Fallen Grace - Mary Hooper [14]
‘The teapot!’ Grace felt tears spring to her own eyes, for they had precious few things left to remind them of Mama. ‘Hush,’ she said again. ‘It doesn’t matter as long as you’re all right. As long as whoever it was didn’t hurt you.’
Lily settled a little. It was as she’d thought; the teapot had gone but that didn’t matter compared to other, more important things. She suddenly remembered one of them. ‘Where’s the baby?’ she asked, looking over Grace’s shoulder and around the room. ‘Didn’t you bring it home with you?’
Grace sighed deeply. ‘There isn’t a baby.’
‘It wasn’t in your tummy after all?’ Lily asked, blushing as she spoke, for she could still remember Mama telling them that they were never to mention bodily parts.
‘It was there, but it wasn’t strong enough to be born safely,’ Grace said carefully. ‘It has died and has gone to Heaven.’
‘Oh.’ This was very sad, Lily thought, because the baby would have been a good plaything.
‘I took him to be buried today, Lily, in a wonderful cemetery in the country. That’s why I’ve been away so long.’
Lily pondered this. ‘Can we visit him and take flowers?’
‘One day, yes,’ Grace said, remembering the day when a kind person from the orphanage had taken them to see Mama’s grave and, left for a moment to her own devices, Lily had collected up flowers from nearby graves and redistributed them to those that didn’t have any. Now she set Lily away from her and looked at her steadily. ‘But how have you been managing? Did you buy cresses yesterday? And when did this thief come in and steal the teapot? Did you see him? Did he take anything else?’
Lily frowned as she thought about this. Inventing stories was quite difficult and she usually got muddled; there was always some little detail or other that sounded odd and which Grace would pick up on.
‘Someone took it,’ Lily said vaguely. ‘I don’t know who. Someone came in and smashed it all up.’
Grace looked at her. She knew her sister was lying, for she was chewing her nails, anxiety writ all over her face. She couldn’t pursue the matter now, though; she felt too exhausted. The truth would come out in time. With Lily it always did.
x
Later that afternoon, Grace took the bluebird cup and saucer to a pawnshop – not Morrell’s, but to an establishment owned by a younger and more honest Uncle who gave her a silver sixpence for them. Grace knew that this would keep them going for a day or two, but had started to wonder what would happen when every scrap from their former life had been pawned to raise money and every trinket, blanket and spare garment had gone. How would they eat, keep warm and buy candles to light the dark? Whatever would happen to them? She shuddered – not the workhouse! No, never, never, never.
She held on to the sixpenny piece tightly all the way home, as if it were a talisman. Surely something good must happen before it came to that; maybe their father would return and find them, or the market for watercress would increase and they’d be able to sell ten bunches for every one sold now, or maybe she’d find a banknote blowing along the road in a gust of wind, for people always seemed to be losing them in the newspaper. Maybe – she smiled wryly to herself – maybe a fairy would come along and wave a magic wand to transform her and Lily into one of those fine young ladies they saw being driven around in gaily painted barouches, for that was just as likely as any of those other stories.
As she went past the kitchen on the way upstairs, Mrs Macready called out a greeting. Grace hadn’t said anything to her about the coming child, in part because she feared the landlady might have said she wasn’t allowed to bring it back with her, and in part because she thought it might just go away if she didn’t acknowledge it. Hoping Mrs Macready might not have noticed her thickening figure under her voluminous skirts, she called ‘Hello’, and said that she had to hurry because Lily was waiting.
‘Oh, do come in and speak to me, dear!’ Mrs Macready