Rosie James - Home Front Nurse - An emotional first world war saga full of hope

For the first time, the baby made a small pathetic gurgle – which made Randolph catch his breath. Why had this happened to him? And after such a long day!

After a moment, Miss Kingston said, somewhat apologetically, ‘Would you mind following me into my office for a few seconds, Mr Garfield? It is always useful to have something definitive to add to my records. Purely a formality,’ she added, ‘but you never know, someone may eventually come forward and claim Angelina … this little angel.’

Randolph followed the superintendent along the hallway and into the living quarters. There seemed to be a lot of doors, all closed, and despite this being an orphanage there was little sound. But of course, it was now getting very late.

In Miss Kingston’s office, Randolph took the chair he was offered and sat down. After putting the box with the baby in it down on a chair beside her, Miss Kingston took out a ledger and opened a fresh page. She looked across at Randolph.

‘I take it you are Mr Garfield of Garfield Tobacco?’ she enquired politely, and Randolph nodded.

‘Indeed I am,’ he said quietly.

‘So, Mr Garfield, would you tell me exactly when and where you found this baby’’ Miss Kingston said, and for the next two minutes Randolph told her the little there was to say.

Presently, Miss Kingston sat back, looking pensive. ‘It’s fortunate that we are still here,’ she said, ‘because the orphanage will be closing at the beginning of next year.’

Randolph was surprised. The place had always been here. He frowned. ‘So – what will happen to all the children?’ he asked. ‘Where will they go?’

The superintendent turned to take the baby in her arms again, rocking it to and fro comfortingly, and Randolph realised that the lady clearly loved children and must have looked after so many in her time. Unlike the other woman who had seemed cold and unfeeling.

‘Fortunately, we only have eight orphans with us at the moment,’ Miss Kingston said. ‘I have tried to cut back because of the impending closure, but normally there are fifteen children here. The ones remaining will be dispersed to other orphanages when we can find places for them. It can be anywhere in the country, of course,’ she added. ‘Not necessarily local.’

Randolph was feeling more unhappy with every moment that passed. Little children, little babies like Angelina, being passed around like parcels. He cleared his throat.

‘But why is the orphanage to close?’

‘Lack of funding, I’m afraid,’ the superintendent said. ‘Of course, we get a little parish relief but our principal benefactor died earlier this year, and sadly he left no provision for the orphanage in his will.’ She paused, smiling briefly. ‘He had been more than generous in his lifetime and I don’t think there was very much left in the end.’

Randolph looked away for a second. ‘And what will you do, Miss Kingston? Will you accompany any of the children who have been in your care?’

Miss Kingston shook her head sadly. ‘I think it is time for me to finish what has been my life’s work,’ she said, ‘though I had had every intention of remaining here for perhaps another ten years when I retire. But fate has taken a hand, so when the orphanage closes, that will be my own farewell, too.’

*

Randolph left the orphanage and walked on slowly. It was strange, but he had never given that place much thought at all – or rather, had never given those children much thought. They were safe and provided for, and much like the youngsters down by the docks, orphans were merely a fact of life. There had always been orphans and there would always be orphans. So why was he, Randolph Garfield, feeling uneasy?

Well, he knew the reason. That little child, that tiny baby, Angelina, had caused him to stop and do something to help her. Those beautiful eyes looking at him like that had secured a place in his conscience.

And in his heart …

The following evening, Jacob Mason came to Number 1 Richmond Villas to enjoy a bottle of good red wine with his friend. This was a ritual which had taken place every other week for years, and the wine was always accompanied by a light supper of cold meats and pickles and a loaf of bread baked and served by Randolph’s housekeeper.

But the main purpose of these occasions was to talk shop, to discuss current events and the state of the world in general. And then they’d exchange news of more personal matters. Tonight, Randolph did have something to recount.

As the two sat either side of a bright log fire in his study, Randolph spoke up. ‘On my way home yesterday evening, Jacob, I had a most uncomfortable experience.’

Jacob sat forward, immediately interested. ‘Go on.’

‘I found … I happened upon … well, I discovered a newborn baby which had been abandoned in a cardboard box. And it was a complete shock, I can assure you’’

Jacob nodded, but seemed unsurprised at the news. ‘What did you do about it?’

‘I took the box to the orphanage just up the road from where I found it – and on the side of the box were the words – “Angelina, born 1 stNovember 1900 weight 6 lbs. 3oz”.’

‘Oh well, that’s all right then,’ Jacob said casually ‘It’ll be fed and clothed and looked after until it can get out into the world and fend for itself.’ He sat back, satisfied with his own summing up of the sad facts.

Not for the first time in his life, Randolph felt angry at his friend’s attitude. To hear Jacob refer to that innocent child as an ‘it’ was upsetting. He let a moment pass, then said, ‘I was very surprised to learn that the orphanage is to close in the New Year. Due to a lack of funding, apparently.’

‘Well, money is what makes the world go around, as we all know,’ Jacob said cheerfully. ‘Other orphanages will take those kids I suppose.’ He took a drink from his glass. ‘Trouble is, Randolph, they can never be anything, amount to anything, give anything back ,’ Jacob went on. ‘Just imagine the parentage! The genetic influence! I believe that orphans are usually illegitimate – bastards, in other words. So, genetically speaking, their prospects are hopeless. Hopeless!’

‘I think that is a rather pessimistic view, Jacob,’ Randolph said coolly. ‘It’s obvious that not everyone has the same start in life, but those children are schooled in arithmetic, they are given books to read, and they are taught the bible—’

Jacob interrupted, smiling. ‘I can see that your recent experience has played on your mind and given you cause for thought, Randolph.’

Randolph nodded. ‘I learned that nuns from the priory teach the children and help to look after them,’ he said, ‘together with a small, subsidiary domestic staff.’

Jacob shrugged. ‘I’m telling you, none of them will ever amount to anything. They are the driftwood of life! My father was emphatic about never employing such people. because they’d always be a waste of time. And my father was never wrong about anything! All successful countries, all successful economies, depend on people of good stock, of good background, of intellect, and you and I are part of that, Randolph. We are doing our bit to keep the system going.’ He leaned forward and tapped Randolph on the knee. ‘And, in years to come, when our two youngsters tie the knot – oh, I know it won’t be for a very long time yet – but when they do, they will be continuing the process. And they will produce children of distinction! Useful citizens, Randolph!’

Randolph smiled briefly. Who knew what Alexander might want to do with his life, or who he’d share that life with? Jacob’s daughter, Honora, was still only an infant, but he and his wife Elizabeth, were determined that their little girl would one day be the next Mrs Garfield.