Without Sin (3 page)

‘Ah, well now, it was like this—’ He seemed about to launch into a long story, but one glance at Sarah’s face, white with fatigue, changed his mind. ‘Mebbe
I’ll tell you all about it one day, but now I reckon you’d best get yer mam settled. She looks fair done in. Ah, here comes Waters. How that woman knows when there’s new folks
arrived beats me, but she always does. Nowt seems to get past her beady eyes.’

The woman coming across the yard towards them was more what Meg had imagined those in authority in the workhouse might be. Thin-faced with a beak-like nose and small, ferret eyes, she snapped,
‘How did you get in? I saw you coming across the yard.’

‘We came in the other way. Sorry,’ Meg smiled winningly, trying not to let slip that they’d come in by the front door. ‘We saw a gentleman who told us where to
come.’

Waters looked puzzled and Meg hurried on, explaining. ‘He was very tall and – and big, but he was ever so nice and—’

The woman’s eyes widened. ‘Mr Pendleton? You saw Mr Pendleton?’

‘I don’t know his name, but he was very kind.’

‘It must have been Mr Pendleton.’ Then Waters gave a start, her mind obviously working fast. ‘You – you don’t mean you went to the front door?’ she asked,
appalled by the newcomers’ audacity.

‘Er – well,’ Meg stammered.

‘What Miss Pendleton’ll say, I don’t know,’ Waters muttered, sniffing her disapproval.

‘The man – Mr Pendleton – didn’t seem to mind,’ Meg insisted. ‘He was very nice about it. Who is he?’

The woman’s tone was suddenly reverential. ‘Mr Pendleton is the master of the workhouse. He’s a wonderful man.’ For a brief moment her eyes softened. ‘A wonderful
man.’ But the look was gone in an instant and her eyes hardened again. ‘And you’d do well to remember it, girl.’

Waters moved into Albert’s lodge and ran her finger down the list of names in his ledger, noting the new arrivals.

‘So –’ her disapproving glance raked them up and down, taking in the faded work clothes, the shabby, dusty boots – ‘homeless, are you?’

Meg and her mother exchanged a glance and the girl’s mouth tightened as she was obliged to say bitterly, ‘Yes.’ Then in a rush she gabbled, ‘But mi dad’s gone
looking for work. We won’t be here long. He’ll soon be back for us.’

‘That’s what they all say, but they’re still here years later.’

‘Well,
we
won’t be.’ Meg was belligerent. ‘He’ll come back.’ She turned towards her mother. ‘Won’t he, Mam?’

But Sarah only hung her head whilst the other woman sniffed yet again. ‘How old are you, girl?’

‘Fifteen.’

The woman grunted, dissatisfied with her answer. ‘You look older,’ she said, eyeing Meg suspiciously. ‘Sure you’re not trying to make out you’re younger than you
really are just to get out of a bit of work?’

Meg tossed her head. ‘I’m not frightened of work. I’ve worked on a farm for three years. I’m sixteen next month.’

The woman’s lips stretched in what passed for a smile, though it did not reach her eyes. They were steel grey, cold and hard. ‘My name is Ursula Waters, but we’re all called by
our surnames in here. That is –’ she paused and hesitated fractionally, before adding – ‘unless the master decides to call you by your Christian name.’

Pertly, Meg asked, ‘And do we call him by his Christian name then?’

Ursula Waters gasped. ‘The very idea! You’ve a mite too much to say for yourself, child.’

‘I’m not a child,’ Meg retorted hotly.

‘You’re a child in here if you’re only fifteen. It’s the rules.’ Ursula leant closer. ‘Are you sure you’re not older?’

For the first time, Sarah spoke. Haltingly, her voice husky with shame and despair, she said, ‘She is only fifteen, ma’am. I assure you.’

Meg turned and stared at her. Why was Sarah kowtowing to this harridan? It was obvious the woman was only an inmate too – though probably an inmate who held some sort of position. No doubt
the woman enjoyed special privileges because of it. But Waters was no better than they were, Meg thought. She opened her mouth to retort, but caught her mother’s warning glance and closed it
again, pressing her lips together.

Bobbie, sucking his thumb, began to whimper and tug at Sarah’s skirt.

‘I’d better fetch Miss Pendleton. She’s the matron and Mr Pendleton’s sister.’ Unbending enough to impart a little information in which she seemed to take great
pride, Ursula Waters said, ‘Poor Mr Pendleton lost his wife some years ago and his sister came to take her place as matron. Of course, it’s quite unusual for that to happen. The master
and the matron are usually man and wife, but the guardians’ committee gave special consent. They didn’t want to lose Mr Pendleton as master, you see.’

