The Orphans of Halfpenny Street. Cathy Sharp

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ like a prison from the outside, and, indeed, when the old house underwent major alterations in the late eighteenth century, the fever hospital had been intended as a place to keep some people in and others out. Back in the bad old days, men, women and children had been brought here to die. They had been shut away because they were known to have infectious diseases and the authorities of the time saw them as a danger to others. When diseases like smallpox, typhoid or cholera raged through a city they decimated the population, leaving swathes of dead in their wake. In most cases nothing could be done to save those who had contracted these virulent infections, and so they were often locked away from the population and left to die. The warders who were supposed to treat them gave them food and water and precious little else according to the tales that still circulated in the lanes surrounding the old place. It had been a house of fear and death then, but now it had become a place of hope – at least Rose trusted it would be.

      Above the door was a stone heart split in two by an arrow, as if warning of the perils of life and death, and underneath in some ancient script the words: St Saviour’s Hospital – Make peace with God and render unto Him all that is due for He is the Light and the Way.

      A cold shiver went down Rose’s spine as she thought of her mother’s probable fate. She wouldn’t be treated as harshly as the people who’d been incarcerated here in those far-off days, but she was being sent to an isolation unit near the sea, because she had tuberculosis. Her illness had progressed to the stage where she coughed up great lumps of blood and she found it difficult to get her breath. Dr Marlow had told them that she ought to have come to see him long ago, and to Rose, when she’d spoken to him later alone, he’d confessed his doubts about her mother’s chances of getting over the disease.

      ‘If she’d come to me earlier there might have been a good chance that they could save her, but now … well, I’ll be honest with you, Rose, it is one chance in ten that she will recover. The best we can do for her is to put her somewhere pleasant and quiet, where she will receive treatment and kindness …’

      ‘Is it really as bad as that?’ Rose had asked, a sob rising to her throat, because she couldn’t bear to think of Ma being so ill. ‘She kept saying it was nothing, just a little cough, but then I saw the blood on her mouth – and she’s so exhausted all the time.’

      ‘Your mother was a very strong woman. Had she not been she would have collapsed long before this, Rose. I wish I could offer you more hope but …’ He shook his head. ‘There is treatment for her illness these days, but I think it may be too late for her.’

      ‘I think she knows it,’ Rose said in a choked voice. ‘She is worried about Mary Ellen, and so am I. I’ve been offered a place on the staff at the London Hospital if my exam results are satisfactory, but I’m required to live in the Nurses’ Home for the first year or so. If I go home and look after my sister, I might never get another chance – and all that training would have been wasted.’

      ‘You must not do that,’ he protested, concerned. ‘Being a nurse and rising in your profession is your one chance of getting on, of making a good life for yourself and your sister. It is what your mother wants for you. Have you considered my suggestion?’

      ‘Putting Mary Ellen in St Saviour’s? We spoke of it. I let my mother think it was my suggestion. She wouldn’t like it if she thought I’d been talking to you behind her back. Do you think they will take Mary Ellen? I heard they were bursting at the seams …’

      ‘Have a word with Father Joseph,’ the doctor advised. ‘He stands on good terms with the Warden. I’m sure Sister Beatrice will squeeze one more in, she always does. Remember, it’s going to take me two to three weeks to find the right place for your mother and the child may as well stay at home until then.’

      Apparently, the Catholic priest had had a word in Mary Ellen’s favour, because a week after she spoke to him, Father Joe had visited Rose at work and told her she should go to see the Warden of St Saviour’s after she’d finished her shift on the wards the next day.

      ‘I’m not promising anything, Rose, but I think Sister Beatrice will find a place for her, though I know they are pressed for space, not to say funds.’

      ‘Everyone is,’ Rose agreed. ‘There was so much devastation, so many factories, houses and commercial buildings bombed and burned to the ground. The manager at the Home and Colonial, where I used to work, reckons that it will take years before they clear the bombsites, let alone rebuild all the houses. We just don’t have the raw materials we need.’

      ‘I dare say it will take years,’ Father Joe agreed. ‘And the trouble never seems to end. There was a fire at a bombed-out factory a couple of weeks ago, caused by an unexploded bomb going off and rupturing a gas main. The people in the streets nearby thought the war had started again.’

      ‘God help us, I hope that won’t happen; we’ve had enough.’

      ‘Now then, my child. Don’t you be taking the Lord’s name in vain. Remember what I’ve told you, and don’t be late for your appointment with Sister Beatrice.’

      That had been the previous day. Now, standing before the daunting building, Rose took a deep breath and stepped up to the door to ring the bell. Nothing happened, so after a couple of minutes she rang again. A young woman who looked as if she had been scrubbing the floor, her hands red from being in hot water and soda, opened it. She looked Rose up and down, sniffing as she asked what she wanted.

      ‘I’m here to see Sister Beatrice. Can you take me to her?’

      ‘I daresn’t do that, miss,’ the girl said. ‘I’ve got to finish me work afore I goes home, see – and me ma will go on somethin’ awful if I’m late, ’cos she wants ter get orf ter ’er job at the pub.’

      ‘Well, can you point me in the right direction please?’ Rose asked, stepping into the rather dim hallway without being invited. The floors were some sort of dark slate tiles and there was a grand staircase with mahogany banisters at the end of the hall, its wooden steps covered in a dull red carpet.

      ‘I reckon it’s up them there stairs and down the corridor to the right. You’ll see the notice on ’er door. I ain’t never bin in there ’cos I’m the downstairs skivvy, see.’

      ‘Then you’ve no business to be opening the door.’

      ‘’Ad ter or you’d ’ave stood there all night, I reckon. Nan’s been orf sick fer a week or more and they’re all run orf their feet …’

      Deciding that it was useless to reason with her, Rose started for the stairs. She was annoyed because she’d had to take extra time off to come here and so far had not formed a very good opinion of the place. Had there been an alternative, she would not have gone any further. However, people generally spoke well of St Saviour’s and she could only think something must have gone wrong if a young and ignorant kitchen girl was answering the door.

      She walked up the stairs without looking back and turned right. Sister Beatrice’s room was at the end, the door firmly closed but with a little plaque on it inviting visitors to knock. Rose clenched her hands at her sides, because if they wouldn’t accept Mary Ellen it meant that she would have to give up her plans to take up the position she’d been offered. Rose couldn’t work as a nurse and be at home with her sister, and if she had to look after Mary Ellen and work in a shop, she would never manage to pay the bills. Besides, she’d set her heart on becoming a nurse. When she had a little more experience in nursing she would earn more than she did as a shop girl, and she could take care of her sister. In her heart she knew that her mother hadn’t much longer to live and Mary Ellen couldn’t be left СКАЧАТЬ