Cathy Sharp - Christmas for the Halfpenny Orphans

‘Jenni was as soft as butter over kids and I dare say she’d have loved her,’ Aunt Jane said, a bitter twist to her mouth, ‘but she’s gone and Ernie has never been the same since. He drinks because he can’t bear it that she’s gone and he hates Sarah.’

‘It isn’t fair,’ Samantha said. ‘Sarah doesn’t mean to break things but she’s clumsy and it just happens …’

‘Well, I’ve told you why your pa drinks and I’ve made my offer,’ Aunt Jane said in her blunt manner. ‘Your pa doesn’t want either of you and he’s made up his mind to go away to work at sea – and that means you’ll be on your own. I’ll take you in, Samantha, and gladly – but I won’t have her. She should be in a proper home where they take care of girls like that … I could ask at St Saviour’s. I hear Sister Beatrice is a good woman, even though she’s a nun and I can’t abide them as a rule …’

Samantha had looked at her beautiful sister and wondered how her aunt could speak so coldly of her beloved twin, who was so innocent and lovely. Her soft fair hair framed perfect features and her wide blue eyes were soft, slightly vacant and dreamy, but her smile was like sunshine, the light coming from her sometimes so bright that it made her twin blink with its radiance. Samantha knew that although twins, they weren’t exactly alike; her hair was a darker blonde, her eyes more grey than blue, and they could clash with storm clouds when she was angry – or that’s what Melanie had told her when Samantha flew into a temper to protect her sister.

Why did her aunt want to put Sarah in a home? It wrenched at Samantha’s heart to think of being separated from the twin she loved and she vowed that she would do anything to keep them together, but she wouldn’t tell her aunt that; she’d only get angry and tell her she was a fool.

‘There’s nothing wrong with Sarah, except that she’s slow sometimes,’ Samantha said, facing up to her aunt. ‘I’m nearly eleven now. I’ve been helping Sarah to wash and dress, and making supper and breakfast for us all since Melanie left – and I can look after us both. I shan’t go anywhere that Sarah isn’t welcome.’

‘Suit yourself then,’ her aunt said, pulling on neat grey gloves. She was dressed all in grey without a touch of colour, and Samantha knew her house was dull and dark, much like her. If she’d gone there without Sarah there would be no sunshine left in her world. She loved Sarah with all her heart and she was never going to abandon her, no matter what anyone said. ‘The offer is there, but I shan’t run after you – and I won’t take her. The best place for her is a mental asylum …’

Samantha hadn’t answered her – she was too upset and angry. Why could no one see that her twin was the dearest, sweetest girl ever? Willing and obedient, she did everything Samantha told her and she never screamed defiance or did anything naughty – and it certainly wasn’t her fault that she’d broken Pa’s favourite pipe.

Despite his unkindness and careless brutality, Sarah adored her father and she often picked up his slippers or a discarded jacket, nursing the object in her arms and crooning a song that no one else understood. Samantha had tried to make out the words but, although tuneful and pretty, the song’s meaning was unclear.

Earlier that evening, while Samantha prepared Pa’s tea so it would be ready for him when he came home, Sarah had helped by laying the table in the big kitchen, as she’d been shown. When Samantha came through from the back scullery with a pot of hot potatoes, she’d seen that her twin had taken down Pa’s pipe rack from the shelf and was stroking one of the pipes. Samantha had immediately been anxious, because the delicate long-handled clay pipe was one of Pa’s favourites.

‘Put that down, Sarah, and help me with the dishes,’ she said.

The sound of her voice had jerked Sarah out of the dream she’d been in, her fingers snapping the long thin stem of the pipe.

‘Oh, Sarah,’ she cried, distressed, knowing what it would mean. ‘What have you done?’

Sarah had dissolved into tears and before either of them realised it, Pa had come in and was staring at the broken pipe.

‘You little devil!’ he said and lunged at Sarah, swiping her across the face with his fist. He was a big man and strong; the force of the blow knocked the fragile girl off her feet and sent her crashing into the oak dresser, causing a china teapot to tumble from the shelf and break into pieces on the floor. ‘Now what have you done? Child of Satan, that’s what you are!’ Pa roared at her. ‘That belonged to your sainted mother. I’ll kill you. I’ve had enough of your wickedness—’

Sarah stared at him in horror and then ran from the room before he could hit her again.

‘Pa, she didn’t mean to do it!’ Samantha said, throwing herself between them. She was still holding the pot of hot potatoes and when Pa caught hold of her, he burned his hand on the pot. ‘It was an accident … Oh, Pa, I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to burn you.’

Pa thrust her away but instead of going after Sarah, he picked up his jacket and went out of the kitchen, pausing at the door to glance back at Samantha. ‘If I find you still here when I get back, I’ll kill the pair of you,’ he threatened before storming out.

Samantha had placed the cooking pot on the floor near the range to keep warm and then gone in search of her sister. She’d found her under the bed in their room and it had taken several minutes to coax her out.

‘Sarah didn’t mean to …’ she sobbed in Samantha’s arms. ‘Pa’s cross with Sarah?’

‘Yes, Pa is cross,’ Samantha said and hugged her. ‘But he’ll go down the pub and have a few drinks and forget about it. Come to the kitchen and have some supper. We’ll put Pa’s in the range to keep warm for him.’

It had taken Samantha ages to bring her sister downstairs and even then she ate only a few mouthfuls of the food. Sarah had left her sitting on the lumpy sofa in the kitchen while she washed the pots in the scullery. After the kitchen was tidy she took her sister upstairs and put her to bed. Pa had threatened things before when he was angry, but then he would get over it and perhaps bring them a packet of chips home for their tea the next day.

Only this time he hadn’t got over his temper.

Samantha had woken to the sound of her twin’s screams, something she’d heard so seldom that she knew Sarah must be terrified. As her eyes accustomed themselves to the light, which came from a lamp in the hall, she saw Sarah lying on the floor and Pa standing over her, kicking her as if she were a piece of filth he’d found in the gutter, his savagery beyond anything Samantha had ever seen.

Without stopping to think, Samantha seized the chamber pot and flung the contents over her father. Some of the wee went into his face and must have stung his eyes for he was temporarily blinded and screamed out in a mixture of pain and frustration.

‘You hellcat, you’ve blinded me!’ he cried, stumbling towards her, his hands flailing to grab hold of her.

Samantha pulled her twin to her feet and propelled her along the landing and down the stairs, seeking refuge in the large cupboard under the stairs. She pushed Sarah right to the end and crawled after her, shoving some empty cardboard boxes in front of them in an effort to conceal their whereabouts if Pa looked inside.