Cathy Sharp - The Little Runaways

‘So the drinking isn’t the worst of it, then.’ Angela reached across the kitchen table to squeeze his hand. ‘I’m truly sorry – but what can we do? She needs help …’

‘Mark says there is a very good clinic in Switzerland that would help with all her problems – the only trouble is your mother will not hear of it. She insists that nothing is wrong with her and said she hadn’t realised she’d run up large bills and promised not to do it again.’

‘What about the stolen stuff?’

‘She absolutely refuses to acknowledge that she took anything.’

‘It makes things so difficult for you, Dad. What are you going to do?’

‘I can’t force her to go away. She is my wife and I must try to protect her as best I can. I’ve told her she can’t use the car in future and the bus only goes into town twice a week. I’ll try to make sure she doesn’t catch it unless I can go with her – what more can I do?’

‘I don’t know,’ Angela said. He’d closed his eyes, as if he found the worry almost unbearable. ‘What about you? Are you all right?’

‘Just a little tired,’ he said, but she had the feeling that he wasn’t telling her everything. ‘I’ve seen my doctor and he advises cutting down on work.’

‘You must try not to worry. If you need me I could come down at a couple of hours’ notice. You know I would stay if you thought it would help.’

‘I don’t think she would take any notice even of you, Angela. I had hoped that she would make an effort for Christmas – as she did for the dance she organised for your charity.’ He sighed deeply. ‘She used to have good days and I kept hoping – but her drinking is getting worse. She would only drink sherry or wine once, but now she will drink whatever she can get.’

‘I wish I could do more.’

‘Just being able to tell you has helped a lot,’ he said and smiled. ‘Mark has offered to advise her but so far she just refuses to listen.’

‘I see …’

Angela turned away to pour more coffee, distressed by the news of her mother’s illness. Mrs Phyllis Hendry was the last person to drink to excess or steal from shops – at least she always had been. Angela couldn’t imagine what had happened to change the rather snobbish, intelligent woman she loved but couldn’t quite like, into this person who drank too much and stole things. Yet Mark’s attitude had distressed her more – or perhaps hurt was a more apt word. Yes, she was hurt that he’d decided he couldn’t tell Angela in case it made her break down. Had he thought she would turn to drinking like her mother?

She felt a little diminished, too. She’d turned to Mark in her grief over John’s terrible death, sobbing out her pain on the shoulder he offered – but now she felt patronised. When he’d suggested the job at St Saviour’s she’d thought he trusted and respected her – but if he felt anything for Angela, he would not have hidden her mother’s secret from her. There was little Angela could do here, it seemed, but at least she could offer her father support.

‘If you need me – anything, you have only to call, Dad.’

‘Yes, I know,’ he said. ‘Now go up and talk to your mother. She’s feeling a little fragile – and ashamed. Try to make peace with her before you leave, my love.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Angela said and kissed his cheek. ‘I do love you, Daddy.’

‘I love you,’ he replied. ‘You’re the light of my life and always will be. Please don’t worry. I’ll manage somehow. Perhaps in time she will agree to go somewhere they can help her …’

‘I’m cold, Nance, and ’ungry,’ Terry sniffed, and wiped his dripping nose on his coat sleeve. ‘When are we goin’ ’ome?’

‘We can’t go home, love,’ Nancy said, and put her arm round his thin shoulders, pulling him close in an effort to inject some warmth into them both.

‘Why not?’ He tugged at her arm. ‘I want me ma …’

‘Don’t you remember what happened?’ she asked him. Terry shook his head and Nancy bit her lip, because he surely couldn’t have forgotten the terrifying events that had led them to flee the house as it was burning. Nancy had such terrible pictures in her head of the door of their parents’ room. It had been blazing by the time she’d reached the landing and saw her brother staring wide-eyed at the door. She’d known immediately that it was impossible to reach them, and as Terry started to scream, Nancy had seized him and pulled him down the stairs, grabbing coats and a hunk of bread that had been left on the table earlier. There just hadn’t been time to bring anything else; besides, there was never much food in the house.

‘We shan’t talk about it then, Terry.’ What was she going to do? Nancy hadn’t thought past their escape from the fire, but now after several days hiding in a disused shed on the Docks, and eating only the scraps of food that she could beg from a night watchman, she was beginning to realise they couldn’t stay here for much longer.

‘Nance, me stomach hurts …’ Terry whined, and rubbed grubby fingers at his face. ‘I want ter go ’ome …’

‘Shush … someone is coming,’ Nance hissed at him. She clutched hold of her brother’s arm as the door was opened and a large man in working clothes entered. She’d thought no one came near this place, and that they were safe from discovery because the Dock workers were still having their Christmas break. ‘Let me do the talking, Terry. Don’t say anything but agree with whatever I say.’

‘What ’ave we got ’ere then?’ the man said, and frowned as Nancy pushed her brother behind her.

‘We’re not doing any harm, mister,’ she said defensively. ‘We’ve got nowhere to go …’

‘Why aren’t you at ’ome?’ he asked, and then his frown cleared. ‘I reckon you’re them kids the coppers ’ave been lookin’ for … the ones whose folks got burned in the fire.’

‘What’s ’e mean, Nance?’ Terry pulled at her arm and she saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. ‘Where’s Ma? What’s ’e mean they got burned?’

‘My brother doesn’t remember anything, mister,’ Nancy said, though she remembered all too well. ‘We didn’t know what to do when we ran away … it all happened so fast. We had to leave quick and I couldn’t help them …’ A choking cry broke from her. ‘I had to get Terry out …’

‘Yes, o’ course yer did,’ he said soothingly.

‘I didn’t know where to go …’ Nancy was poised ready to flee, though she knew there was nowhere she could go, because they were both filthy, cold and near to starving.