Lost Angel. Kitty Neale

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СКАЧАТЬ hadn’t been for your mother’s kindness, my life would have been very bleak.’

      ‘Mum was a good woman, but even then you and I rarely saw each other. I think it all changed when you were expelled and by then we must have been close to twelve years old.’

      ‘I wasn’t sorry to be expelled; in fact, I think I pushed for it by behaving so badly, yet I came unstuck. It was worse being tutored at home and I was so bloody lonely. My father was wrapped up in his work, the church, and was hardly ever home. After lessons I just rattled around in that huge house, with only your mother and the cook for company.’

      ‘That was when Mum started dragging me to your house every weekend and during school holidays.’

      ‘She dragged you! Was it that bad?’

      ‘Gertie, I hate to say it, but it was at first. I hardly knew you, and, let’s face it, you were a lot different from my usual friends. To me you sounded posh, upper class, and in fact, you still do.’

      ‘It certainly didn’t rub off on you though,’ Gertie said, but the sting was taken out of her words by her warm smile. ‘You’ve never mentioned it, but you must have resented having to come to Kensington, especially when my father would only allow you to play with me if you joined us in religious instruction.’

      ‘I must admit I didn’t like all that stuff from the Old Testament.’

      ‘Oh, yes, he loved to talk about God’s wrath, of fire and brimstone.’

      ‘It frightened the life out of me, but Mum still made me join you. It was years later before I found out why. She thought a lot of you, Gertie, and knew that I’d have to keep it up or be banned from the house. I think in some ways she came to see you as her second daughter.’

      ‘Did she? I thought your mother was being kind because she felt sorry for me. In fact, I envied you your family – the closeness you shared.’

      ‘I don’t know why. Compared to mine, your home was like a palace.’

      ‘My life was so restricted that it was more like a prison. Thank goodness you came along and we became more than just friends. I wish I’d known that your mother saw me as a daughter, because to me you were like a sister, one who stood by me through thick and thin.’

      ‘Now don’t exaggerate,’ Hilda protested. ‘As adults we went our separate ways. You for teacher training, and me, well, until I met Doug, I only worked in a local shop.’

      ‘Yes, but we always stayed in touch, and unlike everyone else you didn’t judge me, or ostracise me.’

      ‘Why should I? You’re still the same person and a good one at that. Take now for instance. If it wasn’t for you I’d have been forced to have Ellen evacuated to strangers.’

      ‘When I read your first letter, asking if Ellen could come to stay with me, I can’t tell you how much it meant to me. When the school found out, they couldn’t get rid of me quickly enough. I was treated like a monster, a bad influence and unsafe to be around children. My father was the worst, saying I was an abomination in God’s eyes.’

      ‘That’s rubbish. There’s nobody I’d trust more with Ellen.’

      ‘Thanks, and it’s nice you’ve arrived just before Christmas. Mind you, I’ve had enough religion stuffed down my throat to last me a lifetime, but as it was once a pagan festival I won’t feel like a hypocrite if we have a bit of a celebration.’

      Hilda’s throat tightened. She didn’t want to think about Christmas – her first one without her parents – yet for Ellen’s sake, she’d have to make some kind of effort.

      

      Ellen stirred, sitting up to look around her. ‘Are … are we there yet?’

      It was Gertie who answered. ‘Sorry, but we’ve still got a way to go. Are you hungry?’

      Ellen nodded. ‘Ye … yes.’

      ‘I’ve left a beef casserole braising in the range and it’ll be ready when we arrive.’

      ‘Cor,’ Ellen said, fully awake now.

      ‘I’m not much of a cook, but hopefully it’ll be all right.’

      ‘How do you get on with rationing?’ Hilda asked.

      ‘So far it isn’t a problem, and the butcher doesn’t even ask for a coupon.’

      ‘You’re lucky. In London we only get our rationed amounts and there’s talk of it getting worse.’

      Soon a tiny village loomed in front of them, but Gertie just drove through it and out the other side. On and on they went, the light dimming and no sign of any other habitations, until at last Gertie eased the horse and cart left into a narrow lane. At the end she finally pulled on the reins, saying as the horse drew to a halt and she hopped down, ‘I’ll just open the gates.’

      Ellen could see little as her eyes tried to pierce the gloom. Gertie didn’t get onto the cart again; instead she gripped the bridle to lead the horse through. Ellen could now see a small cottage, and as Gertie tethered the animal she watched her mother climb down from the cart, her feet sinking into thick, heavy mud.

      ‘Yeah, I can see what you mean about boots,’ her mum complained then held up her arms. ‘Come on, Ellen.’

      Ellen felt the ooze as her feet touched the ground, then the sucking sensation as she lifted one foot.

      ‘Come on, this way,’ Gertie said as she grabbed their cases, ‘but watch your step.’

      Tentatively they squelched to the front door, both taking off their mud-caked shoes before stepping inside. It was dark, but they felt a welcome blast of warm air, along with a low growl.

      ‘Oh Gawd, what’s that?’ Hilda gasped.

      ‘It’s only Bertie,’ said Gertie as she lit an oil lamp.

      ‘Bertie?’ she yelped as the growls turned to sharp yaps.

      ‘He won’t hurt you,’ Gertie assured and, as light pierced the gloom, a small white dog with a blaze of black on his face came into view.

      The dog ran up to Ellen, yapping and jumping around her with excitement. She smiled, crouching down to stroke him. ‘He … he’s so sweet.’

      ‘He’s a Jack Russell terrier and perfect for ratting.’

      ‘Rats,’ her mother squeaked. ‘Oh, blimey.’

      ‘There are rats in London – in fact, probably more than around here. Now take your things off and make yourself at home while I see to the horse. I expect you’re dying for a cup of tea so you can put the kettle on the range to boil.’

      ‘Why the oil lamps? Ain’t you got electricity?’

      ‘No, but at least I’ve got running water.’

      The journey had seemed to go on for ever, and now unable to hold it any longer, Ellen said, ‘I … I need the toilet.’

      ‘Go СКАЧАТЬ