Far From Home: The sisters of Street Child. Berlie Doherty

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      “Well, his wife is as sour as a crabapple and his sister is like a crocodile! Heard of crocodiles? They’re all teeth and snap. That’s what she’s like. They’re away visiting relatives in the country, so things are a bit easy just now. But when they get back, I’ll be hustled off my feet. And then there’s the two Dearies.”

      “And is there just you and Judd looking after everyone?”

      “Lor, do you never stop asking questions?” Rosie gasped. “The Crabapple and the Crocodile have taken their own maids with them. They wouldn’t have me or Judd touching their clothes or their hair. Those maids are a hoity-toity pair, and I’m always glad to see them gone. And there’s a girl who comes in weekdays to help Judd with the beds and the dusting and polishing upstairs. Judd’s training her, but she’ll never be much good. She’s as lazy as a cat.”

      “I could do her job!” Lizzie said, but Rosie shook her head. “She’s Judd’s niece,” she mouthed, glancing at the door. “That’s how it works in service. Someone speaks for you, and if you get the job, they have to train you and be responsible for you. I was lucky. Your mother spoke for me. She used to buy salmon and shrimps off me for his lordship’s supper, and we got to be pals. Like sisters. Oh.” She covered her face with her apron and emerged, red-eyed. “How was she to know I couldn’t make decent bread for the life o’ me!”

      One of the bells over the kitchen door jangled sharply, making Lizzie jump.

      “That’s it,” Rosie said. “Time for his lordship’s breakfast. Let me see. Bread’s done. Tea’s done. Tea cosy, marmalade, bread, butter, cup, saucer, spoon, milk, plate, knife. Sugar. Well done, Em’ly love. Tra-la! Open the door for me, Lizzie.” She sailed out of the kitchen and up the stairs with the tray, humming to herself.

      Emily hugged her sister. “It’s all right here,” she said. “We’re fine for a bit, aren’t we?”

      “Maybe Ma will be able to come back and fetch us, when she’s better,” Lizzie whispered. “That’s what I want.”

      But Emily just shook her head, too upset to answer. She looked away, forcing back the sharp sting of tears before she could speak again. “Just try to be happy here, Lizzie. That’s what Ma wants for us. I like this big warm kitchen, and all the shiny pots and pans. I like being where Ma used to be when she was well, and doing the sorts of things she used to do, and cooking lovely food. I hope Rosie speaks for me. If I can’t be with Ma, and I know I can’t, I hope I can stay here.”

      

      Lizzie turned away from her sister and slumped herself down on the bench. She knew Ma had loved this place too. Sometimes she used to bring bits of pie and bowls of stew home, when Judd allowed her to, and told the girls exactly how she had cooked them before she doled out their share. “What’s lovely, is cooking with good quality food,” she told them. “I can only afford scrag-ends and entrails for us usually, and coarse flour for bread. I do my best to make it taste good – but ooh, it’s another world, the way they live at the Big House. I want that for you, girls. Working in a fine big house!”

      “I’d prefer to live in one!” Lizzie had said, and they had all laughed because the very idea was so crazy.

      But here they were in the Big House, and Emily was doing her best to be as useful and as good a cook as Ma had been. Rosie wanted her to stay – that was clear. Lizzie bit her lip. What about me? she wanted to ask, but daren’t. What if Rosie spoke up for Emily and got her a job there? What if Emily could stay, and Lizzie couldn’t? What if Rosie couldn’t find another job for her? She hardly dared to let herself think about it. What would happen to her, wandering the streets all on her own? She’d rather go to the workhouse. She watched miserably as Emily busied herself tidying away pans, washing Judd’s breakfast plates, putting fresh water to boil. She seemed to know exactly what to do here, where things went, how to keep the kitchen neat and clean. She was even humming to herself as she worked. It’s true, Lizzie thought. She loves it here. Even though she’s crying inside like I am, she’s found out how to be a little bit happy.

      At last Rosie came back down carrying the tray. “Look at this! All gone!” she said. “Judd said he didn’t say nothing, but he couldn’t take his eyes off your bread! His nostrils were twitching as if he was sniffing roses!”

      She put the tray down, and Emily took the plates over to the sink immediately to wash them. Why didn’t I think of doing that? Lizzie wondered.

      “He’s out for the day soon, so we can breathe clear, but Judd tells me he’s bringing a business acquaintance back with him this evening. She’s got to show the Lazy Cat how to get a room ready for him, so I’m to do the shopping today. He wants steak and kidney pie for supper. I’ll do the meat, cos I love doing that, and Em’ly, you can have a go at the pastry because your ma’s was always a dream. Oh, good girl, you’ve put more water on. Let’s have breakfast, and then you and I can go together for the meat, Em’ly. Would you like that?”

      “Oh, I would!” said Emily.

      Lizzie forced herself to stand in front of Rosie. “What can I do?” she asked timidly.

      “What can you do, my love? What can you do, that’s the trouble. Ah, I know. You can take the Dearies their breakfast. They’ll be awake soon. That’s a job I hate, and the Lazy Cat can’t stand them, but you might like it. It’ll cheer them up to see a pretty little girl like you. You can get the tray set now. Tea, bread and butter. Sometimes a bit of marmalade. That’s all they ever have.”

      “How many Dearies are there?” Lizzie asked. She wiped his lordship’s tray carefully and reached up to the shelf for clean plates.

      “Two of course. His mother and hers.”

      “What if they tell his lordship about me?”

      “They won’t,” Rosie chuckled. “They forget everything five minutes after it happens, bless them. And even if they did tell him, he’d think they’d made it up.”

      I’ll do it so well, Lizzie told herself, that Rosie will decide she wants me to do it every day, and she’ll speak for me. She set the tray carefully with china cups and saucers, plates, teapot.

      “Shall I do the bread and butter for you?” Emily asked.

      “No. I want to do it myself,” Lizzie insisted, but Rosie watched anxiously as she sawed at the loaf, tearing off a huge wedge.

      “They’ll never be able to chew a piece that big. Let me cut it nice and thin for them, and you can have that piece as an extra treat.”

      Emily started to sweep Lizzie’s breadcrumbs up, and Lizzie snatched the broom away from her. “I know how to sweep the floor! I did it yesterday, remember?”

      Emily shrugged and caught Rosie’s eye. “She’s always like this. Ma used to call her Little Miss Independent.”

      “And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Rosie said. “Sisters are s’posed to help each other though, Lizzie. Let brothers do the fighting.” They heard the upstairs СКАЧАТЬ