Chapter One
Autumn 1909
‘Poppy, are you awake? I need to tell you a secret,’ Rose whispered.
Poppy turned on the straw mattress, which was itching her arms and legs. ‘What is it?’ she replied, taking care not to let Nellie hear.
‘Nellie got another letter today.’
Poppy reached for her sister’s hand. ‘Where is it?’
‘I saw her put it in her pocket. It was another big envelope with fancy writing on the front.’
On the floor beneath them in the barn at the back of the cattle market, Nellie began to snore. Slowly Poppy raised herself off the mattress and peered down to look at her.
‘She’s fast asleep. We could creep down the ladder and steal the letter from her pocket,’ she said.
Rose gripped her hand. ‘No. What if she wakes up? Our lives won’t be worth living if she catches us. Anyway, what would we do with it?’
‘I’d take it to Sid. He can read,’ Poppy said decisively.
‘Poppy, please don’t do it,’ Rose begged. ‘You’ve been stealing too much lately. Ambrose Trewhitt almost caught you taking stuff from his shop again yesterday.’
‘How are we supposed to eat if I don’t steal food?’ Poppy lay down again. Her leg began to itch and she scratched her knee. ‘The straw’s full of fleas, they’re biting me,’ she moaned. ‘They never bite you. It’s not fair.’
‘Shush, Nellie will hear.’
The sisters lay in silence, still holding hands. Below them, Nellie’s rattling snores were getting louder and stronger. Each time she exhaled, it sounded to Poppy as if the barn roof would blow off. The thought of this made her giggle.
‘Stop it,’ Rose urged. ‘Don’t wake her. She’ll be furious.’
Poppy stuffed her hand into her mouth to quell her laughter. She wasn’t as frightened of Nellie as her younger sister was. But she knew that if the woman woke from her precious sleep before she was ready, she would take her anger out on them both. She snuggled down and pulled the coarse, rough blanket up to her chin. It had once been used to cover horses, and stank of farmyard dirt.
‘I’m scared, Poppy,’ Rose said.
‘Of Nellie? Don’t be. Leave her to me, I can handle her,’ Poppy said, more assertively than she felt.
At just ten years old, Poppy was a year older than Rose, and she thought herself very grown up. Their parents had died two years ago, and the sisters had moved into the barn to live with Nellie Harper. They had done a lot of growing up since. They’d also done a lot of crying, trying to come to terms with their lives as unloved, unwanted orphans. Their dad had died at the pit, and three months later, their mam was found drowned on the beach. The talk in the village was that she had thrown herself from the cliffs after her beloved husband passed away, and died suffering a broken heart. More cruel gossip suggested that she’d been bad with her nerves and unstable in her mind, for why else would a mother leave two little girls alone? With no relatives in the village, it was widow woman Nellie Harper who offered to take Poppy and Rose. However, she didn’t do so out of the goodness of her heart. She had her own reasons, and they all involved cold, hard cash.
Nellie worked as a knocker-upper. It was her job to wake coal miners from their sleep so they’d be at work in time for their shift. She carried a long stick that she tapped against the window until the miner inside called out to let her know he was up. Job done, she moved to the next house, then the next. If any miner didn’t wake at her insistent rapping, she’d throw stones at his bedroom window until he flung it open. No miner was left in bed, for if he was late for work, there’d be no money coming into the house and no food for his bairns. Worse, Nellie’s reputation as a reliable knocker-upper would be at stake, and she wouldn’t get paid.
She knew how crucial her role was, and she took her work seriously. In the small village of Ryhope, on the north-east coast, she walked the pit lanes day and night to coincide with the miners’ shifts. Sometimes she worked as many as four shifts in the day. When she returned home, ready to settle in her chair for a snooze, it was often time for her to set out again. However, in order for her to get out of bed on time to start work, she needed someone to wake her. This was where Poppy and Rose came in, the only reason Nellie had taken them in after their mam died.
‘Rose, remember it’s your turn to wake Nellie in the morning,’ Poppy whispered. ‘You mustn’t go to sleep. You’ve got to stay awake and listen for the three bells.’
The bells were the chimes from St Paul’s church, close to the farm where they lived.
‘It’s my turn to go to school tomorrow,’ she added sleepily.
The sisters had to take turns to go to school as they only had one pair of boots between them. The village school had high standards and wouldn’t allow any child inside with bare feet. Attending school on alternate days was better than nothing, but it meant that both girls were far behind when it came to reading and writing. Poppy in particular struggled to learn. Words seemed to change in front of her eyes, and attempting to read confused her.
