The Journey of the Shadow Bairns Page 2

  The woman now looked at Robbie properly for the first time and saw a dirty child in ill-fitting clothes. He was chewing on the ear of a battered stuffed animal and his nose was running, but he looked up with trusting blue eyes. His tousled hair was blond and curly, and his face still held its baby roundness.

  “I know of someone who might give a home to your little brother—Robert, is it?” the woman said, with a touch of interest in her voice. “It would be better for him than the orphanage. You’re a good boy, are you?”

  Robbie nodded.

  “We’re to stay together,” Elspeth said more firmly.

  “How old is he?” the woman asked, ignoring Elspeth.

  “He’s four, ma’am.”

  “They really want a baby . . . but maybe I can talk them into taking a four-year-old,” she said, looking Rob over as if he were a stray puppy. Then she consulted her watch and added briskly, “I can’t confirm anything until Monday. Can you stay here over the weekend? I’ll get Mrs. Copeland across the way to look in on you from time to time.”

  “We’ll be all right, thank you,” Elspeth said.

  She waited tensely until the woman left, afraid she might change her mind and take Robbie with her. The clipped sound of the woman’s heels clicked on the stone staircase and then faded away as she hurried out to the street,

  “She’s one of them,” Elspeth said quietly to Rob. “One of them that Mama said would want to separate us. She wants to take you away, but I’m not going to let her. We’ll run away before she comes back.”

  Elspeth sat down and forced herself to think calmly about what she was going to do. She wanted to get away at once, before anyone else came to see them, but it would take more planning than that. It would also take money. Papa had kept his savings in a tin at the back of the dresser, but only he ever opened it. Surely it would be all right to look inside?

  She found the tin box, but still hesitated. Robbie was watching her curiously. “It’s all right, Robbie,” she said. “It’s ours now.” Elspeth opened the box and groped inside with shaking fingers. It seemed to be full of pamphlets and papers and letters. Impatiently she scattered these, finding at last the pile of money—far more than she dared to expect. Slowly she counted it—over a hundred pounds.

  They could go a long way on a hundred pounds, maybe even take a train somewhere. But where would be the best place to go? They could go back to the croft in the Highlands. Some of Elspeth’s feeling of hopelessness began to dissolve as she pictured the little stone house by the edge of the sea, with the mountains rising steeply behind. Robbie would like it there—the sea and the sand and the lambs in the spring . . . .

  As she shuffled through the papers, looking for an envelope big enough to hold the money, she noticed the pamphlet that Papa had asked her to read. She shoved it to the bottom of the pile because it hurt too much to remember. And these were surely tickets—tickets for the journey Papa would never take. Tears ran down Elspeth’s cheeks.

  “I’m hungry,” Robbie whined. “I want my tea.”

  Elspeth didn’t answer. She was staring through tears at the blurred words on the tickets: The Lake Manitoba, Beaver Line. Was that the name of a boat? But Manitoba was where Uncle Donald and Aunt Maud went. Would the boat go there? Could they go to this place called Manitoba and find Uncle Donald and Aunt Maud?

  She studied the tickets again more carefully: March 31, 1903, Liverpool Dock. This was Friday, March 27—three weeks since Papa . . . . She pressed her hands against her temples, trying to force her thoughts back to the words on the tickets.

  “I’m hungry,” Robbie said again, twisting his finger in his hair the way he did when he was upset.

  Elspeth ignored him. These were boat tickets, and there were others that seemed to be train tickets, but for a Canadian train. How were they to get to Liverpool to go on the boat? Once again she sorted through the papers, but she couldn’t find any train tickets from Glasgow to Liverpool. Then it occurred to her that they could go to the train station and buy tickets.

  It was five years since Elspeth had traveled by train, but she was familiar with the station because of the many hours she’d spent there with Robbie. Going to see the trains was his favorite outing. He had once gone to the station alone. Mama was always worried that he’d take it into his head to climb on board a train. Sometimes they pretended they were travelers bound for far away places with exciting names like London and Carlisle and Liverpool—and now it could really happen! How excited Robbie would be!

  “Elspeth!”

