The Girl in the Ragged Shawl

Ruth was waiting for her and had saved a place for her. Every day Ruth fetched a piece of the coarse brown bread and soup for them both, as well as a cup of water.

That day the soup was vegetable but there was a flavour of something more and Ruth told her that Cook had used the bone left over from the master’s ham to flavour their soup and put a little goodness in it.

‘You’re tired, Eliza,’ Ruth said as Eliza swallowed a little of the liquid which tasted better than usual. ‘They work you to death in that damned place – and you’re not strong enough for such labour.’

‘I’m all right,’ Eliza said and summoned enough strength to smile at her. She looked around her but could see no sign of Joe. ‘Have you seen or heard what happened to Joe, Ruth?’

‘No, my lovely, I be none the wiser than you. ’Tis whispered he was beaten but Jigger told me he was made to sweep up in the rope store. Mebbe the master thought he was better at work than in the hole. Though it seems he has not been sent for his supper.’ It was forbidden for the men to speak to the women but there were times when a trustee like Jigger was sent over to their side of the workhouse to do some work and he always passed on messages, even though he risked a beating for disobedience.

‘Joe will be so hungry,’ Eliza said, because she knew what it felt like to be beaten and sent to bed with no supper, though often Ruth smuggled something to her, even if it was only a crust of bread.

An idea came to Eliza as she ran the last little piece of her bread round her soup plate and swallowed it. She was still hungry even after their meal and she knew Joe’s stomach would be aching from the pain of hunger. She looked along the line of women and children. Not one of them had left a crumb of bread. No food was ever wasted on this side of the dining room because there was never enough.

If she wanted to smuggle some food to Joe she would have to go to the kitchen and beg something from Cook. She thought the kindly woman might be sympathetic, because she sometimes gave Ruth bits of leftover food from the master and mistress’s table. Master liked his food and did not stint on what he gave Cook to provide for his meals; the mistress contributed nothing for her food but dined with her brother and shared his. Yet even so there was often a piece of soft white bread or a small corner of cheese left over. Cook was fair and would share the extras with the inmates who were currently in her favour. Most people took care never to upset Cook, because the scraps she dispensed could mean the difference between survival and near starvation, particularly on the women’s side. The men’s food was a little better and they had a nourishing stew three times a week with potatoes and sometimes carrots or turnips in season. So Cook saved her scraps for the women and children.

Eliza made an excuse that she needed to relieve herself and stole away to the kitchens when the inmates were lining up for evening prayers. Every night after supper, the master led them in prayers of thankfulness for what they had been given and gave them a little lecture on the evils of sloth and idleness. Eliza was unnoticed as she slipped out of the hall and ran to the kitchens.

Cook was polishing one of her saucepans when she entered, breathing hard. She looked at the girl through narrowed eyes as Eliza struggled for breath.

‘You want something for Joe, don’t you?’

‘Yes, please, Cook, if you will be so kind as to give me a piece of bread and a little milk.’

‘I cannot spare the milk, child, but I have bread – and there’s a piece of cheese, and …’ She hesitated, then went to the pantry and brought out a half-eaten pie, from which she cut a chunky slice. ‘This be apple pie, Eliza. I doubt you’ve ever tasted it, but ’tis tasty and will help moisten his mouth. ‘I’ll wrap it in a bit of linen and you can hide it inside your tunic. If mistress sees it we’ll both be in for it so be careful.’

‘Yes, I will thank you. You be so kind to us, Cook.’

‘Well, well, ’tis only right,’ she muttered beneath her breath. ‘It breaks a body’s heart to see what that woman makes folk suffer. When I was a lass I worked in the kitchen as the lowest of the low, Eliza, but Cook fed me and she taught me about good food. She would turn in her grave if she saw what I have to put up with here for she believed in good ingredients, and if you tasted her apple pie you would think you’d gone to Heaven.’

Eliza’s interest was caught. ‘Where did you live when you were a girl, Cook?’

