Hunter’s Moon
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Gilbert smiled conspiratorially at his wife. ‘Our girl?’
She nodded, beaming with pride. She had never told Gilbert what she had discovered that night so long ago, and she never would. Instead she had watched over Alice with even more care and was rewarded by seeing her grow up well, gradually calming down. For Alice Rimmer had changed radically, both in appearance and temperament. It was not that she was any less emotional, simply that she had learned how to suppress her feelings, to control her outbursts. Her hotly exotic looks had cooled too. Beautiful she was, but quietly so.
The sensual strangeness had now been replaced by a true allure. The pale oval face, the dark eyes, the glossy hair were remarkable, and as Alice matured into a young woman she gave off an almost electrical charge. No one failed to recognise it, and many of her peers at Netherlands were jealous of her.
Only Hilly Barker bore Alice no resentment. Grown into a frail, elfin figure, she was as close to Alice as she had always been and was devoted to her. And so she should be, thought Ethel. After all, hadn’t Alice looked after and confided in Hilly when no one else wanted to know the sick girl in the sanatorium? Oh yes, Ethel thought, Alice was nothing if not loyal to her friends.
Another type of girl would have taken advantage of Hilly’s devotion and some of the younger girls’ slavish admiration – but Alice didn’t. Her thoughts were concentrated on one thing, and one thing only – to get away from Netherlands. Out into the world.
‘I have to get away,’ she had said months earlier. ‘I’ll go mad if I don’t.’
Ethel had soothed her, as ever. ‘In time, you will. But you’ve got the chance to get an education, Alice, so you should take the opportunity. Teachers get well paid and they’re respected. You could do a lot worse.’
Alice knew Ethel was right. Knowledge was the only way to gain respect. So she set to and she studied. Temperament and spirit were controlled. Outbursts only led to punishment and isolation. With a massive effort of will Alice learned to control her natural ebullience. Inside, she might be raging, but outside she seemed almost content with her lot.
The only one who was never fooled was Ethel. She had an instinct that Alice was plotting something, but had to admit that she was impressed by the girl’s application. Especially lately – now that Alice had confounded everyone by becoming Clare Lees’ favourite.
She didn’t ingratiate herself with the principal, but she was a quick learner and more than willing to take on some of the rudimentary teaching of the smallest children. The school inside Netherlands was makeshift, the education basic – but who was prepared to spend money educating foundlings? The future mill workers, pit boys and domestic servants? The books they had were out of date, the maps hopelessly old-fashioned, but Alice didn’t seem to mind. She could see an opportunity for herself – and she was going to take it.
The shift in power had been noticed by everyone. Evan Thomas was caught off guard and Dolly was white hot with envy.
Not for the first time, Ethel had taken it on herself to send out a warning to Alice.
‘I thought you hated Clare Lees,’ she had said a month earlier. ‘What are you up to now?’
Alice had turned her dark eyes on the matron ingenuously. ‘Why should I be up to anything?’
‘Because I know you,’ Ethel had replied. ‘I’ve known you since you were a child, and I can tell that you’re up to something.’
Alice had slid her arm through Ethel’s, the matron’s skin warm and soft to her touch. ‘I’m fine. I’m doing well now. I thought you’d be pleased.’
Ethel had studied her carefully. ‘I have to say that you’re the last person I ever expected to see teaching here.’
‘I love teaching,’ Alice had replied, ‘and the pupils seem to like me.’
Ethel had continued to study the remarkable face. But she didn’t accept the story – Alice was too beautiful to stay hidden away at Netherlands for ever. It might be all right for poor Miss Lees, but Alice was born for better things – and she had the beauty and the wit to achieve them.
‘Well, you be careful,’ Ethel had replied warningly. ‘I still say that you’re up to something. Watch out that you don’t tie a knot with your tongue that you can’t undo with your teeth. Evan Thomas thought he was the favourite – he won’t like being the loser.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Alice had reassured her, ‘I’m doing fine. Honestly, Ethel, I’m doing fine.’
Sighing, Ethel returned her thoughts to the present as she picked up the laundry. Then she looked at Gilbert. He had grown to love Alice over the years and she had seen in him a surrogate father. Something she desperately wanted. Something she had craved since she was a child. The trouble was, Ethel thought, that she already had a father – a man who might still be alive.