As she turned on the straw, she saw her sister’s pretty face lit by moonlight streaming through holes in the roof. She took in Rose’s pale skin and her fluttering eyelids. She wondered if she was asleep and dreaming about something nice. Something from the days before their dad died at the pit, before their mam drowned on the beach and before Nellie Harper came into their lives.
She sighed, staring up at the slats of rotten wood above her. On bitterly cold days, when Poppy complained about the sleet and snow coming in, Nellie reminded her where she and Rose might have ended up if she hadn’t taken them in. A shiver ran down Poppy’s back when Nellie threatened her like that. She’d heard rumours of dark, forbidding institutions where unwanted orphans were left at the gates, taken in by stern-faced harridans and never seen again. She’d also heard of a house in Ryhope run by a woman called Miss Gilbey, who took in destitute girls. But whenever she’d spotted Miss Gilbey walking by on the street, the woman’s long black skirts and pinched face scared the living daylights out of her.
Their home with Nellie, such as it was, was at the back of the farm owned by Nellie’s brother, Norman. It had once been a cow barn, before the animals were moved to a different barn that Nellie complained offered better accommodation than the one she lived in with the orphans. And on top of that, she added bitterly, Norman had the effrontery to demand rent for the squalid space, and even charged her for coal for the fire.
The barn was big and airy, with a ladder leading up to the hayloft where Poppy and Rose slept. Downstairs, where Nellie lived, there was a coal fire against a stone wall and a big stuffed armchair that had seen better days. The chair was where Nellie sat, slept and ate. It was where she barked out instructions to Poppy and Rose as she taught them how to cook what little food she could afford. Poppy boiled cabbages to make soup, or did her best to bake bread whenever Nellie could afford to buy flour. Norman sometimes brought dead chickens and chucked these at Nellie, imploring his sister to feed the orphans, who were all skin and bone. Sometimes he brought turnips and potatoes, and Nellie would command Poppy to make stew. She gave no love to the two girls and showed little kindness. Instead, she treated them as a nuisance to be endured for the sake of waking her up for her work.
Rose yawned and turned on her side. When her eyes opened, Poppy realised her sister was awake and hadn’t been dreaming at all.
‘I know it’s my turn to wake Nellie up. I’ll listen for the bells. Go to sleep, Poppy,’ Rose mumbled.
‘I don’t think I can. I’m worried about Nellie’s letter. I think something’s wrong. You’ve seen the way she’s been lately, acting strange. When I fetched water from the yard for our bath last week, she told me to make sure I washed behind my ears. Then she told me to brush my hair a hundred times before I went to bed.’
‘A hundred times?’ Rose cried. ‘But she knows you can’t count past twelve.’ Poppy could only count as far as the number of bells she heard chiming from St Paul’s church.
‘Shush,’ Poppy said, worried about waking Nellie.
The sisters stiffened in bed, waiting to hear the reassuring noise of Nellie snoring, proof that she was still asleep, before they continued.
‘Why’s she so bothered about how I look? She’s never taken an interest before. She’s even started checking my head for nits, and that hasn’t happened since she took us in.’
‘She hasn’t done anything like that to me,’ Rose said.
‘That’s because you’re so pretty,’ Poppy said. ‘You don’t need anyone to remind you to brush your hair or wash your face. I need a bit more telling.’
‘You’re pretty too,’ Rose said.
‘I’m not and you know it.’ Poppy sighed. ‘You don’t have to tell lies.’
‘I’m not telling lies,’ Rose said with a catch in her voice. ‘I love you, Poppy. You’re the prettiest girl I know.’
‘You’re prettier than me, Mam always said so. That’s why she called you Rose, because roses were her favourite flowers. You’re delicate and sweet, just like a beautiful rose. Whereas I’m named after poppies, and they grow like weeds. They put down stubborn roots and some people don’t like them. And my hair’s not as nice as yours. Yours is lovely and straight, while mine’s curly and I hate it.’
‘Dad had curly hair. You must take after him.’
The girls were silent for a moment, as they always were when talk turned to their parents.
‘Do you remember Dad?’ Poppy asked eventually.
‘Sometimes,’ Rose replied sadly. ‘I remember his voice, the way it used to make me feel safe and warm. And I remember the way Mam tucked us into bed at night and kissed us to send us to sleep.’
Poppy shifted on the straw. ‘Another family lives in the house we used to live in. I sometimes look in through the windows and I see a little boy with his mam. There’s often a pram in the garden by the front door. I hope that family are as happy as we were once.’ She crossed her fingers.
‘Mam always said you were pretty,’ Rose said sleepily.
Poppy touched her nose. ‘I’ve got too many freckles. Even Sid says he’s never seen anyone with freckles like mine. Mam used to say that putting mustard paste on your face takes the freckles away. I might try it one day.’
