

# Gabrielle

B T COLL

# Authors Note

Gabrielle: is a work of fiction. Names, character and incidents are entirely fictitious.

Copyright BTColl © 2014

Smashwords Edition

All Rights Reserved

# Chapter One

"It's a girl." old widow Riley shouted, as I let out an almighty scream and the baby slid out of my body and into the old woman's hands. At that moment in time, I couldn't care less what sex the baby was, as all I wanted was for the pain, that I had endured for the past 18 hours to stop. I breathed a sigh of relief, as I knew that my suffering had at last came to an end. Only when I heard my daughter's cry, did I come to realise that I was now a mother, at the tender age of 14 years.

I glanced up at my mother, hoping to see some excitement at now becoming a grandmother but the expression on her face was one of disgust. She gave me an angry look, which reminded me that I had committed the ultimate sin and given birth, not to a granddaughter but to a bastard.

"Do you want to hold her love?" old widow Riley asked, with a big grin on her face but before I could answer, I could see my mother shaking her head. "She's not keeping it, so just put it in the bottom drawer over there." she told her, nodding towards the old chest of drawers in the corner of the room.

I closed my eyes, as I didn't want my mother to see that I was about to cry. Of course I didn't want to bring shame on my family and at first didn't want the baby but as the months passed and my belly grew, I actually became excited at the prospect of having my very own baby to love. This excitement I kept to myself, as I knew my parents were both disgusted with me.

I could hear the two women whispering, as I found myself drifting off to sleep. I tried to stay awake, as I wanted to argue, to plead with my mother. I wanted to keep my baby so much but it was no good, my body was tired and I couldn't fight the tiredness any longer and felt my eyelids begin to close.

I awoke to the sound of my father screaming abuse at my mother. Nothing really unusual there but he had a tone to his voice, that was rather more vicious than I had ever heard before, so I strained my ears to hear what they were arguing about.

"She's going. It's all arranged." I heard my mother scream but my father seemed to be disagreeing with her and I strained my ears to hear more. "Sister Bernard is coming to collect her in the morning and there is no good looking at me like that." mother said and I instinctively knew that they were talking about my baby. My father muttered something, which I couldn't quite hear but I knew he was against the idea, by the tone of his voice. "She has to atone for her sins." mother screamed and I realised then, that she was talking about me and not my baby. I was to be sent away because I am a sinner. "I won't allow it. I'm telling you right now. I have heard about those places and if you send her there, then I will leave and never return." my father screamed at her.

"Gabriel, be reasonable. We're not talking about forever. The Sisters of Charity will look after her and when they think she has atoned for her sins, she will return to us." mother replied, with anger in her voice.

"I'm telling you Maggie, those places have ruined many a young life and you know about my cousin Angela. She was never the same after returning from one of those Magdalene Laundries. No! I am putting my foot down. No child of mine will set foot in a place like that." father said and I breathed a sigh of relief. "That's Ireland, not here in England. It's different here. She'll be treated well by the nuns and she will go just as I have arranged. We will talk no more about this. The decision has been made." mother told him in a loud and determined voice.

I closed my eyes again. Where had life gone so wrong for me? Of course, I knew the answer. It was the day I had become entangled with that good for nothing Sean Brady and his seductive ways. I was not yet fourteen when I first met Sean and I immediately fell for his Irish charm. I know now that I was a naive and stupid little girl, who was daft enough to listen to the words of a young man who only wanted one thing. I cursed myself every night after it happened and had wanted to confess to Father Murphy but had been too scared and embarrassed. Sean and his family had only been in London for a year or two and he had the most beautiful lilt to his voice, which reminded me of my father's accent, which I always found calming. My father had arrived in London when he was barely in his twenties and had met and married my mother, who herself was born in London but was of Irish decent. My mother's London accent was a harder accent than my fathers, which was soft and welcoming. My mother was very loud, brash and very very intimidating. Because of this, she always got her own way and I felt scared that this would happen again, as I knew that my father would never be able to stand up to her.

My brothers Pat, Seamus and I had never been to Ireland and we often longed to see our father's birthplace but mother would never allow us to go, so all we could do was listen to my father's tales of growing up in County Cork and what it was like to live on a farm. It sounded idyllic and was a far cry from the tenement lives that we were now living, surrounded by concrete with barely a blade of grass to be seen.

I could tell that my father missed his birthplace and wondered why he had never returned, not even for a holiday to see his family. I knew that he still had a brother and sister living over there but not much else. Father liked to live in the present and just refused point blank to talk of his family, except to explain his childhood. Why he left and came to London, none of us knew and none of us were brave enough to ask. Did he have a secret? We could only guess. No rational person would leave the green fields of Ireland, to come over to live in the tenement slums of Bethnal Green in London, unless he was running away from something. Was he? One day I would ask him.

My father and brothers all worked hard, to put a roof over our heads and food on our table. They worked in one of the textile factories and they left early each morning and did not return until dusk. My mother, on the other hand, made shirts and the like and I would help her sell them, as my father insisted that no daughter of his would work in a factory. There was no skiving in our family, as times were hard and every one of us had to pull our weight and contribute to the family purse.

My father had also insisted that we were taught to read and write, in order to better ourselves and perhaps pull ourselves out of this poverty we lived in. Mother had tried to talk him out of this, as it took money from the family purse but she eventually relented.

So for four years, each Sunday, after mass, my brothers and I would walk to Mrs Kirkpatrick's house and she would teach us to read and write. She was a retired school teacher and lived in the better part of the city but as my father told us, she needed money too, to survive. After Mrs Kirkpatrick's death my mother had insisted that we had learned as much as the next person and we were at least partially educated, so there was no need to continue with paying for education.

My brothers Pat and Seamus tried to get better jobs, in order to get away from the factory and earn better wages but were constantly turned down and eventually came to realize, that the factory was where they would have to spend the rest of their days. My father was disappointed and my mother moaned about the money that was wasted on their education. I knew that my father had high hopes for me, as he often told me that one day I would make him proud.

Each Friday a thin, gaunt looking man would turn up in his dark and expensive suit and his top hat and collect the rent for this Godforsaken dump of a home, and my mother would dutiful hand it over to him. Some of our neighbours, due to many circumstances, did not have the rent and were quickly evicted to live on the streets. They would find themselves turning to begging and thieving before having to turn themselves into one of the many workhouses, in order to survive. I have watched all of this poverty and depravation around me since a young age and had often dreamed of escaping somehow.

My thoughts returned to Sean Brady and how he had deserted me in my hour of need. We had met in the streets, when he had became good friends with my brother Seamus and I thought him both handsome and charming. We started to meet in secret and that was when things began.

After the deed was done, we were both ashamed of our actions. It never happened again after that night because we both knew that it was sinful and as we were both good Catholic teenagers, a kiss on the cheek was all that we allowed ourselves to do from that night onwards. He still insisted that we should keep our friendship secret, as he didn't want to fall out with Seamus. I knew that my brother would kill him, if he ever found out what we did so I agreed that we kept everything to ourselves. Sneaking out of the house to meet, him excited me and I knew that he felt the same. In this dark and gloomy world we felt happy when we were together, kissing and holding hands.

Sean had often told me that he loved me and I knew that I loved him too, even though we were both very young and didn't know much about life. I was nearly 14 years old and still had the body of a girl while Sean who had turned 16, seemed so much older and wiser. We often discussed marriage, promising to wed someday when we were much older. We were so in love and the world was wonderful to us, in our state of romantic bliss. Some time later when I told him that I thought I was going to have a baby, he had suddenly gone very quiet. It was obvious to me that he was shocked but so was I and I needed him to comfort me and tell me that everything was going to be all right. After the initial shock of the thought of becoming a father, he suggested that we marry as soon as we were able to and I happily agreed.

That night after we discussed marriage, I found that I was unable to sleep with excitement and the next day, I ran all the way to his house, a tenement block in Hare Street around the corner and across the road from where I lived in Rutland Street, nicknamed by the locals as Big Reddy. I was feeling very excited, at the idea of marriage and wondered how we would tell our parents.

His mother opened the door and instead of the usual smile that she had for me, she stared at me with hatred in her eyes. "He's not here." she told me in an angry voice. "Do you know where I can find him, Mrs Brady?" I asked, wondering if he had told her that we were planning to marry. Mrs Brady had a baby in her arms and two toddlers hanging onto her skirt. In total she had 10 children and Sean was the eldest. As the children cried around her, she gave me a look before saying. "You will have a hard time doing that. He's off back to Ireland, to work for his cousin in Dublin." she told me. She began to close the door but I put my foot out to hold the door open. "I don't understand. When will he be back?" I asked, confused by what she had just told me. "Please Mrs Brady, I need to speak with him." I pleaded and watched as she shook her head.

"Look love, you're not the first young girl to get in the family way and I will not let you drag my Sean down with you. He has his whole life in front of him and doesn't need the likes of you trying to trap him into marriage. Now get on home with you girl and pray for forgiveness." she said, in a very disgusted tone before slamming the door shut in my face.

I was shocked to the core and felt that my whole world had come crashing down around my head. How could Sean let this happen? How could he let his mother send him off like that, without a word? He loved me, so why had he deserted me?

Over the coming months, I tried my best to hide my ever-growing belly from my mother and was quite successful for some months, until I could no longer hide it and she hit the roof, demanding to know who the father was. When I refused to tell her, I received a hard slap across the face and burst into tears. The truth was, that I thought if I ignored my 'problem', somehow things would work out. I hoped that Sean would have a change of heart and come home to marry me but I realised, as the months passed, he had no intention of marrying me.

Over the next few days, I noticed that my father was avoiding being around me, which hurt me more than the names my mother called me and there were plenty. I was banished to the bedroom and only ventured out to go to the toilet but never without getting my mother's permission first.

When I did glimpse my father, I could see the disappointment in his eyes and it broke my heart, as I was a daddy's girl and always had been. With two older brothers to deal with, I needed my father's support but he kept his distance from me and barely said a word to me for weeks.

My mother did nothing to stop my brothers Pat and Seamus from deriding me at every opportunity and every night I cried myself to sleep and wished that I would never wake up. And that is how my life was, until the pains came and I knew that the baby was arriving.

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard my baby daughter cry. I wanted to rush to her side but my body was far too weak and I couldn't find the strength to get myself out of bed. I decided months ago, if my baby was a boy, I would call him Gabriel after my father and if I had a girl, I would call her Gabrielle.

Even though he avoided me for weeks after my secret had been discovered, we eventually began to talk again. He never once showed his anger at the situation I found myself in but I could see the disappointment in his eyes when he looked at me. He had often told me that he had high hopes for me and that one day I would make him proud. I felt so guilty for destroying my father's hopes and wished I could turn back the clock but I knew that was impossible. What was done, was done.

One day, he caught my brothers cursing me out for bringing shame to the family and he took them outside for a beating. Pat was 18 years old and Seamus a year younger, when my father dragged them outside to teach them a lesson.

After that day, my brothers avoided me and never spoke to me again. My mother had chastised my father for being so brutal but he ignored her and the tension in our home was evident to everyone who visited.

When any visitors came, my mother warned me not to come out of the bedroom under any circumstances. My condition was a closely guarded secret and I knew my mother was determined to keep it that way. I would simply stand behind the bedroom door and listen. I could tell that their conversations were stilted and soon visitors avoided our house because of the atmosphere. My mother was so paranoid in case the neighbours would discover my sin, so she would discourage visitors the best way that she could and that was to make them feel unwelcome and soon people avoided our house.

Every Sunday, my family would go off to mass and leave me behind. My mother warned me to stay inside and not to open the door, no matter who it was. She wanted to keep my condition secret and keep me locked away from her neighbours prying eyes.

Every day she would tell me how she rued the day that she had ever given birth to me and how she hoped, that the child growing inside me would break my heart in the way that I had broken hers. In the beginning I would cry after she told me this but after hearing the same thing, day in day out, I grew to despise her for telling me such things. My mother was and still is, a very cruel woman with a vile tongue that could destroy anyone with a few well-chosen words.

Without my mother, I turned to my father for comfort and although he was reluctant at first, he soon took me in his arms and held me as I cried my heart out. I told him over and over again how sorry I was for bringing such shame to the family and he seemed to understand me and our relationship blossomed. My father meant the world to me and without him, I would be alone and miserable. Without my father's love, I knew that I would not be able to cope with the situation that I now found myself in and I thanked God for his existence.

I opened my eyes and brushed the tears from my face, as the memories came flooding back to me. Perhaps it was the baby blues, as I had heard that having a baby really messed up the mother's emotions. Or perhaps I was crying because I knew that my baby was being taken from me and I was being sent to the nuns, to serve my time in servitude for my sins. Whatever the reason for my tears, I found that I could not stop crying and was becoming more and more hysterical.

When I heard my baby crying again, I pulled myself from the bed and made my way towards her. As I lifted her into my arms, my mother came barging into the room and found us both on the floor crying our eyes out. "Get back into bed right this minute girl. Look at the state you are in." she screamed at me.

I ignored her and began to rock little Gabrielle in my arms. "Put that baby back right now." she yelled, as I undid the buttons on my nightdress to feed my crying baby.

My mother gasped, before trying to pull her from my arms but I let out a scream and my father immediately came running into the room. "What the hell is going on in here?" he asked, looking from me to my mother. "She's going to feed the baby. Get it off her quick and put it back in the drawer." she told him, as my father stood with his mouth hanging open. "The baby is hungry. Can't you hear?" he replied. "Get it off her." she told him again, with anger in her voice. "I'll do no such thing. The baby needs feeding." he replied, shaking his head. "Well if you won't, I will." she told him, as she once again tried to pull my baby from my arms. "Let her go this minute woman. Get back to your chores and leave this with me." he screamed at her.

My mother cursed at him and stepped backwards, when he lifted his hand, as if to strike her. She glared at him before turning and rushing out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. "Feed your baby Patricia, or we'll get no sleep in this house tonight. I'll leave you in peace." he told me, as he turned and left the room.

I wasn't quite sure how to feed my baby but somehow it seemed as if she knew exactly what to do, as she latched onto my breast and began to suckle. I could hear my mother and father having yet another argument, before hearing the front door being slammed shut.

Gabrielle fed until her belly was full and soon fell fast asleep again. Moments later my mother came into the room and looked at me with disgust in her eyes. Gabrielle had finished feeding, so I took her into bed with me. "I hope your happy girl. See what you've gone and done. You've driven your father from his own home." she said and I was stunned. "What do you mean?" I asked her, noticing the anger in her face. "He's gone and left us to fend for ourselves. And it's all because of you. I have had enough of you and the trouble you have brought to this house. Sister Bernard is coming to take you away in the morning and you will stay with the sisters until they think you can return home but to tell you the truth Patricia, it will be a long time until I am able to forgive you for everything you have done." she told me angrily. "But I don't want to go mother. Don't make me go." I replied, beginning to cry again. "I don't care what you want. I'm trying to save your soul, you stupid little girl. Do you want to go to hell?" she practically screamed at me. I hung my head in shame, knowing that I was indeed a sinner. " But where will I go and for how long?" I cried, feeling very frightened at the thought of being dragged off by the nuns.

