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Hilly smiled her long-distance smile.
‘They said there would be thunderstorms.’ Her voice was weak, as insubstantial as she was.
‘Good God, I hope so. Something has to break,’ Ethel replied, folding some sheets and peering at a hole in the cotton. ‘I’ve never known it so hot.’
Later that night Ethel was lying next to Gilbert, a single sheet over them both. Then thrown off. Then pulled back again.
Sticky and overtired, Gilbert grumbled, turning constantly.
‘Aye, Ethel, it’s like sleeping next to a fire, luv. Get over your own side of the bed, you’re burning me up.’
His wife, hair damp against her neck, was not in the mood to be patient.
‘It’s as hot for me as it is for you, Gilbert Cummings! You want to stop grumbling. I’ve hardly had any bloody sleep and I’ve a job to go to in the morning.’ She rolled her bulk over and lay on her back, Gilbert muttering beside her.
She couldn’t sleep so she might as well think. Her thoughts turned to Alice immediately and Ethel smiled to herself. It had been a real worry for a long time, wondering how the girl would turn out, but things were going to be OK. The governors had been impressed by her, Sir Henry Hollis especially. As for Clare Lees, she had been beaming when she told Ethel – for once confiding, even happy.
Oh yes, Alice was set up nicely. She would take over from Miss Lees and, Ethel hoped, meet some nice young man and marry him. She should have children too. After all, the principal of the home didn’t have to be single, did she?
Ethel frowned as Gilbert nudged her. ‘You’re leaning against me, luv, move over.’
‘There was a time when you’d have done anything to have me lean against you,’ she teased him, feeling Gilbert take her hand.
Again, her thoughts wandered. How would Alice meet a man at the home? The place was full of children and the few teachers there were hardly eligible. Ethel thought suddenly of Evan Thomas and grimaced. Now there was a man who could tell a lie and prove it … No, Alice would have to get out and about more to find a suitor.
It was silly the way the home was run; the children kept apart. They should be mixing with the local children long before they left – learning to act and behave naturally. As if the sigma of being an orphan wasn’t enough, Ethel thought. She had heard what the townspeople said; how they kept their distance from the Netherlands offspring and advised their children to do the same. Don’t go staring at the orphans. They have to rely on charity. If you’re bad, you’ll be sent to that big ugly building and left there …
Local gossip had long since sentenced Netherlands to be an island in the midst of the town. Many of the people outside might be poor, but they had families, which was more than a Netherlands child did. The shabby hand-me-down clothes didn’t help either. Ethel had heard of many of the girls going out to work in service and being teased. As for the boys, there had been a number of fights caused by people mocking the institution head-shaving and wooden clogs.
Some of the children bolted when they came of age and left the town. Tommy Cotterall had done just that and ended up – two years later – in Strangeways for theft, a fact which only compounded people’s suspicions of the orphans. Others automatically slipped into the role of subservient dogsbodies and lived their lives in the shadows. They should be grateful that they had been given a home, a job, a chance, the mantra went.
Hardly any of them made anything of their lives. But how could they? Ethel wondered. The education was rudimentary and they had no social graces. They were orphans, the stigma running through them like a place name in a stick of rock.
But Alice … she was going to be the one to show them all. She was going to make them proud. People would look at her and be impressed, and in time she would become a marvellous figurehead for Netherlands. And no one, but no one, would ever know who she really was. Least of all herself.
Uncomfortable again, Ethel moved.
‘Oh, stay still!’ Gilbert moaned. ‘You’re like fly on an elephant’s arse.’
She jabbed him in the ribs and turned over.
What would Alice have done if she’d discovered her past? The thought made Ethel sweat. It would have been a disaster and, knowing Alice as she did, Ethel realised she would not have been able to cope with the knowledge and the damnation it would surely bring. No one would have given her a chance if they had discovered who her father was; and if Alice had known, highly strung as she was, she would have been crushed under such a burden.
Thank God, Ethel thought, that there was no need to worry any more. The past was just that, the past. A secret no one knew, and no one could uncover. Alice Rimmer was safe from the gossips.
And from herself.
Chapter Fourteen (#ulink_94e4965f-e6bb-5c7a-a4c7-8f1ac7f05e81)
The heat built up over the next three days and by Sunday evening the town was smouldering. In the park the trees hung listlessly, the gravel outside the entrance door of Netherlands dusty and whitened. Buses droned past the gates and when Mr Grantley read the sermon at evensong the air was drowsy, eyelids drooping closed amongst the congregation.
Everyone agreed that the heat couldn’t last, but the promised rainstorms hadn’t come. Slowed by the temperature and her arthritis, Clare Lees took a while to reach the lectern and when she read the lesson her voice snuffled amongst the pews like an animal looking for shade to hide. The day had seemed to pass like a dream, nothing substantial, and when the service was over the congregation walked out into the humid air and winced.
As always, Alice had sat next to Clare Lees and stolen a few glances at Dolly Blake, stiff in a paisley dress, her round face shiny. Behind her had sat Evan Thomas, as glossy as an apple, catching Alice’s eye and smiling. She had not smiled back.
