Barbara Taylor Bradford – The Complete Ravenscar Trilogy: The Ravenscar Dynasty, Heirs of Ravenscar, Being Elizabeth (страница 59)
Instantly the boy shrank back, shaking his head vehemently. ‘Naw, naw, stayin’ ’ere. It’s safe ’ere.’
Crouching down, looking into the child’s scared face, Amos said in the warmest voice he could muster, ‘Tell you what, I know you’re tired, how about I carry you there? We’ll have a glass of milk and then I’ll bring you back to the cart. Or take you wherever you want to go. I promise.’
The child stared back at him, his eyes appearing even larger, and he suddenly smiled. ‘Cross yer ’eart an’ ’ope ter die?’ he said, staring hard at Amos.
‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’
Darting to the cart, the boy scrambled inside, and reappeared a moment later clutching a dirty cloth bag tied at the top with string. He clambered out of the cart and stood looking up at Amos.
‘What’s in the bag?’ Amos asked, reaching for it.
The boy clutched it to his body, shaking his head harder than ever, fearful again. ‘Naw, naw, it’s me fings! Yer can’t ’ave it.’
‘It’s all right, laddie, I don’t want it. I thought you might like me to carry it, that’s all. Anyway, I’ll carry you, and you can carry your bag, and that’ll be fine.’
There was only a moment’s hesitation, and then the boy confided, ‘Me mam says that…cross me ’eart an’ ’ope ter die.’
‘So she’s not dead?’
‘Yeah, she is…she’s in Potters Field.’
Cursing himself once more for his thoughtlessness, Amos bent down and picked the boy up in his arms, carried him out of the cul-de-sac and up towards Commercial Street, singing, ‘Onward Christian soldiers, going off to war, with the Cross of Jesus going on before.’
As Amos walked along, singing his favourite hymn half to himself, he felt the little boy go limp in his arms almost immediately; his head rested on Amos’s broad shoulder, one hand clutched his precious cloth bag, the other held tightly to the lapel of Amos’s overcoat.
Poor little bairn, Amos thought, he’s exhausted. Whatever will become of him? And where should I take him after we’ve had the milk at Haddon House?
It was whilst they were eating the pies in the cul-desac that Amos had had the idea to take the boy over to Haddon House, just off Whitechapel High Street. He was quite certain that Lady Fenella would be able to help. He had known her since she and her aunt had opened the safe haven for battered women three years ago, and he admired her, respected her for the extraordinary work she was doing in the East End.
After all, she was titled in her own right, being the daughter of the Earl of Tanfield, and, as the widow of Lord Jeremy Fayne, a wealthy woman. She was young, not yet twenty-eight, and considered something of a beauty in society—tall, elegant with blonde hair and grey eyes. As an aristocrat and socialite, she did not have to devote half her life to helping those in distress, yet she did, and did so with great efficiency, kindness, devotion and love. And all those who met her, from all walks of life, succumbed to her charms, fell under her spell.
It was more than likely that she wouldn’t be there at this hour of the evening. However, Amos knew that some of her helpers would be at Haddon House because Lady Fenella’s policy was to keep the doors open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week; no one was ever turned away. Perhaps the boy could sleep there tonight, once he had been cleaned up a bit.
Amos loathed the mere thought of taking him back to the cul-de-sac and that decrepit old cart, and, in fact, he had no intention of doing so. It was so unsanitary and unhealthy, and, furthermore, extremely dangerous. For the boy to be sleeping outside on the street the way he was doing begged for trouble. It was inhuman to allow a child to exist in such a terrible way.
He decided he would make inquiries at the local Dr Barnardo’s Home tomorrow; perhaps the orphanage would be able to find a place for him.
All of a sudden, as he continued on his way, Amos thought of Charlie and Maisie, wished they were here, that they still lived in Whitechapel. They would have taken the boy in to live with them without a second thought, made him feel most welcome. That’s the way they were.
As it was, the brother and sister were in New York, walking those streets they claimed were paved with gold, seeking work as actors. He missed them, most especially Charlie, and looked forward to more cheerful letters from him. One had arrived already, and it seemed that their prospects were good.
