A Moment to Remember Read online

  ‘Milly, come in ’ere.’ Her father’s voice was harsh.

  Slowly Milly pushed open their bedroom door. The gas had been lit and Milly could see her mother rocking backwards and forwards, clasping baby Helen. She looked up at Milly with a tear-stained face.

  ‘She’s gone. Our baby’s gone,’ she whispered.

  Milly squatted down beside her mother and gently took Helen from her. She looked into the waxen face and kissed the blue lips. Somehow Helen was extra special to Milly.

  ‘Take ’er out of ’ere,’ said her father, who was seated with his back to them, his head in his hands. He looked up and added softly, ‘And wrap ’er in that bit o’ blanket.’

  Milly looked at her father. Unless she was seeing things, there was a tear in his eye. Silently she wrapped Helen, who was very cold, in the blanket and left the room.

  Billy and Dan were waiting in the passage.

  ‘What’s ’appened, Mil?’ asked Billy.

  ‘Helen’s dead,’ she said softly as they moved into the kitchen.

  ‘What happens now?’ asked Dan.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Milly, still holding Helen close. She wanted to warm her and bring her back to life.

  ‘D’you wanna box or somefink to put her in?’ asked Billy.

  Milly nodded as her tears fell on the small bundle.

  Billy rushed from the kitchen and came back with a cardboard box. ‘We got this one yesterday.’ He placed it on the table.

  Gently Milly placed the delicate baby inside and tucked the blanket round her, leaving her face exposed. She was standing looking at her when Pammy came in.

  ‘What’s Mum crying for?’ lisped the little girl.

  ‘Baby Helen.’

  Pammy scrambled up on to a chair. ‘What’s she doing in this box? Come on you, wake up.’

  ‘Pammy, stop it,’ cried Milly, as her sister began shaking Helen.

  Dan lifted Pammy down on to the floor.

  ‘Why don’t she wake up?’ she asked.

  Billy took her hand. ‘Helen will never wake up again. She’s dead. She’s gone to be with Jesus.’

  ‘Oh. All right.’ With that, Pammy walked away.

  It was then that their father walked into the room. ‘Take yer mother in a cuppa, Mil.’

  ‘I’ll go and get some wood to put on the fire,’ said Dan.

  Milly walked slowly into the outhouse and filled the kettle. She shuddered. It was very cold. ‘What do we do now?’ she asked Dan, who was stuffing pieces of wood into the stove.

  ‘Dunno. He’ll have ter see ter things. Mum can’t, she ain’t bin out fer years.’

  ‘She’ll have to be buried.’

  ‘Me and Billy will make a cross.’

  Milly gave her brother a half-smile.

  When she took the tea in, she sat on the bed and gently shook her mother, who had her head buried in the pillow. ‘Mum, ’ere’s yer tea.’

  Her mother raised her head, then slowly sat up. Her grey hair was a tangled mess and her dark eyes had almost sunk into their sockets.

  ‘How did it happen?’ Milly asked gently.

  ‘She been crying and . . . ’ Ivy stopped and brushed away her tears with the flat of her hand. ‘So I brought her in here with me.’ She let out a long, deep sob. ‘I didn’t know. She was so cold when I woke up. Milly, please help me.’

  Milly put her arms round her mother and held her close. ‘Mum, you’ve got to look after the others. They need you as much as Helen did.’

  ‘I can’t.’ With that, she lay back down and covered her head.

  Milly stood up and looked at the pathetic figure. ‘You must, Mum. I can’t do everythink.’

  There was no reply.

  ‘Please, Mum.’

  ‘Go away.’

