Sapphire Battersea (34 page)

‘You’re such a good helpful girl, Hetty,’ said Mrs Greenwood. ‘I don’t know how we’re going to manage without you.’

‘You’ve almost become a part of our family this holiday,’ said Mr Greenwood.

I bent my head over little Flora and clutched her tightly to stop myself crying. I took her back to the
girls
’ room and walked her up and down. She relaxed against me, making contented little sucking noises. I rubbed my cheek against her downy head and patted her back.

‘Dear little Flora,’ I whispered.

I heard Mr and Mrs Greenwood talking to each other earnestly next door, but their voices were lowered so I could not hear what they were saying. After a few minutes they came in the room together, looking solemn.

‘Hetty, dear, we’ve been conferring together, Mr Greenwood and I,’ said Mrs Greenwood.

‘We were wondering … how would you feel about coming home with us to Arundel?’ said Mr Greenwood.

‘Oh, Papa, what a wonderful idea!’ said Maisie.

‘Oh
yes
, Papa, it would be lovely to have Hetty for a sister,’ said Charlotte.

I burst into tears now, still clutching Flora, but shaking uncontrollably.

‘There now, Hetty, I’ll take baby,’ said Mrs Greenwood gently.

‘Don’t cry so, Hetty. Don’t you
want
to be our sister?’ said Charlotte.

‘I – I want it more than anything,’ I sobbed.

‘There, then! It’s settled,’ said Mr Greenwood, clapping his hands. ‘You will be like another daughter to us.’

‘I would like that tremendously, but – but I am
already
a daughter to dear Mama. I have to stay here and see her every day at the infirmary,’ I said.

‘I understand, Hetty – but I think it would ease your poor mama’s suffering to know that you are safe, with a good family to care for you,’ said Mrs Greenwood.

‘I know that’s exactly what Mama would want, but even so, I
have
to stay and see her, because … because she might not be here much longer.’ I said the words in a whisper, hardly able to bear to say them aloud.

‘You poor dear child,’ said Mrs Greenwood. ‘But where will you stay if you won’t come with us?’

‘I have a little money to see me through a few days, and then I shall look for work here,’ I said resolutely.

‘Then we will give you a character reference. I will write it this very minute. I shall say you are the most excellent little nursemaid,’ said Mr Greenwood.

‘And we will give you our address,’ said Mrs Greenwood. ‘If you need a home when – when the time comes, then promise you will come to us.’

I promised and thanked them fervently. I was so overcome that I could scarcely eat my supper. I could not believe that they could be so good and kind and generous. There was a part of me that
wanted
to seize this extraordinary opportunity right away. I was aware that it was a spur-of-the-moment offer. If they reflected on matters back in their own home, they might well change their minds, albeit reluctantly.

They weren’t a wealthy family and I knew they lived in a modest house. Charlotte and Maisie had described it to me in detail. I would have to share a room with the girls and it would be a terrible squash for them. What would they do with me? Would they send me to school with Charlotte or send me out to work? I wasn’t a real daughter, and yet I was too close to them now to be a proper servant. I was always being told I didn’t know my place. I could see that I didn’t really
have
a place in the Greenwood family, though we might all wish I did.

In any case I couldn’t go with them now and leave Mama. I packed my suitcase too, because I couldn’t stay on at their lodgings. The Greenwoods begged Mrs Brooke to let me have a room there for a few nights, but she said she had a new family with six children and a nursemaid coming on Saturday afternoon and there wouldn’t be room for even a mouse to bed down.

So on Saturday I walked with the Greenwoods to the railway station, the summoned porter pushing all their luggage. I hugged them all in turn and we
said
our goodbyes. Mr Greenwood was the only one of us who didn’t cry – and even he seemed more moist-eyed than usual.

I waved to them until the train had chuffed its way out of the station. When the white smoke cleared, I looked around the platform hurriedly, seeking out arriving holidaymakers with small children.

