Sapphire Battersea Read Free

packing and she’s never coming back.’
    I wept as the word
never
tolled in my head like a mourning bell. I lay in my bed. My head throbbed but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything, only Mama.
    Then one morning I had a new visitor. I smelled lemon verbena soap and freshly ironed linen. I opened my eyes and saw the plain neat form of Miss Sarah Smith. She looked at me gravely.
    ‘Oh dear, Hetty,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You look like a little ghost!’
    ‘Miss Smith!’ I forced my head up off the pillow. The room lurched and tilted but I made a fierce effort to steady myself. ‘Oh, Miss Smith, you have to help me!’
    ‘What can I do for you, child?’
    ‘What can you
do
?’ I was so desperate I forgot to be polite and deferential. ‘You can get Mama back, that’s what you can do!’
    ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, my dear,’ she said.
    ‘Yes you can! You’re on the Board of Governors! You do all that charity work and publish all those books. They will listen to you. Listen to me! Mama didn’t do anything
wrong
–’
    ‘She had a child out of wedlock, Hetty,’ Miss Smith said quietly.
    ‘So did the mother of every foundling in this whole hateful institution!’
    ‘They all gave up their babies to the hospital. They didn’t sneak back here under false pretences.’
    ‘Surely that proves just how much Mama loves me. And I love
her
, and I cannot bear it that she’s been cast out like a common criminal and denied a character reference.’
    Miss Smith tried to interrupt, but I went on talking , sitting bolt upright and shouting now. The infirmary nurse came rushing to restrain me, but Miss Smith stopped her.
    ‘What will poor Mama do? She can’t get a new position without a character reference. She’s only ever worked here – and three terrible years in the workhouse. What if
they
won’t take her back? Then she will be left to fend for herself on the streets. You dare ask me what the matter is! How do you think I feel, knowing my own dear mother is sitting in some mire-filled, squalid gutter, weeping–’
    Oh, Hetty, you have such a majestic imagination! Don’t get too carried away now! I assure you, your mother is
not
weeping in any mire-filled, squalid gutter. I like that phrase! I might well borrow it for one of my books.’
    ‘Are you
mocking
me?’
    ‘Only a little. I understand your anguish, but it’s unfounded. Your mother, Ida, is well provided for. She has a new position already.’
    ‘You’re lying!’
    The nurse gasped. ‘Hetty Feather, how dare you address the lady like that!’
    ‘It’s quite all right, Nurse. It’s good to see Hetty in a passion. It tells me that she’s on the mend already,’ said Miss Smith. ‘I suggest you go and attend to your other patients, while Hetty and I continue our little chat.’
    When the nurse left, with obvious reluctance, Miss Smith put her pale plain face close to mine, looking me straight in the eye. ‘Do you really think I’m a liar, Hetty?’
    I took a deep breath and then shook my head.
    ‘I will always tell you the truth. Your mother is safe and well, and has a good position. You must trust me.’
    ‘I do trust you, Miss Smith – but I don’t trust anyone else.
They
could be lying to you,’ I said.
    ‘Hetty, I took it upon myself to raise your mother’s case with the Board of Governors. We agreed that we could not possibly create a precedent by keeping Ida in our employ. Many other mothers would start seeking work at the hospital, and that would never do. We’ve always taken great care that no foundling should be singled out in any way, for treats or praise or special coddling–’
    ‘Hmph!
I
am
constantly
singled out for scoldings and slappings.’
    ‘Yes, and perhaps you deserve them, Miss Hetty Feather! Now listen to me, please. The matrons pressed for instant dismissal, and that was understandable – but it seemed to me singularly unfair to turn Ida away without giving her a good character.