  Milly was angry. How dare her mother leave her to do everything? She walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  It was bitterly cold as Arthur Ash, with just the eldest of his children, made his way to the cemetery. He carried Helen, who was in the cardboard box; Ivy Ash had refused to join them. Billy carried a spade. Dan carried the rough wooden cross he and Billy had made; they had burnt Helen’s name on it with the poker. Milly had managed to get some flowers. They weren’t very fresh, but they were all she could afford with the money she had from her sewing. Slowly they walked into the damp, misty graveyard. Their father had been to see the vicar, who had told them where Helen could be laid to rest. The ground was very hard as Billy and Dan took turns to dig the hole, and then, very carefully, their father placed Helen in it. Milly wanted to ask, was this where his other babies had been buried? She had tears running down her cheeks. She had never seen her father so gentle. Perhaps he did love his children in his own way. She placed the few pathetic flowers on the little mound. She had dearly loved this little girl who she had helped into the world, and she would never, ever forget her. The vicar said a short prayer and made the sign of the cross.

  As they left the cemetery, Arthur Ash put his arm round his daughter’s heaving shoulders, but she shrugged him away. Even if he was looking sad today, she could never forget or forgive him for some of the things he had done to her. How dare he try to be nice to her in front of the vicar?

  As they walked home, Milly made up her mind. Her mother didn’t have an excuse not to go out now Helen was no longer around — she could look after the children again. Milly would run away. She wanted to get away from all of them; she wanted to live her own life. Somehow she knew she had to find out where Auntie Doris was.

  For the rest of the month Milly did the shopping as usual, as her mother still refused to leave the house. Even when Milly came home and told her about the Christmas decorations in the shop windows, Ivy always made some sort of excuse. She said she didn’t have a coat, or her shoes hurt or let in water.

  ‘Why won’t you go out, Mum?’ Milly asked one afternoon when they were busy sewing buttons on shirts.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You must have a reason, and not just cos you ain’t got shoes or a coat.’

  ‘I can’t face the outside.’

  ‘That’s daft.’

  ‘Is it?’

  Milly could see that this conversation was upsetting her mother.

  ‘For years I had to look after the children, and when you started running errands, somehow I just got out of the habit of going out. Now the thought of it frightens me.’

  ‘Look, why don’t you and me go out one day? We can take the kids with us.’

  ‘No, they’ll be too much of a handful. I’ll look after them here; you go out and get what we need.’ She smiled. ‘You know, you’re very good at making a little go a long way.’

  Milly knew it was hopeless.

  ‘What should I do?’ she asked Billy and Dan when they got home. ‘How can I make her see that I don’t want to be running about for her and everyone else.’

  ‘I dunno,’ said Billy.

  ‘I’d like to go out to work,’ said Milly. ‘To be able to meet other people.’

  ‘You given up the idea to try and find Auntie Doris?’ asked Dan.

  Milly shook her head. ‘I will one day.’

  It was the beginning of February. Milly, who had been to the butcher’s, was laughing with Jack at the organ grinder and the monkey that he kept on a lead. The creature sat on the man’s shoulder rattling a tin for money. Looking up, she suddenly saw her father walking towards her.

  ‘I’d better go,’ she said quickly, and ran off.

  When she reached home she stood in the kitchen, terrified, waiting for her father to appear. For a while after Helen had died he’d seemed to be more reasonable, but just lately he found fault with everything anybody did. Many times Billy or Dan had felt the back of his hand or his leather belt.

  ‘You all right?’ asked her mother as Milly stood trembling, looking at the door.

  ‘No. Dad saw me talking to Jack, and by the look on his face he’s gonna give me a belting.’

  ‘He won’t
do that, not for just talking to someone.’

  ‘I think he will. Help me, Mum. Don’t let him hit me again.’

  ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Tell him I ain’t a little kid. I can talk to who I like.’

  ‘You know he’s worried about you going off with someone, don’t you?’

  ‘Look at me.’ Tearfully Milly pulled at her ragged frock. It was too small for her and bursting at the seams. ‘Who would have me?’

  ‘You’re a lovely girl with lovely ways, and he’s frightened of losing you.’

  ‘He’s got a funny way of showing it.’

  Suddenly the door burst open. ‘I thought I told you not ter see that kid again.’

  ‘He’s the butcher’s boy. I have to if we want meat.’

  ‘Don’t you talk ter me like that. I told yer before, that’s not all he wants. I could see the way he was eyeing you up and down. I’ve said before, yer nothing but a trollop.’ Slowly he undid his leather belt. ‘I’ll give yer a lesson yer won’t fergit in a hurry.’