Meg nodded, pretending to understand.

‘Wait here whilst I fetch matron.’ Waters glanced down at Bobbie with distaste, sniffed once more and left the room.

‘What a dragon!’ Meg burst out, almost before the woman was out of earshot.

‘Hush, Meg,’ Sarah whispered. ‘Don’t make things worse than they already are, there’s a dear.’

Meg looked at her mother. ‘Mam, was it my fault . . .?’ she began, but Sarah was bending over Bobbie, trying to quieten his crying, and at that moment Miss Pendleton bustled in,
followed closely by Ursula Walters.

Letitia Pendleton was younger than her brother. Meg guessed she was about forty, but Isaac Pendleton had looked over fifty. The matron was small and round, and dressed in an ankle-length, dark
blue dress with broad, starched white cuffs. A white bib apron covered the dress and she wore thick dark stockings and lace-up shoes with small heels. Her hair was completely covered with a
starched white square of cloth, which fell in a triangular shape at the back of her head. Her face was plump, her cheeks round and rosy, but it was not the rosiness of good health, rather of too
much indulgence, especially from a bottle. Young as she was, Meg recognized the signs. Farmer Smallwood had just such a look. Like her brother, Letitia Pendleton had hazel eyes that twinkled
merrily. Once again, Meg was surprised. To her, Ursula Waters was the epitome of workhouse authority – the type everyone on the outside dreaded – not this buxom, smiling woman, who
reminded the girl more of a fat and jolly farmer’s wife. Not that Mrs Smallwood had been like that; she had been thin and wiry and shrewish. Meg pushed away the painful memories that
threatened to overwhelm her.

‘Now then, who have we here?’ the matron greeted them.

Her glance lingered a moment on Sarah’s swollen stomach. Then her gaze fell upon Bobbie, whose cheeks were now stained with tears. He was hiccuping miserably and sucking his thumb
hard.

Letitia Pendleton’s eyes softened. ‘Poor little chap,’ she said, taking his hand. ‘I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you? You come along with me.’

‘Oh, I don’t think—’ Sarah began.

‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ the matron said, but there was understanding in her tone. ‘It’s the rule in here. You all have to be segregated. Women, men – and the
children.’

‘You’ll do as you’re told,’ Ursula put in sharply. ‘It’s the master’s rules.’

‘I tell you what,’ Miss Pendleton said kindly. ‘Maybe he can stay with you until the medical officer has seen you tomorrow morning, but then I’m afraid he will have to go
with the other children.’

Meg noticed that Ursula’s lips pursed even more tightly and her eyes flashed with anger. But she said nothing.

Sarah was close to tears, desperation on her face, but Bobbie, with his small hand in the matron’s plump grasp, had stopped crying. He was looking up at Miss Pendleton and she was smiling
down at him with such compassion in her eyes, such fondness, that, to Meg’s surprise, a tremulous smile hovered on the child’s mouth.

‘Do you look after the little ones, Matron?’ she asked.

Letitia looked up, reluctantly dragging her gaze away from the little boy, but before she could answer, Ursula snapped, ‘Mind your tongue, girl. Just remember who you’re talking to.
It’s not your place to be asking questions. Not in here.’

‘It’s all right, Waters. The girl is concerned for her brother. That’s only natural and very commendable too.’

Again Ursula sniffed her disapproval but said no more. Letitia turned back to Meg. ‘The schoolmistress and I have care of the children between us. She teaches the younger ones during the
day, whilst the older ones go to the local school. Outside school hours we share the supervision of all the children.’

‘The schoolmistress?’ Meg asked. ‘Is she –’ she glanced meaningfully at Ursula – ‘nice?’

Meg saw that the matron pursed her mouth to prevent a smile. ‘Louisa Daley? Oh yes, she’s nice. Only young and the little ones love her.’ Letitia glanced at Ursula. There was
something pointed in the look that Meg couldn’t understand as the matron added, ‘We
all
do.’ And she noticed that an angry flush crept up Ursula’s scrawny neck and
into her face.

Meg felt herself relax. She turned and touched her mother’s arm. ‘That’s all right then, isn’t it, Mam? Bobbie will be all right.’

Sarah’s eyes lingered on her small son. She touched his hair and then, not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

‘Now,’ the matron said briskly, ‘Let’s get you admitted to the receiving ward. Waters, have you got all their details from Conroy?’

‘Of course I have.’

