Clover Moon Read online

  The hansom cab stopped outside the biggest of them all, with a fancy iron gate flanked by two huge stone lions on pillars. I jumped out of the cab and stroked first one lion, then the other. They had great carved manes and beautiful faces with big eyes. They reminded me a little of Brutus, the dog in the market.

  ‘Do they have names?’ I asked Mr Rivers.

  ‘What? The lions? No, they just mark the name of the house,’ he said, pointing to the brass nameplate which said THE LION HOUSE.

  ‘Then I shall name you,’ I whispered to the lions. ‘Lion on the left, you shall be Brutus – and lion on the right, you can be Rufus. I hope that pleases you.’

  I imagined them nodding their great white heads approvingly, tongues lolling.

  Mr Rivers was watching me. ‘You really are still a little child,’ he said. ‘Oh dear, I do hope this is going to work out. Come along then.’

  I followed him up the steps. The door was painted green – almost the colour of clover! It had a great brass knocker in the shape of yet another lion. I hoped Mr Rivers would let me have a good rap, but as we stood before the door, it opened as if by magic, and I saw a maid wearing a frilly white cap and apron and a long black dress.

  ‘Good afternoon, sir,’ she said. Then she saw me. I smiled at her anxiously but she didn’t smile back. ‘Is this young person with you, sir?’

  ‘Certainly, Edie. This is Miss Clover Moon. She has come to join our household as a young nurserymaid,’ said Mr Rivers grandly.

  ‘Really, sir?’ she said. ‘Does the mistress know?’

  ‘She will soon enough. Come in, Clover, and see your new home.’

  I followed him into the most sumptuous hallway clad in turquoise tiles and decorated with great china vases and embroidered hangings, like a scene from Mr Dolly’s copy of The Arabian Nights.

  ‘Papa’s home!’ a little boy shouted from upstairs, and then he climbed on to the wide banister and slid all the way down, landing with a bump on his bottom.

  ‘Algie!’ Mr Rivers remonstrated.

  ‘Didn’t hurt, didn’t hurt!’ Algie cried, though he was red in the face.

  ‘Papa, Papa!’ Two more children came running after Algie, a chubby little girl and a delicate boy with long hair almost to his shoulders.

  Mr Rivers picked each one up in turn and hugged them hard. ‘Hello, my monkeys! What have you been up to? Making mischief, I’ll be bound,’ he said.

  ‘Have you brought us a present, Papa?’ they demanded. ‘Something to play with?’

  ‘I’ve brought you the most excellent present, and you can play with her all you want. Allow me to introduce you to your new little nurserymaid!’ He pushed me forward. ‘This is Miss Clover Moon. Isn’t she delightful?’

  The children looked at me in disappointment. Edie sniffed.

  ‘Haven’t you brought us anything else, Papa?’ Algie demanded.

  ‘Something to eat?’ asked the little girl hopefully.

  ‘Clarrie! You’re practically bursting out of your pinafores as it is!’ said Mr Rivers, but even so he produced a paper bag from his pocket.

  Clarrie delved in eagerly, and squealed when she discovered a twisted stick of barley sugar. The boys clamoured for one too, snatching at the bag.

  ‘I believe Nurse doesn’t care for the children to eat sweetmeats before their lunch, sir,’ said Edie.

  ‘So don’t tell Nursie, monkeys!’ said Mr Rivers. ‘Now I need to get to work in my studio. I’ll leave you to herd Sebastian and Algie and Clarrie back to the nursery, Clover. You can introduce yourself to Nurse.’

  He sauntered off, rather to my dismay. The children were all sucking barley-sugar canes now, getting lamentably sticky.

  ‘There’ll be trouble if they touch any of the furniture,’ said Edie. ‘Well, I suppose they’re your responsibility now.’ She smiled maliciously.

  I tossed my head at her and tied my shawl firmly in place. ‘Come along, children. I want to see your nursery,’ I said. ‘Have you got any dolls? I think one of you has a very special doll called Marigold.’

  This took them by surprise. ‘How on earth did you know that?’ they clamoured, tugging at my arm, my skirts, my pillowcase.

  ‘That would be telling,’ I said as I steered them up the stairs. I nodded at Edie triumphantly, showing that I was in charge.

  ‘Yes, but how?’ Algie persisted.

  ‘Perhaps I have magic powers!’ I said. ‘See my green eyes? I could be a witch.’

  I heard a chuckle from the landing. There was a girl a little older than me sitting in the window seat. She had long shiny brown hair tied with a dark green ribbon and she wore an embroidered grass-green smock. She was swinging her long bare legs, not even wearing shoes. She had a large storybook balanced on her lap.

  ‘Are you saying you’re a witch?’ she asked.

  ‘I could be,’ I said. ‘And you could be Beth and have a doll called Marigold.’

  She laughed at me. ‘You’re not a very clever witch then. I’m not Beth. She’s in the nursery, tucked up on the chaise longue because she’s not very well. I’m Rose and I’m too old for dolls. Who on earth are you?’

  ‘I’m Clover.’ I wondered if I should call her Miss. Should I even bob her a curtsy – or tell her to go and put some shoes and stockings on? I dithered, distracted by her book. It was hard to read the print upside down, and it was arranged in a strange way, in little short sections.

  She saw me peering. ‘Do you like poetry?’ she asked.

  ‘Maids don’t read poetry!’ said Algie dismissively. ‘Papa says she’s our new nurserymaid. We don’t want one, do we?’

  ‘Algie!’ said Sebastian. ‘You’ll hurt her feelings.’

  ‘I do like poetry!’ I said, stung. It wasn’t quite a lie. I’d loved my stolen nursery-rhyme book, and that was poetry, wasn’t it?

  ‘Can you do magic tricks if you’re a witch?’ Clarrie asked. ‘Can you magic more sweets?’

  ‘Nurse isn’t going to want her either,’ Algie retorted.

  ‘Oh, bother Nurse,’ said Rose.

  ‘I’d better go and introduce myself to her,’ I said.

  ‘In a minute,’ said Rose. ‘Come to my room first. I’ll show you my books. Come on, Clover. Not the rest of you though. You’ve all got sticky hands. Go and wash!’

  She waved them away and took hold of my hand as if we were friends! I still wasn’t sure how I was going to get on in this strange Lion House, but I knew one thing. I liked Rose very much indeed – and she seemed to like me.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Poor Clover was very badly treated by her stepmother. We can all understand why she ran away, but it must have been very frightening to wander the streets of London – a very dangerous place for a young girl who was all alone. Life in the nineteenth century was extremely harsh for a large number of children. Many experienced cruelty and neglect from uncaring or desperate parents. They were forced to work long hours, or left to beg in the streets, often starving and in need of medical attention.

  Thank goodness there were a few concerned and caring people like Sarah Smith in my story. Following the success of similar societies in Liverpool and New York, in 1886 the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children was established by founding member the Reverend Benjamin Waugh.

  In Victorian times people thought that it was wrong for the law to intervene in family life, even if the children were being harmed by their parents or carers. However, within its first five years the NSPCC managed to change this culture, and persuaded Parliament to pass the first law to protect children in abusive family situations. The 1889 Prevention of Cruelty to Children Act – which came more than fifty years after the first law to protect animals from cruelty – became known as ‘the Children’s Charter’.

  Since 1884 more than ten million children have benefited from the unique expertise and commitment of the NSPCC’s staff and volunteers.

  Today, one of the services offered by the NSPCC is ChildLine. Over the last thi