‘I think Alice might make a career of teaching,’ Ethel said. ‘I hope so. I want her to settle down and marry some nice lad –’
‘Hey, she’s only seventeen!’ Gilbert said sharply. ‘Give her a chance.’
‘Marriage would settle her down,’ Ethel responded. ‘A good solid home life would be the making of her.’ She thought back to the damning facts that only she knew. ‘The right man would give Alice stability.’
‘She’s got stability,’ Gilbert retorted. ‘She’s much less excitable than she used to be.’
Ethel shook her head. ‘Not really. That’s just what she wants you to think. That’s what she wants all of us to think.’
Clare Lees prided herself on the good job she had made of Alice Rimmer’s upbringing. The hysterical little girl who had arrived at Netherlands had been moulded into a clever young woman. She had calmed down, was reliable, and the children loved her. Oh yes, Clare thought, she had really achieved something with that girl.
Awkwardly she rose to her feet, her shoulders rounded and aching. The cold always made the pain worse, but what could you do about it in the middle of a Salford winter? Slowly she moved over to the fire and poked at the cheap coal. The room smelled damp to her, but maybe she was imagining it. Soon she would be in too much pain to keep going, but she had to hold on a bit longer, until Alice was twenty-one. Then she would be ready.
Clare gazed into the half-hearted flames. She had managed to raise more money from the governors, but she was well aware that Netherlands was hopelessly out of date and would require far more to be spent on it. They needed better plumbing, electrification throughout, updated furniture, desks, even coat pegs. And books. Lots of books to replace the dog-eared volumes which had passed through the hands of countless orphans.
The governors saw her as a dinosaur; Clare knew that all too well. She was a joke to them, but they couldn’t dislodge her because she had been loyal and given good service; dedicated her life to Netherlands … Clare nudged the coal with the tip of her boot. It shifted in the grate and sent up a little puff of smoke.
Alice would bring a breath of fresh air, a young outlook. That would impress the money men. They would look at Netherlands in a new light then, not as some outdated Victorian anachronism. Clare stretched her hands out to the fire to warm them. Thank God that no one knew the truth about Alice Rimmer, she thought. If they had, all her careful plans would fold. But how could anyone find out? The solicitor who had sent the child to her so long ago had died, and the single evidence of Alice’s past was in a locked-up file to which only Clare herself had access.
Settling herself down on a chair in front of the fire, Clare thought of Alice’s secret and how it had weighed on her mind. A year ago something had suddenly prompted her to remove Alice Rimmer’s file from her office. It had always been in safekeeping there, but its very existence had been beginning to nag at her. At first she had decided to destroy it, but that had seemed too extreme, so in the end she had put it in the bank with other confidential papers. There no one would find it. Clare knew only too well that people like Evan Thomas and Dolly Blake would be dangerous with such knowledge.
It would not have mattered had Alice Rimmer been just another foundling. If she had been a plain, dull child she would have sunk into the background; gone to work in a mill or as an undermaid for some well-off family. A different child would not have had the wit or the spirit to spark interest – but Alice had never been an ordinary child and she had all the making of an extraordinary woman.
Clare Lees’ envy of Alice had faded as the years bent her shoulders and took away all ambition or curiosity about the world. Now she merely admired Alice. The skittish child had grown up and become a responsible person, a young woman she could trust. And there were precious few people Clare Lees could trust.
She knew she was – and always had been – surrounded by opportunists. The Welshman was always waiting for his chance and was proving a jealous rival to Alice. As for Dolly Blake, she was washed up, a bitter woman consumed with righteousness. If she was getting no affection in her own life, no one else would. Every woman – simply by nature of being female – was now suspect to Dolly.
But Alice … Clare relaxed and then rubbed her shoulders. If she carried on the way she was, Alice Rimmer could be a person of some status. Memory came back quick and sharp – Alice Rimmer had been born to privilege but life and circumstance had take it away from her. If she knew the truth Alice would want far more than Netherlands had to offer. She would want her birthright – the birthright Clare Lees had so vigorously denied.
