The Orphan Collection Page 13

  Chapter Twelve

  That Saturday afternoon, Ada stood across the road from the Beeches, feeling very much overawed and also dismayed. If Johnny lived in this house he must be a bigger toff than she had thought – this house was even grander than Dr Gray’s house in Durham. Its square solidity was set well back from the road on higher ground so that it seemed to impose its presence on the neighbourhood. A handsome marble portico had been added recently, the marble columns gleamed with newness. Ada looked nervously at the heavy oak door with its shining brass knocker which the portico shielded.

  Indecision fluttered through her. Should she go to the front door or the back? Or should she go straight home and forget all about it? She clutched the letter tightly, for she had decided she would hand it in if Johnny was not at home. Now she thought she would hand it in in any case and not ask for Johnny. But then she noticed that the house had a closed look, with heavy curtains drawn at the windows and no one about. It looked unapproachable and Ada dithered.

  The sky darkened and a few spots of rain fell, making damp spots on Ada’s blue dress. A cold wind sprang from nowhere and Ada shivered, feeling a damp cold on her shoulders through the thin material. She had to do it now or she was going to be soaked. Lifting her chin, she walked up the drive to the front door. Lifting the heavy knocker and letting it fall, she bit her lip when she heard the sound reverberating through the house. She had almost decided that there was nobody there when a girl answered the knock, a girl who looked at Ada as if she definitely thought her place was at the back door rather than the front. The girl was damp-eyed and querulous and had other things on her mind.

  ‘Yes?’

  Norah stared at Ada. Who on earth was this girl in the cheap cotton dress with her chapped, red hands in sharp contrast to her pale face? And what was she doing coming to the front door at such a time?

  Ada quailed. When it came to it she found it too much to ask for Johnny. She decided the best plan was to simply hand in the letter.

  ‘Please,’ she stammered and her accent broadened in her embarrassment. ‘Please, this is for Mr Fenwick.’

  Before Norah could answer, a man came into the hall behind her, a man who seemed to have some authority for he surveyed the two girls at the door and frowned heavily.

  ‘What is it, Norah? This is neither the time nor the place for gossiping,’ he said sharply.

  Norah’s already damp eyes filled with tears at this injustice and she could hardly speak, so she backed away and left the butler to handle this intruder on the family’s grief.

  ‘Well, my girl? What is it?’

  ‘A note, sir,’ Ada said and held out the letter. He took it in a white-gloved hand, glancing only briefly at the name on the envelope.

  ‘I … I thought I could wait for a reply, sir.’ For Ada had suddenly realised she could not go without speaking to Johnny.

  The butler drew himself up. ‘Well, girl, you cannot. Mr Fenwick is unable to reply for he died a short time ago.’ Firmly he closed the door.

  ‘Who was that, Pierce?’ Johnny, crossing the hall, stopped in surprise at the butler’s tone – he was a normally courteous man.

  ‘Just a messenger, sir.’

  Pierce offered the letter to Johnny, who waved it aside, thinking it a message of condolence.

  ‘Put it with the others, Pierce.’

  As Johnny went into the drawing room, Pierce took the letter into the study and placed it with the others addressed to Mr J. F. Fenwick, the ones Stephen and Johnny would get around to eventually.

  Ada never remembered how she managed to get to the railway station. When she heard the words ‘Mr Fenwick died’ it took away her breath. She hung on to a marble column for support as the world darkened for her.

  ‘Johnny is dead! Johnny is dead!’

  The words rang in an insane refrain in her head. Turning blindly, she ran through the streets as the rain became a downpour. She found the station at last and stumbled onto the right platform more by accident than anything. Her blue dress was soaked through and clinging to her thin shoulders. Her tears were indistinguishable from the rain on her face. Numbly she waited for the train and, when it came, climbed into a third-class compartment and shrank into a corner seat. If she got some curious glances from the other passengers, she didn’t notice. She didn’t even notice when a concerned woman caught hold of her as she stumbled getting off the train in Durham.