  Reluctantly, she put aside the tickets ands stirred up the fire, moving the kettle onto the stove. While she waited for it to boil, she spread bacon drippings on two thick slices of bread and put them on plates on the table.

  “Wait till I get the tea made,” she told Robbie, who had started to eat.

  After supper, Robbie climbed into bed and quickly fell asleep. Elizabeth went back to her planning.

  They would need to take their clothes with them, and maybe blankets as well. She dragged Papa’s battered traveling bag out from under the bed. It was made of soft leather, scarred from many journeys, and was hinged at the back so that it opened into two halves, separated by a partition. She put Rob’s few extra clothes in one side and hers in the other. She packed two towels, tin plates, mugs, and a knife, fork, and spoon for each of them.

  Sadly she looked at the familiar things they would have to leave behind—the blue porcelain plate that had come with them from the croft, the old china doll her mother had played with as a child, the dark picture of a stag standing in front of heather-clad hills. She would take Mama’s brooch, a cairngorm surrounded by a wreath of thistles, and Papa’s watch for Robbie. And the money. How should she carry all that money?

  Suddenly she had an idea. She found the sewing needle on the corner of the mantelpiece where Mama always kept it, and then she took out her old gray skirt with the lined bodice. Sitting in mama’s chair by the window, where there was more light, she painstakingly began to unpick the seams. Then she stuffed the bundles of pound notes between the lining and the bodice, stitching them in place so that each bundle was secure. She bit of the thread with her small, even teeth. There, that would keep the money safe. And maybe she wouldn’t look so small and skinny now, she thought, smiling slightly to herself.

  She put on the skirt and bodice and pulled her brown dress over it. Then she crossed the room and shoved the suitcase back under the bed in case that old busybody Mrs. Copeland should come in and ask questions. She paused, looking down fondly at Robbie. His tousled hair was red-gold on the pillow, and he was holding Pig-Bear in the crook of his arm. She tucked the blanket under his chin and hoped that he would sleep until morning. He had taken to waking in the night, crying. Bad dreams, she supposed. She had bad dreams too, but there was no use her crying.

  Elspeth planned to leave the house early on Monday morning before that woman came back. They’d catch a train to Liverpool and hide there until it was time to get on the boat on Tuesday. She thought of leaving right away, but Mrs. Copeland might tell someone they were gone, and Elspeth didn’t know where she could hide with Robbie. He was hard enough to look after here, crying all the time, and wanting Mama. She felt guilty about being so impatient with him. She didn’t mean to be.

  For much of the day on Saturday, Elspeth stood anxiously by the window watching the people down on the street. Suppose the woman didn’t wait till Monday to come back? Suppose she had already talked to the people who might want Robbie, and they came and took him away? Her fingers tightened on the windowsill. She leaned forward to watch a woman approach their doorway. Elspeth sighed with relief when the woman continued down the street and disappeared into the cobbler’s shop.

  “Can we go and see the trains?” Robbie asked, pulling at Elspeth’s dress.

  “Not just now,” she answered. She would have liked to tell him about the plan, but he might say something to Mrs. Copeland.

  “I want to go now,” Robbie wail
ed.

  “Then want must be your master,” Elspeth snapped. When she realized that was something Mama used to say, she pulled Robbie toward her and held him close. Was it easier, or harder being only four, she wondered.

  On Sunday morning, Elspeth felt a little calmer, but a loud knock on the door brought back her earlier panic. She opened it cautiously and didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset when she saw Mrs. Copeland standing there, her inquisitive eyes raking the whole room. Mrs. Copeland was one of those people who savored other people’s misfortunes.

  “So they’ve found you a place as a kitchen maid,” she said, shuffling over to Mama’s chair and sitting down as if she meant to stay for a while. “I remember my first day as a kitchen maid. At everybody’s beck and call, I was. And all those copper pots and pans to be shined every day.”

  Robbie leaned against Mrs. Copeland’s knee and she ruffled his hair, saying “Poor faitherless bairn! That so much could happen in three short weeks! I was standing right by the door when the man from the shipyard came to tell your ma the news.”