"The sisters run a laundry and take in wayward girls like you and you'll work hard and pray every day for forgiveness. When they think you have repented, they'll contact me to let me know that you can return home." she told me." I wiped the tears from my eyes. "I cannot tell you how ashamed I am of you. How could you do this to us? Have you no shame girl?" I stopped crying and built up the strength to ask her about my baby.

"Can I take Gabrielle with me?" My mother gasped. "Gabrielle? How dare you! You have no right in giving that 'thing' such a name. You drove your father away." she screamed. I shook my head. "No mother, you drove him away."

I received a hard slap right across my face and for a moment I wanted to hit back but I kept my temper in check. If I wanted to keep my baby with me, then I would need to keep calm and not be provoked into doing or saying anything to make my mother any angrier. "My only daughter and you have to be a sinner. Why couldn't you be good like your brothers? Why did you let a man use you in that way? I don't understand you Patricia, I really don't. Where did I go wrong with you girl?" she said, pacing up and down the floor. "I'm very sorry mother. I will pray day and night and one day, I will be the daughter that you want me to be. I promise." I told her with a tremble in my voice.

She stared at me for a moment before lifting Gabrielle from the bed and started to walk toward the door. "Where are you taking her?' I asked. "Are you going to kill her?" She opened the door before turning to stare at me. "Don't be so over dramatic girl. I'm not a monster. It isn't the baby's fault that it's born a bastard. I'm taking her so that you can have some sleep. You need to build up your strength." she told me. "Now lay down and rest."

I watched as she walked out of the bedroom door. "She'll be here when I wake up won't she?" I asked. "Of course she will. Now rest." she replied, closing the door behind her. I settled down in bed again and was glad of the rest as I felt my eyelids heavy and was overcome with a feeling of extreme tiredness that I couldn't fight any more.

I awoke several hours later and wondered why my baby was not crying to be fed. "Mother." I shouted but she didn't reply. Pulling myself out of bed, I made my way towards the door and could hear faint whispers from the next room, before the front door slammed shut. "Mother." I screamed, suddenly realising that I was bleeding and my nightdress was soaked in blood. Was I dying?

The bedroom door opened and I was confronted with not only my mother but with two nuns dressed in black, staring at me. "Get back into bed girl." mother told me, taking me by the arm and guiding me back to bed. "Mother am I dying?" I asked, now suddenly becoming filled with the fear of death. "Lay down and I will send for old Mrs Riley. She'll know what to do." she told me and as I felt so weak, I immediately obeyed her instructions. "Sisters can you stay with her for a few moments, so that I can fetch Mrs Riley?" she asked and both the nuns nodded before taking out their rosary beads.

"I am Sister Bernard and this is Sister Philomena. I think that it would be a good idea to pray together until your mother returns." the nun said and I closed my eyes. I could feel myself drifting off to sleep again with the ringing of their prayers in my ears. "I think we should get a doctor." I heard Mrs Riley say and I immediately opened my eyes. "Can't you deal with this?" I heard my mother ask her.

"I can try to stop the bleeding but she's lost a lot of blood. Don't you think a doctor would be better?" Mrs Riley replied but I could see my mother shaking her head, as I opened my eyes for a second. "I don't want anyone else knowing about this. If she lives it is God's will and if she dies, it is also God's will. Just do what you can." my mother replied and at that moment I thought that my life was about to end.

I could feel old widow Riley, pulling and pushing at me but I was so weak that I drifted off to sleep again. All the while I could hear the nuns praying and after a few moments the darkness engulfed me.

When I woke, sometime later, I wondered for a few seconds, if I was alive or dead. I felt my mother stroking my hair. "You'll be fine now. Go to sleep Patricia and get well. I'll be right here with you." she said and everything went dark again.

I don't know how long I slept but when I woke the sun was shining through the bedroom window. "Morning sleepyhead." mother said, opening the curtains to let more sunshine into the room. I immediately turned my head away from the window, as the sunshine was hurting my eyes. "What happened?" I whispered. "You were quite ill but you are better now. Here I have made you some chicken soup. Let me help you sit up in bed." she said, reaching out and pulling me up by my arms. "I was bleeding. Was I dying?" I asked her suddenly remembering.

Mother sat on the bed beside me with the bowl of chicken soup in her hand and began to feed me with a spoon. I sipped a little soup but it was too hot. "Sorry dear. I'll leave it here on the table beside you to cool." she said, placing the bowl down. "I was bleeding. There were nuns praying and old widow Riley was saying that I needed a doctor. What happened?" I asked her. "Now don't concern yourself. We had to get the doctor and he took care of you. You'll be as good as new in no time." she replied, wringing her hands. Instinctively I knew that there was something that she wasn't telling me.

"How long have I been asleep?" I asked. "Three days. I was so worried that you were dying and when Mrs Riley said that she couldn't deal with you, I immediately fetched the doctor. I don't know how to tell you this Patricia but the doctor had to perform a hysterectomy. He had to do this to save your life." she told me with tears in her eyes. "What does that mean mother? I don't understand." I asked, confused at her sudden change of character. At that moment my mother seemed to be the woman that I remembered before I brought shame to the family. She was never really demonstrative with her emotions but today she seemed to be rather forlorn looking and quite sad.

She coughed nervously before answering. "It means that the doctor had to remove your womb, in order to stop the bleeding and save your life. It means that you'll never be able to have more children. It means Patricia that God has punished you for your sins and you do not need to go away with Sister Bernard. We can all start afresh." she told me and I was shocked. "I don't need to go away and I can stay here with Gabrielle?" I asked her and watched in horror as she shook her head.

"The baby is not here anymore. She's been taken to her new parents and I'm sorry but there is nothing I can do about it now." she replied and I screamed in anguish. "Get her back. I want her back." I told her and watched as she shook her head again. "I can't. I signed forms and I don't know where the baby is." she told me and I immediately lifted the bowl of hot chicken soup and threw it at her. The bowl hit her head and blood flowed down her face. She let out a scream and my two brothers ran into the room. "What the hell!" Pat exclaimed, as Seamus took mother out of the room.

"You little bitch." Pat screamed, as I looked around for anything else to throw. Finding my hairbrush I threw it across the room and just missed hitting him on the head. As it bounced off the door, my brothers ushered my mother out of the bedroom and I cursed at them and damned them all to hell.

For hours I screamed and cursed with anger and anguish at the fact that my baby was gone. I could hear my brother screaming that I was possessed by the devil and perhaps that was partially true because I had never felt so much anger in all of my life. This anger consumed me and all I wanted to do was hit out and hurt someone but as I couldn't do that, I began to hurt myself. I scratched my arms and pulled my hair out by the roots but nothing took away my pain.

I jumped out of bed and rushed over to the door and pulled at the handle but it was locked shut. "Let me out. I need Gabrielle. Let me out." I screamed but no-one answered. I put my ear to the door and I could hear my mother and brothers whispering to each other but couldn't make out what they were saying. I pounded on the door with all of my might, all the time screaming for them to let me out but they all ignored me and I slid to the floor exhausted. I began to bang the door with my feet and then my head but still no-one came to let me out.

# Chapter Two

I awoke several hours later shaking with the cold and realised that I must have fell asleep at the door. My hands and feet were covered with blood and so was the door. I looked at my bloody knuckles and wanted to cry but I was all cried out. "Let me out." I said, in a more controlled manner, thinking that perhaps after all this time they would have a change of heart but the place was silent.

Climbing back into bed, I resigned myself to the fact that I was locked in the bedroom for the foreseeable future and there was nothing I could do about it. The window, I could climb out of the window, I suddenly thought but glancing over at it I realised that I would probably kill myself climbing down the drainpipe, as we lived on the fourth floor of the tenement building.

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes again. My live was a complete mess and there was no going back. What was I to do now, without my baby?

The bedroom door suddenly opened and my mother stood there with two nuns and two burly men by her side. I gasped with horror. What was going on? "Sister Bernard is here to collect you." my mother told me, with no emotion in her voice. "But you said I didn't need to go." I exclaimed, now becoming frightened as the two burly men walked closer towards me.

"That was before you were taken over by the devil. There is no way I am going to let you stay here now, so be a good girl and get yourself out of bed." she told me, with an expression on her face that told me that she meant business. "No! I'm not going anywhere and you can't make me." I replied, with determination in my voice. "If you come any closer I will tear your eyes out with my bare hands." I screamed at the men, who suddenly stopped and stared at me in disbelief.

"I told you she's out of control. I do hope you can help her Sister Bernard." my mother said and the nun simply nodded her head. "Right drag her out and put her in the car." Sister Bernard said in a stern voice, as the two burly men rushed towards me and grabbed me by my arms. I kicked and screamed but they were too powerful for me to stop them dragging me from my bed. "Get her into the car as quickly as possible." Sister Bernard said, as the other nun, Sister Philomena, stood with her mouth hanging open and covered her ears with her hands, as I began to curse at them. "Stop that right now Patricia. You're making a fool of yourself. For goodness sake, control yourself. If you don't, then you will never be welcome back into this house again." mother said and I knew that she meant it. I nodded before standing up straight and taking a deep breath. "Can I put my coat on? I don't want the neighbours to see me in my nightdress?" I asked and Sister Bernard looked over at my mother, who thought for a moment before agreeing. "I will fetch it for you." she said, rushing off to find my long black woolen coat.

Moments later she was back and helping me put my arms into the coat. As soon as I put them through the sleeves of the coat, the burly men took a grip of them again. "Think of the neighbours Patricia. Please don't make a scene. This is for your own good. Now be a good girl and go with Sister Bernard and she will help you." mother whispered to me and I turned to glare at her. "I will never forgive you for this, never. You took my precious baby from me and you drove father away. I never want to see you again. Goodbye mother and I hope you rot in hell for all eternity." I spat at her, as the men dragged me out of the front door.

I could hear my mother sobbing, as I was taken down the tenement flats and ushered out of the close. Walking along the pavement outside, I could see all the neighbours watching out of their windows. My brothers stood at the bottom of the street beside the lamppost with their friends and stared at me with hatred in their eyes.

"Get into the car before we have to drag you inside." one of the burly men said in a gruff voice. I wanted to run but I had no strength left in me to fight against them. I had lost everything and nothing mattered to me anymore. They could do their worst to me but my mother had already beaten them to it.

I sat in the back of the black car between the two burly men, while the sisters sat in front. One of the men handed me a tatty brown case and told me that my clothes were inside and that I should keep a hold of it. My mother had packed up all of my belongings, which I was glad of as I had no intentions of ever returning.

Sister Bernard was driving and I wanted to ask where we were going but decided not to, as that it didn't really matter. Nothing mattered to me anymore, now that my beautiful Gabrielle was gone.

As we drove away I turned and looked towards my brothers thinking that perhaps I would see some sadness in their eyes but they both turned their back to me and began laughing with their friends. One thing was sure and that was that I would never return to this street and I will never see my mother or my brothers ever again. They had treated me so badly, that they could all rot in hell, as far as I was concerned. When I did get set free from the nuns, my goal would be to find my father who I was sure would help me find my daughter.

# Chapter Three

Three hours later, we arrived at our destination. On the journey I had tried to strike up some sort of conversation with the two men but I was completely ignored. They both looked to be in their late 30's but it was hard for me to tell and to tell you the truth I couldn't care less. They looked old and were built like tanks. Both of the men had shaven heads and both wore white shirts and black trousers. It was obvious that they were employed by the nuns to do their dirty work and drag off girls, sinners, to some God forsaken place that was run by these nuns.

The car came to a complete stop beside two huge wrought iron gates and the Sister Bernard got out of the car and lifted a set of cast iron keys, that were hanging around her waist. She stood by the gates for a few moments and it looked like she had trouble remembering which key she needed from the dozen or so on the key ring. "Do you need my help Sister Bernard?" Sister Philomena shouted from the car. "No. I'm fine. Just give me a minute." she replied and seemed to be getting frustrated before eventually finding the key and opening the gates wide for the car to go through. Sister Bernard was a fat and grumpy old nun and Sister Philomena was no better, I told myself. They both looked alike and could be mistaken for sisters or cousins and both looked as if they had been nuns for centuries as they both looked so old.

"All these keys look alike." Sister Bernard declared, as she jumped back into the drivers seat. I wondered why the gates were kept locked and somehow felt myself becoming very apprehensive about the whole situation. Perhaps I should have made a run for it after all but I knew that these men sitting beside me, would have caught me in no time. And I was sure that my brothers and his friends would have helped them to do just that.

As soon as we entered the gates, Sister Bernard jumped out of the drivers seat to close and lock the gates again. We then drove along a winding dirt road towards a large building, that could only be described as an old monastery and the place was deadly quiet. There was no-one around and for a moment I thought that perhaps I would be the only guest of the nuns. Little did I know, that there were at least another 50 girls, just like me, kept locked behind these iron gates.

"Get out girl" Sister Bernard bellowed at me. I tentatively stepped out of the car and surveyed my surrounding. The place was full of trees and stoned walls and looked and felt exactly like a prison. I saw lines and lines of washing at the side of the building. "I will take you to see Mother Superior before you go to your dormitory." Sister Bernard said and I simply nodded. "You men can go now." she said, as she opened the heavy wooden door. Immediately I could hear praying coming from inside the building. It comforted me somehow, to know that there were others in this place, as I didn't want to be the only one.

"Wait here." she told me, as I stood outside an old oak door while she and the other nun went inside. I could hear whispering but couldn't quite make out what was being said.

A few moments later the door creaked open and I was ushered inside. "I am Mother Superior. I believe you will be staying with us for a while." A very tall and angry looking nun said and I nodded, as I too afraid to speak. "What is it child? Has the cat got your tongue or should I say has the devil got your tongue." Mother Superior said and I hung my head not knowing what I was supposed to do or say.

"You can leave this one with me sisters." Mother Superior said and the nuns left the room, quietly closing the door behind them. "Take a seat." she said, beckoning for me to sit in a small wooded chair across from a huge oak table. Mother Superior went to the other side of the table and sat down on her more lavish leather chair. I still kept my eyes to the floor, too scared to look up. "I take it you know why you are here?" she asked and again I simply nodded. "Speak up." she said sternly. "Yes sister." I replied. "Yes Mother Superior." she chastised me. "Sorry. Yes mother superior." I stuttered. "And do you really know why you are here?" she asked, staring at me. I looked at her. She was a woman in her late fifties, I guessed but couldn't be sure. All nuns seemed to look alike and all of them looked much older than they probably were. "What do you mean?" I asked confused by her question. "You do not ask me questions." she replied sternly, banging her hand down hard on the table

"Sorry Mother Superior." I replied, returning my eyes to the floor. "I know you are intelligent. Dumb in worldly ways but you have a brain on you. Let me tell you how this is going to work. Your mother sent you here because you are a disgusting fallen woman with no morals and have given birth to a bastard." she said and I immediately tightened my fists for a few seconds. I hoped that she didn't see this show of anger, as I knew I had to play the game in order to get out of the place. "Now in order to save your soul from hell, you will stay here, work hard, pray every day and hopefully one day your sins will be washed away." she told me. "Yes sister. I mean, yes Mother Superior." I replied, trying my hardest to remain calm and be very polite.