‘I don’t remember the name of the house,’ Cook said with a sigh, ‘but I recall ’twas near the sea. I think ’twas on the South Coast, near a place called Bournemouth but I never went there in my life. When Cook retired, mistress made me Cook in her place for I had learned all that I could and she took me with her when the great house was sold and they came to London town. The family had fallen on hard times and it was a much smaller house. The master drank, you see, and lost his fortune. Then he died and mistress was forced to sell up and go to live with her sister. She took her personal maid but the rest of us were let go.’

‘Did you come here as an inmate then?’

‘No, I worked for an elderly gentleman for some time – but in the end he died too and then I cooked for working men on the docks at a canteen there for it was all I could find. They were rough-tongued but it was well enough, until I fell afoul of a rogue. He persuaded me to run off with him and be his mistress and like a fool I did, and he left me when I became pregnant. That was when I came here until I had the child and it died soon after it was born. I would have left then for I could always find work but the late mistress asked me if I would cook for them; she was a good woman and I stayed for her – and here I be until this day. It be not such a bad place afore the old mistress died – though we did often suffer the cholera and ’twas that killed her. Mr Stoneham told the master it be the old water pipes and he put in fresh and since then ’tis not visited us.’

‘I’m so glad you stayed here,’ Eliza said, and her eyes stung with tears. ‘You and Ruth are all that makes this place bearable.’

‘Well then, child, off you go,’ Cook said. ‘Keep that food safe and take the lad a little water in this cup. You must bring it back to me when you can.’

‘Yes, Cook. I shall.’ Eliza left with her precious bundle inside her clothes. Cook’s kindness had made weepy and she felt tears on her cheek, which she swiped away with the back of her hand. Cook’s story was sad but not as bad as many of the men and women who came to the workhouse. She’d had a good life until she allowed a rogue to deceive her.

It was dark when Eliza crept from her bed and moved noiselessly between the rows of sleeping women. To reach the boy’s dorms Eliza had to leave the women’s wing and cross to the men’s side, which she did by climbing through a window that had no bars because it led only to the inner courtyard. The main door of the men’s wing was locked, and she was not privy to the key, but it was easy enough to go through the window at the back of the workroom where the men made hemp ropes. This was never locked, because the room needed plenty of fresh air while the men worked, and Eliza was aware of it as were most of the inmates, and she was not the only one to use it that night. When she entered the workroom, she saw one of the men entering through the window. His name was Jamie and he had a wife and son in the workhouse; he’d spoken to her kindly a few times in the past. He put his finger to his lips.

‘You will not tell you saw me?’ he said, because if he was discovered out of his dorm he would be punished. She shook her head. ‘Good girl. Joe’s not in his dorm but in the cellar. My boy is sick in the infirmary, and I sneaked out to visit him. Master sent him to bed after the work was done, but he told me that mistress put Joe in the cellar. I thought I would take him this later.’ Jamie pulled a piece of bread and a little stone bottle out from under his shirt, which he offered to her ‘Water.’

Eliza thanked him but said, ‘I shall take the water, but you keep the bread. I have food.’ She knew he must have saved the bread from his own ration. She turned back from the window because she knew the way to the cellar well enough.

She returned to the hall and then found her way in the semi-darkness by pressing her hand against the wall until she reached the cellar door. When she reached it she fumbled for the lock and found the key was still there. Mistress left it there so that she could not be blamed if the child died; she’d sworn that Eliza had shut herself in and no doubt she would swear the same of Joe.

Turning the key, Eliza removed it and put it in her pocket. She went inside, leaving the door slightly ajar so that the faint light from a window showed her the steep stairs. Her hand against the wall for there was no rail, Eliza gingerly moved down the steps one by one.

‘Joe, are you there?’ she called.

‘Eliza – is that you?’ his voice answered, and she could just see a dark shape. He had been lying on the floor of the cellar but now he was standing and he moved towards her. ‘Stand still. I can see in the dark; I’ll come to you.’

Eliza did as he told her and the next moment she felt him touch her hands, drawing her in further. She stumbled against something and he steadied her.

‘It’s a wooden crate I found to sit on,’ he said ‘and there are sacks. I made a bed of them.’

‘I did not find them when I was shut in here with the rats.’ She shuddered.

Joe laughed. ‘I be not afraid of them. I like to hear them moving about – and they be clever, rats.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ll tell you when I be ready,’ Joe said, and then, a new note in his voice. ‘Why did you come, Eliza? If mistress finds out, she’ll beat you.’

