so she had decided not to take Merrell to a child minder who probably looked after fifteen or twenty small children. Besides, such a person would look after Merrell during the day but would be unable to do so at night, and Patty was on night call every other week. At present, she took the slumbering Merrell with her but this would not be possible for much longer. The baby was outgrowing the bicycle basket and had begun to murmur a sleepy protest when she was bumped down the metal steps and across the cobbled street.
But there’s no way she’s going to end up with anyone but me, Patty told herself grimly, watching the child’s ecstatic face as she sucked enthusiastically at the bottle. I wonder if Mrs Knight might like to give an eye to her? On second thoughts, Patty decided this was not a good idea. Mrs Knight was a delightful lady but her son never took the slightest notice of Merrell and might be unpleasant to the child simply because of his dislike of Patty. If his sad experience of marriage and babies had affected his mind, Patty did not want him anywhere near her little girl.
Besides, there were bound to be plenty of other people who liked children and would take on the care of Merrell when Patty was unable to see to her. ‘And of course, I’ll pay whoever takes you on, my little sugar plum,’ Patty told Merrell, smiling down into the blue, blue eyes. ‘Oh, I wish I knew what to do for the best! But one thing I do know: you aren’t going to land up in an orphan asylum!’
Merrell having finished her bottle, Patty offered her some of the rice pudding she had made earlier. The baby ate it with enthusiasm, and when she had finished Patty replaced her in the chair and began on her own meal. But even as she ate, her thoughts continued to revolve uneasily. It was no good putting it off; she simply must find a solution for her baby-sitting problem before it became insurmountable.
Patty, eating bread and jam, thought of her own life in the orphanage, the strict discipline, the lack of love. Slowly, she let her mind drift back, remembering … remembering …
Chapter Three
November 1914
‘Patty Peel! Wharrever’s the matter now? I’ve never known a child like you for whining and complainin’. Keep up wi’ the rest of the kids or I’ll see to it you get a good slappin’ and no supper when we get home!’
‘It’s me shoes, miss,’ Patty said. ‘Them’s too small. I don’t think they are mine, any road. I think they’re Betty’s.’
Patty, with her feet throbbing painfully, had fallen further and further behind. At the sound of Miss Briggs’s voice, however, she hobbled along a little faster, wincing at the pain from her crushed toes, to catch up with her partner in the crocodile.
The children from the Durrant House Orphan Asylum, on The Elms, were being taken for their twice-weekly walk. They usually went to Sefton Park and watched other children feeding the ducks, admired the Palm House and the aviary and, in summer, were even allowed to play for a little on the grass. Today, however, though they had walked as far as the nearest gates, they had not entered the park. Laura Reilly, who happened to be Patty’s partner, had been caught chewing gum and Miss Briggs had immediately boxed her ears and announced that, thanks to Laura, they would all be punished, for Laura had refused to say where the chewing gum had come from. ‘And I trust you other girls will see that Laura never does such a thing again, since she has spoiled your walk,’ the teacher said severely. ‘However, we have to stay out for at least half an hour, so we’ll take a turn around the neighbourhood instead.’
Miss Briggs had called the crocodile of small girls to a halt whilst Patty caught up, and as the child rejoined them she said sharply: ‘Betty’s shoes indeed! It’s so typical of you, Patty Peel, to blame someone else for what is your own fault. Did you not check that the shoes were yours before you put them on? And why,
But there’s no way she’s going to end up with anyone but me, Patty told herself grimly, watching the child’s ecstatic face as she sucked enthusiastically at the bottle. I wonder if Mrs Knight might like to give an eye to her? On second thoughts, Patty decided this was not a good idea. Mrs Knight was a delightful lady but her son never took the slightest notice of Merrell and might be unpleasant to the child simply because of his dislike of Patty. If his sad experience of marriage and babies had affected his mind, Patty did not want him anywhere near her little girl.
Besides, there were bound to be plenty of other people who liked children and would take on the care of Merrell when Patty was unable to see to her. ‘And of course, I’ll pay whoever takes you on, my little sugar plum,’ Patty told Merrell, smiling down into the blue, blue eyes. ‘Oh, I wish I knew what to do for the best! But one thing I do know: you aren’t going to land up in an orphan asylum!’
Merrell having finished her bottle, Patty offered her some of the rice pudding she had made earlier. The baby ate it with enthusiasm, and when she had finished Patty replaced her in the chair and began on her own meal. But even as she ate, her thoughts continued to revolve uneasily. It was no good putting it off; she simply must find a solution for her baby-sitting problem before it became insurmountable.
Patty, eating bread and jam, thought of her own life in the orphanage, the strict discipline, the lack of love. Slowly, she let her mind drift back, remembering … remembering …
Chapter Three
November 1914
‘Patty Peel! Wharrever’s the matter now? I’ve never known a child like you for whining and complainin’. Keep up wi’ the rest of the kids or I’ll see to it you get a good slappin’ and no supper when we get home!’
‘It’s me shoes, miss,’ Patty said. ‘Them’s too small. I don’t think they are mine, any road. I think they’re Betty’s.’
Patty, with her feet throbbing painfully, had fallen further and further behind. At the sound of Miss Briggs’s voice, however, she hobbled along a little faster, wincing at the pain from her crushed toes, to catch up with her partner in the crocodile.
The children from the Durrant House Orphan Asylum, on The Elms, were being taken for their twice-weekly walk. They usually went to Sefton Park and watched other children feeding the ducks, admired the Palm House and the aviary and, in summer, were even allowed to play for a little on the grass. Today, however, though they had walked as far as the nearest gates, they had not entered the park. Laura Reilly, who happened to be Patty’s partner, had been caught chewing gum and Miss Briggs had immediately boxed her ears and announced that, thanks to Laura, they would all be punished, for Laura had refused to say where the chewing gum had come from. ‘And I trust you other girls will see that Laura never does such a thing again, since she has spoiled your walk,’ the teacher said severely. ‘However, we have to stay out for at least half an hour, so we’ll take a turn around the neighbourhood instead.’
Miss Briggs had called the crocodile of small girls to a halt whilst Patty caught up, and as the child rejoined them she said sharply: ‘Betty’s shoes indeed! It’s so typical of you, Patty Peel, to blame someone else for what is your own fault. Did you not check that the shoes were yours before you put them on? And why,
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