But it had been for the best, she reassured herself. It had been hard to shatter a child’s hopes, but it had cured Alice. In fact, she had no curiosity about her past any more. She never referred to her family or asked questions. The spirited, overconfident little girl had been reined in: Alice Rimmer would be content to live the life organised for her. She would serve, as Clare Lees had always done. She would do her duty.
It was the least she could do.
Chapter Eleven
‘Sssh, keep your voice down,’ Victor said, leaning towards the gate which separated the boys’ quarters from the girls’ at Netherlands. His fingers reached through the railings timidly and touched the back of Alice’s hand. The feel of her skin warmed him, touched him to the heart.
‘Victor, can’t you sneak out?’ she asked, her eyes searching his shadowed face.
‘It’s not safe, tomorrow maybe.’
She nodded, disappointed but resigned. A sound behind her made Alice turn, but it was only a night bird in the bushes. To her right she could see the light burning in Clare Lees’ office.
‘We have to be careful.’
‘We’re always careful,’ Alice replied, not a little impatiently. How could he be so patient? She knew he cared for her.
Memory came in a tidal wave.
It had been a hot August day last summer, sun beating down the yard, dusty outside. Drowsy children had hung about listlessly in their dormitories, the staff idling in the corridors. Clare Lees had had visitors, the governors, the murmur of their voices coming low and lulling on the warm air. Alice, walking in the yard outside the main doors, had glanced over to the boys’ quarters – to see a tall, blond youth watching her.
Startled, she had looked away. Then turned back. He’d stared at her and then smiled slowly, as though it was something he was unused to doing. Nervous, Alice had looked away again, and when she had finally glanced back he had gone.
Yet later, still on that drowsy day which had hung its head to evening, when she walked back out into the yard he was there again, watching her.
‘Who are you?’ Alice had asked, walking over.
She had seen him on and off for years, but had never dared speak to him before. Well aware of the trouble she would be in if she was caught talking to one of the boys, Alice had glanced round to check that no one was watching her. She’d felt excited, her old spirit flaring.
He’d pressed his cheek to the bars. ‘I’m Victor, Victor Coates.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Eighteen. And you?’
‘Sixteen.’ She’d moved closer to him.
His eyes were steel grey, the lashes brown. It was a strong, open face, not at all alarming. After all that she had heard about boys and how they were not to be trusted, Alice had been disinclined to believe Clare Lees. What did she know, a spinster, a woman who had never had a man of her own?
‘We shouldn’t be talking …’
‘I know,’ Alice had agreed, her voice dropping further. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘Since I was seven.’
‘What happened?’
He’d frowned. ‘Huh?’
‘Why did you come here?’
‘My parents died.’ He had paused. ‘How about you?’
Alice had stared down at her feet. ‘My parents are dead too. I came here when I was only a year old.’ She’d looked back to him, fascinated. ‘Don’t you go out to work?’
He’d nodded. ‘I’m an apprentice at the cabinet-maker’s, Mr Dedlington’s.’
Alice had digested the information. An apprentice. That meant that Victor got out of Netherlands every day, went into Salford. A free man, almost.
‘Do you have to stay here?’
‘Until I’m qualified, yes,’ he’d replied, glancing over his shoulder. ‘I give my wages over every week to Miss Lees – I just get to keep enough for tobacco and a few bits and pieces.’
‘Why do you have to give up your money?’ she’d asked indignantly. ‘You earned it.’
‘It’s just the way things are here. When you start working, you’ll have to do the same.’
He had looked round again, knowing what he risked by being discovered. No more pocket money then, and in all likelihood they would take away his apprenticeship and give it to another boy. But he couldn’t tear himself away from Alice.
‘I’m not giving my money to them!’ she had replied hotly.
He had seen the flicker in her dark eyes and had been awed by her. ‘Are you working already?’
‘I’m learning how to be a teacher –’
He had whistled under his breath. A teacher, now that was really something.
‘You must be smart.’
‘Smart enough to want to get out of here,’ Alice had replied, leaning against the railings.
She had realised in that moment that this was the first conversation she had ever had as an equal. Ethel and Gilbert loved her, but she was a surrogate daughter to them. As for Hilly, she was grateful and looked up to Alice as her role model. But Victor was different; they had talked easily, from the heart.