"I believe your baby has been given away, is that right?" she asked and I immediately felt a lump in my throat, with the mere mention of my beloved Gabrielle. "Yes Mother Superior." I replied, trying to stop myself from crying. "Good, then maybe the child will have a chance. It is not the child's fault that its mother is a sinner. Now from now on you will be called, let me say." she said, lifting her eyes to the ceiling. "Yes I have it. From this day forward you will be called Esther." she suddenly announced. "But my name is Patricia O'Hara." I said proudly, puzzled as to why my name had to be changed. Surely my name didn't matter to God, who after all was the only one who could forgive my sins. "From now on you are Esther. I have named you after the character Esther the prostitute, in Elizabeth Gaskell's novel, Mary Barton. I enjoy reading and try to read a chapter of a book every day. It's not really easy, as I am so busy doing the Lord's work but when I have a free moment or two I do enjoy to read." she said, as if somehow pleased with herself.

"I am no prostitute." I practically yelled and immediately she raised herself from her chair and rushed towards me and slapped me with such force across the face, that I fell from the chair and landed with an almighty thump onto the floor. "You will never answer me back again. You came through these doors as a prostitute and one day you will leave as a woman of God. Do you hear me?" she said angrily. I lay on the floor, unsure of whether I should get up or stay on the ground.

Mother Superior paced up and down the floor. "You are intelligent enough to know that if you get up from the floor, I will slap you down again. Good girl. You now have my permission to sit back up on the chair." she said.

I slowly raised myself to my knees and pulling the chair from the floor, sat down again. My face was stinging and tears were welling up in my eyes but I stopped myself from crying in front of her. "I think we understand each other Esther." she said, moving towards the wall behind the table and pulling on a long chain that was attached to a bell. As soon as the bell rang, a nun came rushing into the room "Yes Mother Superior" she said, looking rather flustered. "This is Esther our new resident. Take her up to the dormitory Sister Monica." she told the younger nun. "But there are no beds left, Mother Superior." Sister Monica told her, while timidly biting her lower lip. "Let her lie on the floor then. Just get her out of my sight and get her to work straight away." Mother Superior said, with such venom in her voice that I shuddered inside. "Yes Mother Superior." Sister Monica stuttered.

I followed the younger nun out of the door and stood in the corridor unsure of myself. I used to be somewhat confident but after little Gabrielle's birth, all of my confidence was sapped and now I felt a shell of my former self.

As soon as we were out in the corridor, the young nun spoke softly and introduced herself. "I am Sister Monica." she said, with a friendly smile on her face, which quickly disappeared, when another nun appeared in the corridor. The two nuns nodded to each other in passing. Sister Monica was very young, too young to be a religious sister and she had kind eyes and a friendly smile.

"Here let me take that case from you." she said, reaching out and taking the old tattered brown case that my mother had thrown all of my clothes into. My hands were trembling and I could not disguise this fact. "There is no need to be scared." she told me but by the tone in her voice, I knew that she did not mean what she said.

We walked along the corridor in silence and soon reached a long winding staircase. At the top of the staircase there was a large cross and Sister Monica stopped to pray for a few moments. She knelt down beside the cross and began to pray and I found myself confused as to what I should do. Should I kneel down beside her? Or was I a sinner who has not yet repented for my sins and did not have the grace to kneel and pray at the cross. I decided to stay upright but held my hands as if in prayer, just in case she glanced up at me but she never did. When she was finished, she blessed herself and continued walking along the corridor and I followed quickly behind her.

We suddenly stopped and Sister Monica swung a door open and told me to go inside. "This is your dormitory." she told me. "You have no bed at the moment but I will get one of the girls to bring up a mattress for you to sleep on tonight. A few of the girls are going home tomorrow and then you will have a bed of your own but for tonight at least, you will sleep on a mattress on the floor."

I looked around the room and saw at least a dozen beds crammed into the small room. Each bed had one white sheet covering it and the room smelt damp. Before I knew what was happening I burst into tears. "Now now. We will have none of that." Sister Monica said, in a sympathetic voice, as she placed her arm around my shoulders. "You need to toughen up girl or you may find yourself in a whole heap of trouble." she whispered softly. "What do you mean?" I asked through the sobs. After a few moments of silence, Sister Monica shook her head. "I really don't mean anything Esther. Just keep your head done, work hard and pray every day and you will be back home in no time." she said and I wondered if she was trying to warn me of something.

"What is that red mark on your face Esther? Did you have an accident.?" she asked, gently touching my chinbone and I winched at her touch. "Mother Superior hit me across the face." I told her and immediately she sprang back with a look of horror in her face. "Such lies. How dare you say such a thing. You are such a wicked evil girl." she screamed and I knew that I had said too much and tried to rectify the situation quickly.

"Sorry Sister Monica of course I hurt myself. I walked into the door downstairs." I replied. "So why lie and say such awful things about Mother Superior?" she asked with confusion in her face. "I don't know Sister Monica. Please forgive me. It's my first day here and I'm still finding my feet. I will pray for forgiveness." I told her, now knowing that I should not have spoken out about my encounter with Mother Superior. "And so you should. What a thing to say. You are a wicked girl but don't worry, we are here to help you and set you on the right path again." she replied with a smile. "Please don't tell Mother Superior." I begged. "Well I really should report this to her but as you have apologised and promised to pray for forgiveness, I will ignore what you just told me. But be warned any more of this nonsense and I will drag you down to Mother Superior's office so fast, that your feet will not touch the ground. Do you understand?" she asked with a menacing look in her eyes. "Yes Sister Monica." I replied meekly. "Now put your bag over there and come downstairs with me to get a uniform." she told me. "A uniform?" I asked. "Yes. From now on you will wear one of our uniforms. It is quite nice really. A blue dress with a white pinafore and you will be asked to pin your hair up and put on a white linen bonnet." she replied, rushing out of the door and I quickly threw my case on the floor and ran to catch up with her.

"You really should not run about, as you will get yourself into trouble Esther." Sister Monica informed me, with a smile on her face and laughter in her eyes and I concluded that she was as mad as a March hare and would be of no help to me, in my quest to get out of this place. Perhaps if I keep my head down and work really hard, I could be out of this place in a couple of weeks. I really prayed that I would but something told me that it would not be as easy as I hoped that it would be.

# Chapter Four

After changing into my blue dress, white pinafore and white bonnet? I was ushered, by Sister Monica, into the laundry room where I found several dozen girls, washing, ironing and folding sheets, which I was told was bedding from the local hospital. Sister Monica stood at the laundry door with my clothes in her hand and informed me that the next time that I saw them again, I would be going home.

The heat was intense in the room and I could see beads of sweat forming on Sister Monica's forehead, as she shouted on one of the girls to show me what to do. "Angela come her." Sister Monica shouted and immediately the girl ran to her side. That was the first time that I met Rosie O'Connor, renamed by the nuns to Angela. And unknown to me at that time, she would become my best friend inside and outside of this hellhole.

"This is Esther. Show her how we work here." Sister Monica said, before turning on her heels and rushing out of the door. " My real name is Rosie but call me Angela." she whispered, trying to keep her voice down so that the nun sitting in the chair at the other end of the room didn't hear her. "I'm Patricia but they changed it to Esther." I told her and she nodded that she understood. "Why did they change our names? I don't understand" I asked her. "Something to do with letting go of your old sinful life and beginning a new life of purity or some other shit like that." she said laughing and was immediately chastised by the nun in the corner. "That's Sister Bridget. A right old cow she is." she whispered and I had to stifle my laughter. I knew at that moment that Rosie or Angela, as the nuns called her, was going to be my best friend forever.

"Sister Bridget sits on her ass all day reading a book and it's not the bible I can tell you that." Rosie told me. "Remember in private we can call each other by our proper names but never slip up and call me Rosie in front of the nuns. One girl did that and she was taken to Mother Superior's for a beating." she said and I nodded that I understood. "Now come over here and start folding these sheets with me." she told me and I immediately followed her. "I don't understand how doing this for the nuns will make me a better person?" I asked her. "It won't." she whispered. "According to Mother Superior, hard work is a way of purifying your soul but then, according to her, a good thrashing with a stick does the same thing." she replied, as we folded the large white sheets and put them into large wicker baskets to be sent back to the hospital. "Mother Superior hit me right across the face, when I first arrived." I told her not knowing why I felt I could confide in her. "Not unusual. You must have given her an answer that she didn't like." she said and I nodded. "What about Sister Monica?" I asked her. "What about her? If you're asking me if she is one of the good ones around here, then no dear Esther, there are no good nuns in this place. Sister Monica is what my old mother would say, touched in the head. Best to keep away from her as much as possible. Many a girl in here has been fooled by her pleasant smile and found themselves in deep trouble because of her." she told me. "I thought she was nice but I knew that there was something not quite right about her." I replied and Rosie smiled. "I think we'll be great friends but that old biddy in the corner is staring at us. We really are not supposed to talk in here. You carry on with the sheets, as I'm off to the presses for a little while, just until she falls asleep and she always does." Rosie said with laughter in her eyes.

Another girl called Mary came over to help me with folding the sheets but she did not say a word to me and I knew that she wasn't as friendly, by the scowl on her face.

By the time we were informed that it was time for prayers and then supper, my arms ached and I felt a headache coming on. The girls began to line up at the door and I glanced over at Rosie, who indicated that I should get into line with the others, by a nod of the head. Sister Monica appeared at the door and marched us out of the room and down the corridor to the dining room and warned us all to be quiet and on our best behavior.

As everyone took to their seats around the large wooden tables, Rosie pulled me by the arm so that I sat beside her.

As the nuns filed into the room, everyone stood to attention and once again Rosie grabbed me by my arm and pulled me to my feet. I watched as the nuns entered and counted each one of them. Mother Superior was first, followed by Sister Bernard and six more nuns, before I saw Sister Monica at the end.

They all sat down at a large table, which was on a platform to make themselves higher than us, probably to watch over us, I thought. Their table had a crisp white tablecloth on it and their plates were made of china, I observed. We had tin plates to eat our food off and as my stomach was rumbling, I wondered what delights we would have for our supper.

As the nuns sat down at their table, we remained standing. Mother Superior shouted on one of the girls to being prayers and for the next twenty minutes, we all hung our heads and prayed. We stood, the nuns sat. I knew then that it was definitely a them and us, about this place.

I could hear my stomach rumbling, as the girl read out passages from the bible before we all prayed out loud after each passage. I saw one of the girls suppress a yawn and I wasn't the only one to see that. I watched as Mother Superior whispered to Sister Bernard and immediately the girl was dragged from the room. I opened my mouth to ask Rosie what would happen to her but when I saw the look on Mother Superiors face, I kept my mouth shut.

The prayers ended and Sister Bernard returned to the room, minus the young girl. Mother Superior indicated that we should all sit and I was grateful that the praying was over. I was always one for praying but I was too hungry and needed some food in my stomach, as I was beginning to feel quite nauseous.

An old woman entered the room, pulling a trolley behind her and my mouth watered with the delights that I was witnessing. There was roast chicken, potatoes with an assortment of vegetables and it all smelled absolutely delicious. The old woman, obviously the cook, started serving the nuns and I prayed silently that she would quickly finish with them and soon reach us.

Rosie gave me a dig the ribs. "Is your mouth beginning to water?" she asked with a grin. I nodded, as I watched the nuns eating the delicious food and waited patiently for my own supper. The woman left but soon returned with another trolley with four large steel pots. She took the lids off the pots and placed one pot in the middle of each table, for us to serve ourselves. Soon everyone was filling their plates with what I can only describe as a thick porridge like substance. "What is that?" I whispered to Rosie. "That my dear is your supper." she replied with a cheeky grin. "But." I began.

"Did you really think you were going to get the same food as the nuns? Are you really so naive?" she asked and my mouth dropped. "You better hurry and fill your plate because once it's gone, it's gone." she told me and I quickly filled my plate with this disgusting food. I was starving, so I ate it as the aroma from the food on the nun's table filled the room, so I pretended that I too was eating chicken for my supper. This thought made the porridge go down a whole lot easier than the texture.

Ten minutes later, Mother Superior indicated by the nod of the head, that the girl was to start prayers again and for the next twenty minutes we prayed. When prayers were finished, we stood to attention as the nun's filed out of the room and when they were gone I sighed. "Tired?" Rosie whispered in my ear and I nodded my head in reply. "Shame. We have another couple of hours grafting before we're allowed to go to bed." she told me and I felt my heart sink. I had never worked so hard in all my life but I told myself it would only be for a week or two, so I resigned myself to keeping my head down and getting through all of this.

The weeks turned into months and when I suddenly realised that I had been at the laundry for over a year, I asked Rosie whether I should go to see Mother Superior. The other girls stared at me for having the audacity to actually think about speaking to the Mother Superior, who frightened the life out of them. One of the girls, Kathleen was from Ireland and she told the girls not to be so cowardly. According to her, the laundries run by the nuns in her country were monsters compared to the nuns in England and she had been in both. The stories she told us of her time at the Irish laundry and the punishment the nuns gave the girls, were horrendous and quite unbelievable.

"I ran off the first chance I could get and ended up over here. I'm telling you all it's a bleeding miracle I'm still alive to tell you all about that place." she told us, as we all listened intently to her tales as we settled into bed that night. "Why were you there?" one of the girls asked. Kathleen immediately pulled a face and it was obvious that she didn't want to answer that question. "I was sent to one of these Magdalene Laundries in Dublin and the tales I have for you about my time there, will make the hair stand on your heads." she replied, not quite answering the girl's question.

"How did you get to England then?" another girl asked and this time Kathleen answered the question. "I escaped from Dublin and ran off to see my boyfriend. We had a baby together, little Liam." she said with tears in her eyes. "Anyway me and Charlie, that's my boyfriend, decided to run off and make a new start, over here. We lived with his cousin for a while, until Liam was born and then...." she suddenly stopped and I looked over at Rosie who was sitting with her mouth hanging open. Kathleen was very young looking and I would think was younger than me and I was now a few months past my fifteenth birthday, that had come and went without my even remembering.

"And what about your baby?" one of the girls asked and I watched Kathleen shake her head. "He died." Was all that she said, in reply. The silence that engulfed the room was deafening and no-one wanted to be the first to speak, so we all stayed silent.

"Anyway my Charlie ran off with someone else and not having a penny to my name, I went on the game." Kathleen said. "The game?" one of the younger girls asked and giggled uncontrollable, when someone whispered the meaning into her ear.

"This place is cushy. We have a roof over our heads and food in our belly. So what if we have to work hard in the laundry and pray for hours on end. I'm telling you that you are lucky to be in here and not in one of those laundries in Dublin." she told us but some of the girls weren't convinced, as they had received harsh beatings from the nuns and starved for days on end for such things as speaking out of turn or not answering when being called by their new name.

"Sister Bernard is a monster. She caught me talking when I was working and took me outside and beat me with a stick. I couldn't sit down for days." One girl said and we all burst out laughing. It wasn't that we thought the beating was funny, it was just the way she said it. "That wasn't a beating girl." Kathleen told her. "A proper beating, and I've had my fare share, means that you can't move a muscle in your body for days, not that you couldn't sit down. The nuns in Dublin would beat us with sticks until we bled. Then they would lock us up in a cupboard for days on end, to repent and all we were fed was bread and water. I tell you this girls, you don't know how lucky you all are. I for one, am going to stay here for as long as I can. I'm going nowhere, in fact I might become one of those nuns." she said and we all burst into laughter. "Your no virgin Kathleen." Rosie told her but she simply shrugged her shoulders and pulling a funny face said "You must address me by my real name, Isabella Delafonte." All the girls in the dormitory burst into laughter.

