Hope - Lesley Pearse [112]
Nell had surely hardened her heart to her now. Matt’s children would be the recipients of all the love and devotion she had once showered on her youngest sister.
Hope lapsed into a pretty daydream of imagining going back there, just to look at Nell. She could see herself hiding behind a tree in Lord’s Wood on a Sunday morning, waiting for Nell to pass through on her way to church. She’d be wearing that pretty blue bonnet trimmed with white artificial daisies that Lady Harvey had given her. Just one glimpse of her would be enough.
Perhaps she’d see Rufus too, for he’d be home for the school holidays now. Maybe he would go down to the pond because he was remembering the good times they once shared? She could jump out and startle him. She would have to pledge him to secrecy of course. But maybe with his help they could think of a way to let Nell know she was safe?
A shouted oath from a drunken man in the alley below acted as a timely reminder of the reality of her situation. Even if it were possible to go back there without Albert getting to hear she’d been, she couldn’t bear the thought of anyone she knew seeing her like this. She was the same as all the residents of the rookery now, dirty, thin and ragged – even Rufus would turn away in disgust. And anyway, she couldn’t explain to him how it all came about, not without telling him his parents’ part in it too.
‘I hate you, Albert Scott,’ she muttered to herself. ‘One of these days I’ll get even with you.’
As the first light of dawn crept into the room, Betsy was sick again and her bowels erupted uncontrollably. She cried pitifully from the pain in her belly, the cramps in her limbs and the embarrassment of fouling her bed, and although Hope tried to reassure her that she would start to feel better once all the poisons in her body had been expelled, it was all too reminiscent of her parents’ deaths for her really to believe what she said.
A short while later Gussie was in the same state, and Hope was run ragged building up the fire to boil water for more cinnamon tea and darting down the stairs to fetch more water from the pump and empty the slop pail of dirty water. Flies buzzed frantically around the room as it grew hotter and even more foul, and sweat poured from her as she tried to scour the pail and bowls, wash over the floor and keep her friends clean.
By early afternoon, Hope was truly alarmed by her patients’ appearance. Their eyes were sunken, their breathing very shallow, and they were no longer really aware of her ministering to them. She knew she must get help, but she had never heard of any doctor coming into Lewins Mead. Miss Carpenter, the schoolteacher, was the only person she could think of who might have enough influence to persuade someone to come.
Hope had only met Miss Carpenter twice. The first time was when she went to the school in St James’s Back with Gussie in an effort to encourage him to go to lessons. The second time she had gone to ask the teacher if she could use any help in teaching the youngest children to read.
She admired Miss Carpenter greatly, as almost everyone in the rookery did. Anyone who could be so dedicated to teaching the poorest, most disadvantaged children in the city deserved admiration. She lavished her care and attention on her small charges, cared passionately about each one of them, yet for all that she wasn’t an easy person to like. She was frosty, she rarely smiled, and there was an intensity about her that was frightening.
The teacher had also seemed very suspicious of Hope at their last meeting. Betsy had claimed it was because Hope was every bit as clever as her, and far prettier. Hope didn’t believe that was the real reason. It was far more likely the teacher couldn’t understand why someone able to read and write should end up in her neighbourhood. Yet whatever the woman’s reasons for being chilly with her, Hope knew she had to try to enlist her help, or Betsy and Gussie might die.
Hope stopped by the pump to wash her face and hands