‘You’ll get out in time.’
‘Not if Miss Lees has her way,’ Alice had replied quietly.
His curiosity had been stirred. ‘How d’you mean?’
‘She wants to train me up to be her assistant.’ Alice had replied. ‘I think she wants me to stay and eventually take over from her.’
Victor had been goggle-eyed with amazement.
‘God …’ Then he suddenly turned and moved away, leaving Alice standing alone by the gate.
But not for long; she too had heard the footsteps and had already been making her way back to the entrance when Evan Thomas moved in front of her.
‘Hello, Alice,’ he’d said pleasantly, his Welsh accent strong.
‘Hello, sir,’ she’d replied, moving past him.
Immediately he had stepped into her way.
‘You look pretty this afternoon, Alice.’ She had said nothing. ‘Pretty as a picture. Almost flushed about the cheeks. What’s that with, then?’
‘The heat, sir,’ she had replied coolly.
He couldn’t have seen her talking to Victor or he would have reported her to Miss Lees already. No, Alice had realised, he was just fishing, scenting something in the air.
‘You want to watch overheating yourself, Alice. You should stay indoors and not excite yourself.’
She had looked him square in the eyes. I know you don’t like me, Alice had thought. But I’m not going to be stupid enough to let you catch me out.
‘You’re right, sir,’ she’d said at last, walking past him. ‘Thank you for your concern.’
That day was almost a year ago, and since that time Alice and Victor had become more than friends. As Clare Lees relied more and more on her protégée, she little realised that Alice was sneaking off to meet Victor Coates whenever she could. Although she had bored of her evening wanderings, Alice now found a new reason to escape Netherlands. Victor might protest, insist that they were heading for trouble, but he always gave in.
They would usually meet under the viaduct, Alice waiting impatiently, or running to Victor if he arrived first. What began as an innocent prank soon altered, though; their friendship was immediate – and so was their attraction. Aware of her age and wary of her exuberance, Victor tried to resist. But they were children who had had little affection in their lives and now took it, greedily, from one another.
It was dangerous in more ways than one. If Clare Lees found out, Alice’s rise would be over and the hated Welshman would become the favourite again. And with him would go Dolly Blake, clinging to his coat-tails like an angry beggar. Then what would there be left for Alice? Going into service, or a factory. But there was something else to consider. If they were caught Victor would be sent away. Alice shivered. If Victor was sent away, her life would be empty. And she couldn’t follow him, because she would never know where he had gone. They would never tell her.
She couldn’t bear that; couldn’t stomach the thought of losing him. They had tried to resist each other, only touching hands at first and whispering to each other, but after a year passed every touch of the hand became more powerful than the last. Her voice he heard above everyone else’s; his face she saw amongst the scores of children at the home. They had found love in each other and were holding on to it against all the odds. And the very danger of their situation made their feelings stronger daily.
So the months passed. With Clare Lees, Alice was dutiful and patient. She would made a fine teacher, Clare said, it was good to know that the future would be in a steady pair of hands. Ethel was proud of her too. As was Gilbert. But at night Alice forgot every duty heaped on her head and crept out to the town. Or, as this evening, to the partition railings where she rested her cheek against the bars, only an inch away from Victor’s.
‘Do you love me?’ she asked, looking up at the huge summer moon.
‘You know I do,’ he whispered.
She moved towards him, her hands pressed against the bars. ‘Then why don’t we run away?’
‘They’d catch us!’
‘They wouldn’t!’ Alice replied firmly. ‘Don’t you want us to be together?’
‘More than anything,’ Victor replied, ‘but it would be wrong. We have to wait, Alice. I’m nineteen now; when I reach twenty-one I’ll have finished my apprenticeship and we can get married –’
‘That’s two years from now!’ Alice replied, her face half lit by the yellow moon. ‘How can you ask me to wait two years? You don’t have to work with Clare Lees. You don’t want to get away from here as much as I do.’
He caught hold of her hand. She could get so excited, he thought, so fired up.