There were several families travelling first class, but they all had their own nannies and nursemaids with them. I hastened to the guard’s van, where they were unloading all the trunks and cases, and sought out less stylish families without travelling servants. There was one family with three little fair children who looked promising. The youngest was wailing dismally while its mother patted it in-effectually. I darted forward.

‘Excuse me, ma’am. I don’t want to seem forward, but I’m very good at handling babies. May I quieten the little one for you?’ I asked eagerly.

The mama looked horrified and backed away from me, acting as if I were about to snatch her ewe lamb away for ever.

‘I don’t mean any harm, ma’am. Please let me offer my services as a nurserymaid while you are on holiday. I have an excellent character reference.’

‘Will you go away at once and stop pestering my wife or I’ll be forced to call a policeman,’ said the father, looking fierce.

I sloped off, humiliated, and approached another family with twin boys, but they seemed equally suspicious. When I started talking to a third family, a station porter came up and seized hold of me by my collar, practically choking me.

‘I don’t know what you’re playing at, miss, but there’s no hawking or begging allowed on this station, so I must ask you to move on,’ he said firmly, and dragged me outside.

I still didn’t give up. I watched for families making their way to lodging houses near the promenade and offered my services to each one, but they all regarded me with suspicion. I tried again when the next London trainload arrived, with equal lack of success.

I tried another tactic, walking up and down the streets of Bignor, knocking on every likely door, begging for work.

‘I will turn my hand to anything. I am an excellent nursemaid, but I am an experienced parlourmaid too, and a competent cook – I’m particularly good at pastry. Please may I work for you? I have a good character and I’ll be content with the smallest of salaries. Oh please, will you take me in?’

I gabbled some version of this spiel again and again. Folk frequently shut the door in my face. One kindly cook let me sit in her kitchen and made me a cup of tea, but then even she sent me on my
way
. By mid afternoon I was exhausted, but I wouldn’t give up. I tried the shops instead, seeing if any might be willing to take me on, but people shook their heads again and again.

When it was nearly time to see Mama, I paid a penny to use a public convenience and washed my face and brushed my hair, trying to spruce myself up a little lest I alarm her. I struggled along the road to the infirmary with my suitcase.

I went right up to the window and Mama crept out of bed. We stood together, only the pane of glass between us. I kissed her lips and laid my hand against hers. We stood motionless for a minute or two, gazing deep into each other’s eyes. Then a nurse came and pulled Mama back to bed. She tapped on the window for me to be gone.

I did not go straight away. I walked round the walls of the infirmary to the main entrance and approached another nurse there.

‘No children are allowed in here, dear,’ she said briskly.

‘I’m not a child,’ I said, standing on tiptoe. ‘I’m a working girl. In fact I would like to work
here
. Perhaps I could train as a nurse?’

‘Nonsense! You’re far too young.’

‘I’m sixteen, nearly seventeen,’ I lied.

‘Run along now and stop wasting my time.’

‘I’ll do any kind of work. I could do the cleaning.
I’m
very used to scrubbing floors. Or I could help in the kitchen. I practically cooked single-handed in my last household,’ I gabbled. ‘Or perhaps there is a children’s ward. I’m very experienced with babies. I have a good character reference. Please let me show it to you.’

‘Go
away
, you silly girl. Why won’t you take no for an answer?’

‘Because I’m desperate!’ I snapped.

‘Well, this is no place for young girls, working or otherwise. Come along, out you go.’

She sent me firmly on my way. I trudged along the promenade, lugging my suitcase, wondering what on earth I was going to do now. I had spent all day looking for work and had got nowhere. I was so tired I sat on my suitcase for a while, gazing about me despairingly. When I ran away from the hospital I had done a little begging. I hadn’t even needed to ask for money, I had just looked mournful – but no one seemed to understand the concept of begging in Bignor. People barely gave me a second glance.

I had also sold flowers with Sissy, but there was no sign of any flower sellers along the promenade.

How else could I earn money? There seemed no way at all. At least I had enough left for a couple of nights’ lodging. I decided I’d better look for a cheap room now.