Standing on the hot gravel outside, Alice paused and glanced at her watch. In three hours’ time she would see Victor. The thought soothed and excited her at the same time. Victor, who was so sensible; Victor, who was planning their future; Victor, who loved her, controlled her impulses and made her think of their future.
She wondered how she could possibly have lived without him. How could she have endured the grind at the home? The persistent lecturings of Clare Lees? The yawning future which would have loped before her so unappetisingly? Without him, Alice knew she would never have gone on. She would have run away, done something reckless.
But there was no need to be reckless now. She had found her rock, her man. All she had to do was to follow his lead and they would be together … She glanced at her watch again. Hurry up, she urged, hurry up. I want to see him, to touch his hand, to hear his voice. Loving Victor was easy. The easiest thing that she’d ever done.
‘Expecting someone?’
Alice turned at the sound of Evan’s voice. His brown eyes were hard as nuts.
‘No, should I?’
‘I just wondered. You keep looking at your watch.’
She shrugged, but her heart was thumping. This was a man who hated her and would do anything to ruin her. Be careful, Alice told herself, be very careful.
‘It was a good sermon.’
Unexpectedly, Evan laughed. ‘Oh really, how can you say such a thing?’ He leaned towards her. ‘You’re a good liar, aren’t you, Alice?’
A vein was throbbing in her neck. ‘No better than you, sir,’ she answered back.
He was nettled by the remark. ‘I doubt if I’m in your league,’ he replied peevishly. ‘You’ve had so much practice.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about –’
‘Secrets …’ he said distantly. Then his tone brightened. ‘I’m off now. Going out tonight. I bet you wish you could go out, Alice, don’t you? A pretty girl like you could go dancing, have the lads all of a – flutter.’
The sun had gone down, but the air was moist, hot, and clung to her like a demanding child.
‘I’m happy where I am.’
‘There you go,’ Evan said, smiling, ‘lying again.’
Alice watched him walk towards the gates and stayed watching him until he passed through them and locked them behind him. He paused to look through the bars at her and she shuddered. There was something about his look, some smugness, that made her stomach churn.
‘Are you OK?’ Hilly asked, walking over and looking at Alice anxiously.
‘I’m fine,’ Alice replied, her voice strained. Eager to shake off the feeling of unease, she slipped her arm through Hilly’s. ‘Glad you’re out of the sanatorium.’
‘Me too. I don’t suppose I’ll be out for long, though.’
Alice squeezed her arm. ‘You’re getting stronger every day.’
Laughing, Hilly teased her. ‘Oh, Alice, that’s a lie and you know it.’
The word tingled in the air and, spooked, Alice turned back towards the gate. But there was no man looking in. And all she could see was the quick flash of a bicycle wheel as it passed on its way to God knows where.
Clare Lees was slumped in her easy chair in the office. Her back hurt her and it was painful even to move. So she had wedged herself against the seat and waited for the spasm to pass. Which it would, in time. Her eyes fixed on the print on the opposite wall. It was of a man on horseback, wielding a banner … Above her head she could hear the sound of footsteps running and then a door banged closed. She winced. How many times had she told the children not to run? Dolly should stop it, or Evan … Then she remembered that Evan was off that night. Clumsily, Clare shifted in her seat again and looked out of the window. Her throat tightened. She hated the view, loathed the dull block of gravel and the closed mouth of the gates. Hated the sign in wrought iron – ‘NETHERLANDS HOME FOR CHILDREN’ – and the chained padlock glinting in the dying light.
It was just because she was in pain, she told herself. Before long she would feel better, more like her old self … But although the spasm lifted after a while, her mood stayed sombre. The darkness was coming down and the Sunday night town was falling quiet. Only muffled noises from hidden lives crept intermittently over the closed gates.
Shivering, Clare felt herself grow cold in the humid air, and lowered her head. Something pressed against her heart and hung around her chair.
The world was wicked that night.
‘I love you so much,’ Victor said, holding Alice’s hand tightly. His skin seemed to burn into hers. ‘I could see you in the chapel. You looked so beautiful.’
They had arranged to meet at the viaduct, but that morning Victor had signalled their private sign in church to say that they should meet at the Netherlands railings after lights out instead.
Alice nuzzled against the bars, the metal for once warm to the touch. ‘I’ve been thinking about you all day. I could hardly wait to see you.’
He put his hand in his pocket and brought out a brown paper bag, passing it to Alice through the railings.
‘What’s this?’ she asked, surprised.
‘Open it,’ he said simply, watching her face as she did so.
‘It’s perfume!’ Alice said excitedly. ‘Oh, my God! I’ve never had perfume before.’ Carefully she dabbed a little on her wrists and drank in the scent, her eyes closed. ‘Thank you, Victor, thank you.’
He thought in that moment that if he died there and then he would never be happier.
‘It must have cost so much,’ she whispered. ‘How did you afford it?’
‘I saved up,’ he said proudly. ‘Only the best is good enough for you, Alice. In time we’ll only have the best. You wait and see, one day we’ll have a fine house and money. You’ll have enough perfume to bathe in.’