"What is your real name Kathleen?" I asked her and saw the sadness in her eyes. It was obvious to me that she was putting on this silly clowns act, to hide the sadness within her. "No point in telling you. I haven't been called by my birth names for years now and to be quite frank with you, I quite like Kathleen. I may become Sister Kathleen." she replied and everyone started laughing again.

Sister Bernard opened the bedroom door and yelled for us to be quiet. "Now remember girls, say your prayers like good little Christians." Kathleen said and once again we laughed. Sister Bernard rushed towards her and with one sweep of her hand walloped her right across her face. "Do not disrespect the Lord." she yelled into her face. "No Sister, Sorry Sister." Kathleen stuttered in reply. "Now get to sleep. All of you." Sister Bernard screamed, before leaving the room and slamming the door shut behind her.

"You all right Kathleen?" Rosie asked her but she didn't answer. I had a feeling that Kathleen was just all talk and wanted to be the big shot in the place. She had all the girls eating out of her hands and showing them how tough she was up against the nuns but inside I had a feeling that she was just a scared little girl.

I lay my head on the pillow listening to the girls praying and thought of Kathleen and her baby and wondered why it had died. I thought of my Gabrielle, who would now be walking and possibly talking. I cursed myself for forgetting her birthday. I thought of her every night but for some reason the actually date of her birth slipped my mind. I hoped that this was not the beginning of me forgetting about her all together. I could see her sweet little face in my mind's eye and hoped that wherever she was, she was happy.

Rosie warned me not to speak to Mother Superior but I was determined to try to find out how long I was being kept in this, for a better word, workhouse. So tomorrow, I will be very polite and lady like and speak softly to Mother Superior and hoped that my new found meek demeanor would make me more accepting of her. I would find out tomorrow.

# Chapter Five

"Mother Superior will see you now Esther." Sister Margaret Mary told me, through gritted teeth. She was one of the older nuns, who didn't believe that any of the girls could be saved from their wicked ways. She often told us girls, that no amount of praying or hard work would ever stop us from going straight to hell when we died. I glanced over at Rosie who put her thumb up and whispered good luck. Kathleen glared at me and for the life of me I couldn't understand why. Somehow she saw me as a threat, Rosie had told me this but the reason for this was a mystery. I was never outspoken or pretended to be anything other than who I was and I surmised that it was just a clash of personalities. Whatever the reason, Kathleen made it clear to me and everyone else, that she didn't like me one bit. The truth was that I felt the exactly the same about her but couldn't put my finger on exactly why. Perhaps all the time she spent in the laundry in Ireland and now in London, had made her angry with the whole world. I decided that the best course of action was to stay as far away from Kathleen as I could, as I wanted to keep out of trouble so that I could be free from this place.

Sister Margaret Mary marched me out of the laundry and along the corridor towards the Mother Superior's room. Outside the door, I suddenly found that my insides were beginning to shake. Was it because I might be told something that I didn't want to hear? If she told me that I had to stay until I was 17, as some of the girls had said, I would probably blow a gasket, as that would not be for another two years.

"Enter." Mother Superior shouted, when she heard Sister Margaret Mary knocking on her door. "Esther would like a word Mother Superior." Sister Margaret Mary told her, as she ushered me into the room before closing the door and disappearing. "Take a seat Esther." Mother Superior said and I immediately obeyed. "I will be with you shortly. I am just finishing this note, that I am obliged to write. You can pray until I am ready if you wish." she said and I did just that. I prayed that I would soon be leaving this place. I prayed that I would find my father and I especially prayed that I would one day be reunited with my beautiful daughter Gabrielle.

"Now Esther what is it that you would like to discuss with me today?" she asked and I stuttered my apology for interrupting her. "It's just that I have been here for over a year now and I was wondering when I would be allowed to leave." I told her. "Did you now? And do you think you have repented sufficiently for your sins?" she asked me, staring right into my eyes. I lowered my eyes and stared floor. "I hope I have Mother Superior. I'm a hard worker and I say my prayers every day." I replied.

Mother Superior stood up from her chair and walked around the table to stand at my side. I was half expecting another slap across the face and felt on edge. "Have you spoken to the other girls about this?" she asked pacing up and down the room. "No mother superior." I replied, wondering what she was getting at. "That's a pity. If you had, you would realise that you will be here in our little home until you reach 17 years of age." she told me and I felt my heart break.

"Once you reach 17 years of age, you will be free to leave here but until then Esther you are stuck with us. Is there anything else you would like to know?" she asked. "No Mother Superior. Thank you." I replied, trying to keep myself calm but feeling as if a volcano was about to erupt within me. "There is something that I would like to talk to you about Esther. Kathleen." she said. "I believe that she is a bad influence on my girls and I would like you to keep an eye on her for me. Would you do that Esther?" she asked. "Of course Mother Superior." I replied, as I knew that any other answer would result in my being knocked from the chair, with a blow across my face.

"I want you to report to me daily. Let me know what she is doing and what she is saying to the other girls. She is from one of our other girl's homes in Dublin but I believe you already know that. She is trouble and tells such lies Esther. I'm afraid that girl will not be leaving here for a very long time." she told me. "Has she told you about Dublin Esther and don't lie to me because I will know if you are lying?" she asked and I nodded my head. "Yes Mother Superior but I don't know if her tales are truthful or not." I told her. "She told you about the beatings that she had didn't she?" she asked and I nodded. "I didn't hear you answer Esther." she said. "Yes Mother Superior." I replied, suddenly beginning to feel very uneasy.

Mother Superior walked over to the windows and stared outside. "I think that the girl is mad. She will be leaving us soon." she said. "But I thought she would be with us for a very long time." I asked and immediately regretted the question. "Oh yes, so I did. Dear me I slipped up there didn't I. What I mean is that she will be leaving us but she will be going to a Sanatorium run by our sisters. It is the best place for her. We can do no more." she said.

"What I have told you about our Kathleen, is in the strictest of confidence. You know what that means?" she asked me. "Yes Mother Superior." I replied. "Now off you go and we will have a chat soon. Keep up the good work Esther, you are doing fine." she said, indicating with the flip of her hand that I was now to leave. "Thank you Mother Superior." I said, before disappearing out of the door and cursing silently. I didn't want to kick up a fuss but I was heartbroken that I had to stay in this hellhole until I was 17. I felt so angry but Kathleen was going to a far worse off place and I really felt for her, even though I didn't like her much. No-one deserved to be sent to a Sanatorium, a mental hospital and at such a young age.

I suddenly felt very sorry for the young girl who hadn't a clue about the future set out for her by Mother Superior. My conscious was bothering me. Should I let her know, so that she could make her escape? Or should I keep my mouth shut, as I as saying anything would put me in serious trouble? I didn't know the best course of action and decided to sleep on it and make a decision in the morning. I knew that if she entered this Sanatorium, she would probably never get out again. The idea of such a situation filled me with horror. How could the nuns have such power?

In bed that night Kathleen was being her obnoxious self with tales of boys and sex, men and sex and even woman and sex. According to her she had done it all, which impressed many of the girls in the dormitory. Perhaps Mother Superior was right and she was mad after all, as no sane person would talk of such matters. But she was young, I told myself, and stupid. How could she not know to keep her mouth shut? Was she feeble minded?

I closed my eyes to try and get some sleep but I was kept awake by her constant chattering, mostly about herself, as usual. The girls were all enthralled by her tales but not me.

"When I get out of here. I'm going back to Dublin. My family are still there and even if I need to beg on bended knees, they will take me back home. I miss them so much but they sent me off when they discovered that I was pregnant, as they said I was a bad influence on my younger sisters. But it takes two to tango. I hated them for sending me away. I still hate them to this day but they are better than living like this for years on end." Kathleen told her captive audience. "Then again, I might stay in London and open my own brothel. I have tons of mates on the game and if we club together we could open our own place." Kathleen said and the girls gasped. "That's enough Kathleen." Rosie shouted over to her. "What you talking about Rosie O'Connor, you had sex with your own brother." she replied and I gasped. Rosie jumped out of bed and immediately attacked Kathleen, pulling the hair from her head.

The screaming and cursing was soon heard by the nuns, who came running into the bedroom. In the darkness the nuns grabbed the two girls and dragged them outside. Kathleen was kicking and punching one of the nuns, Sister Monica and Rosie was screaming profanities to Kathleen as she wrestled with Sister Bernard.

Soon the bedroom door was slammed shut and we all lay in bed listening to Rosie and Kathleen screaming abuse at each other. As they were dragged down the corridor, the place soon became quiet again. Everyone was too scared to speak and we all said our prayers and went to sleep.

In the morning, I looked over at Rosie's bed and saw that she had returned some time during the night and was still fast asleep. Her face was covered in scratches. I looked over at Kathleen's bed and saw that it was empty and knew that she would not be returning to the laundry, as she would now have her own special room in the sanatorium. The decision on whether or tell her or not about the sanatorium, was taken out of my hands by the fight.

Rosie was very quiet all day and barely spoke. I could see by her face that she was still angry and wondered if what Kathleen said about her brother was true or just another one of her lies. Mother Superior did say that she was a liar. Perhaps the girl couldn't tell the difference between the truth and lies. Perhaps she would learn all of this in the Sanatorium but I doubted it. She would most likely spend the rest of her life in a stupor, with all the drugs that they would force into her young and fragile body. I promised myself that I would pray for her soul every night and hoped that one day she would find peace.

Back in the laundry room, I asked Rosie if she was all right and she simply nodded. "Hey have you heard Kathleen has been moved to another laundry. Rumour has it that she has been returned to Dublin." One of the girls told us. I knew where Kathleen really was but decided to keep that piece of information to myself.

Rosie was still quiet through supper, so I decided to talk to her when we were in bed. "Rosie can I speak to you?" I asked. "I don't know if I want to hear it." she replied, as I jumped into bed beside her. "I'm sorry about what happened. Did you get punished?" I asked her. "Oh yes. Mother Superior knows how to beat you. Every muscle in my body is aching." she replied, with tears in her eyes. "Kathleen is away and won't be bothering you again." I told her. "Yeh lucky devil has got out of here. I wish it was me." Rosie said, with tears now running down her face. "Don't say that." I told her. "Maybe if I lie about everything and start fights then maybe they will let me go or send me somewhere else." she said. "Rosie, Kathleen is away to a Sanatorium. You know what that is Rosie? A mental hospital but please don't tell anyone. Let them think she has been sent back to Dublin." I told her and immediately she stopped crying. "Mental Hospital. How do you know this?" she asked. "Mother Superior let it slip the other day. I was going to tell her, so that maybe she could escape somewhere but before I could say anything, you two had that fight. And I'm afraid, as she hasn't returned, then that is where she is right now, the poor girl." I told her.

"I'm glad." Rosie replied. "No you are not Rosie O' Connor. You know as well as I do, that you would not want your worst enemy to be put in a place like that. She'll never get out. Imagine it. She'll be kept prisoner in there and forced to take pills every day until she dies." I told her and Rosie began to cry again. This time I knew she was crying for Kathleen, the girl that she hated with all of her heart.

"I must get back to bed before Sister Bernard comes in to check on us." I told her, pulling the bedcovers back and putting my feet on the floor. "Wait a minute. What Kathleen said about my brother was true but I swear it wasn't my fault. He forced himself on me and my family put me in here. It's just not fair. He should be in prison for what he did to me. I should not be the one to be punished." she told me, as she gripped my hand. "I know Rosie. Listen one of these days we will get out of here and when we do, do you fancy staying with me. We can become the terrible duo or maybe the really good duo. What do you think?" I asked her. "I think that I would very much like that. Thank you Patricia O'Hara. Thank you so very much." she said.

I was surprised to hear her use my proper full name. I smiled at her and quickly ran over to my own bed and began to pray, just as Sister Bernard came in to check on us. "Sister Bernard. Is Kathleen away to Dublin." One of the girls asked and I waited with baited breath to hear her answer. Would a nun lie? "None of your business girl. Let's just say she is being taken care of. Now say your prayers and get to sleep." she replied, before leaving the room. She didn't lie after all and I was glad of that fact. It would have completely destroyed my own beliefs, if she had lied to everyone about Kathleen. As it is, everyone believed that she was back in Dublin and that was for the best.

I tossed and turned all night thinking of Kathleen and how she must feel being in the Sanatorium. I wondered what kind of place it was, as I had never seen the inside of one but had heard so many horrifying stories about places like that. Kathleen wasn't mad, so why was sent to a place like that? Would she ever get out? or was she destined to remain there and never live a proper life. The thought of that terrified me and I knew that I would not be able to sleep that night.

# Chapter Six

The months passed slowly. Girls would leave when they reached their 17th birthday and new girls would take their place. Kathleen was never mentioned again, which was a good thing, as the whole situation with her disturbed me greatly. Rosie never mentioned her brother again and I never once mentioned my daughter Gabrielle. She was my secret and I guarded her memories fiercely. She was nobody's business but mine and I thought for her every day. Would I ever see her again? I prayed that I would.

Eventually the day arrived and it was my 17th birthday and the girls were jealous. "You'll be going home soon." They all said and I would gleefully agree with them. Rosie still had another few months to go until she too would be able to leave. "I'll be waiting for you Rosie." I often told her and through her tears she would nod at me and cling onto my hand for comfort.

"Mother Superior would like to see you Esther." Sister Monica told me in her childlike voice, that was now beginning to grate on me and I glanced over at Rosie, who once again was beginning to sob. All she seemed to do these days was cry and I was extremely worried about her. With her family turning their backs on her, I wondered if she would ever get herself together and be strong again.

"There is a surprise waiting for you in Mother Superior's room." Sister Monica told me, with a smile on her face. "A surprise?" I asked, as we walked down the corridor. "Just you wait and see." she told me. I looked at Sister Monica and wondered if she was really touched in the head or just a very enthusiastic person who couldn't control her emotions. Well it didn't matter to me any more, as I was sure that I was getting out of this place today.

Sister Monica knocked on the door. "Enter." Mother Superior shouted and Sister Monica swung open the door and I was greeted with a familiar face. My father was standing beside Mother Superior. "Dad." I screamed rushing into his arms. "Patricia my darling little girl. You have all grown up." he said, kissing my forehead and squeezing me tightly. "Are you here to take me away?" I asked, hoping that he was. "Of course I am. I had to wait until your 17th birthday and it was painful to do but now we can be together." he said with a big grin on his face. "Sister Monica, could collect Esther, I mean Patricia's belonging? I'm sure that she will want to go home as soon as possible." Mother Superior said and Sister Monica rushed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. "Take a seat." Mother Superior said, bringing another chair over from the corner of the room.

