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Christmas for the Halfpenny Orphans
Cathy Sharp
A gritty and compelling drama from the bestselling author of The Orphans of Halfpenny Street. Perfect for fans of Nadine Dorries and Sheila Jeffries.Little twin sisters, Sarah and Samantha are all alone in the world. When their mother died giving birth to Sarah, she was blamed for the death by her father and her learning difficulties serve only to make him more angry and violent towards her. Now he’s finally abandoned them both and they’ve found sanctuary at St Saviour’s Children’s Home in London’s East End. It seems they’re doomed to be separated; no one wants to take Sarah on, but life apart will break their hearts.Alice, a former worker at the home who is now a mother and happily married to Bob, finds her happiness under threat when a face from the past reappears. Jack Shaw, East End bad boy, has always been Alice’s weak spot but is she really about to throw everything away?Angela Morton has her hands full; she’s now in sole charge. But with Christmas approaching, and more than one orphan in desperate need, St Saviour’s is crying out for a miracle…
Copyright (#u73c8b4c7-7420-526f-9071-074ab27a3f8f)
Harper
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
The News Building
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by Harper 2016
Copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers 2016
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2016
Cover photography © Henry Steadman (children); Shutterstock.com (http://www.Shutterstock.com) (Holly bushes & Christmas tree)
Cathy Sharp asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008118501
Ebook Edition © October 2016 ISBN: 9780008118518
Version 2016-08-10
Dedication (#u73c8b4c7-7420-526f-9071-074ab27a3f8f)
For my husband with love.
You make it possible!
Table of Contents
Cover (#u75488d56-4fc7-54d6-ab16-93d4047eb421)
Title Page (#u4a745b7f-52d2-5eae-bcf6-268149b58750)
Copyright (#ueceb98ad-f64f-5999-85ed-8bf7ebdbdcbc)
Dedication (#u65bf606f-12e5-5ea3-91c9-c401924ee35f)
Chapter One (#ued0c22d0-17c4-5a4f-8e9e-8e3ad9f44ad9)
Chapter Two (#u1b485759-fdde-5525-80bf-a29968c34e50)
Chapter Three (#u1a16e842-8729-5a34-bd63-f7aba1956200)
Chapter Four (#u0a8988a1-0b53-5a5f-9238-1c323bb03bf4)
Chapter Five (#u3973f23d-b689-5fdb-8eff-56dbda4276d9)
Chapter Six (#ub325b9bf-c9f9-56a0-8c33-6025b9d03fe8)
Chapter Seven (#u8632a91d-7fd1-574b-95b1-8103eb9bd0be)
Chapter Eight (#u1fef3b19-0b73-5a08-80ee-d7f3a220f86a)
Chapter Nine (#u4654d046-28ac-57cc-95d2-bf76414c167f)
Chapter Ten (#u1e3559b8-89cf-5ded-afb3-daeee4b7cfca)
Chapter Eleven (#ubf49062c-9e20-5da5-99aa-08c132f8569a)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading … (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by Cathy Sharp (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#u73c8b4c7-7420-526f-9071-074ab27a3f8f)
‘Wait until I catch you, you little bitch!’ The man’s voice struck terror into the hearts of the two small girls hiding under the stairs. ‘I’ll tan your hide, Sarah, you see if I don’t.’
Samantha squeezed her twin sister’s hand reassuringly but didn’t say a word; Pa had sharp ears and even the slightest sound might give their whereabouts away. She hardly dared breathe as she heard the sounds of doors being opened and slammed shut as their father searched for them. Tears were trickling silently down Sarah’s face when Samantha touched her cheek. Both of them knew that if Pa found them they would be beaten, but Sarah would bear the brunt of it, because Pa hated her. He blamed her for causing their mother’s death, as she’d been born last and it had taken so long that Ma had been exhausted and died soon after.
Neither of the girls had known their mother, but Pa said she was a saint and, when drunk, accused Sarah of murdering her. Samantha had come quickly and the parents had been gazing fondly on their daughter when Jenni May was gripped with terrible pain once more and this time it had gone on for hours, ending with Sarah’s birth and Jenni lying in an exhausted fever from which she never recovered.
When the girls were younger, a woman had come in every day to take care of them and to cook Pa’s meals. She was a pretty woman, sharp when addressing the twins, especially Sarah, and quick with her hand, but whenever their father was around she was all sweetness and light, and he was taken in by her every word. When she said Sarah was awkward, stubborn and rebellious, Pa agreed that she must be kept in check, but he left the chastising to Melanie.
Although he had drinking bouts every so often, he’d been content enough whilst Melanie looked after the house and everyone had expected they would marry one day, but the previous year, a few days before the twins’ tenth birthday, there had been a fierce quarrel and Melanie had left them, vowing never to return and swearing that Ernie May was an impossible man. She said he’d taken advantage of her good nature and she wouldn’t put up with it a minute longer – declaring that only she would have had the patience to take care of brats like his, and that she would have no more of it. After that, Pa’s temper had grown worse and worse and he’d taken against his daughters, particularly Sarah. It was Sarah who had caused all his troubles, because she had killed her sainted mother. He wished she’d died at birth and wanted only to be free of his responsibility towards the twins.
