her nose. It had a faint smell of lavender to it, for Mrs Sangster had given her a lavender bag to place in her top drawer. ‘It will keep the moths away,' she'd said.

It was dark when she alighted at Creekmore Halt, bitterly cold, and drizzling with rain. She set off at a fast pace, hoping the rain wouldn't get heavier, and that she wouldn't step on a hedgehog or fall into a pothole on the two-mile walk.

The cardboard in her shoe had worn through and a couple of small, sharp pebbles found their way inside her boot. One lodged in the gap next to her big toe. Damn! That meant her stockings would need darning. The second worked its way under her heel and pricked with each step. Soon her heel was slippery with blood.

She sat on a log, emptied the pebbles out and removed her stockings. Without the button hooks she wouldn't be able to get her boots on again, so she tucked them under her arm.

There was a sudden cloudburst and the icy rain pelted her. Soon she was soaked through, her feet numbed by cold. But that was marginally better than the pebbles. Mrs Sangster's arthritis had been telling the truth about the rain that morning, she thought, her teeth beginning to chatter.

Rounding the bend, with a sigh of relief she saw the lights of Foxglove House ahead on the next hill. Her stomach rattled emptily, and the thought of having a warm dinner inside her spurred her on.

Behind her she heard the engine of a car. It came at speed around the bend, its horn blasting to clear anyone in its path, so she was forced to jump backwards into the hedge. It went through a large puddle barely a foot away, and she was splattered with muddy water.

Livia called the driver a name, then laughed, because she'd told her sister off for using the same word  . . . besides, she couldn't get any wetter if she tried.

It was another ten minutes before she got to the house. Light spilled from the front door, illuminating the car. It belonged to the doctor's practice.

She went in through the kitchen, surprising the cook, whose hand flew to her chest. ‘Oh my God, it's you, Livia. Thank heavens you're back. You gave me such a fright. Come in and shut the door. Look how wet you are!'

‘What's wrong  . . . why is the doctor's car here?'

‘Mrs Sangster had a fall. She got out of bed to use the commode.'

‘Where was Nurse Gifford?'

‘About an hour after you left this morning she telephoned to say she wouldn't be coming back, since she'd joined the Queen Alexandra's nursing service, and we should pack her things up and send them on. Mrs Mortimer told her that we weren't going to put ourselves out for her and if she wanted her things she could come collect them herself. A good nurse she turned out to be, leaving her patient in the lurch.'

‘How did Mrs Sangster manage to fall?'

‘Rosemary Mortimer was furious when she found out you'd gone. She was in a foul mood all day, and told Mrs Sangster she'd have to stay in bed because there was nobody to look after her.'

‘Poor Mrs Sangster.'

‘I saw to her at lunchtime, when I took her soup up. And again when I took her up some tea. She was all right then. Mrs Mortimer answered when she rang the bell next time. I could hear her shouting from where I stood at the bottom of the stairs. She was sharp with Mrs Sangster. She said she wasn't hired to be her nurse, and if she kept ringing the bell she'd confiscate it.'

Connie was twisting her apron in her hands, the tears brimming over.

‘I never heard the bell ring again until about an hour ago, and it kept on ringing. I was about to go when I heard Mrs Mortimer stomp off up the stairs. The ringing stopped and I thought nothing more of it. I saw Mrs Mortimer go into the bathroom a few minutes later. The wireless was on really loud, and she had Mrs Sangster's bell in her hand. I did wonder if she'd put Mrs Sangster on the commode, like Nurse Gifford does, and forgot to go back to help her into bed.'

‘Then what happened?'

‘About half-an-hour later there was a thud. I didn't know what to do so I banged on the bathroom door and told Mrs Mortimer what had happened. She shouted out that she couldn't hear me over the wireless, and told me to deal with whatever it was and she'd be out when she'd finished bathing.

‘I went back to the kitchen. Then I heard a moan. I went upstairs to investigate, and I found Mrs Sangster lying on the floor.' She applied the crumpled skirt of her apron to her eyes. ‘Mrs Sangster had a cut on her head and was unconscious, though she was groaning a bit.'