"Dad can I ask you something?" I asked him. "Sure honey." he replied, holding onto my hands as if he never ever wanted to let them go. "I have a friend here. Rosie O'Connor and she is nearly 17. I wondered if there is any way you could persuade Mother Superior to let her come with us. I promised her I would look after her as her family have abandoned her." I told him. My father looked surprised. "Well I don't know about that." he said. "Please. I will never ask you for anything ever again. She needs me father, just as I need you." I told him. "Let me talk to Mother Superior." he said, rising from his chair and walking over to where Mother Superior was standing. I could hear them whispering but couldn't quite hear what was being said. There was a lot of tutting and shaking of heads and I wondered how it would end.

Sister Monica returned with my case in her hands and handed it to me. "Sister Monica. Could you fetch Angela, I mean Rosie O'Connor and bring her down to see me." Mother Superior told her and once again, she quickly but quietly disappeared from the room. My heart leapt with joy. "This is quite unusual you must understand Mr O'Hara. It is quite unheard of but we are running out of spaces for these poor wretched girls and it would free up a bed. I know her family does not want her back under any circumstances, so it really is up to us to find her somewhere to live. We will see what she has to say about all of this, before I make my decision." Mother Superior said and I rushed over towards my father and flung my arms around him.

A few moments later the door opened and Sister Monica brought Rosie into the room. "It seems that Esther, I mean Patricia, please for give me, Patricia and her father are willing to take you home with them today, if you are willing. What do you say?" Mother Superior asked her. Rosie screamed with delight. "Yes. Oh Yes." she screamed, rushing towards me and hugging me, as if she was clinging to me for dear life. "Are you sure?" she asked me. "Of course I'm sure. I couldn't leave here without you. "Oh thank you so much." Rosie cried. "Thank you both so much.

# Chapter Seven

We now live in a small two-bedroom flat, on a third floor tenement block in Milton Street, in the north area of London. Father had moved here, when he walked out on my mother over three years ago, just after Gabrielle was born. He told me that he rented the two-bedroom flat because he thought that my brothers Pat and Seamus might come to stay with him. They never did. He kept it on because he knew that one day, he would be able to take me away from the nuns and be father and daughter again. I was grateful for that.

The streets were always full of noise, which was a far cry from where we lived with the nuns and I loved it. The place may be a dump but the neighbours were lovely, warm-hearted people, who would help anyone in need without a second thought. We lived in a much nicer area than Bethnal Green, where I grew up and there was even a park across the street. Both Rosie and I agreed that we would look for work immediately and not in the factories but in the many grand houses just within walking distance.

One day Rosie rushed through the door to tell me that she had heard that new family, Lord and Lady Salisbury, had moved into one of the large mansion at Beaumont Gardens, within walking distance from us and they were looking for staff. We jumped around the living room like two little girls excited about Father Christmas.

Father was now working in the steel factory and he worked long hours but often went to the pub after work with his friends, to unwind. So most nights he was the worst for drink, when he came through the door. But he never once caused any trouble. There were no arguments in our new home and for that I was grateful. I never once asked about mother or my brothers. As far as I was concerned they existed in a different reality from my own and I was more than happy how my life had turned out now. I still thought of Gabrielle every day and prayed for her every night. She would be 3 years old by now and I hoped her life was happy.

"Come Patricia. Let's get round to Beaumont Gardens and see if we can find ourselves a job." Rosie said, with a smile on her face. "Even if the Salisbury's don't want us, maybe some of the other gentry will." We quickly washed and dressed in our best clothes, before setting out to find a job. We may not have the experience that they would want but decided not to tell them about the nuns. Instead we would say that we worked in the laundry in the local hospital, St. Thomas's in Wellington Street.

"It's a bit scary." I said, as we stood outside the door to what I could only describe as a mansion of a house, until we both realised that it was part of a row of houses in the street and not just one very large house. We rang the bell and moments later a very stern oldish man, opened the door and asked us what we wanted. When we explained that we were looking for work, he scowled saying that we should have gone to the back door.

"What is it Mr Warren?" a woman called from inside the house. "Someone looking for work. I have told them to go around the back." he called back to her. "Don't be silly Mr Warren. Bring them in through the front door, it's not as if we are all set up here anyway." the woman shouted to him.

The man glared at us and indicated, with a nod of the head that we were to follow him inside. The hall made me gasp with its beauty. Gold-framed paintings hung on the walls and mahogany tables, just inside the door, were topped with silver trays and crystal vases. Rosie gripped me by the hand and as I turned to her, I could see that she was as much surprised as I was, to see such opulence.

"Next time you visit, come to the back door. Do you understand?" the old man called Mr Warren, told us in a stern voice and we both nodded. " Come with me." he said, taking us downstairs towards the servant quarters.

"Mrs Storey. I found these two girls outside. They say they are looking for work." he said, to a burly red-faced woman, who was standing with sweat dripping down her face. "Thank you, Mr Warren. Come into the kitchen then." she told us and we immediately obeyed. By all indications, Mrs Storey was the cook. The kitchen table was covered in flour and broken egg-shells and the smell from whatever was boiling on the stove, smelled just heavenly.

"Do you wish me to stay Mrs Storey?" the man asked. "No. You go about your duties Mr Warren." she replied, giving him a smile. He grunted and we watched as he left the room and went upstairs again. Mrs Storey must have seen the concerned look on my face. "Don't take any notice of Mr Warren. He has a gruff exterior but a kind, soft heart." she told me. "Who is he?" Rosie asked. "Mr Warren is the Butler. He's been in Lord and Lady Salisbury's employment, for nearly as long as I have. And that my dear girls, is a very long time, believe me." she said laughing.

I liked Mrs Storey, who seemed like a very pleasant soul but Mr Warren was a different kettle of fish. He was aloof and spoke as if he had marbles in his mouth and seemed to look down his rather large nose at us, or was this all my imagination. Perhaps he would grow on me or perhaps, more than likely, I would keep my distance from him.

"Lord and Lady Salisbury have just purchased this house in Beaumont Gardens and will visit here quite often, I believe, so we have to be prepared." she told us. "So this is their second home then?" I asked. "This my dear is their London residence. They mostly live in their country estate outside of Bath but Lord Salisbury is often down in London on business, so they decided to purchase this house. " Mrs Storey told us.

"I have worked in their country estate, since I was around your age and I'm only down here for a few months, to set things up. Then I'll go about finding them a permanent cook. Mr Warren too, is only down here in London for a few months. We will return to Bath, when this house has all the servants that it needs. Now come here, so I can have a better look at you both." she said, peering into my eyes. "Good young healthy lasses. You'll do fine. Now tell me. Do you have any experience of taking care of a home?' she asked us. Rosie piped up first, telling her that she had taken care of her home and younger brothers and sisters, since she was a small child. "And you young lady." she asked, turning to look at me. "I look after my father and I have worked, in the laundry of St Thomas's Hospital in Wellington Street." I replied, not feeling too good about lying to her. "I'm a hard worker and a fast learner."

"Good. Now leave your names and addresses and I'll see what I can do." she told us. We wrote our names and address down on the piece of paper, that she provided and I wondered if she was testing us to see if we could write. The nuns always kept us up with our schooling, so I hoped that Mrs Storey did not think us too educated to work at the house.

When we were finished, Mrs Storey took the slip of paper from us. "I see you both live at the same address. Are you related?" she asked. I looked at Rosie and she nodded. Yes we were related, perhaps not in blood but we were tied together by circumstances and friendship. "We are cousins, twice removed." Rosie told her and I had to stifle a laugh. Rosie could always tell such elaborate lies, while still keeping an honest, childlike expression on her face.

As we were leaving, I turned to Mrs Storey. "Do you know how long we have to wait to hear back from you?" I asked her, concerned with our lack of money. My father had a low paid job and with spending each night in the pub after work, we didn't have much money left for food, after paying our rent. "Won't be long dear. Maybe a day or two." she said with a smile. "If you're accepted here, you will eventually be expected to move into the servants quarters. Would that be a problem?" Mrs Storey asked and Rosie and I shook our heads.

Rosie was so excited. "Oh just think of it Patricia. Just look at this place. Can you imagine working here, living here because I can?" she said and I had to agree. The prospect of working and living in such a grand house seemed just too good to be true.

As we walked home, Rosie grabbed me by my arm. "What's wrong Patricia? You seem a bit out of sorts." she asked me. "I'm worried about leaving father and moving into the servants quarters. How can I leave him Rosie?" I replied. "Look Mrs Storey said we would be expected to move into the servants quarters eventually. That means at the beginning, we can still stay with your father. Don't worry about it Patricia. Just take one day at a time and if any problems arise we can deal with them. You always think ahead don't you? Me, I take one day at a time." Rosie said and I had to agree, that I was worrying over nothing, or at least I hoped so.

We both turned to take another look again at the beautiful London residence of Lord and Lady Salisbury. Their house was in the middle of a row of red-bricked of very modern looking houses that only the gentry could afford.

By the time we reached home, father had just arrived from the pub. "Anything to eat love?" he asked and I immediately placed some bread, butter and cheese on a plate for him. "Thanks love. I'm famished." he said, between mouthfuls of bread. "Rosie and I went for a job today at one of the big houses at Beaumont Gardens. It seems that Lord and Lady Salisbury have just bought the house and they're looking for servants." I told him but he didn't seem to be listening. He seemed to have other things on his mind. I knew instinctively that something was wrong.

"What is it father? You don't seem to be your usual self tonight?" I asked him and watched as he pulled a letter from his trouser pocked. "What's this?" I asked, as he pushed it into my hand. "It's from your mother." he told me. I glanced at Rosie and she immediately took the hint that she had to leave us to discuss family business. I stood with the letter in my hand. "Read it, father said but I didn't want to read it. "What does it say?" I asked him. "Read it for yourself." he replied, so I opened the letter and began to read.

Dear Patricia

I need you back home. I'm not long for this world and need my only daughter to take care of me. Pat is married now with children of his own and your brother Seamus is back in prison. I hope and pray that you have it in your heart to help me in my hour of need.

God Bless

Your Loving Mother

"What the hell!" I exclaimed. "There's no way I'm going home." Father stared at me before speaking. "She needs you Patricia." he said and I immediately tore the letter to shreds and through it on the floor. "She can go to hell!" I screamed and my father immediately chastised me. "Patricia. Don't speak like that. She's your mother." my father told me, with sadness in his eyes. "And I'm Gabrielle's mother." I replied with anger written all over my face.

"This woman is no mother of mine. How can you forget what she did to me? And what about what she did to you? She drove us both from our home. I never want to see her ever again. She's nothing to me. Do you hear me? Nothing." I yelled, as Rosie rushed into the room, on hearing my angry screams. "Is everything all right Patricia?" she asked, in a concerned voice. "Yes of course." I replied. "Just someone that I never want to see again ever, has sent me a letter. Which I have torn into a hundred pieces." I explained.

Rosie stared at me and I could see that she was confused. "How long have you had that letter father?" I asked him, knowing that he had been acting strange for days. "A little while. She may be gone by now, for all I know." he replied. "Don't you think you should go to her?" he asked, with a tremble in his voice. "No I do not. I never want to see her again and she knows this father because I told her this to her face. So how she thinks I will pack up and move home to look after her, in her dying days, I do not fathom." I replied, now finding myself shaking with anger.

"Is your mother ill Patricia?" Rosie asked. "She is dying." my father told her. "And her last wish is to see her only daughter again. Is that really too much to ask Patricia?" he asked now rising from his chair. "Yes it is and no Rosie she doesn't just want to see me. She actually expects me to look after her, until she dies. She ruined my life Rosie. That woman ruined my life." I screamed in anger.

"Now that is enough Patricia. She's your mother and only did what she thought was best." father said and I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Best. Do you call giving my baby, who I called Gabrielle after you, away to strangers, for the best? Do you call getting the doctor to take away my womb, so that I can never have any more children, for the best? And what about sending me to live in that bloody place with the nuns? For the best? Don't make me laugh." I spat at him with pure venom in my voice.

I glanced at Rosie who seemed to be shocked by my behavior. "Yes Rosie, I have a baby daughter. She is called Gabrielle and she must be nearly four years old by now. I don't know where she is and I will most likely never see her again. You see my mother thought it was for the best. I'm sorry if you are shocked but that is how it is." I told her.

"Patricia. I'm so sorry. You never told me anything about this." Rosie said, pulling me to her and wrapping her arms around me. And the tears ran down my face and I at that moment I felt that I would never stop crying. The painful memories, that the letter evoked, was too much for me to bear and the fact that my father didn't seem to understand my anger and distress, confused me greatly.

My father went into his bedroom and returned moments later with a bag filled to the brim with his clothes. "Where are you going?" I asked him, confused. "I have to go to your mother Patricia. Please don't be angry. We have been married for a very long time and even though I left, I have never stopped loving her." he told me. "You're going to look after her. You?" I asked and he nodded. "You're drunk and don't know what you're saying." I told him. "No Patricia. I have had a few drinks but I am certainly not drunk. Please understand." he said as he made his way towards the door.

"If you go now, then don't expect me to be here when you get back." I told him. "I won't be coming back. You know where to find me, if you ever need my help. I have no choice, I love her. Goodbye Patricia. Take care of yourself and at least you are not alone, you have Rosie." he said, before walking out of the door and out of my life forever.

I crumpled to the floor and Rosie knelt down beside me, to try and comfort me. I was practically hysterical. "How could he do this Rosie? How could he do this to me." I cried. "He isn't doing anything to you Patricia. He's gone to help the woman he loves because she is dying." she replied, trying to make me see sense. "I will tell you this. I'm moving out of here as soon as I can and moving into the servants quarters, if we are lucky enough to get the jobs." I told her, with determination in my voice.

# Chapter Eight

It has now been over ten months since Rosie and I took live in positions, in Beaumont Gardens. To this day we have never set eyes on Lord and Lady Salisbury. We live in the servant's quarters, in a room with six other girls. The male servants had a separate room, along the corridor from ours and the Cook, Mrs Storey and the Butler, Mr Warren and the Housekeeper Mrs Watson, had separate rooms of their own at the end of the corridor. The servants' quarters were clean but very sparsely furnished, unlike the rest of the house upstairs that looked fit for a king.

Rosie found herself as a Scullery Maid and moaned day and night, as she felt she was still prisoner to the laundry, even though she worked and lived in such a beautiful house. I told her to bide her time and then ask to switch duties to either a Kitchen Maid, like me or a Lady's Maid.

I worked in the kitchen along with Mrs Storey and a few other girls. Our duties included helping Mrs Storey, by preparing the vegetables and washing and drying the pots, pans, plates, cutlery, crockery and the like. We also swept and cleaned the kitchen along with the halls, stone steps at the house entrance and kitchen stairs. As well as this daily sweeping, cleaning and dusting, we would scrub tables, shelves, cupboards and sometimes, Mrs Storey would allow me to bake some bread rolls for breakfast. I loved cooking and often cajoled Mrs Storey into allowing me to help her more and more with cooking and baking. So much so, that she even suggested that I should be her second in command. So more and more cooking duties fell to me and I was very pleased with that.

We rose each morning at 5am but in the winter months, we were told that we could sleep until 7 am. We soon got ourselves into a routine and we each had one day off a week, when we went out and enjoyed ourselves.

I never did hear from my father again and presumed after ten months that my mother must have died. As far as I was concerned, my brothers could just as well be dead too, as I never once thought of them since I left home many years ago.