‘I don’t care. She hits me all the time,’ Eliza told him. ‘I brought you food, Joe. I didn’t want you to go hungry as I did.’

‘How did you get in for I know the door was locked?’

‘Mistress left the key in the door. I nearly died in here, Joe, and she was afraid if you died she would be blamed so she left the key – and I have it, so she cannot lock us in.’

‘You’m be clever like the rats,’ Joe said and hugged her. ‘And brave. Not everyone would do what you have, little Eliza.’

‘You’re my friend,’ Eliza said. ‘I asked Cook and she gave me food – a piece of bread, cheese and a slice of apple pie.’

‘A feast fit for a king,’ Joe said and there was laughter in his voice. ‘Sit here on my box and share it with me, Eliza.’

‘I have supped; it is for you.’ She pressed the parcel into his hands.

‘Nay, we shall share it,’ Joe insisted. ‘It is a bond between us, Eliza. One day we shall leave here. The rats will show us the way and if you give me the cellar key it will make our escape easier and sooner.’

Joe had broken the cheese as he spoke and gave a piece to Eliza. She put it in her mouth and the taste made the moisture run for she had seldom had anything so good and when Joe gave her a piece of the pie and told her to eat it with the cheese she sighed with pleasure.

‘It be like Heaven,’ she said. ‘Be we both dead, Joe?’

‘No, we’re alive, and one day we’ll be free,’ he said and smiled at her. ‘You’m be my girl one day, Eliza. No matter if they part us – no matter what happens to us, you mind what I say. We were meant to be together and one day I’ll make it happen. I swear it on my heart – now swear on yours that you’ll be mine.’ Joe took her hand and placed it over her chest. ‘Swear, Eliza. Swear to be true …’

‘I swear it, Joe. I swear it on my heart …’ Eliza felt the touch of his lips on her cheek and his arm about her. It was at that moment that the door of the cellar was flung open and at the top of the stairs stood the master and the mistress, both holding a candlestick and looking down at them.

‘I know you’re there, you little slut,’ mistress said viciously, though she could not see down into the darkness of the cellar. ‘Your master would not believe you so wicked – but I knew you had stolen food to bring that gypsy brat.’

Eliza wanted to protest that she’d been given the food, but if she did that Cook would be in trouble. The food she gave to the women and children did not belong to Cook; it was the property of the master and Cook could be branded a thief. Eliza knew that she must take the blame.

In the darkness of the well of the cellar, she handed the key to Joe, who slipped it inside his tunic. He squeezed her arm and whispered to her and she nodded, for Joe could see clearer than she in the darkness.

‘Our time will come, believe,’ he whispered as she walked towards the mistress and began to ascend the steps

‘You shouldn’t have put him here to starve like you did me,’ she said boldly as she reached the top of the steps and received a sharp slap across her head.

‘Insolent child!’ Mistress Simpkins took hold of her arm, her fingers digging into her upper arm so that Eliza almost cried out with the pain. ‘I shall tell Cook that you are on short rations again tomorrow.’

‘I don’t care what you do to me,’ Eliza defied her. ‘He is my friend.’

‘You dirty little slut! What have you been doing with that gypsy?’ the mistress demanded and grabbed hold of Eliza’s arm as she reached the top of the cellar. Rutting like the beast you are no doubt. ‘Give me the key!’

‘I do not have it,’ Eliza answered boldly. ‘The door was unlocked and there was no key.’

‘Liar!’ The mistress slapped her face. ‘The key was there for I left it so.’

‘Then someone must have taken it,’ Eliza said and held her head high.

For her pains she received another slap and Mistress Simpkins would have continued to beat her but the master intervened.

‘Perhaps you mislaid it yourself, sister. Take her back where she belongs. I shall deal with the boy. He is my ward. Come up here to me, Joe. I have something to say to you.’

Eliza looked back as she was dragged off by the furious Mistress Simpkins and saw Joe emerge from the cellar. She saw the master give him a cuff round the ear and their eyes met before she was pushed around the corner and out into the courtyard.

