Cathy Sharp - The Orphans of Halfpenny Street

‘I can’t look after you, love,’ Ma said, and tears spilled from her eyes, dripping slowly down her pale cheeks. ‘I don’t want to leave you, Mary Ellen – but I have to go to the hospital. If I stay with you, you may get my illness and I don’t want you to suffer like me. Anything is better than that …’

Mary Ellen didn’t want that either, but she longed for Ma to laugh and take her in her arms as she had in the old days when her father was alive and Ma was always happy and singing.

‘Why can’t Rose stay and look after me?’ Mary Ellen didn’t particularly want to be in her sister’s care, because Rose was so sharp, but it was better than going away to a place she didn’t know – a home for orphans. Surely that was for kids who had no family? Mary Ellen had a mother and a sister and she wanted her own home.

‘Because Rose has worked hard to get that place in the hospital and she needs to work her way up until she’s a senior staff nurse or a sister and then she will earn enough to have a house that we can all live in. I’ll be able to move from here too, Mary Ellen. Let Rose go and do what she has to – and then we can all be together again.’

‘I would rather she stayed here until you come home from the hospital.’

‘Well, I can’t,’ Rose snapped. ‘I have to go now or not at all. Stop complaining, Mary Ellen. Ma is ill and she has to go to the hospital. She doesn’t want to go either but you don’t hear her whining and moaning. I’ve made the arrangements and I shall take you on Monday morning and that’s that.’

‘Well, I think you’re mean and rotten and …’ Mary Ellen broke off with a gasp as Rose gave her a smack round the face. Tears welled in her eyes but she didn’t sob or carry on because the slap had shocked her more than hurt her. Rose had never hit her before and something in her sister’s manner told her that she had reached the end of her tether. In that moment Mary Ellen understood that her sister was suffering too, even though she was trying not to show it. ‘I’m sorry …’

Rose was looking pale, as if she were shocked by what she’d done, and Mary Ellen felt her resistance ebbing. She’d known ever since Ma told them she had to go away that this was coming, but she’d been hoping something would happen and everything would be all right again.

‘Rose, love, don’t quarrel with your sister. It’s hard enough for all of us – and Mary Ellen …’ Ma looked at her sadly, her eyes wet with tears. ‘Please try to understand, my love. I’m really ill. I wouldn’t leave you if I didn’t have to but it’s my only chance.… ’

‘If Ma doesn’t go she’ll only get worse,’ Rose said but her mother shook her head. ‘She’s got to understand, Ma. There is no other way for us. I can’t work and look after her properly – and I need to complete my training. The exams I took are only the first hurdle; there will be so much to learn that I couldn’t possibly look after a child. If I don’t do this, we’ll be stuck in this rotten slum for the rest of our lives. It’s living here that has made you ill. Do you want her to die young too?’

Mary Ellen ran at her mother, clinging to her legs and hiding her face in her skirt. She felt gentle hands on her head but knew Ma wouldn’t kiss her: she didn’t kiss either of them these days and tried not to breathe on them in case she infected them with her illness. She was always holding a handkerchief to her mouth and that was usually speckled with bloodstains.

‘Please, love,’ her mother begged, a break in her voice. ‘You’re tearing me apart. I can’t bear it …’

Mary Ellen heard the pain in Ma’s voice and was immediately contrite. She buried herself in the skirts of Ma’s dress and mumbled that she was sorry.

‘I’ll go,’ she said, voice thick with misery. ‘I’ll go – but Rose had better come and get me sometimes or I shall run away.’

‘Of course I’ll visit when I can and bring you sweets or something,’ Rose told her, relieved and trying to be kind now that she’d won. ‘The time will pass quickly. You’ll see, Mary Ellen, before you know it I’ll be visiting and then I’ll be a nurse and we’ll have a much better house to live in than this old thing …’

‘You promise you won’t leave me there and forget me?’

‘Cross my heart and hope to die,’ Rose said and smiled. ‘You’re my sister and I care about you. Please try to understand. I’ve got a lovely fresh loaf, some real butter, ham and tomatoes for tea. Come on and help me set the table like a good girl. We don’t want to upset Ma, do we, love?’

Mary Ellen stared at her with reproachful eyes. It was all right for Rose, she was going to do something she’d always wanted to do, but Mary Ellen would be stuck in that home – and she knew how forbidding it looked from the outside. She felt abandoned, unwanted, and it was breaking her heart. Mary Ellen just knew it would be horrible there. It would be like being locked away in prison, except that she hadn’t done anything wrong and it wasn’t fair. Ma was going to a hospital where she would have people to look after her, and Rose was going to be a nurse but she would be sent away, because no one loved or wanted her …

Michelle luxuriated in the warm scented bath water, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of being pampered and lazy. She’d bagged the bathroom at the Nurses’ Home first that evening, and the water was still hot, which it wouldn’t be by the time three or four of the inmates had run a bath, because Michelle had used more than she was supposed to and the old geyser that heated it wasn’t really up to all the demands made on it. She was using the remainder of the lilac-scented bath salts she’d had for her last birthday, because it was a special occasion that evening. She had the next two whole days off and tonight she was going dancing at the Co-op hall in Bethnal Green with a group of her friends.

Sally’s friend Keith, an apprentice plumber who often did small jobs for people in the Halfpenny Street area, had asked her if she had some friends who would like to support the dance, which was in aid of the local darts team of which he was a member. So Sally had roped in Alice, her cousin and a friend of his from the Army.

Michelle had hesitated when she was asked along too but something in the way Sally had looked at her had made her give in, because they both needed cheering up after what had happened to Jake. A night out in the company of friends would stop them both brooding over his death. Besides, if Michelle had guessed right, Sally didn’t want to spend all night with just Keith for company. She too had the luxury of a weekend off, because Sister Beatrice said they both deserved it. The Warden hadn’t blamed either of them for what had happened to their patient, though they bitterly blamed themselves. Losing such a lovely little boy had been unbearable and felt so wrong. Surely, if they’d tried harder, they could have done something – though they both knew they had neglected nothing in their care of the boy. He’d just been too weak to fight the pneumonia.

Nurses were not supposed to get involved with the children in their care: it was one of the first things they learned, to toughen up, because otherwise they were going to break their hearts over every child that was lost. Michelle had believed that she’d managed to grow a thick skin; she could mostly cope with whatever the wards threw at her, but somehow Jake had got beneath her shield. Perhaps it was because he was so bright and intelligent, so interested in everything going on around him. He’d watched her nursing the others and one night he’d confided that he was going to be a nurse when he grew up so that he could look after sick people. And then, suddenly, he’d become silent, a pathetic, tortured child, as the fever gripped him and turned into an illness that was so often a killer. A doctor had been summoned, but he’d endorsed all they were doing, praised them for their devotion, yet it still hadn’t been enough. Jake had slipped away from them just before the dawn, his last gasping breath taken. The sight of him lying pale and silent had torn her heart in two.