She laughed, the sound throaty, mesmeric.
‘I love it …’ Alice said, ‘and I love you.’
The heat curled around them as she put her arms through the bars. He did the same and for an instant it seemed that there was nothing between them. Nothing holding them apart. The night, soft and heavy, closed over them. High above a huge late summer moon – a hunter’s moon – came out from behind a cloud. Its vast yellow face hung overhead and threw its light down on the two embracing figures.
Then another light came on. A sudden light. Torchlight. Alice turned, blinded, Victor holding on to her.
‘Who is it? Who’s there?’
There were two people, but Alice couldn’t make out who they were until they were almost upon them. Then the torchlight was lowered slightly and she saw Evan Thomas – and Clare Lees. Alice’s voice dried in her throat, her head falling forward.
Victor clambered to his feet. ‘It’s all my fault!’ he blustered. ‘If you want to punish anyone, punish me. It wasn’t her fault. I convinced Alice to come here.’
‘A nice try,’ Evan replied, delighted, ‘but this isn’t the first time, is it?’
He had watched Alice for the past ten days. She hadn’t sneaked out of Netherlands again, but his patience had finally paid off when she met up with Victor that night. It was perfect, Evan thought; nothing could look so incriminating. And from the way they had been clinging on to each other it was obvious to him – and to Clare Lees – that their relationship was not platonic.
Rigid with shock, Alice did not move, her hands still clinging to the place on the railings where Victor had been. She could sense Clare Lees looking at her.
‘Is this true, Alice? Have you met up with this boy before?’
She nodded, too sick to speak.
‘You’ve been going behind my back all this time?’ Clare Lees went on. She seemed more stooped, older. The Welshman was grinning like a jackal at her side. ‘How could you? How could you repay me like this? I trusted you –’
‘Leave her alone!’ Victor shouted back, frantically climbing over the railings and jumping down on the other side. Without thinking, he caught hold of Evan and shook the older man’s shoulders, shouting at the top of his voice. ‘We’ve done nothing wrong! We love each other, that’s all. We’ve done nothing wrong!’
Incensed, the Welshman pushed Victor away.
Clare Lees walked over to Alice and stared down at her. Hatred seeped out of every pore.
‘You should be in the dirt,’ she said finally. ‘That’s where you came from – and where you belong.’
Chapter Fifteen (#ulink_b392a7b2-2c06-5c7a-bf17-06bb4714c73d)
Worse was to follow. After Clare Lees told Alice to leave Netherlands immediately, Victor was similarly banished. As Clare Lees and the odious Evan walked off together, Victor turned back to an ashen-faced Alice.
‘We’ll marry, sweetheart, we’ll get through this.’
Her expression was a blank. ‘Did you hear what she said? She knows something about me, about where I came from.’
Victor snatched at her arm as Alice started to move towards the retreating figures.
‘Leave it be, leave it –’
Angrily she shook him off and called after Clare Lees: ‘What do you mean – I should be in the dirt? Where did I come from? Who am I?’
The hunter’s moon shone eerily down on Clare Lees’ face as she turned to her former protégée. Disappointment and rage made her ugly. But even then, even after she had seen Alice betray her and realised that her dream of the future was over, even then she wasn’t cruel enough to strike the final blow.
‘Get out of here. Just get out, Alice.’
‘NO!’ Alice’s voice rose shrilly. Victor tried to pull her away but she would have none of it. She had nothing to lose any more and wanted the truth.
‘Tell me! Tell me who I am!’
‘I don’t have to tell you anything,’ Clare Lees replied, her voice hard with rage. ‘I owe you nothing –’
‘You owe me the truth!’ Alice snapped. ‘Please, for the love of God, tell me and I’ll go away. Please.’
Sensing real anguish, Clare hesitated. What better way to punish Alice Rimmer once and for all? She would never know the truth from her. She could sweat and beg and cry – but she would never tell her. The truth was ghastly, but how much worse was never knowing.
By her side, Evan Thomas watched Alice writhe and saw his chance to strike. Had he been less willing to injure her he would have noticed Clare Lees’ reticence; but he had hated Alice too long and wanted her gone too much to hold back. His spying had extended further than merely watching Alice. He had – on a recent errand for the principal – taken the opportunity of rifling through the old papers in the bank when he had been asked to deposit something. His surprise at coming across Alice Rimmer’s file in amongst so much dull paperwork had been acute, but what he had read there was dynamite. He had wanted to shout what he knew from the rooftops, but had kept the secret, and – as was his way – decided to bide his time. Until the perfect moment arose.
‘Your father was David Lewes,’ he said, walking closer to Alice and looking into her face. ‘If the name doesn’t mean anything to you, he was the man who killed his wife. Your mother. You want to know who you are, Alice? You’re the daughter of a murderer. How does that feel, to know what you are?’
Staggered, Clare Lees felt her legs weaken and then saw the look on Alice’s face. The girl was staring at Evan Thomas, Victor beside her. She said nothing. Moments passed. The smug look on Evan’s face disappeared. Then, finally, Alice turned and walked to the gate.