Meg was surprised at the insolence in Ursula’s tone. It was almost as if she was in charge – not the matron – and yet Meg knew that this could not be the case.

‘They were all born within the county.’ She sniffed – a sound that Meg was already coming to know very well when the woman was expressing her disgust. ‘Though
they’ve moved about a lot. Like gypsies.’ On Ursula’s lips the word implied disgrace.

‘Mi dad’s a farm worker. A wagoner,’ Meg retorted defiantly, lifting her chin higher. For a brief moment there was a note of pride in her tone as she spoke of her father,
remembering the position he had held, the respect his skill with horses had commanded. But then the pride faded from her tone when she relived the moment he’d told them that he’d been
dismissed. ‘We – we moved about a bit with his job, but we’ve been at – at the last place –’ she couldn’t bring herself to say the name of Middleditch Farm
– ‘for the last three years.’

‘Well,’ Letitia said, ‘that’ll make it easier for the guardians to decide. In the meantime, we’ll get you settled in. Come along.’

‘Goodbye, Albert,’ Meg said to the old man, who had remained silent ever since Ursula Waters had stepped into his room.

‘ ’Bye, mi duck. For now.’

They followed the matron and Ursula across the yard, which was enclosed on all sides either by the buildings or walls and solid gates.

Meg shivered as she looked about her and once again the feeling of guilt swept through her. Was it her impertinent tongue that had landed them here? Or had it been because of her friendship with
Alice? The thought of the girl she had liked so much was like a knife in her heart. Alice had betrayed her. She had done nothing to help Meg and her family. Surely, Alice could have done
something.

Oh, Dad
, Meg begged silently,
come back for us. Don’t leave us in this place. Please come back, Dad. Please
.

‘Take your clothes off.’

Appalled, Meg stared at Ursula. ‘All of them?’

‘Yes. You wear the workhouse uniform whilst you’re in here.’

‘But – but what happens to our own clothes?’

‘We have them cleaned.’ Ursula eyed the newcomers up and down, assessing them. ‘Fumigated in some cases. Just in case you’re riddled with lice and—’

‘We most certainly are not,’ Meg said, deeply insulted. She turned to her mother. ‘Tell her, Mam.’

But Sarah only murmured, ‘Do as Miss Waters tells you, love. Don’t make a fuss.’

‘I’m not making a fuss, I just want to know what happens to our clothes. Miss Alice gave me this dress and . . .’

At once her mother’s face was bleak and Meg was sorry she’d brought back memories of the comfortable, happy life that had been so suddenly and brutally torn away from them. She bit
her lip. She still couldn’t believe that Miss Alice had been party to their dismissal.

‘We label all your clothes,’ Letitia said and Meg felt the matron was trying to lessen Ursula’s harshness. ‘You’ll get them back when you leave.’

Meg heard Ursula mutter darkly, ‘If you leave.’

‘That’s all right, then,’ Meg said, addressing her remark to the matron and ignoring Ursula. ‘We won’t be without them very long. We’ll soon be out of
here.’ She felt embarrassed as Ursula stood watching them undress, gaping at Sarah’s swollen belly.

‘When are you due, Kirkland?’ Ursula asked, once more taking the lead. To Meg’s surprise, it was the matron who was helping Bobbie out of his clothes, smiling down at him and
talking to him in gentle, reassuring tones, whilst Ursula stood to one side as if to have to touch the newcomers offended her.

Quietly, Sarah said, ‘Sometime this month, I think.’

‘The medical officer will inspect you tomorrow morning and classify you.’ Then Meg saw Ursula lean towards the matron. ‘If you ask me that girl ought to be classed as an
able-bodied woman. She’s no child.’

Meg felt them gazing at her young breasts, slim waist and firm, rounded buttocks. She faced them boldly, but it was hard to do so. Being naked took away her last vestige of dignity, leaving her
humiliated and vulnerable. ‘I’ve told you, I am fifteen – nearly sixteen – and I’m not afraid of work. I don’t want to be with the children.’

‘We’ll see what the medical officer thinks,’ was all the matron would say. ‘Now, let’s get you bathed and don’t forget to wash your hair.’ She bundled
up their clothes and the few possessions they had brought with them. ‘Here you are, Waters. See these are washed and properly labelled.’

The look of distaste on Ursula’s face as she was forced to take their clothing made Meg want to laugh out loud for the first time.

‘Bet that’s the last we see of them,’ she muttered, though not loud enough for the matron to hear as Ursula disappeared through the door.

The matron was bending towards Bobbie. ‘Come on, little man, you come with me.’