‘You’ll smell of mustard for ever,’ Rose said. ‘Then Sid won’t want to kiss you.’
‘Eew . . . who says I want to kiss Sid? I don’t want to kiss anyone, and certainly not a boy.’
‘Do you really think Sid would read the letter for us if you stole it from Nellie?’ Rose asked.
‘I’m sure he would,’ Poppy replied. ‘There’s not much he wouldn’t do for me. I’m his best friend. I’m certain something’s up with Nellie. She keeps looking at me really odd when she thinks I don’t see her.’
‘It does sound strange,’ Rose said. She propped herself up in bed. ‘How many letters do you think she’s received?’
‘I’ve seen three arrive lately, and if you saw one today, that makes four. Did it have the same writing on the front as the others?’
Rose nodded in the darkness, then sank back on to the straw. ‘Maybe she’s got a boyfriend and he’s writing her love letters,’ she said.
‘You’re such a soppy little sister at times,’ Poppy chided. ‘Who’d want smelly Nellie as his sweetheart? No, I don’t think you’re right. I think there’s something else going on. It’s more than a coincidence that her telling me how to dress and wash started when the letters first arrived. I’ve got to find out.’
‘Be careful. If she knows you’re on to her, she could put us out on the streets, and we’d be sent to the workhouse or to live with Miss Gilbey, that strange woman who takes in unwanted girls. This place is horrible, but it’s all we’ve got.’
Poppy reached for Rose’s hand again. ‘We’ve got each other. I’ll look after you. First thing tomorrow after Nellie leaves for work, I’m going to find the letter.’
Chapter Two
When the three bells chimed from the tower at St Paul’s, Poppy stirred in her bed. She heard the bells clearly, but Rose was still asleep. She gently nudged her sister. ‘Rose, it’s time for you to wake Nellie.’
Rose stirred, yawned loudly, then stepped out of bed. When her bare feet hit the cold wooden floor, she winced with pain. She tiptoed across the room to the ladder and carefully climbed down to where Nellie was snoring. She walked across the barn to Nellie’s chair and gently touched her shoulder. Nellie was a chubby woman, and her shoulder felt fleshy and meaty under Rose’s small hand.
‘It’s time to go to work, Nellie,’ Rose said quietly – too quietly, for Nellie didn’t stir. She tried again, louder this time, and shook her shoulder hard. This time Nellie woke with a start.
‘Yes, girl, I’m awake,’ she said grumpily. ‘Get me my stick.’
Nellie’s knocking-up stick was always kept in the corner of the room, and Rose fetched it quickly. She handed it to Nellie, who snatched it from her.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ groaned the woman, squinting at Rose in the darkness. ‘I thought it was your sister’s turn to wake me this morning.’
‘No, it’s Poppy’s turn to go to school.’
‘Aye, well, make sure she does go. I want her head full of learning – tell her it’s important.’
‘Is it important for me to learn too?’ Rose asked.
Nellie shot her a look. ‘No one needs to be clever when they’re as pretty as you. You’ll do as you are.’
Poppy listened to the sounds from below. She heard Nellie’s chair creak as she stood. She heard her cough and splutter as she cleared her chest, then she heard her boots clatter on the floor as she got ready to go out.
‘Set the fire, girl, I want it ready for when I return,’ Nellie ordered. ‘I’ve got another two shifts to work yet.’
Rose was already ahead of Nellie’s command, rolling pages of newspaper and tying them into knots. These went to build the fire first, followed by sticks of wood that Nellie forced Rose and Poppy to chop each night. Finally a shovelful of coal went on top. The sisters took pride in setting the fire each day, as its warmth was their only comfort.
‘Help me, girl. Get my coat,’ Nellie demanded.
Rose walked across the dark room, finding her way instinctively. The only light coming in was through the holes in the roof, but it was enough for her to see Nellie’s distinctive outline. She was a short woman, with no consideration for how she looked. Her clothes were dirty, unwashed, and she never took pride in her appearance – not like the orphans’ mam had once done. Nellie never smelled good, even after her weekly bath. She was old, and her face was heavy with a permanent scowl. Her eyes were dark and beady, like pieces of coal. She wore a heavy brown skirt that reached to the ground. Each time she walked across the farmyard, the skirt trailed in the cow muck and dirt. It had deep pockets on either side of her big hips. She wore the same black boots every day and never took them off, not even while sleeping. Over her skirt she wore a long-sleeved black woollen cardigan pulled tight across her ample chest. Some of the buttons were missing and others were fastened in the wrong holes. This all added to the impression that she didn’t care how she looked or what others thought about her.