"Don't you just love the decorations? The city looks so much alive and just beautiful with all of this snow." Rosie said and I nodded in agreement. We had awoken that morning and as soon as I felt the chill in the air, I knew that it had been snowing. "It's just so beautiful and only a few days until Christmas." Rosie squealed in delight, like a small child. She was now 18 years old but still had the looks of a child. Her oval face was filled with freckles and her long blond hair, she tied up in a bun, made her look quite angelic. She was so petite and child like compared to me, who at 5' 11 inches tall, towered over her. I always kept my chestnut brown hair tied up and somehow for whatever reason, had a yellow complexion to my skin. "Sallow." Rosie would remind me whenever I mentioned it, which wasn't too often, as I just hated looking at myself in the mirror.

"You'll never guess what?" Rosie said as we walked hand and hand along the street towards the shops. "I'm going to be a Lady's Maid, when the family visit for Christmas. I'm so excited." she squealed. I was glad for her but I knew that as soon as the family returned to their country estate, she would be straight back into laundry duties. "Did Mrs Storey tell you this?" I asked and watched as she shook her head.

"No, Mrs Watson." she replied. Mrs Watson, the housekeeper with her authoritarian manner, soon let everyone know that she and not Mrs Storey, was housekeeper and the boss of everything that went on in the house. I didn't quite like her that much, although to tell the truth, she never did me any harm. She was in her late forties and rumour had it that she was a widow with no children. I didn't like her because Mrs Storey didn't like her. I knew this was wrong and that I should make my mind up about someone all by myself however, I somehow felt close to Mrs Storey. She was supposed to find a cook and return to Salisbury Manor, the country estate of Lord and Lady Salisbury but somehow they had replaced her there and she was stuck in London. Something that she was gutted about, as she much preferred the countryside. She only spoke about her feelings once and then she seemed to put a brave face on things and busied herself in the kitchen.

Mr Warren stayed on at Beaumont Gardens too, much to his displeasure, as like Mrs Storey, he much preferred working in Lord and Lady Salisbury's country estate in Bath. He, like Mrs Storey, did not talk about this but their faces told every one of us, that they were anything but pleased at this development.

Rosie and I walked along the streets, looking into the shop windows, which were decorated in all sorts of Christmas decorations, we both felt warm inside. Mrs Storey, with permission from Mrs Watson of course, had given everyone a glass of sherry to warm themselves up or more likely to cheer everyone up, as most of the other servants would not be able to see their families this Christmas.

Lord and Lady Salisbury had decided that their Christmas Party this year would be in their London residence, at Beaumont Gardens, much to Mrs Storey's surprise. She kept telling us, that we would be so busy over the festive period, that we would have hardly any time to ourselves. There was so much to organise and we all told Mrs Storey that we would do our very best to ensure that everything ran smoothly. Mrs Storey had laughed. "That's what you are all being paid for, so don't think you are doing me any favours girls." she had said and we all laughed.

Mrs Storey, who was a widow, had worked in Lord and Lady Salisbury's country estate in Bath, for well on 30 years and had only came down to London to find a cook for them. Now she was stuck in London, with no way out and resented that fact but didn't let it interfere with her work at the house.

"What do you think it will be like Patricia?" Rosie asked. "What are you talking about Rosie?" I asked her. "Christmas at the house. I think it will be simply magnificent." she said, throwing her head back and laughing. "Patricia. Do you think of your family?" she asked and I was surprised by her question.

"No. Do you think of yours?" I replied. She shook her head. "You're my family now and forever." Rosie told me, latching onto my arm. "Let's go window shopping. I just love Christmas don't you?" she said, dragging me inside a large store.

The next few days at the house, servants including myself, helped put up the Christmas decorations. The Christmas tree was decorated solely by Mrs Watson. This was her job she told everyone but when her back was turned, Rosie and I would rearrange the tree decorations to make it look prettier. And whether she noticed the difference or not, she never once mentioned it.

"Lord and Lady Salisbury will be arriving tomorrow around lunchtime and will greet all of the servants in the hall." Mr Warren informed us, with a happier tone to his voice than usual. "I expect everyone to be on their best behavior. Understand?" he asked and we all nodded our heads. "I want everyone dressed smartly with clean, crisp uniforms and polished shoes and remember not to speak directly to them, unless I give you the nod." he said and once again we all nodded our heads.

Mr Warren was sometimes harsh but he was quite fair in his manner but with that said, no-one ever wanted to cross him. He like Mrs Storey, had come from his Lordships country estate and he like Mrs Storey, had been replaced by a younger employee. This was something we all knew but no one said a word or discussed this piece of information that was giving to us by one of the valets. He was an enigma as no-one really knew anything about him and he never discussed his life, family or anything that was not related to his work.

"We will be busy in the kitchen today Patricia." Mrs Storey said after breakfast was finished and she was right. All day we cooked and cleaned and to tell the truth, it was just as physically draining, as when I worked in the laundry. We baked and cooked with an array of fresh vegetables, fish and poultry and some of these things I had never seen before, never mind eaten. "I'm not working from a menu today, so we will have to do a choice of dishes for our guests. I will ask her Ladyship tomorrow, about the menus for the rest of their stay. Any leftovers of course, will be enjoyed by the servants." she said laughing and I laughed with her. The fact was I didn't quite think that this upper class food would go down well with the servants and they would probably be forced into eating it, by Mr Warren.

The next morning we all tumbled out of our beds at 4am, an hour earlier than usual, even though we had been up to well past Midnight, cleaning and scrubbing every nook and cranny of the house. I felt tired, even before we started our day's work.

After lunch, as expected, Lord and Lady Salisbury arrived and we all lined up in the hallway and stood in line to greet them. Lady Salisbury came through the door first, followed closely by her husband Lord Salisbury. They looked by all accounts as elegant as Mrs Storey had described. Lady Salisbury was dressed in an elegant pale blue embroidered dress and Lord Salisbury in a light grey suit.

They were both in their late forties, I guessed but they looked fairly young and fresh, probably because of the good living, I told myself. To Mrs Watson's shock, they brought with them their own Parlour Maids and Valets. Mrs Watson looked over at Mr Warren, who simply nodded to signify that he noticed this too.

One by one we were presented to them, by Mrs Watson and one by one, we curtsied and bowed depending on our gender. When all the niceties were over, we returned to our duties. "Would you like some tea, M'Lady, M'lord?" I heard Mr Warren ask them. "We will freshen up first Warren and will be down in say, around 30 minutes. We will have tea and sandwiches in the Drawing Room. Thank you." Lord Salisbury replied, with a very posh accent. Proper English, Mrs Storey had told me, when I questioned his accent.

"Right then Patricia, help me sort out tea and sandwiches for them. They must be famished, poor things travelling all that way." Mrs Storey said but I could never think of them as poor things, as that would be an insult to the real poor people of the country.

As Lord and Lady Salisbury drank their tea in the Drawing Room, we busied ourselves in the kitchen preparing supper. Rosie popped her head into the kitchen to let me know that she was not now to become a Lady's Maid, as her Ladyship had brought her own with her, from her countryside estate. Her faced looked so forlorn and I felt so sorry for her and decided to do something about it.

"Mrs Storey, don't you think that because we are so busy that we could do with another pair of hands in the kitchen?" I asked and she gave me a knowing look. "Anyone in mind Patricia." she asked. "Well I was thinking of Rosie." I replied. Mrs Storey laughed before saying, "Go get her girl and only because we do need an extra pair of hands." I was thrilled. "Thank you Mrs Storey." I said giving her a hug. "Away with you girl." she told me, as I rushed out of the kitchen to fetch Rosie.

That night we served Lord and Lady Salisbury their supper and cleaned up after them before sitting down for a bite to eat ourselves.

Lady Salisbury's maids, Mary and Agnes, sat at the very end of the table. They seemed to be rather aloof in their manner and didn't say much and I wondered if they were shy. Mary was around my age and Agnes was well into her forties and her hair was greying. Agnes had cold eyes and something told me that she was a woman not to be messed with. Mrs Storey tried to break the silence by asking how they liked living at the country estate. They both nodded, expressing that they did enjoy living there but neither of them seemed to wish to expand on the conversation.

Mrs Storey was becoming quite annoyed with them both, and I saw this on her face. And turning her attention to Collins and Peters, the Valets from the country estate, she asked them how everyone was doing up at the estate. Mrs Storey seemed to know these two men quite well and as we ate they relayed us with the goings on at the country estate, much to Mrs Storey's delight.

After supper we sat around the table talking about Christmas and families. Well, I listened as they talked. Myself and Rosie, never talked about our families, as they were in the past and nothing to do with our lives now. But I wondered if my mother was still alive but only for a second. Mrs Storey brought out some sherry and we all had a glass or two before it was time to clean up and go to bed.

"This was a good day Patricia." Rosie said, as she got undressed for bed. "I think you're a bit tipsy girl. How many sherries have you had?" I asked her and she smiled before giving me a wink. "Actually me and Mrs Storey had a few more than the rest of you. Lighten up Patricia. It's Christmas and I for one, am looking forward to it. Thanks for getting me out of the laundry. That place was driving me insane." she said before belching. I laughed.

The next day was Christmas Eve and the whole house was a flurry of activity. After we had finished our chores, Mr Warren called for all the servants and advised us that Lord and Lady Salisbury was leaving in a few hours. "But I thought they were having Christmas here this year. Are they going back to Bath?" Mrs Storey asked, now visibly shocked by the news.

"They are going to their daughter's home in France, for Christmas this year. I do believe it was a last minute decision." Mr Warren replied. "Who is her daughter?" Rosie asked and received a glare from Mrs Watson, who obviously thought it an impertinent question. "Lady Elizabeth Salisbury and her husband live just outside Paris, with their little daughter. As far as I believe, they were coming here for Christmas but for whatever reason they cannot now come here and His Lordship has decided that they should go to her for Christmas." Mr Warren explained. "I do believe she is a Duchess now, Mr Warren, as her husband is a Duke." Mrs Watson corrected him.

"You may be right Mrs Watson." Mr Warren told her with a glare before continuing. "As I was saying it is really none of our business why they are not now having Christmas here but His Lordship has asked me to extend his apologies to you all. And as a form of compensation, you can all leave today and spend a week with your families this Christmas." he said and the servants cheered. "But I want you all back here on 1st January around supper time, come what may. I want us to start off next year in the same professional manner as we always work and I will take no excuses from any of you, if you do not turn up for work on time." he said as a warning.

Everyone was excited apart for Rosie and I, who had family but had no intentions of visiting them. "What are we to do Patricia?" Rosie asked me with tears in her eyes. "This is the only home we have."

As everyone dispersed I asked Mr Warren if the house was being locked up over the holidays. He looked at me as if surprised at my question.

"Well no actually, Mrs Storey and I will remain in the house, to look after it. Why do you ask?" he asked with a raise of his eyebrow. "It's just that Rosie and I have no family and I was wondering if it would be possible to stay here." I told him. "Right I see. Well if Mrs Storey agrees, then I don't see any problems." he replied and I had to stop myself from throwing my arms around his neck and giving him a big kiss on his cheek.

Mr Warren looked at Mrs Storey. "Please Mrs Storey. We have nowhere to go and we will work as hard as you want us to work, Christmas or not." Rosie told her with desperation in her voice for everyone to hear. "I suppose it won't be a problem." she replied, before disappearing back to the kitchen. "Good. It is settled then but don't think that Mrs Storey will be cooking any meals for you. She is on holiday too, so you will have to take care of yourselves." Mr Warren told us, as we hugged each other and jumped up and down, grateful that we had a roof over our heads at Christmas.

Waking up the next morning, I heard Rosie squealing with delight as she opened the Christmas present I left for her on the bottom of her bed. "Thank you Patricia. The perfume is beautiful and you also bought me some beautiful blue hair ribbon." she said, jumping out of bed and running over with a parcel in her hand. "For you Patricia." she said, eagerly waiting for me to open her present.

I gasped when I saw what I can only describe as, a globe of snow with a little Christmas tree in the middle. "Do you like it Patricia. I think it's beautiful." Rosie said, taking it from my hand and shaking it to show me how the snow falls down onto the Christmas tree.

"Thank you Rosie. You're right. It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." I told her. "Can I play with it for a while?" she asked eagerly and without waiting for an answer, she jumped back into her bed and spent the next 20 minutes shaking the globe and giggling like a child.

I smiled. She was so child-like and wasn't much younger than me but at this time of year, it was lovely to see such enthusiasm.

We didn't see much of Mrs Storey or Mr Warren that day but that evening we were surprised to see the supper table laden with an array of scrumptious food. "What is this?" I asked Mrs Storey. "This, my two little muffins is our Christmas dinner. Now anyone want to join me in a glass or two of sherry." she said, with a half empty bottle of sherry in her hand and giggling. "I think you have had quite enough sherry for the moment Mrs Storey." Mr Warren said, taking the bottle from her hand and putting it back in the larder. "Now can we eat?" Mr Warren asked and Mrs Storey giggled again. "Now you sit yourself down my big strong man and I will fetch your supper. Patricia I think I might need your help." she said slurring her words a little. "Take the beef to the table. I will carry the veg." she said and I immediately obliged.

We soon tucked into our supper, which was both delicious and enormous. "Patricia be a muffin and get me my Sherry from the larder and you will find a bottle of Port for Mr Warren." Mrs Storey asked me. "Yes, hurry up muffin." Rosie shouted and everyone, including Mr Warren burst into laughter. "If you are all good I will pull out my surprise plum pudding and you may get a shilling hiding inside if you are lucky." Mrs Storey said laughing like a child, which I presumed had something to do with the quantity of sherry that she had consumed that day.

The next few days were quiet and the house seemed rather eerie. In the evening, we sat in the kitchen and although Mr Warren had insisted that Mrs Storey wouldn't cook for us, she always cooked us supper and wouldn't hear of any of us lifting a hand. We repaid her kindness with doing all the washing up and life at that moment was good.

On New Year Eve, the day before the rest of the servants were due to return, I was awakened early by Rosie jumping from her bed and running to the window screaming that it was snowing heavily. We had snow for the last few weeks but it was only a flurry here and there. Rosie stood at the window like a small child screaming with delight.

"The whole place is covered with a blanket of snow. Hurry Patricia you must see this." she screamed and I mumbled something before turning in my bed, to continue to lovely long sleep that I was enjoying. "Come on Patricia. It's snowing really heavy. Hurry up and get dressed. I want to have fun." she squealed with delight before putting on her coat and running out of the room. I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed and went over to the window and gasped when I saw all the snow on the ground. The place looked absolutely beautiful and then I spied Rosie running around like a small child and hurried to dress, as I wanted to join her.

All that morning we played around in the snow. We gathered snowballs and threw them at the trees before becoming bored and throwing them at each other. We even decided to make a snowman, even though we were absolutely freezing and when it was done, I had to practically drag her back to the house so that we could change out of our sodden clothes.

Now sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast, we both found ourselves shivering. "You silly girls will find yourselves laid up in bed with pneumonia, if your not careful." Mr Warren told us but we just laughed. "They are young Mr Warren, let them have their fun." Mrs Storey told him. "I'm just concerned for their well being Mrs Storey." And Mrs Storey shook her head. "I know you are and so am I but we were all young once. Now girls wrap up well if you intend to go out in that snow again. Mr Warren is right about one thing and that is that you could make yourself ill, if you don't wrap up warm." she told us. "Yes Mrs Storey." Rosie told her, while giving me a wink.