  Her voice was like a probe opening up a wound. Elspeth crossed to the window and stared down at the street. There was nothing to distract her, not a person in sight.

  “Oh well! I just came over to help you pack, “ Mrs. Copeland said, getting heavily out of her chair. “Do you have a bag to hold the laddie’s clothes?”

  “I’ve got everything ready,” Elspeth said firmly.

  “Aren’t you taking that pretty plate and the doll—something to remember your dear mother by?”

  “I’ll pack those later. We can manage on our own.”

  “Well, I’ll go then,” Mrs. Copeland said, moving slowly toward the door. “But I’ll look in early in the morning to see that you’re ready. You don’t want to keep the lady waiting, do you?”

  That night Elspeth hardly slept. She sat in her mother’s chair by the window, watching for the first sign of dawn. For the first time since Papa’s death, she felt a faint stirring of anticipation. She and Robbie were going to Canada! They would find Uncle Donald, and they would make Papa’s dream come true.

  It was not quite light, but Elspeth shook Robbie awake. He muttered a few words and wriggled down under his blanket.

  “Wake up, Robbie! Wake up! We’re going to the station.”

  Robbie’s blue eyes flew open. “To see the trains?” he asked.

  “To go on a train,” Elspeth answered.

  Robbie looked up at her, trying to guess if this was a game she was playing. She hadn’t played games for a long time. Her serious face told him nothing, but he allowed her to stuff him into two jerseys, button up his coat, and then tie his bundled-up blanket on his back without complaining. He didn’t even remind her that they hadn’t had breakfast when she cautiously opened the door and led him out of the room he’d lived in all his life and down the dark stairs.

  Chapter 3

  “Difficulties”

  MARCH 30, 1903

  With their bundles on their backs, Robbie and Elspeth walked hand in hand down the deserted street. A dog bounded out of a doorway and sniffed at Robbie. He wanted to stop and pat it, but Elspeth pulled him away.

  “Come on, Robbie,” she urged. “We’ll have plenty of time to play when we get to the station. But we have to get there fast.”

  The traveling bag was awkward to carry. It was so big that Elspeth had to crook her elbow slightly to keep it off the ground and now her arm was growing tired. Robbie dragged on her other hand.

  “Here, change hands,” she said to him.

  “You carry Pig-Bear,” he whined.

  “I can’t! I’ll put him in the bag.”

  “No! He has to see!”

  Elspeth knew better than to argue with Robbie about Pig-Bear, but all the same, she felt that Pig-Bear was a responsibility she could have done without.

  When they reached the windy entrance to the station, Robbie ran ahead, excited by the sound of shunting trains and the sooty smell of the engines. Dim light filtered through the smoky glass roof. Elspeth was glad to see that, even at this early hour, there were lots of people about. She and Robbie would be less conspicuous that way.

  First they went to the tearoom. Robbie was wide-eyed with surprise when Elspeth sat him down at one of the tables and ordered two mugs of tea and two buns. Robbie had often peered into the tearoom on their visits to the station, but had long since learned that no amount of begging would persuade Elspeth to take him inside. Today he couldn’t understand his good fortune as he warmed his hands on the thick white mug and eyed the waiting bun.

  After breakfast they went to the rest room. It was hard to drag the bag and blankets everywhere, but Elspeth didn’t dare leave them unguarded.

  “Robbie, you’ll have to stay with our things while I go in here,” she told him, sitting him down firmly with their bundles in the outer waiting room.

  She was only gone a few minutes, but when she returned the bag and two blanket rolls were lying there alone. Robbie was nowhere in sight. The glass door out to the station was swinging slightly. Hoping he had just left, Elspeth pushed her way through the door, colliding with a fat woman carrying two suitcases. Once she was out in the station Elspeth looked frantically up and down. There was no sign of Robbie. The feeling of tension that had knotted her stomach all morning gave way to panic.

  A shrill whistle announced the arrival of a train at Platform 10. Elspeth ran wildly though the station, hoping she would find Robbie standing by the ticket barrier watching the train pull in. When he wasn’t there, she imagined he had somehow gotten past the barrier and onto the platform. Doors banged open and porters rushed forward with clattering trolleys. Rumpled and sleep-stained passengers stumbled out of the train and surged toward the ticket collector’s gate, but there was no sign of Robbie.

