Read Online Orphan of Angel Street by Annie Murray - Free Book Online
Authors: Annie Murray
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shivering.
‘D’you just lie ’ere all day then?’
‘I didn’t used to before we came ’ere. She’d get me up and that. Miss Pringle – one of our neighbours – she used to come and sit and do things with me. She were a teacher when ’er was younger. It was ’er taught me to sew and knit like. She said if I couldn’t use my legs I might as well keep my hands busy. Mom never did nothing with me. Miss Pringle said it was a shame.’
‘How old are you? Don’t you go to school?’
‘No, never. I’m thirteen.’
‘Thirteen! Blimey I reckon you’re smaller than Amy was!’
‘Who’s Amy?’
‘My best pal. They sent her away to Canada.’
‘Miss Pringle was my best pal.’ Susan sounded dismal. ‘Don’t s’pose I’ll be seeing ’er now neither.’ She swallowed hard. ‘How old’re you?’
‘Twelve – nearly.’
‘What’s it like in an orphanage then? And school?’
‘It’s awright.’ Mercy couldn’t think of anything to say. It was all she knew. What was there to say about it? ‘We had much bigger rooms,’ she brought out finally, looking round at the bleak space the bed was squeezed into.
It was growing lighter. Mercy went to the window. There was no sign of frost and the glass was running with a mixture of condensation and grime. She wiped one of the lowest panes with the back of her hand and stood wrapping her arms round herself to try to keep warm.
The lamp was still lit outside, reflecting in puddles on the uneven bricks. Mercy could just make out the long stretch of the yard, reaching along to a high building in the far corner. As she watched, a woman came out from one of the houses beside Mabel’s and walked briskly across carrying a bundle with one hand and holding her long skirt up out of the wet.
I’m not stopping here, Mercy said to herself. I’ll go back to the home and tell ’em. They can’t leave me here.
She’d never seen a more desolate place. But she thought of the journey here the day before, and knew she didn’t have the first idea where she was or how to go about getting back. She also remembered Miss O’Donnell’s warning about what would happen if she did. She swallowed hard. Oh Dorothy, she cried inside. Where are you? If you were here it’d be all right.
‘Mercy?’
She didn’t want to turn round and let Susan see the tears on her face.
‘What?’
‘Could yer empty this for me? Mom hates doing it and she’ll keep on. She weren’t so bad before but she moans all the time since we come ’ere.’
‘So she’s got me ’ere to be your slave, has she?’ Mercy snapped, angrily wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She pulled the rest of her clothes on quickly and went round to Susan’s side of the bed to pick up the chamber pot.
‘There’s a suff out in the yard.’
Mercy straightened up. ‘If your Mom thinks I’m staying ’ere she’s made a big mistake,’ she announced haughtily, and went to march out of the room. But she caught her foot in a trailing loop of blanket and tripped. The chamber pot leapt out of her hands and smashed with a great noise and splash. Mercy fell against the foot of the bed banging her head.
‘What the ’ell was that?’
Mabel waddled across the landing like a bloodhound, still attired in the same corset, chemise and bloomers, that Mercy had seen last night.
‘Oh yer ’aven’t gone and broken the po’?’ She stared accusingly at Mercy who was rubbing her cheek. ‘Yer clumsy little bitch. Who’s going to pay for a new one, eh? You, I suppose?’
‘No—’ Susan spoke up. ‘It weren’t ’er fault it were me. I tipped it over – knocked it with me arm. Mercy didn’t do nothing.’
Mabel stared from one to the other of them, eyes gluey with sleep, the skin under them wrinkled like rice paper. Even she could see it was pretty unlikely Susan could create a crash like that, but she wasn’t in the mood to keep on about it. She wanted her morning cuppa.
‘Pick up the bits,’ she ordered Mercy.
‘D’you just lie ’ere all day then?’
‘I didn’t used to before we came ’ere. She’d get me up and that. Miss Pringle – one of our neighbours – she used to come and sit and do things with me. She were a teacher when ’er was younger. It was ’er taught me to sew and knit like. She said if I couldn’t use my legs I might as well keep my hands busy. Mom never did nothing with me. Miss Pringle said it was a shame.’
‘How old are you? Don’t you go to school?’
‘No, never. I’m thirteen.’
‘Thirteen! Blimey I reckon you’re smaller than Amy was!’
‘Who’s Amy?’
‘My best pal. They sent her away to Canada.’
‘Miss Pringle was my best pal.’ Susan sounded dismal. ‘Don’t s’pose I’ll be seeing ’er now neither.’ She swallowed hard. ‘How old’re you?’
‘Twelve – nearly.’
‘What’s it like in an orphanage then? And school?’
‘It’s awright.’ Mercy couldn’t think of anything to say. It was all she knew. What was there to say about it? ‘We had much bigger rooms,’ she brought out finally, looking round at the bleak space the bed was squeezed into.
It was growing lighter. Mercy went to the window. There was no sign of frost and the glass was running with a mixture of condensation and grime. She wiped one of the lowest panes with the back of her hand and stood wrapping her arms round herself to try to keep warm.
The lamp was still lit outside, reflecting in puddles on the uneven bricks. Mercy could just make out the long stretch of the yard, reaching along to a high building in the far corner. As she watched, a woman came out from one of the houses beside Mabel’s and walked briskly across carrying a bundle with one hand and holding her long skirt up out of the wet.
I’m not stopping here, Mercy said to herself. I’ll go back to the home and tell ’em. They can’t leave me here.
She’d never seen a more desolate place. But she thought of the journey here the day before, and knew she didn’t have the first idea where she was or how to go about getting back. She also remembered Miss O’Donnell’s warning about what would happen if she did. She swallowed hard. Oh Dorothy, she cried inside. Where are you? If you were here it’d be all right.
‘Mercy?’
She didn’t want to turn round and let Susan see the tears on her face.
‘What?’
‘Could yer empty this for me? Mom hates doing it and she’ll keep on. She weren’t so bad before but she moans all the time since we come ’ere.’
‘So she’s got me ’ere to be your slave, has she?’ Mercy snapped, angrily wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She pulled the rest of her clothes on quickly and went round to Susan’s side of the bed to pick up the chamber pot.
‘There’s a suff out in the yard.’
Mercy straightened up. ‘If your Mom thinks I’m staying ’ere she’s made a big mistake,’ she announced haughtily, and went to march out of the room. But she caught her foot in a trailing loop of blanket and tripped. The chamber pot leapt out of her hands and smashed with a great noise and splash. Mercy fell against the foot of the bed banging her head.
‘What the ’ell was that?’
Mabel waddled across the landing like a bloodhound, still attired in the same corset, chemise and bloomers, that Mercy had seen last night.
‘Oh yer ’aven’t gone and broken the po’?’ She stared accusingly at Mercy who was rubbing her cheek. ‘Yer clumsy little bitch. Who’s going to pay for a new one, eh? You, I suppose?’
‘No—’ Susan spoke up. ‘It weren’t ’er fault it were me. I tipped it over – knocked it with me arm. Mercy didn’t do nothing.’
Mabel stared from one to the other of them, eyes gluey with sleep, the skin under them wrinkled like rice paper. Even she could see it was pretty unlikely Susan could create a crash like that, but she wasn’t in the mood to keep on about it. She wanted her morning cuppa.
‘Pick up the bits,’ she ordered Mercy.
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