After we had cleaned up the dishes, Rosie ran outside again. She tried to drag me with her but I was having none of it. It was freezing outside and I felt that getting soaked once was fun but getting soaked twice was idiotic.

An hour later Rosie was running into her quarters to change her sodden clothes. "Really Rosie." I said following her. "Don't you dare go back out there today. Mr Warren is right you'll catch pneumonia or whatever it's called." Rosie nodded but I knew that she was just trying to appease me so, I suggested some parlour games to occupy us. "Maybe after supper Patricia. I need to back outside and make another snowman. Are you coming?" she asked but I shook my head. "You'll catch your death of cold." I told her. "Is that really possible? Can you really die if you get cold?" she asked me and I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know but that's what people say. Now come on Rosie, play some parlour games with me instead. We can go back outside tomorrow." I pleaded with her but to no avail. Rushing past me she said "The snow might be gone tomorrow Patricia and I want to make the most of it." And then she was gone

# Chapter Nine

In the morning, Rosie wasn't feeling well, as she had been up all night coughing, so she stayed in bed. I went out in the snow and decided to cheer her up and make another snowman but a much larger one that she could see out of the bedroom window. It took me ages but I managed to make a good-looking snowman with coal for eyes, carrots for its nose and I even put on a hat and scarf. He was missing arms so I searched about for twigs and used them for its arms.

When I was done, I stepped back and was pleased with my creation. Rosie would just love it, so I rushed back inside to tell her to look out of the window. When I reached the stairs, I could hear her coughing and rushed to the bedside. Opening the door, I saw that Mr Warren and Mrs Storey were both standing by her bed. "What is it?" I asked them. "Rosie doesn't look too well and has a terrible cough." Mrs Storey said, with a concerned look on her face. "I'm sure she'll be better tomorrow." I told her, wondering why she looked so concerned. Rosie had a cold, I was sure of that. "I think we should get the doctor." Mr Warren announced and Mrs Storey nodded in agreement. "She seems to have a fever." Mrs Storey told us, as she sat on the bed and put her hand on Rosie's forehead. "She's burning up something awful. We told her not to go out in the snow so much. Why didn't she listen to us Mr Warren?" Mrs Storey said shaking her head. "I'd better be off. I will bring the doctor, as soon as I can." Mr Warren said as he rushed out of the door.

"What is it?" I asked, confused by their over concerned manner. "I think Rosie might have pneumonia." Mrs Storey told me. "I can hear a rasping in her voice."

Now I felt myself begin to worry. "It's just a cold. Isn't it Mrs Storey?" I asked her but by the look on her face, she didn't agree with me.

I immediately ran to Rosie's beside and sat down beside her, as Mrs Storey walked towards the window and stared outside. Was she looking out for Mr Warren and the doctor? "Rosie can you hear me?" I asked her but she didn't open her eyes. Mrs Storey was right when she said that Rosie had a fever. She was burning up and covered in sweat and she couldn't stop coughing. Her breathing was shallow and raspy and I became frightened. "I'm sure the doctor with sort her out in no time." Mrs Storey said, as she put her arm around me. Did I see tears in her eyes? "If anything happens to Rosie I don't know what I'll do. She couldn't die could she?" I asked her and even though she told me not to be silly, I could see in her eyes that she herself was thinking that very thing.

Doctor Henry Hughes arrived and put us all out of the room, while he examined Rosie. I paced up and down the corridor, not knowing what to do with myself. When he eventually came out, he simply shook his head. "What does that mean? I screamed at him. "Now calm down. Give her two teaspoonful's of this, every two hours and I will be back in the evening to see how she is." Doctor Hughes said, handing me a bottle of medicine. "Will this medicine help her doctor?" I asked, trying to remain calm but every sense in my body was screaming out in torment. "It will relax her airways and hopefully make her breathing easier but we will know in the evening." he replied.

"Is it pneumonia doctor?" Mr Warren asked and the doctor nodded his head. "I'm afraid it is but she is a young healthy girl, so hopefully she will pull through." the doctor replied. "What does that mean? What are you saying?" I practically screamed at him. Mrs Storey put her arms around me and whispered in my ear. "You have to keep calm dear. We are all worried but the doctor has given her medicine." she told me and I immediately burst into tears. I felt that the doctor was trying to tell us that Rosie may die but that he couldn't or wouldn't come right out and say that. Was he right?

The doctor looked at me and patted me on the shoulder. "Take care of her and you have to keep a calm environment for her. Give her the medicine and I will be back in the evening." he told me and then he was gone. "Rosie won't die Mrs Storey. She's a fighter and fighters don't die." I said and saw Mrs Storey look over at Mr Warren, who simply shook his head. We were all in shock and we all hoped and prayed for her recover.

I sat by her beside, dabbing her forehead with a tepid cloth and I gave her the medicine that the doctor had left for her. All the time I was praying that this nightmare would be over.

Now and again Mrs Storey would pop her head around the door and ask if I wanted her to take over for a while, so that I could rest. I always declined her offer, as I was not about to leave Rosie's side, even for a moment. Mr Warren brought up a tray of food for me, saying that I had to eat to keep up my strength but I couldn't stomach any food. I just wanted my friend to get better, so we could laugh again and have fun every day as usual.

Rosie coughed for hours and sometimes she spat up blood, which really upset me and sent me into a frenzy of worry but I tried to remain calm for her sake.

The hours passed and at some point, I must have fallen asleep because I suddenly jolted upright with fright. I looked down at Rosie, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully. I felt her forehead with my hand and was happy to discover that her fever had broken.

Just then Mrs Storey came into the room, with some bread and cheese and a glass of warm milk. "I think she's over the worst Mrs Storey. Her temperature seems to have come down." I told her, with excitement and relief in my voice. "That's good." Mrs Storey said, laying the tray down and walking over to the bed. I watched as she bent over Rosie and touched her forehead before gasping. "What is it?" I asked her, becoming concerned. "I'm sorry Patricia but she is gone." Mrs Storey told me but I couldn't understand why she would say such a thing. "Gone. No, her fever has broken. She'll be fine now after a day or two." I told her with a tremor in my voice. "No Patricia. She is with God now." Mrs Storey said, putting her arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. "She can't be dead." I screamed and Mr Warren came running along the corridor towards the bedroom, to see what was happening. "Fetch the doctor." Mrs Storey told him. "I'm afraid our Rosie has passed away."

I cradled Rosie in my arms, willing her to wake. "Wake up Rosie you silly girl. They think you're dead. Come on now. If you wake up we can go and play outside in the snow." I cried. Mrs Storey whispered into my ear. "She is gone Patricia. There is nothing we can do." And at that moment I felt my heart broke.

The next day all the servants returned from their holiday and were eager to start work. I could hear them all wishing each other a happy new year and the sound of their laugher struck my heart like a knife.

Mr Warren explained to each and every one of them about Rosie and they were all shocked by the news. Several of them came up to tell me how sorry they were, as they knew that Rosie and I, were close friend. Some of the others seemed too embarrassed to speak to me, especially the younger girls. What could they say to me anyway? Nothing would lift my spirits, as I was now on my own on this Earth without a friend to share my worries or happiness with. Life without Rosie, I knew, would be very dark indeed.

Mr Warren had insisted that I rested for the day and would not hear of me doing any chores, which didn't do me any good at all, as all I could fill my mind with was memories of Rosie and our time with the nuns before coming to this house.

Rosie was now with the undertaker. Mr Warren had explained that this was the new way of dealing with death, as usually the deceased stayed where they died, until burial. He also informed me that the servants all gave money towards the funeral costs but as Lord Salisbury had personally paid for the funeral, they would buy flowers instead.

Mr Warren explained that Lord and Lady Salisbury were out of the country, at the moment but sent their condolences to everyone and we were not to worry about a headstone, as they will take care of it. I was astounded, as I thought gentry wouldn't care about their servants but I had to concede I was wrong in their case. They were good employers and no-one had a bad word to say about them.

I sat on my bed all day staring at her bed, which had been stripped bare and couldn't stop crying. Mrs Storey would pop in every now and then, to bring me some food and always gave me hot milk. For some reason people believed that a drink of hot milk would calm a person's nerves, which I can categorically state is a load of old rubbish.

I tossed and turned all night, as I knew that Rosie's funeral was in the morning and I didn't want to say goodbye to my dearest and closest friend. The thought of lowering her body into the ground filled me with absolute dread.

In the morning Mrs Storey brought me some breakfast and smiled sweetly at me before leaving. Mrs Watson appeared after breakfast dressed in a long black dress and black bonnet and it was obvious that she intended to go to Rosie's funeral. "Please come with me Patricia." she said and I immediately followed her outside. "Now I have several mourning dresses and bonnets that you can borrow if you wish." she said, taking me along the corridor towards her room.

As I walked into her room, I saw several black dressed lying on top of her bed. "Choose one dear. It may not fit too well, as I am somewhat larger in frame but we can always tighten up the waist for you." she said. "Thank you Mrs Watson. You are very generous." I told her, with a smile. "Not at all dear. I know young ones like you, wouldn't have a mourning dress in their closet. Now help yourself and don't forget the bonnet. I will be back soon." she told me, closing the door and leaving me standing in her bedroom, trying to choose an appropriate mourning dress to wear to my best friend's funeral.

I put on a plain black dress and a black laced bonnet. It didn't matter to me what I was wearing but I still wanted to dress properly for my Rosie's funeral. Mrs Storey suddenly appeared holding a sewing kit and preceded to take in the waist, as it was at least six inches too big. Soon she was finished. "I'm very sorry Patricia but I have to stay at the house today. I wish I could accompany you to Rosie's funeral but I just cannot get away." she told me with tears in her eyes. "I understand Mrs Storey. You have been so kind and I just know that Rosie would understand." I replied and she immediately rushed out of the room sobbing.

As I appeared in the hallway, I noticed a large bouquet of white lilies and had to control my breathing, so as not to burst into tears myself. Mr Warren came over to my side. "Myself and Mrs Watson will accompany you today. Is there anyone else you wish to be with you?" he asked and I shook my head. "What about her family. Have they been informed?" Mrs Watson asked. "Rosie doesn't have a family. I'm the only family she had." I lied. The truth was that I didn't know where her family lived but what I did know, was that she had never wanted to see them again in this life or the next.

The funeral mass was short and sweet and the plain wooden coffin that Rosie lay in, was soon lowered into the ground. With only three people, including myself, at her funeral, I felt very sad but I knew that there wouldn't be many more at my own funeral whenever my time came. "I have a bottle of port and perhaps some sherry, if we all make our way back to the house. We can make a toast to Rosie and send her off properly." Mr Warren announced at the graveside. And with that, we returned to Mr Warren's office and indeed said a prayer before drinking a toast.

The next few days were a blur and as I tried to carry on with my chores, I knew that my heart wasn't in it. I could see Rosie everywhere, from the kitchen to the bedroom, to the gardens outside. I couldn't stop crying and I knew that I couldn't carry on like this, so I came to a decision. "Can I speak with you Mrs Watson?" I asked one day. "Yes dear." she replied with a concerned look on her face. "I can't stay here any longer. I'm sorry but I have to leave." I told her and she looked horrified. "I see Rosie everywhere and I can't concentrate on my chores. I'm sorry but there is no option but for me to leave." I said trying to explain my decision.

"Now dear, don't make any rash decisions. You are still raw and it could take several months before you feel that you are getting back to your normal self. I know dear. After my husband died I felt just like you and it took months to come to terms with losing him. Just bide your time dear. " she told me. I shook my head. "I'm sorry but I have made my decision." I replied bursting into tears.

"Mr Warren can I see you for a moment?" Mrs Watson shouted and soon he too was standing by my side. "She wants to leave." Mrs Watson explained. "Where will you go to?" Mr Warren asked me and I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know yet but I know that I cannot stay here in this house. It's too full of memories, both happy and sad and I just can't deal with it anymore." I told him through my sobbing. "Right Mrs Watson, I will deal with this situation. Come Patricia, into my office and we can have a chat." he said, leading me along the corridor by the arm.

Once inside his office, he sat me down on a chair and pulled out a bottle of port. "Drink this." he said, pouring a rather generous amount into a small glass.

"I don't drink port." I told him. "Give it a try. Believe me you will feel better for it." he said. I sipped the port and practically chocked. "It's disgusting." I said, laying the glass back down on the table.

"Look Patricia. I understand where you are coming from. Now if you cannot bring yourself to stay here, would you consider transferring to Lord and Lady Salisbury's country estate in Bath? Now I'm not saying I can arrange this but let me speak with his Lordship and I will let you know. What do you think?" he said and I suddenly felt like the whole world had been lifted from my shoulders. "Oh yes Mr Warren." I screamed throwing my arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek. Just then Mrs Watson came into the room and Mr Warren jumped back and coughed. "It's not what it looks like." he told her becoming very flustered. "I didn't think it was, Mr Warren." Mrs Watson replied with a twinkle in her eyes. "I was just telling Patricia here that perhaps it can be arranged for her to transfer to his Lordships country estate in Bath." he explained. "That would be ideal. What do you think Patricia?" Mrs Watson asked. "I think that it would be a splendid. Oh thank you, Mr Warren." I said hugging him again. "Now back to work and let me contact his Lordship and see if this idea can really come to fruition." he said and I ran out of his office, along the corridor and into the kitchen with a smile on my face. When I explained to Mrs Storey, she said that she was both happy for me and sad that I would be leaving. "Thank you for everything Mr Storey. You're an angel." I told her, giving her a hug. "Well then, I think we should get back to work." she said laughing.

A few days later, I was on my way to Bath. The journey was long and the horse and buggy, quite uncomfortable but I felt as if I was off to start a new life and I was pleased. When we entered the long road towards what I would only describe as a palace in the middle of green fields, I knew I had arrived at Salisbury Manor. The Manor was huge and must have had dozens of rooms I surmised, shocked at the size of the house, which as far as I knew only housed Lord and Lady Salisbury.

I was taken around the back to the servant's entrance and suddenly felt fearful as I came out of the buggy with my small tattered brown suitcase in my hand. I was met by a stern looking woman, who introduced herself as Miss Whitely, the housekeeper. She took me inside and down a dozen or so stairs to the servant's quarter. "You sleep in here. I have left a new clean uniform for you and I expect you to keep it clean and crisp. I don't know what they were like at Beaumont Gardens but here we run a tight ship." she told me. "Get changed and I will be back for you shortly."

I looked around the room which had at least ten beds in it, it was very plain much like the smaller room at Salisbury Mansion. I quickly changed into my dark blue dress, white apron and white bonnet and stood at the bed waiting for Miss Whitely to return. I started having doubts about this place and didn't know if I could fit in but knew that I had to give it a try.

A few minutes later Miss Whitely, who was around 40 years of age, returned and took me down to the huge kitchen. "I believe you were an assistant with the cook at Beaumont?" I nodded. "Well we have our own staff, so you I'm afraid will brush and clean and do any other chores as our on cook Mrs Brunton tells you." Once again I nodded.

