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  ‘Hush, child,’ said Dr Jenkins. ‘Perhaps you can make us a cup of tea while I examine your mother.’

  I did as I was told. Mama continued weeping while he listened to her chest and asked her many questions. She answered in a monotone, barely polite, but the doctor treated her gently, with respect.

  ‘I think you know my diagnosis, don’t you?’ he said eventually, sitting down beside Mama and sipping his tea.

  Mama nodded.

  ‘You have an advanced case of phthisis,’ Dr Jenkins said quietly.

  ‘What’s that? Please, is it serious, Doctor?’ I asked fearfully, hating the hissing sound of the sinister little word.

  ‘I’m afraid it is, Hetty. Your mother is consumptive, and has been for some while. It’s a wonder she has been able to keep her position,’ he said.

  ‘But I’m going to lose it now, aren’t I?’ Mama said, and started coughing again.

  He waited until the paroxysms stopped. ‘My dear, how can you carry on in this state? And you know and I know that I have to tell your mistress.’

  ‘And you know and I know that she will cast me out, and I will have nowhere to go. I doubt even the workhouse will take me in this state,’ said Mama.

  ‘I am going to see if I can admit you to the local infirmary,’ said Dr Jenkins. ‘There is a special ward for consumptive patients.’

  ‘And will they make Mama better there?’ I asked.

  ‘They will give her every care,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, but can they cure her?’ I said desperately.

  ‘I think you are going to have to be a good brave girl, Hetty, and learn one of life’s saddest lessons. We often lose the people we love the most.’

  I WOULDN’T BELIEVE it. I tried not to let Mama believe it either.

  ‘You’re not going to die, Mama. I won’t let you! I will care for you and feed you and nurse you, and do every single thing for you so that you never have to move, and then you won’t cough, and then you will get better, just you wait and see,’ I declared.

  But Mama just shook her head very sadly, without even enough spirit to argue with me. She was proved horribly right about Miss Roberts. Mama had cared for her so devotedly – but as soon as the doctor broke the news to her that Mama had consumption, she panicked.

  ‘She must leave this house immediately!’ she screamed, so loudly that Mama and I could hear her downstairs. ‘I can’t have any sickness here! She might infect me! I will have to have the whole house thoroughly cleansed and disinfected. I will have to go to the trouble of training a new maid in my ways, and I’m a sick old woman myself. Oh, why did she have to do this to me? How will I ever get a maid to replace Ida?’

  ‘What a selfish, wicked woman!’ I exclaimed. ‘She doesn’t give a thought for you, Mama.’

  ‘She’s simply frightened,’ said Mama. ‘Go to her, Hetty. Here’s your chance. Tell her that you will care for her.’

  ‘I’m not working for her!’ I cried.

  ‘Hetty, please, will you try? One of us has to work – and it looks as if I am finished.’

  ‘Don’t! All right, Mama, I will go and talk to her.’

  I’d sooner have worked for Matron Stinking Bottomly than for this self-centred, wretched woman who didn’t have a word of compassion for my dear sick mama – but I could not deny her anything now.

  ‘Try to be very polite!’ said Mama.

  I went up the stairs and knocked on her door.

  ‘Who’s that? If it’s you, Ida, you can’t come in! I daren’t risk the infection – and I mustn’t upset myself. I am a sick woman, aren’t I, Doctor?’

  I swallowed hard while he murmured to her. I wanted to burst in and boot her right out of bed, but I entered her room quietly, and bobbed her a deferential curtsy.

  ‘Ah, the little daughter,’ said Dr Jenkins.

  ‘Whose daughter? Ida’s?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am – and I can take over Mama’s duties while she’s in the infirmary,’ I said meekly. ‘I have been trained as a servant and can cook and clean. Please let me assist you, ma’am. I am quick to learn.’

  ‘There now, Miss Roberts!’ said Dr Jenkins. ‘Here is the answer to your prayers.’

  ‘No, no, absolutely not! Don’t let that girl come near me! She might have the infection too. And I can’t have a child born out of wedlock in my house. I’m sorry, but I have my Christian principles.’

  ‘And I have my principles, ma’am,’ I shouted, unable to help myself now. ‘I am glad you will not take me on. You pretend to be a good woman, but you haven’t got an ounce of compassion in your withered heart. You are so taken up with your own trivial concerns that you didn’t even notice that Mama was coughing herself to death. She’s cared so dutifully for you, and yet you just want to turn her out onto the streets. You talk of Christian principles! I think you’re going to get a horrible surprise when you go knocking on St Peter’s gate in Heaven. He’ll shake his head at you and turn you away, just you wait and see!’

  I stamped out of the room, down the stairs, back to Mama in the kitchen.

  ‘I couldn’t quite hear – but that didn’t sound very polite,’ Mama said weakly.

  ‘Oh, Mama, I did try, truly, but she didn’t want me,’ I said.

  ‘Then we’re done for,’ Mama said weakly. ‘We’re both homeless.’

  ‘No, we’re not. That Dr Jenkins seems a kind gentleman. I’m sure he’ll do his best to get you into the infirmary,’ I said.

  ‘I try to be kind – and I’m going to take your mama directly to the infirmary in my carriage,’ Dr Jenkins said, following me into the kitchen. ‘Why don’t you get your mother’s things packed up, my dear?’

  It took only a few minutes to pack Mama’s possessions into a box. She had just two changes of clothes, her nightgown, her washing things, her brush and comb, her little violet vase, and a satin pouch embroidered with one word: HETTY. I found all the letters I’d ever written to her inside, tied up in neat bundles with ribbon, plus all the childish presents I’d made for her, right back to a little ill-sewn heart. I wept then to see that she’d treasured them so carefully.

  I carried Mama’s box and my own suitcase, and we left Miss Roberts’s house with the doctor. Mama tried to go to Miss Roberts to say goodbye, but she would not let her over her bedroom threshold and screamed at her to go away. Even so, Mama insisted on going to the neighbouring cottage, asking for the mistress there and begging her to send her maid to assist Miss Roberts.

  The doctor took us to the infirmary in his carriage.

  ‘I really can’t go to this infirmary,’ Mama protested weakly. ‘I must try to find some kind of shelter for Hetty and me. I can still work if I put my mind to it.’ But she started coughing again, that harsh hacking cough she couldn’t control. Then she choked, and the terrifying bright blood stained her handkerchief.

  ‘You cannot possibly work, my dear,’ said Dr Jenkins. ‘All you can do is rest now.’

  The carriage drew up outside a large grey building that reminded me uncomfortably of my own hospital.

  ‘Wait here, both of you,’ said the doctor, and he hurried inside.

  ‘I’m so, so sorry, Mama,’ I said tearfully. ‘I thought the doctor might be able to make you better. I didn’t dream that dreadful woman would throw you out. I didn’t realize.’

  ‘I know, Hetty, I know,’ Mama said, resting her poor burning head on my shoulder. ‘Oh, darling, what use am I to you as a mother? Perhaps I should have given you up for good when you were a baby and never tried to be near you. I’ve just brought you heartache and grief.’

  ‘You’ve given me great love. You’re the best mother in the whole world. You mustn’t worry about a thing now. You’re going to get better, I promise you are. I’m going to visit you every day, and buy you little treats and care for you – just the way you did for me when I was little. But I’m big now, Mama, and can look out for myself, so you mustn’t worry.’

  ‘You, big? You’ll always be my light-as-a-feather Hetty,�€