Kelly said. ‘Me dad is English; London bred and born. I was tellin’ Tilly how me mam’s been ill all year and I’ve been lookin’ after her as much as I could—’ The girl broke off, a look of anguish in her eyes. Angela understood instantly, because Michelle had warned her. It explained Kelly’s lateness and constant days off. ‘Only in me spare time, though …’
‘Yes, I see,’ Angela said. ‘Has your mother had the doctor, Kelly? Do you know why she’s so poorly?’
‘He wouldn’t come to us, miss,’ Kelly said. ‘We live in a slum down near the Docks. Dad hoped Hitler would do us a favour and blow the cottage up, but it’s still standin’ and the council say we’re a long way down the list – but it’s damp see and Mam suffers from a heart condition. She feels the cold somethin’ awful – and I think I take after her; it’s why I’m always gettin’ a chill.’
‘Well, we shall have to see what we can do to help your mam,’ Angela said. ‘Would your family move into a better place if one were offered, Kelly?’
‘Oh yes, miss,’ Kelly’s face lit up. ‘Me dad would do anythin’ to make her well again.’
‘I’ll speak to some people I know,’ Angela said. ‘I’m helping a Church charity to provide deserving cases with decent housing they can afford. We don’t have enough houses for everyone and there’s always a long waiting list but … it would help if we had a doctor’s report …’
‘The doctor won’t come to our house; he doesn’t like the area – too many bad folk where we live.’
‘I know someone who will come,’ Angela said. ‘If I have your permission I shall bring him myself, Kelly.’
‘I’ll ask Dad and tell you tomorrow,’ Kelly said and put a cup and saucer in front of her. ‘It’s still hot, miss. We’d only just made it.’
‘I’d better get going,’ Tilly announced and stood up. ‘We’re rushed off our feet today.’
‘Yes, and I must too.’ Angela took a sip of her tea. ‘I should like Dr Kent to see your mother, Kelly; if her health is affected by the damp conditions it will help your family move up the housing list. I can’t promise anything. The charity I help out has to be fair and I’m only one small cog, but sometimes they listen to me. If your mother was better, you wouldn’t have to be late so often.’
Kelly’s cheeks turned even pinker and she hung her head. ‘Thank you, Mrs Morton – and I’ll try not to stop away too much. You see, Mammy has a little one still at home and another three at school, and if she’s ill …’
‘Yes, I do understand, Kelly,’ Angela said, ‘and I shan’t be reporting you to Sister for staying away from work – but you must try to come in on time; you know we need you too.’
‘I could always come in and make up me time when me sister gets home from school – I wouldn’t mind working in the evening to make up for being late. Me da’s home then …’
‘Well, let’s see what we can do for your mother first,’ Angela said. ‘Perhaps there is some treatment that will help her.’
She was thoughtful as she made her way to her office. If Kelly’s mother was suffering from the damp conditions in her slum house then the sooner she was on their list the better. Since the end of the war more and more building was taking place, but it took time to get all the kilns and factories producing at full capacity and progress was slow. So many people had been left homeless that pulling down the old slums that had remained standing was not a priority. In time it was hoped to replace all the substandard housing, but it could take years. It was the aim of the charity Angela assisted to help those who needed it most, but there were so many in bad housing and they couldn’t help them all. In some quarters there was resistance on the part of the slum dwellers themselves, who didn’t want to move out to the suburbs; for this reason, the charity had decided to renovate old properties rather than build new.
Families like Kelly’s were often overlooked, and the terrible poverty they endured often bred cruelty, which in turn led to battered children being brought to their door at St Saviour’s. If Kelly’s mother died, the girl would have to leave her job to look after her siblings or they might end up at St Saviour’s or some other children’s home.
Determined to prevent such a tragedy, Angela resolved to speak to Dr Kent about visiting Kelly’s mother. He was new to the area and keen to get to grips with the poverty and sickness he witnessed on his rounds; Angela hoped that would make him more likely to be interested in the Masons’ case.
Angela had no sooner started typing up her report than the door opened and Sister Beatrice entered. She looked thoughtful and rather anxious, as if something were playing on her mind.
‘Is there anything wrong?’
‘Wrong with me? Why should there be? I’m perfectly well,’ Sister snapped, and Angela wondered what she’d said to upset her this time. She was secretly counting the days to her forthcoming move upstairs to one of the new offices in the attic. Perhaps once their offices were no longer side-by-side and they met only to discuss business they would get on better.
‘No reason at all,’ she said. ‘I thought you looked anxious … perhaps over one of the children?’
‘Well yes,’ Sister admitted. ‘I am concerned about the new arrivals, Angela. Samantha and Sarah … As you know, they were discovered sleeping rough in a bombed-out house due for demolition. The police had cleared it of homeless vagrants once already, but they went back for a final check before the bulldozers moved in and found the girls close to exhaustion from lack of food and water …’
‘Have they told you why they were there? Or given their last names?’
‘Not yet. Though I’ve been informed they’re sisters and their surname is May. Samantha seems wary. Sarah is a gentle girl, very pretty and doesn’t say much, just sits there and looks at you.’
‘Can she speak?’
‘She speaks when she wants to – usually yes or no or thank you. They both seem to have nice manners and they haven’t caused a bit of bother … but something isn’t right. Sarah has old scarring and faded bruises, but Samantha was merely dehydrated and hungry; although when I examined the marks on her sister’s body she seemed to wince, almost as if she was feeling Sarah’s pain herself.’
‘Could they be twins? I’ve heard that sometimes twins feel each other’s pain and emotions.’
‘Samantha says they are twins, but they aren’t identical and Sarah seems younger and quieter … perhaps she’s in her sister’s shadow. I think I might ask Mark to have a word with them, next time he visits.’
‘Yes …’ Angela frowned. ‘We don’t want the kind of bother we had with poor Terry.’
‘No, certainly not.’ Sister shuddered as they both remembered the frightened, troubled child who had attacked her. ‘I feel so responsible for what happened. I know his sister blames herself too, but I doubt anyone could have prevented it.’
‘Nancy is coping very well for the moment. Muriel was telling me she’s very good at making pastry – in fact she made the treacle tart some of the children had at lunch.’
‘Yes, well, I’m glad she’s coming along nicely – but I don’t want anything like that to happen here again, Angela. Nancy refused to be parted from her brother and Samantha is behaving in much the same way. She says her sister might be frightened if she woke in the night and she was not there.’
‘Does it really matter if they stay together?’ Angela asked reasonably. ‘As we discussed, we’re moving Mary Ellen and Marion into the new wing next week; they will have one of the smaller rooms with four beds. Perhaps we should put the twins in with them. They’re much the same age, but Sarah seems younger and Samantha needs to get comfortable with us. It is very strange for children who’ve been accustomed to doing chores and taking