I wandered back along the sea front, utterly weary,
scarcely
able to put one foot in front of the other. I remembered all the happy times running along beside Charlotte and Maisie, strolling on the pier, listening to the band, marvelling at Mr Clarendon’s Seaside Curiosities … and then it suddenly came to me.

I marched along with sudden determination until I reached the red-and-white pavilion tent. Mr Clarendon stood outside in his bizarre scarlet suit and bowler hat, talking through his megaphone.

‘Roll up, roll up! Come and encounter the greatest collection of living breathing curiosities you’ll ever see in a month of Sundays! Marvel at Henry, with his hundred tattoos, gasp at Fantastic Freda, the Female Giant—’

‘Excuse me, sir,’ I said.

‘Would you like a sixpenny ticket, little miss?’

‘No, I have already been in and seen all the people inside. I was wondering, sir – would you like a brand-new attraction?’

He stared at me. ‘What might you have in mind, missy?’

‘I could be … Emerald, the Amazing Pocket-Sized Mermaid, half girl, half fish,’ I said.

‘And how are you going to be a mermaid, missy? I don’t see no tail, I see two little feet in shabby boots.’

‘If I come back tomorrow as Emerald the Mermaid, will you take me on?’

He looked me up and down, his eyes narrowed. I reached up and unpinned my hair, so that it fell past my shoulders in a long red wave. His lips twitched.

‘I’ll have to see your costume first. I’m not making no promises. But I reckon you
could
be a draw.’

‘How much would you pay me?’

‘That depends on the takings, girl. We’d have to negotiate.’

‘Very well. I’ll be back tomorrow,’ I said.

I did not like him very much. I especially did not like the way he looked me up and down. But if this was my only way of earning money so I could stay on in Bignor, then I’d have to put up with it.

Now I needed a roof over my head. I did not try any of the lodging houses near Mrs Brooke’s. I deliberately walked away from the sea and picked a street of tumbledown houses on the far side of town with
ROOMS TO LET
signs.

I took the first one available. It was an attic room with a narrow bed and the sheets looked distressingly dirty, but I was too tired to seek anything better. The landlady was as grimy as the bedding, her hair lank, her fingernails black, her dress shiny with grease stains. But she was kind enough, and brought me up a supper tray: cold sausage, and a slice of bread and dripping, with a
mug
of tea. I did not like to think of her filthy fingers touching the food, but I was so hungry I ate it all the same. Though the sheets were grey, I got into bed willingly enough, and fell asleep as soon as my head touched the grubby pillow.

I was up early the next day, my money counted out and wrapped in my handkerchief. As soon as the shops were open I went to the nearest draper’s. I bought a sharp pair of scissors, a tape measure, a paper of pins and needles, and a reel of green cotton. I thought some more, and selected a packet of pearl beads, another of green sequins, and some fancy green braid. I thought again, and had a couple of yards of cheap pale-pink muslin measured out, with matching pink cotton thread.

‘Is that it now, missy?’ said the draper’s assistant, rolling her eyes.

‘Yes, thank you. Please wrap them all in a paper parcel for me,’ I said briskly.

I went down the street until I found a fishmonger’s. I asked him for two scallop shells, then I purchased a tube of strong adhesive glue from the stationer’s shop. There! I had everything I needed now.

I went back to my grimy attic room, sat cross-legged on the floor, and set about constructing my mermaid costume. I measured myself with the tape measure first, and then sketched out shapes on the
pages
of an old newspaper. When I was sure I had the pattern right, I laid my green velvet gown out on the grubby carpet and seized the scissors. It took me several minutes before I had the courage to make the first cut. It was my only decent dress, the costume I’d fashioned with such care. I wasn’t even sure that my idea was going to work. I didn’t have enough material to cut out a proper tail in one piece. I took off the redundant trimmings, pinned the newspaper pattern in place, and started snipping out the shapes to make a mermaid’s tail. I had to fiddle around, cutting a patch here, a length there, and somehow try to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together to make the tail. It was a tiresome, complicated procedure. Several times I held the ruined velvet to my cheek and wept bitterly, but then I carried on with my task.