‘You may wait out here until I’m ready to speak to you and I shall want to know how you managed to get out of your dorm,’ the mistress said as they reached her office. She slapped Eliza several times on the arms and head. ‘Sit in the corridor and wait – and if you dare to disobey me I’ll thrash you until you can neither lie down nor sit.’

Eliza did not answer, nor did she hang her head. It was cold and she was sleepy but if the mistress wished it, she would have to wait all day and go without both her breakfast and perhaps her supper. Yet it had been worth it for the pleasure of sitting with Joe and eating delicious apple pie and cheese, and if Eliza died now she would keep the memory in her heart forever.

CHAPTER 5

Joe was put back to work with the men working on the rope the next day and Eliza met him when they gathered for the mid-day meal. They were not supposed to mingle, and talking at mealtimes was strictly forbidden, but Joe lingered at the serving table and brushed against her as Eliza went up to get a drink of water.

‘I’ll meet you tonight in the cellar,’ he whispered. Eliza looked at him and nodded, because she knew what she risked if she was caught but she wanted to spend time with Joe and it was the only way.

‘No talking there,’ the master said and glared at them. Joe winked at her before walking off to join the men he’d been working with that day.

‘Be careful, Eliza, love,’ Ruth said when she sat down next to her. ‘If mistress sees you, she’ll punish you again.’

Eliza nodded but didn’t answer. Her heart was singing because now she knew that she had a true friend other than Ruth and she felt drawn to him in a way she could not explain. Joe had said they were bound to each other and Eliza believed him. Having somewhere they could meet and talk without fear of being seen or heard was worth any risk and she could hardly wait for darkness to fall.

She looked at the men working on breaking stones in the yard as she left the dining hall and walked back to the laundry for another stint of hard work. Each man was hammering at large rocks, which they had to break down into small stones for use in building the new railways that were gradually spreading all over the country. Eliza didn’t know what a train looked like but the men who worked on the stones had told Ruth that these stones went between the lines that held the great fire-breathing monsters that ran on them.

Some of the younger boys were sweeping the yard, and two old women sat on stools picking over rags and putting them into baskets. Their clothes were little better than the rags they sorted and their long grey hair straggled about their heads. One was coughing and looked so ill that Eliza thought she ought to be in the infirmary instead of working in the bitter cold.

Entering the laundry, Eliza found Joe’s clothes, which she’d hidden once they were dry, and tucked them inside her dress. Her coarse, striped apron hid the bulge and she would give them to Joe that evening so that he could hide them somewhere ready for when he ran away.

‘You came then?’ Joe greeted her as she crept down the cellar steps that night and he guided her to the upturned crate where they could sit and talk. ‘I thought you might not be able – or that you would fear what that old witch would do to you.’

‘I hate her – and she will punish me if she finds out,’ Eliza said, ‘but I don’t care. You’re my friend, Joe. I want to be with you.’

‘I’m going to run away soon,’ Joe told her. ‘I think there is a way out of the cellar, a tunnel that leads to outside the walls. I stole a piece of candle from my dorm and I’m going to find the entrance and then, when I’m ready, we’ll both go – we’ll leave this place together and never come back.’

‘Oh, Joe!’ Eliza gave a little squeal of excitement. ‘You promise you’ll take me with you when you escape?’

‘I promise,’ Joe said and caught her hand, pressing it to his chest. ‘If they prevent us some way, I won’t forget you – and I’ll come back for you.’

‘I promise I’ll never forget you,’ Eliza said and sat snuggled up to his shoulder. They had no feast that night, nor in all the nights that followed that week and the next, but the warmth of friendship kept Eliza warm as no blanket ever had in this terrible place. Even her love for Ruth, the woman who had cared for her as a mother, did not make her feel like this. Joe was special, and she knew that nothing could ever make her forget him even if they were parted.

Sitting in the dark, hugging her precious ragged shawl about her, listening to Joe talk about his family and his travels from one country to another, took Eliza to the outside world, opening her mind to the idea that there was a different life – another place where it was possible to be happy and not to live in fear. Now that Joe was her friend, Eliza believed that it would not be long before she was free to leave the workhouse. She would go with Joe and they would find work somewhere while they waited for Joe’s father to be released from prison and then she would live with them in their caravan and go to wonderful places that she had never heard of.