Hoisting the boy, holding him close, Amos hurried now, wanting to get to Haddon House. One thing he was certain of was a warm welcome. All of the women who worked there were pleasant, helpful and accommodating. They were the salt of the earth.
All the lights were blazing when Amos Finnister finally arrived at Haddon House, and they were a most welcome sight, gladdened his heart. Lifting the brass knocker, he banged it several times, and within a couple of seconds the door was opened.
To his utter surprise he stood staring at the familiar and lovely face of Will Hasling’s sister, Mrs Vicky Forth. She was looking as surprised as he was himself.
‘Goodness gracious, it’s you, Mr Finnister!’ she gasped, then immediately added, ‘Do please come in, won’t you?’
‘Evening, Mrs Forth,’ he replied at once, stepping into the vestibule. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here, ma’am, and especially in the evening.’
‘I’m helping Lady Fenella two days a week,’ Vicky explained, ‘and my presence here this evening
‘I found him out on the streets, Mrs Forth,’ Amos answered as together they walked into the large main room where there were several big sofas, plenty of comfortable chairs, as well as a long trestle table covered with a white cloth. ‘He was hiding in a cart,’ Amos explained and quickly filled her in as they made their way over to the fireplace.
The lamplight, the sudden warmth and the voices caused the boy to stir in Amos’s arms, and he suddenly awakened, began to struggle at once. ‘Steady on, laddie,’ Amos murmured and placed the boy on the floor. Again he seemed a little unsteady on his feet for a second, and then he looked up at Amos, appearing afraid. He was shivering excessively.
‘Are you cold, lad?’
The boy nodded.
‘Come on then, let’s get you settled here by the fire for a little bit. And then I’ll get you that nice glass of milk I promised you.’
The boy clung to Amos’s hand as they moved towards the roaring fire. ‘Sit here, laddie.’ The boy hesitated in front of the chair; Amos lifted him up and plopped him down in it.
‘You’ll soon feel much warmer,’ he murmured, and hurried over to Vicky who was hovering near the trestle table, waiting for him. ‘Could we get him something to drink, Mrs Forth? Perhaps water, if you can’t spare the milk, although I did promise the little mite a glass of milk.’
‘Of course he can have some milk, but do you think he might like a cup of cocoa? Children do love it, and certainly it would warm him up.’
‘Oh, what a grand idea, it is indeed! Thank you.’
‘I’ll go and tell Mrs Barnes to make a jug of cocoa for all of us. You look as if you could use a hot drink yourself. Back in a moment, Mr Finnister.’
Vicky Forth was as good as her word; she returned at once and informed Amos that the cocoa would be made within minutes. ‘Now, please tell me more about the boy.’
‘I’ve told you most of what I know, Mrs Forth. He said he’d been kicked out by the man who had killed his mother, but, of course, we don’t know if that’s true, the bit about the man killing her. However, I do have a strong feeling that his mother really is dead. He said something about her being in Potters Field.’
‘Then I agree with you. She probably passed away and the boy could easily have been unwanted after she was gone. Perhaps he was sent into the streets, if the man they were living with was not his father. You told me he said he had no name.’
‘That’s right. Well, he did give me a name of sorts, but I couldn’t possibly repeat it to a lady like you, Mrs Forth.’
Vicky smiled at him. ‘Oh you can, Mr Finnister, believe me you certainly can repeat it. You’d be surprised what I’ve heard around here. Then again, you might not be. After all, you were once a policeman in these parts, so my brother told me.’
‘Indeed I was, ma’am, and I do know the area well. My father brought me here quite a lot when I was a boy.’ He sighed, and lowering his voice, he muttered, ‘He said his name was Liddle Bugger.’
‘How awful for the child,’ Vicky shook her head. ‘It staggers the imagination what some people do, the way they wilfully hurt innocent children, harm them in the worst possible way.’ She paused, looked toward the kitchen door. ‘Ah, here comes Mrs Barnes with the cocoa.’
Mrs Barnes nodded and smiled when she saw Amos. Crossing to the long table she placed the tray with the jug and cups on it, and hurried off in the direction of the kitchen, intent on her business. A volunteer, this was her night to look after the food.