  “Please, sir, please sir,” Elspeth said breathlessly. “Did you see a little boy with blond hair, sort of curly, go onto the platform?”

  “Stand back,” the ticket collector said impatiently, not even listening.

  “Please sir,” she began again, but the first people from the train had reached the gate and the man gave all his attention to punching tickets.

  Elspeth turned and walked back toward the waiting room, wondering what she should do. A policeman in a heavy dark coat and helmet was coming through the station entrance. He would help her—but the thought that he might ask questions held her back. Suppose Mrs. Copeland had told someone they had run away, and the policeman was looking for them.

  Elspeth forced herself to be calm. Robbie had to be somewhere in the station—he would never agree to go home till he’d seen a dozen trains come and go. He couldn’t have been on Platform 10 because the bad-tempered ticket collector wouldn’t have let him pass. Elspeth decided to search each of the other platforms in turn.

  She was almost back to the waiting room again when she spotted him, sitting against a wall on a stool, talking to a shoeshine boy.

  When Robbie saw Elspeth, he waved. “Jack let me shine my shoes!” he said happily.

  Elspeth didn’t need to be told. Robbie’s worn brown shoes were generously covered with black polish, as were his face and hands.

  “Robbie! I told you to stay with our stuff,” Elspeth said, tears of annoyance mixing with tears of relief. “We’ve got to get back there and see that no one has taken anything.”

  “Want your shoes shined, miss?” the shoeshine boy asked impudently.

  “Did you have to let him get in this mess?” Elspeth replied angrily.

  “Hope he doesn’t catch it when his ma sees him,” the boy answered.

  Elspeth turned quickly away to hide that awful pain of missing Mama. She couldn’t allow herself to think of that now, so she jerked Robbie to his feet and dragged him back to the waiting room.

  “Pig-Bear!” he shouted. “I’ve left Pig-Bear!”

  They had to go back for Pig-Bear. His feet had been lavishly dipped in shoe polish—one black and one brown—so that h
e was now more disreputable than ever.

  When they finally reached the waiting room their belongings were undisturbed, much to Elspeth’s relief.

  “Now can we go and see the trains?” Robbie wanted to know, but Elspeth wasn’t ready for that yet. She was still trembling from the scare Robbie had given her. Somehow she had to impress on him that they were to stay together and not draw attention to themselves.

  “The trains,” Robbie repeated.

  “In a wee while,” Elspeth promised. “But I’m going to tell you a story first.”

  Robbie’s face brightened. Next to watching the trains, Robbie liked nothing better than listening to Elspeth tell stories, but he had almost given up asking for a story. She hadn’t told him one for weeks.

  “About Pig-Bear?” Robbie asked.

  “It’s about Pig-Bear,” Elspeth said, nodding. “And these two bairns. It’s a kind of game they’re playing.

  Bairns. That had been what Papa had always called the two of them. Elspeth sat down on a bench, her feet perched against their precious luggage, while wee Robbie snuggled up next to her.

  “These bairns—Elspeth and Robbie—are going on a big adventure.”

  “And Pig-Bear, too” Robbie reminded her.

  “And Pig-Bear too. They’re going on a train, and maybe they’ll sleep on the train. It takes them to a place called Liverpool. Then they go on a boat—a great big boat—and they eat and sleep on the boat. After a long time the boat crosses the ocean and gets to Canada, to this place called Manitoba, where they find Aunt Maud and Uncle Donald.”

  “Do they go on the train soon?”

  “Yes, but listen carefully. There’s another part to the story. These bairns—Robbie and Elspeth and Pig-Bear—have to be very careful on the journey, and very quiet. Above all, they must stay together. The little bairn, Robbie, mustn’t run off by himself like he did this morning.”

  “Or Pig-Bear,” Robbie said earnestly. “He stayed with Jack when he should have come with us.” He gave Pig-Bear a slap to remind him to be obedient.