  ‘No, please. Please, Dad. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You will be.’

  ‘Mum, say something.’

  ‘Get out, Ivy. Now.’

  ‘Mum. Please.’

  Her mother picked up the two youngest, and with the others following they quickly left the room.

  ‘Now, young lady . . . ’

  Milly was sitting on a wooden box when Billy and Dan came into the outhouse. As soon as she saw them she burst into tears.

  ‘Mil, what is it? What’s happened?’ asked Dan.

  ‘He gave me a belting,’ she sobbed.

  ‘Why? What yer done?’ asked Billy.

  ‘He saw me talking to Jack.’

  ‘Is that all?’ said Dan.

  Milly nodded.

  ‘That bloke’s a bloody monster. I fought after Helen died he was getting better, but this . . . D’yer know, I’ve said it before but I will swing fer him one day.’

  ‘Please, Billy, don’t let him hear you talk like that or else you’ll get a pasting.’

  ‘Can I do anyfink ter help?’ asked Dan.

  ‘Just find out where Auntie Doris lives. I’m gonna run away.’

  ‘I don’t know where to start. We ain’t ever had any letters from her, have we?’

  ‘Mum must know,’ said Billy. ‘I’ll tell yer what, why don’t I search her room and see if I can find a letter or somefink?’

  ‘But she don’t go out,’ said Milly.

  ‘I know, but you could keep her busy out here or with yer sewing.’

  ‘And I can keep watch,’ said Dan.

  ‘Just as long as yer keep all the kids out the way. Yer know what Pammy’s like, got her nose inter everyfink,’ said Billy.

  Milly brushed the tears from her cheeks and gave them a weak smile. ‘Thanks. But don’t get into any trouble.’

  ‘We won’t,’ said Billy.

  ‘This could be the only time you’ll get, Mil,’ said Dan. ‘And you must take the moment.’

  She hugged them both. ‘If I get away, I’ll never forget you.’

  ‘I should ’ope not,’ said Dan with a grin.

  Chapter 5

  IT WAS VERY LATE on Sunday night when Milly decided to leave the house in Winter Street for good. Billy and Dan stood in the outhouse with her.

  ‘Go out through the alley, we’ll block the hole after yer; that way yer don’t have ter close the front door,’ said Billy. ‘Dan will go with yer to the end while I tell anybody who wants ter use the bog that he’s in there.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll never forget what you’ve done.’

  ‘Wish I could ’ave found that address,’ said Billy.

  ‘Still, at least we know Auntie Doris lived in Southwark.’

  ‘It was only a very old envelope. And it might not ’ave even bin from ’er.’

  ‘Who else would write to Mum?’

  ‘Dunno.’

  ‘At least I’ve got somewhere to head for.’ Milly somehow knew she would find their aunt.

  ‘Why don’t you leave it till it’s light, Mil?’ asked Dan. He sounded very concerned.

  ‘No, I’d rather go now. That way I can get a long way away before he wakes up.’

  ‘I don’t like the idea of you walking the streets alone,’ said Dan. ‘Let me and Billy come with you.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. It’s better this way. If Pammy wakes up and sees we’ve all gone, she’ll make a fuss. You know what she’s like.’

  ‘What yer gonner do if you can’t find Auntie Doris?’ asked Dan.

  ‘I’m sure I will.’

  Milly had been very grateful when Billy had gone into their parents’ room and told her he’d seen an envelope in a box at the bottom of the cupboard with a Southwark postmark. He couldn’t read the letter inside, as Milly was calling that their mother was coming back in from hanging out the washing. She wondered if it was from Auntie Doris. If it was, then all these years her mother had lied to her about knowing where her sister lived. Milly had been very upset and felt that she had been betrayed.

  ‘Good luck then. Hope you find her. Now go on with yer.’ Billy hurriedly kissed her cheek and eased her towards the back door.

  Dan swallowed hard. ‘Come on, ’fore he walks in.’

  At the end of the alley, Milly held Dan tight. When would she see her brothers again?

  ‘Try and keep in touch.’