Samantha knew all this, because Aunt Jane had told her when she visited a week previously. Their aunt was a tall thin woman with a sharp face and a hard mouth, though her eyes sometimes told of something more inside her, something she kept a tight rein on. Samantha had asked her why Pa hated them so, and her aunt told her in a harsh voice that felt to Samantha like the lash of a whip. Sarah had merely stared at Aunt Jane, taking very little in as always. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand anything, as Pa and Aunt Jane thought, but she was slow at putting things together in her mind and she couldn’t form the words properly unless Samantha told her how.
‘You should have been an only child,’ Aunt Jane had told Samantha. ‘The other one caused all the trouble by killing your mother. My brother adored his wife and they longed for a child, even though Jenni was always fragile. The doctors told her she ought not to have children, because of her weak heart, but she wouldn’t listen – and Ernie could refuse her nothing. All would have been well had that idiot not taken so long to come and killed poor Jenni.’
‘But that wasn’t Sarah’s fault,’ Samantha said, feeling protective of her sister. ‘Mummy wouldn’t have blamed her.’ In Samantha’s mind her mother was a beautiful angel, and sometimes when Sarah was weeping and Samantha was hurting with her twin’s pain, she’d felt the presence of someone warm and loving and believed it was her mummy. Sometimes, she felt that their mother was close by, caressing them, and she thought Sarah sensed it too.
‘Jenni was as soft as butter over kids and I dare say she’d have loved her,’ Aunt Jane said, a bitter twist to her mouth, ‘but she’s gone and Ernie has never been the same since. He drinks because he can’t bear it that she’s gone and he hates Sarah.’
‘It isn’t fair,’ Samantha said. ‘Sarah doesn’t mean to break things but she’s clumsy and it just happens …’
‘Well, I’ve told you why your pa drinks and I’ve made my offer,’ Aunt Jane said in her blunt manner. ‘Your pa doesn’t want either of you and he’s made up his mind to go away to work at sea – and that means you’ll be on your own. I’ll take you in, Samantha, and gladly – but I won’t have her. She should be in a proper home where they take care of girls like that … I could ask at St Saviour’s. I hear Sister Beatrice is a good woman, even though she’s a nun and I can’t abide them as a rule …’
Samantha had looked at her beautiful sister and wondered how her aunt could speak so coldly of her beloved twin, who was so innocent and lovely. Her soft fair hair framed perfect features and her wide blue eyes were soft, slightly vacant and dreamy, but her smile was like sunshine, the light coming from her sometimes so bright that it made her twin blink with its radiance. Samantha knew that although twins, they weren’t exactly alike; her hair was a darker blonde, her eyes more grey than blue, and they could clash with storm clouds when she was angry – or that’s what Melanie had told her when Samantha flew into a temper to protect her sister.
Why did her aunt want to put Sarah in a home? It wrenched at Samantha’s heart to think of being separated from the twin she loved and she vowed that she would do anything to keep them together, but she wouldn’t tell her aunt that; she’d only get angry and tell her she was a fool.
‘There’s nothing wrong with Sarah, except that she’s slow sometimes,’ Samantha said, facing up to her aunt. ‘I’m nearly eleven now. I’ve been helping Sarah to wash and dress, and making supper and breakfast for us all since Melanie left – and I can look after us both. I shan’t go anywhere that Sarah isn’t welcome.’
‘Suit yourself then,’ her aunt said, pulling on neat grey gloves. She was dressed all in grey without a touch of colour, and Samantha knew her house was dull and dark, much like her. If she’d gone there without Sarah there would be no sunshine left in her world. She loved Sarah with all her heart and she was never going to abandon her, no matter what anyone said. ‘The offer is there, but I shan’t run after you – and I won’t take her. The best place for her is a mental asylum …’
Samantha hadn’t answered her – she was too upset and angry. Why could no one see that her twin was the dearest, sweetest girl ever? Willing and obedient, she did everything Samantha told her and she never screamed defiance or did anything naughty – and it certainly wasn’t her fault that she’d broken Pa’s favourite pipe.
Despite his unkindness and careless brutality, Sarah adored her father and she often picked up his slippers or a discarded jacket, nursing the object in her arms and crooning a song that no one else understood. Samantha had tried to make out the words but, although tuneful and pretty, the song’s meaning was unclear.
Earlier that evening, while Samantha prepared Pa’s tea so it would be ready for him when he came home, Sarah had helped by laying the table in the big kitchen, as she’d been shown. When Samantha came through from the back scullery with a pot of hot potatoes, she’d seen that her twin had taken down Pa’s pipe rack from the shelf and was stroking one of the pipes. Samantha had immediately been anxious, because the delicate long-handled clay pipe was one of Pa’s favourites.
‘Put that down, Sarah, and help me with the dishes,’ she said.
The sound of her voice had jerked Sarah out of the dream she’d been in, her fingers snapping the long thin stem of the pipe.
‘Oh, Sarah,’ she cried, distressed, knowing what it would mean. ‘What have you done?’
Sarah had dissolved into tears and before either of them realised it, Pa had come in and was staring at the broken pipe.
‘You little devil!’ he said and lunged at Sarah, swiping her across the face with his fist. He was a big man and strong; the force of the blow knocked the fragile girl off her feet and sent her crashing into the oak dresser, causing a china teapot to tumble from the shelf and break into pieces on the floor. ‘Now what have you done? Child of Satan, that’s what you are!’ Pa roared at her. ‘That belonged to your sainted mother. I’ll kill you. I’ve had enough of your wickedness—’