‘I have a disobedient girl I want schooling,’ Joan said to the man who sat in her office drinking ale one morning, some twelve days after the gypsy boy arrived. Her visitor was a gentleman by birth, but his secret trade was not one he would ever wish his family to know of and he and Joan had done business more than once in the past. ‘What will you pay me for her? She is fresh and well-looking enough if she’s washed and clothed as your clients like.’

‘How old is she?’ the man asked, eyes narrowed. ‘Some interfering fool is making a fuss in the House of Lords about young girls being used for immoral purposes and if she was seen on the premises I might lose everything. Most of the time my clients turn a blind eye, but recently I’ve heard some of them question a girl’s age before they buy her services.’

Joan glared at him. In the past he’d been only too eager to take the younger girls. She knew he liked them himself and often used them first before passing them on to his rich clients. Only if the girl was virgin and very lovely did he keep her fresh for the highest bidder.

‘It is all very well for you, but we had an agreement. What am I to do with her? She defies me at every turn and beating her does no good – besides, the last time she nearly died and one of the governors told me if it happened again I should lose my place here.’

‘That would be Stoneham, I dare swear?’ her visitor said and nodded. He swore and spat on the floor, drawing a frown from Joan. She disliked his coarse manners, and would not have admitted him to her rooms had he not proved both useful and generous in the past. ‘He never visits my place nor any other brothel from what I can gather – sanctimonious fool! He has been stirring things in the background and one of his friends spoke in the Lords for half an hour concerning young girls – the white slave trade, he called it. What else is there for little guttersnipes but lying on their backs to earn their keep? Tell me that! They get food, clothes, a warm bed and a few shillings – left to themselves they’d sell their bodies for food and gin and sleep in the gutter, so where’s the harm? I swear they’re better off in my house. Damn the Honourable Toby Rattan and his friends! Such nonsense gets into the newssheets and it makes the clients edgy. They fear exposure for many of them have reputations to lose.’

‘And wives and children they would not wish to know of their guilty pleasures,’ Joan said, nodding in understanding. ‘I am disappointed, sir. I had hoped you would take her off my hands.’ It was inconvenient that he’d had an attack of conscience regarding young girls. Despite putting the girl on short rations and threatening her, Eliza still looked defiant and there was a smile in her eyes that irked Joan.

‘You should sell her to a master who would work her until she was too exhausted to defy him.’ Her visitor smiled unpleasantly. ‘He will use her in whatever way he chooses and no one will question him, for she will be his servant, and bought from the workhouse she has no rights – or none that she knows of. The law has double standards, for if it was known he took advantage of her in my house they would deem it unlawful, but in his own, none will know or care.’

‘Yes …’ She smiled cruelly. ‘I could not be blamed if she died at her master’s hands. I hired her to him in good faith – in the hope and belief she would have a new and useful life.’

‘Exactly.’ His eyes met hers in amused agreement. ‘Once all this fuss has died down I’ll take the girls again.’

‘I think I’ve found the way out,’ Joe told Eliza when she joined him that night. She’d managed to find a piece of soft bread in the kitchen, which she shared with him. ‘As I thought, it’s a tunnel of sorts. Once this cellar had a chute for coal outside the walls of the house. It has become neglected, covered by debris and filled in with earth and filth – but I can dig it out with my hands and a small digging tool I stole from the vegetable garden. Someone had left it lying on the ground and I took it.’ Eliza looked at him doubtfully in the darkness. ‘Well,’ Joe protested, ‘he should’ve taken more care of it!’

Eliza shook her head. Stealing food was punishable by restrictions and being shut up alone, but stealing a valuable tool from the vegetable plot was serious – Joe could be taken to the magistrate and sent to prison, which she’d heard from Ruth was much worse than being here. He might be birched, and he would be made to do hard work, perhaps even harder than he did now.

‘You must be careful, Joe.’

He laughed. ‘I shan’t get caught. I’ve hidden it with my clothes and the key to the cellar, and, as soon as we’re ready we’ll steal some food from the kitchen and then we’ll escape at night.’

‘Yes, I’m ready to go,’ Eliza said. ‘Can I help you clear away the debris?’