‘Ssssh!’ he warned her. ‘Two years isn’t long, Alice. I love you, you know that. If we wait we can do it right –’
She pulled her hand away from his. ‘I don’t want to do it right! I want to live now, not in two years’ time. Anything could happen in two years!’ Her voice rose suddenly and she got to her feet to move away.
Hurriedly Victor caught at the hem of her summer dress.
‘Hey! Don’t run away, let’s talk, Alice, please.’
But she was past talking that night. Angrily she pulled away her skirt and moved off, Victor watching her as she turned and walked through the heavy double doors of the entrance hall.
He waited for her at the viaduct the following night, and the night afterwards. But she didn’t come. On the third night he waited in the rain and then, after midnight, turned to leave. Only then did he hear her footsteps and moved back to the railings, just as Alice – wet hair sticking to her head – ran to him and brushed her lips hotly against his neck.
Victor’s hand grasped hers. ‘Oh, thank God, thank God. I thought you’d never come again.’
‘I had to,’ Alice replied. She had tried to keep away, but couldn’t resist any longer. ‘I missed you, I missed you so much.’
‘Then you agree that we’ll wait?’ Victor asked her, holding her face in his hands.
‘Yes, yes!’ she said, tossing her wet hair away from her face. ‘If I can … I’ll try, Victor. But I hate it at Netherlands. I hate it more and more every day. I’m lying to everyone, even Ethel. As for Clare Lees, I’m betraying her and it makes me feel so guilty.’
‘But she was never kind to you.’
‘I know,’ Alice agreed, ‘I know! But all this creeping about’s not funny any more. I care about you, Victor. It was a joke at first, but now, if anyone found out and they sent you away …’ She took in a quick breath and he clung on to her.
‘No one will, we just have to be careful, that’s all.’ He could sense her panic, her alarm. ‘Calm down, Alice, please. We have to be very careful and wait.’
She nodded, the rain falling down from the dark sky.
‘We have to meet less often –’
‘No!’ she shouted, her arms wrapping around him, her body pressing against his. He was aware of her scent and passion, aware that he wanted her more than anything.
‘Sweetheart, you know as well as I do that we can’t hide our feelings,’ he said quietly, his hands moving into her hair and turning her face up to his.
Slowly he kissed her cheeks, her closed eyelids, her mouth, his excitement rising, their bodies moulded into each other. He thought, for a drowsy instant, that he was drowning.
Suddenly he drew away. ‘Alice, we have to be more careful. We’ll give ourselves away. Someone will see us if we don’t hold back a bit.’
‘I can’t live without you.’
‘We’ll meet up every Sunday night. Every Sunday, here at the viaduct. If one of us can’t get away, we’ll meet at the railings at Netherlands after lights out.’ He kissed the tips of her fingers. ‘Alice, we have to be clever and get through this. We have to be cunning for another two years. Then we’re free. You understand, don’t you? You can do what I ask, can’t you, sweetheart? Can’t you?’
Her heart was pumping fast, her head spinning. How many Sundays were there in two years? Could she live through them? But what was the choice? If she was careless she lost Victor. And if she lost Victor, she lost everything.
Her hand went up to his face and cupped his cheek.
‘I love you,’ she said earnestly. ‘The time will pass quickly, Victor, won’t it? It will, won’t it?’
In the courtyard of Netherland Evan Thomas lit a cigarette and then carefully blew out the match. He sniffed the air and then brushed some nonexistent fluff off his shoulder. Summer nights – he usually hated them. Too hot to sleep, too hot to work. But not too hot to walk … His full lips curled into a satisfied smile and he inhaled deeply.
Women were all the same. They could never keep their heads. He slipped back into the shadows and watched as Alice ran noiselessly back into the home. Now where had she been? he wondered. She had obviously sneaked out, but to where? And why?
The Welshman smiled again, truly happy. Alice Rimmer had caused him some grief, but perhaps he would soon be able to repay the compliment. All he had to do was to watch her and find out what she was up to, then he could expose her … She had been so smug, so certain of her standing with Clare Lees. She had usurped him good and proper. But that was all about to change. When their beloved principal learned that her protégée was not quite as perfect as she seemed … Oh yes, Evan could imagine the fracas which would follow. Clare would feel betrayed and would be sure to punish Alice. Off the pedestal the girl would go, and back on would go Evan.