‘Now, girl! Are you deaf? I asked you to fetch my coat!’ she yelled.
Poppy looked down from the hayloft. She didn’t like the way Nellie was speaking to her sister.
Rose quickly pulled Nellie’s jacket from a metal hook by the door. ‘Sorry, Nellie,’ she said, handing the garment over.
Nellie held her stick in one hand and reached for the jacket with the other. ‘I’ll give you sorry!’ she snarled, and as she spoke, she brought the stick down sharply.
In the dim light of the barn, Poppy watched in horror. Without thinking, she leapt out of bed, not feeling the ice-cold floor under her bare feet, ignoring the autumn chill coming through the holes in the roof. She flew down the ladder, her feet barely touching the rungs. Rose was in tears, and Nellie was furious with her for reasons Poppy couldn’t understand. But one thing she was sure about was that Rose had done nothing wrong. She stormed up to Nellie. The stench coming off the woman was almost overpowering.
‘Leave her alone, you big bully!’ she screamed into Nellie’s face.
Nellie tried to bring the stick down again, this time on Poppy, but Poppy was ready for it. With all the strength she had in her, she pushed both hands against Nellie’s chest, toppling her back into her chair. The stick clattered to the ground. Poppy stood still, her heart pounding, then she ran to Rose and put her arm protectively around her shoulders.
‘Leave her alone,’ she said, more measured this time.
Nellie looked as if she didn’t know what had hit her. She glanced from Poppy to Rose and back again. ‘You’re nothing more than a wild animal, girl,’ she spat.
Poppy tightened her grip on Rose’s shoulders. ‘No one hurts my sister. No one. Especially you, Nellie Harper. We might be forced to live with you in this hovel, but it doesn’t give you the right to beat us. I’ll tell Norman if you do it again.’
‘Leave my brother out of this,’ Nellie hissed. ‘He doesn’t need to know what goes on back here.’
Poppy stepped forward, shielding Rose. ‘Why did you try to hit her?’
‘She deserved it, she’s slovenly.’ Nellie pressed both hands against the arms of her chair and slowly raised herself up. Poppy and Rose took a step backwards, afraid that she might lunge for them. Poppy had never seen her in such a bad mood, and she was determined to protect her sister. Nellie pointed a chubby finger at the girls. ‘Rose, get my stick, now!’
Rose picked up the knocking-up stick.
‘As for you . . .’ Nellie snarled, taking a step closer to Poppy.
But Poppy was determined not to let the woman get the better of her. She crossed her arms and tilted her chin defiantly. ‘What about me?’
‘Oh, don’t get cocky, lass. Remember, I can have you thrown out of here any time.’ Nellie waved a hand in the air, pointing up to the hayloft. ‘Think this place is bad, do you? Think I do wrong by you and your sister?’
That was exactly what Poppy thought, but she knew better than to reply. Instead, she bit her tongue and waited for Nellie to get to the point.
‘Well, things might be changing soon,’ Nellie said darkly.
Rose looked at Poppy and opened her mouth in shock. Poppy shook her head, warning her sister to keep quiet.
Nellie grabbed the stick from Rose and picked up her jacket. ‘Set the fire good and high,’ she ordered Rose, then she turned and pointed at Poppy. ‘And you, get yourself back to bed, get some sleep. You need to be alert for school. Learn all you can, it’ll stand you in good stead.’
‘What for?’ Poppy asked. ‘Why are you so keen for me to learn all of a sudden?’
Nellie thrust her arms into her jacket and walked to the door without replying. She slid it open and stepped out of the barn into the yard.
As soon as the door shut, Rose ran straight into Poppy’s arms.
‘Did she hurt you?’ Poppy asked.
Rose shook her head. ‘I moved just in time. The stick hit the chair, but the noise scared me.’
‘Something’s rattled her,’ Poppy said, trying to work things out. ‘It’s got to be connected to the letters. Maybe Norman knows what’s going on.’
‘We can’t ask him,’ Rose said quickly. ‘He doesn’t like us.’
‘He brings us chickens sometimes, doesn’t he? He might know something.’ Poppy glanced around the dim room. ‘Let’s look for the letter. It might be here.’
She dropped her arm from Rose’s shoulders and hurried to Nellie’s chair. She lifted the cushion and shook it, then ran to the fireplace, where a pile of newspapers waited to be rolled into knots for the fire. She lifted each sheet, shaking them all, hoping an envelope would fall out, then picked up the mat from the hearth, but there was nothing underneath. Meanwhile Rose was on her hands and knees looking under the table and the two spindly chairs, but there was nothing there either, and the cupboard that Nellie used as a pantry was empty apart from mouldy cheese and a box of tea.
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