her arms. She dealt with the lamp, crossed to the bed and, keeping her voice deliberately normal and everyday, said: ‘Hello, my lovely. Did you stay awake to see me?’ She kissed the child warmly, an arm casually round her shoulders, but her heart was wrenched by the rigid self-control she could feel in the thin body.
‘Oh, Lisha! Beatrice thought that the nasty man had come back!’ She was close to tears again, but bit her lip to stop the show of what Chen Kai called baby behaviour, projecting it instead on to the doll. ‘Beatrice cried,’ she concluded sadly.
Close your mind. Shut it out. Force your voice to stay calm. ‘Tell Beatrice we’re in Sacramento now; we can all be happy again.’
As she said it, she felt a shiver run up her spine. Kai would have said she was tempting fate to speak so, but then Kai, despite his mission upbringing, had no faith. About her own she was not so sure.
As if she had followed her thoughts, Tamsin wriggled closer and put her head on Alicia’s shoulder.
‘Kai isn’t here any more,’ she said sadly, her head drooping until she nestled her cheek against Beatrice. ‘I do miss him.’
‘He isn’t far away, darling,’ she said bracingly. ‘He’s still in Sacramento, really. And he’s got a good job with people who treat him well. We must be glad for him.’
‘Am glad,’ said the child with a trembling lip. ‘But Beatrice wants him here.’
Alicia had no more comfort to offer, so she drew her back down the bed, stroking her hair back out of her eyes.
‘Lie down now, my sweet, and tell Beatrice to go to sleep. It’s past her bedtime.’ A thought struck her and she passed her hand beneath the thin quilt.
‘It’s all right,’ said the child with quiet dignity. ‘It’s dry. Beatrice doesn’t wet her bed any more. But she wishes you’d take that sticky sheet away now she doesn’t need it any more.’
In truth, Alicia had wrapped the mattress in her rubberised canvas cape more to stop anything inside Widow Grey’s mattress getting to them than to keep the mattress safe from Tamsin.
Gradually she felt the tension ebb out of the thin frame as Tamsin settled down with Beatrice beneath the quilt. Alicia sang her some of her favourite songs in a soft voice, trying to ignore the shouts and raucous laughter and slamming of doors coming from other parts of the establishment. She preferred to close her mind to what went on behind the other doors. At least three of the other female residents of the Widow’s lodging house would not have been out of place at Madame Chariot’s, and Aggie Grey’s own brood of assorted half-castes owed much to their proximity to the docks. She couldn’t have picked a worse place to try and forget the past, she thought with a shudder.
At last Tamsin grew calm, though she still did not fall asleep. Alicia rose and poured the ewer of water into the basin which stood on the chest and stripped off her dusty dress to wash herself in the tepid water. Night and morning, summer and winter, she never failed to wash herself and the child from head to foot, even if she had to break the ice to do it. To this ritual she ascribed the fact that, throughout the years in the filthy mining camps, she had never succumbed to the countless virulent illnesses or infestations that hundreds of others had fallen prey to.
Kai had shown her the herbs to scatter in the sheets to keep the fleas at bay, and which ones to distil to wash Tamsin with when she was in unavoidable contact with sick or verminous children; Alicia made a mental note to find time to go out into the surrounding countryside to pick some more. She listened to the whine of the mosquitoes pinging against the shutters; thanks to the aromatic liquid which stood in bowls on every surface, their lodging, despite its proximity to Sutter’s Slough, had none of the monstrous insects which made life so hideous elsewhere in Sacramento.
She picked up a brush and uncoiled her luxuriant hair. It was a
‘Oh, Lisha! Beatrice thought that the nasty man had come back!’ She was close to tears again, but bit her lip to stop the show of what Chen Kai called baby behaviour, projecting it instead on to the doll. ‘Beatrice cried,’ she concluded sadly.
Close your mind. Shut it out. Force your voice to stay calm. ‘Tell Beatrice we’re in Sacramento now; we can all be happy again.’
As she said it, she felt a shiver run up her spine. Kai would have said she was tempting fate to speak so, but then Kai, despite his mission upbringing, had no faith. About her own she was not so sure.
As if she had followed her thoughts, Tamsin wriggled closer and put her head on Alicia’s shoulder.
‘Kai isn’t here any more,’ she said sadly, her head drooping until she nestled her cheek against Beatrice. ‘I do miss him.’
‘He isn’t far away, darling,’ she said bracingly. ‘He’s still in Sacramento, really. And he’s got a good job with people who treat him well. We must be glad for him.’
‘Am glad,’ said the child with a trembling lip. ‘But Beatrice wants him here.’
Alicia had no more comfort to offer, so she drew her back down the bed, stroking her hair back out of her eyes.
‘Lie down now, my sweet, and tell Beatrice to go to sleep. It’s past her bedtime.’ A thought struck her and she passed her hand beneath the thin quilt.
‘It’s all right,’ said the child with quiet dignity. ‘It’s dry. Beatrice doesn’t wet her bed any more. But she wishes you’d take that sticky sheet away now she doesn’t need it any more.’
In truth, Alicia had wrapped the mattress in her rubberised canvas cape more to stop anything inside Widow Grey’s mattress getting to them than to keep the mattress safe from Tamsin.
Gradually she felt the tension ebb out of the thin frame as Tamsin settled down with Beatrice beneath the quilt. Alicia sang her some of her favourite songs in a soft voice, trying to ignore the shouts and raucous laughter and slamming of doors coming from other parts of the establishment. She preferred to close her mind to what went on behind the other doors. At least three of the other female residents of the Widow’s lodging house would not have been out of place at Madame Chariot’s, and Aggie Grey’s own brood of assorted half-castes owed much to their proximity to the docks. She couldn’t have picked a worse place to try and forget the past, she thought with a shudder.
At last Tamsin grew calm, though she still did not fall asleep. Alicia rose and poured the ewer of water into the basin which stood on the chest and stripped off her dusty dress to wash herself in the tepid water. Night and morning, summer and winter, she never failed to wash herself and the child from head to foot, even if she had to break the ice to do it. To this ritual she ascribed the fact that, throughout the years in the filthy mining camps, she had never succumbed to the countless virulent illnesses or infestations that hundreds of others had fallen prey to.
Kai had shown her the herbs to scatter in the sheets to keep the fleas at bay, and which ones to distil to wash Tamsin with when she was in unavoidable contact with sick or verminous children; Alicia made a mental note to find time to go out into the surrounding countryside to pick some more. She listened to the whine of the mosquitoes pinging against the shutters; thanks to the aromatic liquid which stood in bowls on every surface, their lodging, despite its proximity to Sutter’s Slough, had none of the monstrous insects which made life so hideous elsewhere in Sacramento.
She picked up a brush and uncoiled her luxuriant hair. It was a
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