  ‘I will.’ She kissed him and he quickly turned and walked away. She stood watching his back. He didn’t turn round. This was it. She was alone. She had saved a few pence from her sewing and she knew how to get to Southwark, but what would happen when she arrived? Where would she go?

  It was very dark as Milly got close to Southwark Park. The hissing from the gas lamps was the only sound, and the park looked very dark and frightening. She carefully pushed open the gate. The noise from the hinges seemed very loud, and she stood very still with her heart pounding, expecting someone to shout at her. Looking all around her, she made her way towards the bandstand. Every little noise startled her, and the bending, creaking trees took on weird shapes in the wind. It was very cold. On the way here she had passed some lovely houses, but which one did her aunt work in? She was on her own now. She could never go back home; her father would kill her.

  She went up the steps to the bandstand. At least this bit was under cover if it rained in the night. She curled up on a seat, putting her cloth bag holding her worldly goods, her other pair of drawers and a pair of stockings, under her head. She was so cold and all alone. She would miss Billy and Dan and she would never see Jack again. And what about her mother?

  ‘Please, Mum, forgive me,’ she said out loud. ‘I do love you.’

  Tears began to fall. She felt so unhappy. She pulled her thin coat round her. What had she done?

  ‘Stop, Walton.’

  Milly sat up. It was light. Had she been asleep all this time in a park bandstand? She looked up. A young girl who appeared to be about the same age as her was looking at her from a wheelchair. She was dressed in the most beautiful blue velvet coat Milly had ever seen and was wearing a large tartan tam-o’-shanter hat. Her brown ringlets hung down to her shoulders and a thick warm blanket covered her legs. Milly would have loved that blanket round her. A tall, thin-faced woman was pushing the wheelchair and they had stopped in front of Milly.

  ‘Hello,’ said the girl. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes thank you.’ Milly hurriedly dabbed her eyes.

  ‘Well you don’t look it, does she, Walton?’

  Walton fussed with the blanket. A pair of well-polished brown boots stuck out from underneath. ‘Come on, Miss Jane, we must get you home. It’s very cold this morning.’

  ‘Have you been sleeping here all night?’ asked the girl.

  Milly nodded.

  ‘All alone?’

  Milly looked down at her own shabby clothes and nodded again. She wished this girl would go away.

  ‘What’s your name?’ aske
d Jane, ignoring the woman, who was holding the handles of the wheelchair.

  ‘What d’you want to know for?’

  ‘I’m curious.’

  ‘Well it ain’t none of your business, so go away and leave me alone.’ Milly gathered up her bag and began to walk away.

  ‘Please. Just a moment.’

  Milly stopped. ‘What d’yer want?’

  ‘I might be able to help you.’

  ‘How? You don’t know nothing about me.’

  ‘I know you must be on your own and could have run away from home.’

  Milly stood and looked at her.

  ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

  Milly nodded and her tears began to fall. She was cold and so alone and unhappy. ‘Leave me be.’

  ‘Please, Miss Jane, don’t be so inquisitive.’ The woman turned to Milly. ‘I’m so very sorry. Sometimes she forgets her manners.’

  Milly dabbed at her eyes with a grubby piece of rag.

  ‘Please. Let me help you. What’s your name?’

  ‘Milly.’

  ‘Milly,’ repeated Jane. ‘That’s a very pretty name.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Not round here.’

  ‘So what are you doing sleeping in the park?’

  ‘Please, Miss Jane.’

  ‘Have you run away?’

  ‘Miss Jane, we are going home.’ Walton tried to turn the wheelchair.

  ‘No,’ the girl said defiantly. She held on to the wheels of her chair and Walton had to stop.

  ‘You have run away, haven’t you? How exciting.’

  Milly began to cry again. She was cold and hungry.

  ‘Now look what you’ve done. You are a very wicked girl.’

  Jane looked distressed. ‘I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  Milly looked at this girl. She must come from a good home, but why was she in a wheelchair?

  ‘That’s all right,’ she mumbled.

  ‘You look very cold. You can come home with us. Cook will give you some breakfast.’

  ‘I can’t do that.’

  ‘Why not?’