Clover Moon Read online

  ‘Go back now, Thelma. I’ll carry on looking by myself. Please! You absolutely mustn’t lose your job,’ I said.

  ‘But I hate to think of you wandering back and forth like a lost soul searching for this place that no one’s ever heard of,’ said Thelma, looking worried. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if it even exists. It was definitely the Strand? There’s a place called Strand-on-the-Green. Could it be over there?’

  ‘I don’t know! Mr Rivers just said the Strand.’ I hadn’t been concentrating properly. I’d never in a million years imagined that I would run away – I’d needed to look after Megs.

  I started thinking of my other sisters too, gentle Jenny and pert little Mary. Mildred was softer with them, but she still cuffed them when she was in a bad temper. She was even fiercer with Richie and Pete, beating them if they grew too rowdy. They were such silly boys, forever egging each other into mischief, but they weren’t bad lads. And what about dear baby Bert? What was I thinking of, leaving that poor little mite? Jenny seemed able to handle him, but she didn’t really have my knack, for all Bert had favoured her recently.

  Perhaps I’d been truly wicked to walk out on all of them. If I were a truly good person I’d go back now and take my punishment.

  But if I went back now I’d never have the courage to leave again. In a few years one of the big lads would start courting me and I’d end up in one room with a husband and babies of my own, trapped for ever.

  I had to make the break now. I wanted a proper education and training. I needed to find Sarah Smith’s place. It was my only chance.

  ‘You go back to the theatre, Thelma. I’ll keep looking for it. I’ll find it. Mr Rivers wouldn’t have made it up. He said just off the Strand, I’m sure he did.’

  ‘Well, we’re nearly back at the Gaiety now. Let’s just run up and down one last lane, and then, if we still don’t have any luck, you’re blooming well coming back to the theatre with me. You can watch the show and then I’ll bed you down in the dressing room, and we’ll start looking again in the morning. It’s not safe to be wandering around on your own, especially when it gets dark. Drury Lane’s just up there!’ Thelma warned.

  ‘What goes on in Drury Lane?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s Gin Palace City, where all the bad girls hang out. They wouldn’t do you no harm – they’d like as not make a fuss of you – but you get all the riff-raff gentlemen sniffing around, and I wouldn’t put it past some of them to prey on a little rabbit like you.’ Thelma put her arm round me protectively.

  We looked up at the next lane, which was very small and dark.

  ‘Little St Giles Lane,’ I said.

  ‘It’s little, all right. Never even noticed it before,’ said Thelma. She wrinkled her nose. ‘It’s a bit whiffy too. Perhaps we won’t bother with this one. Don’t look like there’d be a respectable girls’ home in a dive like this.’

  Even so I took several cautious steps into the lane, squinting up at the tall blackened buildings overhanging the narrow street. There was a brass plate on one of the doors. It shone brightly, clearly given a daily polish, which seemed strange in such a grimy street.

  ‘Come on, Clover,’ said Thelma, pulling at my coat.

  But I took a step nearer so that I could read the engraving on the brass plate.

  THE SARAH SMITH

  HOME FOR DESTITUTE GIRLS

  ‘Look!’ I whispered.

  ‘Oh my Lord! You’re right, girl. This is it. I’d never have dreamed they’d have such a place here. Well, go on. Knock!’ said Thelma.

  I reached out a hand but I couldn’t make myself grasp the polished knocker. I knew Thelma urgently needed to get back to the theatre and I desperately needed a bed for the night. But my hand wouldn’t move. I was suddenly terrified.

  ‘Give it a good old rap.’ Thelma sighed, seized the knocker herself and rapped loudly several times.

  ‘Ssh!’ I said, stepping back from the doorstep in alarm.

  ‘Well, we want them to hear us, don’t we?’ said Thelma. When no one appeared immediately she knocked again, even louder.

  ‘Thelma!’ I gasped. When the door opened I hid behind her.

  A very small, elderly lady scarcely as tall as me peered at us through her spectacles. She glared at Thelma. ‘Be off with you!’ she commanded, though she only came up to Thelma’s splendid bosom.

  ‘I beg your pardon! That’s no way to talk to a lady,’ said Thelma indignantly.

  ‘You’re certainly no lady!’ said the tiny woman. ‘How dare you come battering at our door, disturbing all my young girls. You’ve no business coming here dressed up like a dog’s dinner and flaunting yourself. Are you trying to lure my girls into your evil ways, is that it?’

  ‘How dare you!’ said Thelma, flushing deep pink. ‘Don’t you go telling me I’ve got evil ways! I’m a hard-working, decent girl, a dancer at the world-renowned Gaiety Theatre, I’ll have you know!’

  ‘A dancer at the theatre!’ said the lady, unimpressed. ‘Well, you’re certainly not welcome here. This is a decent God-fearing establishment.’

  ‘Yes, and I think God himself would be a-feared of you, you sanctimonious old trout!’ Thelma retorted. ‘I wouldn’t step over your doorway if you paid me a thousand pounds. I’ve simply brought this poor child here because she’s nowhere else to go.’ She stepped to one side.

  The woman blinked at me in surprise, taking in my black mourning clothes. ‘Oh my,’ she said. ‘Well, you should have said sooner, miss. Hand her over then!’

  I clung to Thelma, not at all sure I wanted to go in.

  ‘I’m sorry, I really have to scarper now, little rabbit,’ said Thelma. ‘But come and find me at the theatre if you really can’t stick it here.’ She thumbed her nose at the tiny lady and ran off, her bright skirts rustling, her scarlet boots pounding the pavement.

  I stared after her helplessly.

  ‘Well, don’t just stand there, child,’ said the lady. She seized hold of my wrist and pulled me inside her establishment.

  14

  SHE SLAMMED THE front door and then took a key from her pocket and locked it. I couldn’t get out now!

  ‘My goodness me,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid that young woman is not at all a suitable companion, child. What were you thinking of?’

  ‘She’s my dear friend,’ I insisted.

  ‘Then you’re not a very wise little girl, and it’s just as well you’ve taken refuge here. How did you hear about our establishment?’

  ‘My friend Mr Rivers told me about you,’ I said.

  ‘About me?’

  ‘Yes. You’re Miss Sarah Smith, aren’t you?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I am Miss Ainsley, the warden and head teacher,’ she said grandly, tossing her head as if she were six foot tall instead of less than five. ‘And your name is . . .?’

  ‘Clover Moon,’ I said.

  ‘Clover Moon and . . .?’

  ‘And I don’t think I want to be here,’ I said, clutching my sack for comfort.

  ‘I meant that you should say, “Clover Moon, Miss Ainsley,” for that is my name and that is how you should address me. And how can you say you don’t want to be here when you’ve been standing in this hallway for scarcely a minute! Come with me, child.’

  ‘No, I really mean it. I think I made a mistake coming here. Please can I go now?’ I asked.

  ‘Please can I go, Miss Ainsley!’ she said, confusingly. ‘No, of course you can’t.’

  ‘Am I a prisoner then?’

  ‘Silly girl! Of course not. You came here of your own free will, did you not?’

  ‘Yes, but now I want to go because I don’t like it here!’ I said.

  ‘You’re barely inside the front door. How can you possibly judge?’ said Miss Ainsley.

  I peered around the bleak, bare hallway with its narrow strip of carpet and dim gaslight. The only thing you could say for it was that it was clean. The smell of carbolic was so strong it made my eyes water.

  ‘It smells!’ I