  Somehow Ada got to Gilesgate from the train and managed to get into her lodging house without Mrs Dunne seeing her. She climbed the stairs to her room and collapsed on the bed, lying there, thinking of nothing, in a kind of stupor. Later her mind returned to it. Johnny was dead. He had been her only friend for so long, apart from Eliza, and her love-starved soul ached for the one person who had embodied all her hopes and dreams. There would be no more letters to cherish, no more meetings.

  Ada lay there until past suppertime, eating nothing. The room grew darker and rain splashed against the window, but she didn’t even remove her wet clothes. When she fell asleep it was heavily, her mind taking its own respite against her despair.

  Waking with a start from a dream in which she and Johnny were playing tag in the Bishop’s Park, darting from tree to tree laughing and calling softly to each other, she was hit again by the shock of the truth. The sun was shining on her eyelids and her eyes began to throb. Warmth and light were filtering past the thin curtains. It was broad daylight.

  She tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry, her throat hurt and she ached all over her body. Trying to sit up in bed, she found it impossible and fell back, moaning softly, the room whirling around her. Vaguely she worried. It was Monday, wasn’t it? She had to get up and go to the Grays’ house, she had the weekly wash to do. Was it Monday? Or Sunday? The effort of thinking was too much for her.

  I’ll give myself five more minutes, then I’ll get up. Just five minutes more, that’s all I need, she thought wearily and closed her eyes. She dreamed that Johnny was in the room. Somehow he had found out where she was – had he got her note? She knew he was there just out of sight. In a minute she would turn her head and he would be there, smiling at her. And Eliza, Eliza was holding her up and helping her to drink, a long, cool drink of water. Ada drank thirstily and lay back. No, it wasn’t Eliza, was it? She tried to make out the face but it wouldn’t stay still. She thought it was Eliza but whoever it was smelled sweetly, whereas Eliza smelled of breast milk, babies and soap. She knew the smell, though, she did, she wished she could remember, then she could go back to sleep. Virginia’s scent, that’s what it was. What was Virginia doing here in her bedroom? It was a puzzle, a puzzle which was beyond her.

  Ada gave up the effort and drifted off into sleep, a sleep penetrated by voices. Mrs Dunne, was it? And Dr Gray? She tried to move her arm but it hurt so she lay still.

  Johnny had gone, he wasn’t there any more. Desolation hit her. She submitted to hands holding her, cool fingers on her wrist, she saw a stethoscope. She fell asleep.

  Virginia burst into her father’s consulting room as he was busy writing up notes after his evening surgery. Her blonde curls were falling down over her shoulders where they had escaped her hair ribbon and she was panting.

  ‘Virginia! What on earth have you been doing? Come over here and sit down this instance. You’re quite out of breath,’ Dr Gray exclaimed, his voice sharp with concern, for she had only recently recovered from pneumonia.

  ‘Please, Daddy, you must come. You have to see Ada!’

  ‘Never mind that, you stupid girl. You have been exerting yourself, I can see. If I can’t trust you to be sensible we will have to confine you to the house and garden.’ He walked over to the washbasin in the corner and drew a tumbler of water. ‘Now, sip this slowly and calm down.’

  Virginia took the glass and sipped obediently, for in truth her rush up from Gilesgate had made her feel decidedly unwell. Perhaps she wasn’t as strong as she had thought. Dr Gray watched her with concern as slowly her pulse settled do
wn and her high colour faded.

  ‘Now,’ he said at last, ‘what is this all about? Ada, did you say? Isn’t that the girl you’ve been helping to read and write?’

  Virginia nodded. ‘Oh, Daddy, she didn’t come today and I knew something must be wrong and I got her address from Cook and I thought I’d just walk down there –’

  ‘I said calm down,’ Dr Gray cut in. ‘Take it slowly. Now, what was the matter, then?’

  ‘Oh, she’s ill, Daddy, really ill and her landlady didn’t even know, she thought Ada had gone out to work.’ Virginia looked up at her father with appeal in her eyes. ‘You will come and see her, Daddy, won’t you?’

  ‘I’ll come.’ Dr Gray moved briskly now he knew the trouble, picking up his bag and hat, he moved to the door. ‘You’d better come and show me the way.’

  It took less than ten minutes to get to Gilesgate in the pony trap. The arrival of the doctor caused a stir in the street; women came to their front doors and stood watching curiously and urchins gathered round. Once he was inside, Dr Gray quickly assessed the situation. Ada had a fever, her throat was inflamed and her joints stiff and painful. He looked around the shabby room and then at Mrs Dunne, who was standing anxiously in the doorway.

  ‘Are you any relation to the girl?’ he asked.

  ‘No, I’m just the landlady. I didn’t know she was bad. I didn’t even know she was still in the house.’

  Mrs Dunne was on the defensive. She hardly knew the girl any road, she thought to herself. She simply could not afford to keep her and nurse her. ‘I haven’t time to look after her properly, she’s just the lodger, you know.’

  ‘It’s all right, Mrs Dunne.’ The doctor had realised what was going through her mind and came to a decision quickly. This was no place for anyone seriously ill. ‘She will be better off in the hospital. If you will allow me I’ll borrow a blanket to wrap her in and take her myself,’ he said.

  The landlady couldn’t help showing her relief, but then, worried that she should appear uncaring, she wrung her hands.

  ‘I would have seen to her if things had been different. But I’m a widow, I can’t manage as it is …’ Her voice tailed off.

  ‘No, of course not. It’s all right, really it is. If you could change her into a proper nightgown? Then I’ll manage.’ He gazed thoughtfully at the slight figure on the bed. She would be light enough to carry. Still, though she was too small and thin for her age, these small women sometimes had iron constitutions. He only hoped Ada was one of them, for Virginia’s sake as well as her own. Virginia seemed to be fond of the girl.

  He carried Ada downstairs and out to the trap, where he put her half lying, half sitting along the side seat. Virginia clambered in beside her, holding her carefully as Dr Gray turned the trap round and set off through the crowd of children which had gathered. The journey to the workhouse hospital was not long but there were cobbles to negotiate in places and Ada was rocked about at times, making her moan with pain.

  ‘Hold her, for goodness’ sake, Virginia,’ he said impatiently. ‘Try to shield her from the bumping of the wheels.’

  Virginia blushed, feeling she should have thought of that herself.

  Soon Ada was ensconced in the women’s medical ward, where she was given the quietest corner through the influence of Dr Gray. He was well known there through his work in the poorer districts of the city. As he left the nursing staff carrying out his instructions for her welfare, he knew she would be looked after to the best of their ability. He drove Virginia home before going on with his rounds. She was very subdued; it had been her first glimpse of the bare, dingy wards of a workhouse hospital.

  ‘Don’t worry, Virginia,’ he said softly as he lifted her down from the trap. ‘I know the wards are pretty spartan but the nursing staff are efficient and well used to the careful nursing required for acute rheumatism, which is what ails your friend. Goodness knows, they see plenty of it in varying degrees of seriousness.’ He sighed and dropped a kiss on his daughter’s solemn face. ‘Rheumatic fever is only too common among the poor of this great land of ours. Now, you must rest for what’s left of the afternoon or we will be worrying about you next.’

  ‘Yes, Daddy. Thank you for what you did.’ She gave him a small smile before she went indoors. For the first time she was really beginning to appreciate how fortunate she was to have been born with a father and mother who cared what happened to her. Poor Ada!

  Ada was oblivious to everything but the warm bed and blessed relief from her consuming thirst. But as she gradually came back to life and reality, as she began to lift her head to see where she was, she realised that yet another calamity had befallen her. Her childhood nightmares were coming true. She was in the dreaded workhouse, the one place she had sworn she would never go. She must have done something really, really bad. She cried a lot, for she felt too weak to help herself, too weak ever to be able to work again. She had reached rock bottom. Now she felt vulnerable, at the mercy of others, she who had always been healthy and hard-working. Since that awful night with Uncle Harry, she had lost Johnny, her health and her independence. Depression settled on her and she lay unseeing and uncaring. All her ambitions had come to nothing. Even her lessons with Virginia would stop if she wasn’t strong enough to do the family’s washing. Virginia might not want to know her anyway, because to be tainted with the workhouse was worse than being a washerwoman.

  At home, Virginia was glowing with the new image of herself as Ada’s saviour. Why, if she hadn’t sought the poor girl out, Ada could have died before the landlady thought to look into her room. It was nice to bask in Daddy’s approval, too; Virginia liked the feeling and an idea began to form in her mind. Seeking out her parents, she put it to them.

  ‘Have Ada here when she comes out of hospital?’

  Mrs Gray’s eyes widened in surprise at Virginia’s request. She didn’t know what to say; she looked across the breakfast table at her husband for guidance.

  ‘Ada will have to take things easy at first, Virginia. I’m not sure, she would only be able to take on light duties. I don’t really think your mother needs more help in the house in any case and I can’t afford to pay more for staff.’

  ‘I mean as a companion to me. Oh, come on, Daddy, Ada wouldn’t want any wages. There’s Nanny’s old room, she could sleep there.’

  Dr Gray still looked dubious and Virginia played her trump card.

  ‘Oh, Daddy, you know where she was living, it’s not the right place for a convalescent. And she wouldn’t get fed properly, you know she wouldn’t.’ Virginia put just the right note of sympathy for Ada into her voice and knew she was winning when her father gave her mother a questioning glance. She pressed her point home. ‘Good food and fresh air are the best things to help one recover from an illness. That’s what you said to me.’

  ‘You will have to help get the room ready.’ Mrs Gray spoke for the first time. She smiled at her husband. Virginia always could get him to do what she wanted him to, she thought fondly. Fathers and daughters!

  Virginia felt sure that her offer of a home to Ada would be welcome. Surely Ada didn’t want to go back to that horrible room in Gilesgate? No, she assured herself, Ada would come. She would be a fool not to. Virginia felt confident enough to start sorting out the room for Ada, her thoughts running happily on as she did so. Daddy would be really pleased with her for being so kind to a poor girl like Ada, and Mummy would get some help with light household tasks – Ada would want to do something. It was a very good thing to have thought of all round.

  ‘Hello, Ada! Feeling better?’

  At the cheery call Ada turned her head to see her friend smiling down at her so infectiously that she had to smile back, lifting her head and fluttering her hands in greeting.

  ‘Oh, do lie still. Daddy says I have to keep you quiet or I won’t be able to come again. Look what I’ve brought you! I pilfered the garden, I thought they would remind you of it.’ Virginia laid an enormous bunch of flowers on the locker. There were phlo
x and delphiniums, candytuft and sweet peas, filling the ward with the scent of summer.

  ‘And grapes, one always brings grapes to invalids.’ She broke a gleaming black grape from the bunch she was taking out of her bag and popped it into her mouth. ‘Scrumptious!’ she declared.

  ‘Miss Leigh is not yet allowed fruit.’ An officious-sounding nurse happened to be passing the end of the bed and she looked over disapprovingly. Virginia was crestfallen for a moment but she soon brightened up again.

  ‘Oh, well, someone will like them,’ she said and perched on the side of the bed, ignoring the nurse’s outraged look. ‘Oh, Ada, wait till I tell you! I’ve had a lovely idea. I talked it over with the parents and they said it was all right.’

  ‘What is?’ Ada asked weakly. Virginia’s exuberance was almost too much for her.

  ‘Why, for you to come and live with us. As soon as you’re well enough, of course. There, now, what do you think of that?’

  ‘Come and live with you?’ Ada gazed at Virginia, sure she hadn’t heard her aright. ‘How can I come and live with you? I’m not strong enough to work.’ To Ada’s way of thinking the only way she could live at the Grays’ house was as a servant, for she would have to earn her keep.

  Virginia was impatient. ‘No, no, I mean come and live with us, you don’t have to do much. You can be my companion. And you will get stronger, you’ll see, and everything will be lovely.’

  Ada was flabbergasted. It just couldn’t be true! She demurred weakly but the thought of having a home at the Grays’ house and being safe for a while was very tempting in spite of her independent outlook on life. Weak tears ran down her cheeks and Virginia jumped up in concern.

  ‘Oh, dear, I’ve made you too tired. And I promised Daddy I wouldn’t.’ She leaned over and patted Ada on the cheek. ‘Never mind, dear, it will be all right. It’s just too soon for you to have to make decisions, that’s what it is. Look, you go to sleep and I’ll go now. I just had to tell you about it but if you don’t want to – no, never mind, I’ll go.’