"Right I want that table cleaned. I have a lot more baking to do." Mrs Brunton told me, with barely a look in my direction. I soon compared her to my own Mrs Storey and found that she was not as friendly or talkative and decided to keep myself to myself and just get on with my work.

At supper, we all sat around a large oak table. Some of the servants had already eaten but there was still around twenty of us at the table. The Butler, Mr Simpson, sat at the head of the table and once again I found myself comparing him to my own Mr Warren. Mr Simpson was in his late fifties and unlike Mr Warren, was of a slim build. "How are you finding us?" Mr Simpson asked me and I nearly choked on my food. "Fine." I simply answered. "Do you hear that everyone. She finds that we are fine." he said laughing and the others joined in and soon the whole table was laughing at my expense. "You will find us quite rigid in our ways. Most of the servants have been here for years and their parents before them. Just do the work you are paid for and don't step out of line and we will all get along famously." he said and I stared down at the table, too intimidated to look anyone in the eye.

The time flew by at Salisbury Manor and soon I had been there for over two years. Now and again, I would glimpse Lord and Lady Salisbury but mostly I was kept downstairs and in the kitchen. A few times a year, grand balls would be hosted at Salisbury Manor and music and laughter could be heard throughout the building but once again I was kept out of sight and didn't even get a glimpse of the gentry who visited.

As at Beaumont Gardens, I slowly won the trust of the cook, Mrs Brunton and she would allow me to bake a little now and again. She was at least ten years younger than Mrs Storey and through time actually became quite friendly. Perhaps she was just one of those people who took time to get to know newcomers, so I chastised myself for judging her too soon.

The Butler, Mr Simpson was a quiet man but often had an acid tongue and could deride someone for the pettiest of things. I knew that my thoughts on him when I first met him were correct and I didn't like him one bit. Now two years later, I hadn't changed my opinion of him and kept out of his way as much as possible.

The Housekeeper, Miss Whitely, proved to be a quandary for me. I neither liked nor disliked her and hardly had anything to do with her.

The other servants were much the muchness of the ones at Beaumont Gardens. We often chatted in passing but not about anything worth remembering. All in all, I yearned to return to Beaumont and the people that I knew and liked but I had made my bed and I would have to lie in it, or so my mother often told me long ago in times gone by. My mother, I wondered why I was thinking of her. I hadn't thought of her or the rest of my family for years and I quickly pushed any thoughts of them right out of my mind and busied myself in cleaning the larder, ready for the next delivery of food.

Two more years passed and I found that I thought of Rosie less and less. I always included her in my prayers at night but someone the pain of losing her became less as the days, weeks, months and years passed.

I always thought of Gabrielle, my daughter and prayed for her wellbeing every night. She would be 8 years old by now and growing up fast.

# Chapter Ten

I came down to the kitchen one morning to find Mr Simpson speaking to Mrs Brunton. "They will be looking for a cook then up at Beaumont, now that Mrs Storey has left their employment due to ill health." Mr Simpson said and I was shocked and immediately rushed to their side. "Is Mrs Storey Ill?" I asked them. Mr Simpson grunted and walked off in his characteristic vain and arrogant way and I was left staring at Mrs Brunton. "Yes dear. Seems her heart is giving up, poor dear. I don't know her personally but I have heard good things about her." she told me. "I wonder if his Lordship would allow me to return to Beaumont Gardens to see her?" I asked and Mrs Brunton shook her head. "I'm afraid she's already left and gone to live with her sister up North somewhere." she told me. "I see." I replied, walking over to the table to begin baking the morning rolls.

"Look Patricia. Would you consider applying for the cook position at Beaumont, now that it is vacant? I would definitely give you good references." she told me. "I don't think I would be qualified enough for a job as a cook." I replied. "Don't be silly. You cooked at Beaumont before and you have certainly did enough work in this kitchen to call yourself a cook. Go for it girl. What's the worst that can happen? You remain here." she told me and I thought about it. "Do you really think I could?" I asked her, now finding myself becoming excited by the prospect of returning to Beaumont as cook.

"No reason why not but you will have to speak to Miss Whitely and go through her. Have a chat with her." she told me, as I cleaned the flour from my hands. "Not now Patricia. Later. We have breakfast to get over with first." Mrs Brunton said laughing and for a moment her laughter sounded exactly like my own Mrs Storey's.

After breakfast was served and all the dishes, cutlery and kitchen was cleaned I seeked out Miss Whitely. "Miss Whitely. I wonder if I could have a moment of your time?" I asked her. "Only if you are quick. I have to see her Ladyship in a moment." she told me. I took a deep breath and told her that I would like her permission to apply for the position of cook at his Lordships townhouse at Beaumont Gardens. "Well then." she said. "I don't see why not. I mean, that is where you came from and you are partially cooking for this household. Very well, I will speak to Mr Simpson about this." she told me and I was stunned. "Mr Simpson. I'm sorry but what has he got to do with anything?" I asked her. "Everything goes through Mr Simpson and then he can put your request to his Lordship." she replied and my heart sank. I cursed myself for not being a little more friendly with Mr Simpson. I had kept my distance from him and now I needed his help.

I walked back to the kitchen with my face looking as if it had been slapped. "What's wrong dear." Mrs Brunton asked me. "Everything has to go through Mr Simpson." I told her. "Of course it does dear. What difference does that make?" she asked looking confused. "It's just that I really don't know him that well and to tell you the truth, I don't think he likes me that much, if at all." I replied, now feeling that my dream of becoming a cook had just disintegrated. "Everyone keeps their distance from Mr Simpson. No-one likes him but I must say one thing for him." Mrs Brunton said, "He keeps everything professional and he will not hold the fact that he doesn't know you very well, against you. In fact, I think and don't tell anyone, he will ask me for my opinion on the matter." she told me.

"Will he?" I asked. "Yes I'm sure he will. And I Patricia will give you a glowing reference." she told me and I hugged her. "Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me." I told her with a huge grin on my face. "Now don't get too excited. It may work out for you and it may not but where there is hope there is a chance, or so my old mother used to say." she told me and I was shocked. It was funny how things that your mother says sticks in your mind and you end up repeating these sayings when you are older. My mother was long dead by now and perhaps even my father.

Over the next few days, I kept myself busy at work but whenever Mr Simpson walked into the kitchen, I waited with anticipation that he had a decision from his Lordship.

The days turned into weeks and I just knew deep down that my dreams had died. With no word about becoming a cook, I figured that they must have employed someone else or promoted one of the kitchen staff, that was already employed at the Beaumont. So I went about my chores, trying not to feel so crestfallen.

One evening, at the supper table, Mr Simpson said he had an announcement. Was there going to be another grand ball? They were spectacular and were just out of this world. Often I would stand at the bottom of the stairs listening to the beautiful music and wish that I had been born into such a fortunate family.

"Patricia O'Hara here, will be leaving us soon." he said and I gasped. "What do you mean?" I asked him as all the servants stared at me. "You are to become the new cook at his Lordship's country estate in Bath." he told me and I squealed with delight. "You mean I got the position. But Lord and Lady Salisbury haven't even spoken to me." I said.

Mr Simpson huffed. "And why exactly would they speak to you? When I put your request to them, I spoke to Mrs Brunton and then informed his Lordship that you were a good candidate for the position." He told me. "Oh thank you so much Mr Simpson, Mrs Brunton. Thank you both so much." I squealed and I could see everyone looking at me as if I had two heads.

"Now calm yourself down and finish off your supper. A horse and buggy will be ready for you tomorrow morning at exactly 6am and I wish you a pleasant journey." Mr Simpson said and I gave him the biggest smile that I could muster. For all his coldness, aloofness and arrogance now when I was leaving, I actually began to like him.

After supper we all cleaned but the kitchen in preparation for going to bed. I turned to Mrs Brunton "I want to say goodbye now. In the morning I will run out of the door and not look back so I want to thank you for all your help." I told her. "I hope you find happiness at Beaumont." she replied and I left to seek out Miss Whitely and Mr Simpson to say my goodbyes.

"Behave yourself young lady." Mr Simpson said when I said my goodbye's to him. Typical of him to make his last words to me, short and to the point. "Thank you Miss Whitely and goodbye." I told her. "Goodbye and I hope you get everything you deserve in this life Patricia." she replied before walking off. I thought her words strange but then again she was rather a strange woman.

# Chapter Eleven

On the journey back to Beaumont Gardens, I felt myself becoming apprehensive. Could I really deal with returning to the place where my friend Rosie had died? It was coming on to five years, since I left and I wondered if now that I was older that I would cope with it better. I was now 22 years of age and for some reason, I felt older than my years. My joints ached as if I was an old woman but I knew that cooking and ordering food and supplies would be far less harsh on my body, than the duties that I was used to. I then started worrying about ordering the food. I could count but was I intelligent enough to work everything out? I chastised myself for worrying so much. Everything would work out, I was sure of that.

The buggy stopped at the backdoor of Beaumont and standing at the door to meet me was Mr Warren with a great big grin on his face. "Good day to you Mr Warren." I said with a smile. "Welcome back Patricia." he said, taking my little brown case from my hands and leading me along the corridor to the bedroom, that once belonged to Mrs Storey. "You now have your own room. Aren't you the lucky one." Mr Warren said with a smile. "How is Mrs Storey. I'm so sad to hear that she had to leave," I asked him, as I surveyed my surroundings. The room could do with some new curtains but apart from that, it was rather spacious and would suit me well. "Poor Mrs Storey. You heard that she has heart problems. Well she collapsed here one day and we had to fetch the doctor. Suffice to say she has upped and left to live with her sister." Mr Warren told me.

"And now you have me to cook all the meals. I hope I can do Mrs Storey proud, as she was an excellent teacher. Do you have her address Mr Warren, as I would like to write to her? I don't want her to hear on the grapevine that I have stepped into her shoes. It would best for me to tell her and of course enquire as to her wellbeing." I asked him and he nodded. "I was rather curious. Do you know her Christian name as I don't want to address the letter Mrs Storey." I asked him. "I have her address somewhere in my office. I will look it out for you. And her name is Grace." he replied, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

I changed into my uniform that I brought with me from his Lordship's country estate and made my way to the kitchen. Some of the servants smiled as I passed them by, as they still recognised me as having worked there before. "What do you think of the kitchen. I suppose it's quite small compared to the one at the country estate. Mrs Watson, the housekeeper, said sneaking up behind me and giving me a fright. "Well it is rather small but I would like to call it, compact." I replied with a smile. "Glad to have you back Patricia." she said and I was shocked that she even remembered my name.

"Sorry to hear about Mrs Storey. I asked Mr Warren for her address, as I would like to write to her now and again." I told her. "I am sure that she would appreciate that Patricia. Now here is the menu for today. Obviously when Her Ladyship arrives, which I think is at the end of the week, you will sit down with her and compile menu's for the rest of her stay." she told me, handing me a piece of paper. I scanned the menu to see if there was anything too difficult for me to cook. Chicken, potatoes, broccoli, carrot and a raspberry sponge. I was glad to see that it was a simple enough menu. "How many maids do I have?" I asked her.

Mrs Watson ushered four young girls to my side. "This is Annie." Mrs Watson said, introducing a young girl of about 14 years of age. The girl was small, skinny and didn't look as if she was capable of heavy work. "Hello Annie. My name is Patricia." I told her. "No. We must change that. You must call yourself Miss O'Hara, in standing with your position." Mrs Watson informed me. 'Now this little thing here is called Meg. She has only been with us for two months and at the moment knows nothing about the kitchen." Mrs Watson said and I nodded to the young girl, who looked at least two years younger than Annie. "Now this is Susan. She is very much up to speed with the work of the kitchen and it was she who helped Mrs Storey when you left." Mrs Watson told me and I smiled at the girl but she glared back at me. Something told me that she resented me and maybe she thought herself good enough to become cook when Mrs Storey left.

"I'm sure we will be good friends Susan and I will give you leeway to get as much cooking experience as possible." I told her. Susan looked around the same age as myself, so I could understand her disappointment of not becoming cook. I wondered if she would cause me any trouble and decided right there and then, to watch my step around her and try to make friends with her. What was it my mother used to say? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Mrs Watson ushered the last of the girls over to meet me. "This is Rosie." Mrs Watson told me and I gasped. "Sorry Patricia but that is her name, unless you want to change it." Mrs Watson said. I shook my head. I had no right to make anyone change their name, so I just had to get used to calling this young girl, barely into her teens, by my best friend's name. "Well now you have all met our new cook, Miss O'Hara, you had better get back to work." Mrs Watson told them and they all quickly disappeared.

"Sorry about that Patricia. I suppose we could start calling her Rose." Mrs Watson suggested and seemed to be apologising for something that was not her doing. "Don't be silly. If Rosie is her name, then Rosie is what we will continue to call her." I replied. "Right, I will leave you to it. If you need any help, advice or just someone to speak to, you can come and find me." Mrs Watson said, before turning on her heels and disappearing down the corridor. Susan helped me prepare the vegetables and I set about cooking my first meal as cook.

Over the next few days, I could feel Susan staring at me from the corner of my eye and decided that it was time for a chat. "Now Susan, I don't want us to have any difficulties." I said. "I don't know what you mean Miss O'Hara." she answered, with a defiant tone to her voice. "Perhaps I'm not wording this correctly. I would like you to become my assistant cook and give you more responsibilities. I will speak to Mrs Watson. I'm sure that you will have a pay rise too." I told her. "More money." she asked with surprise. "Yes, I will make it official and if I'm ever ill or called away for some reason, you will be the cook and you will receive a cook's wage." I told her and immediately she hugged me, which shocked me right to the core.

Susan went on to explain that as her mother was ill and her father had deserted them, she had hoped to earn more money as a cook to support her family, when Mrs Storey left. Her family consisted of her, her mother and five brothers and four sisters. "I'm so sorry Susan. If there is anything I can do apart from giving you a rise in your pay, let me know. Do you still stay at home?" I asked her and she nodded. "I know I am supposed to be a live in servant but Mrs Watson allowed me to stay at home and travel back and forward to Beaumont." she informed me.

"How far away is your home?" I asked her. "Not far. Just about 30 minutes walk." she replied. "Well strictly between you and me, there is a lot of food in this kitchen that finds its way to the bin." I said and she stared at me. "But if it was to find itself in a box out beside the bin and not exactly in the bin then, perhaps no-on will ask where it went to." I told her in a whisper. "But that's stealing." she said, shocked at my suggestion that food thrown out from the kitchen could be taken home for her family. "No Susan. It's beside the bin and anyone can take it. A tramp walking along the street, can take it. It's not stealing if it has physically left this kitchen and been taken to the bin. All you need to do, is make sure that you are the one taking it out to the bin and make sure that the food is covered, as we don't want the flies to get at it." I told her and a look of astonishment covered her face. "Thank you so much. I was wrong about you." she told me without elaborating on her statement.

The days went past quietly and somehow with Mrs Watson help, I managed to figure out how much food I could order and the costing of it, which of course needed to be sanctioned by her Ladyship whenever she was down in their London residence.

Soon it was Friday and I was summoned by Her Ladyship, to see her about menus. As I walked up to see her, I paused on the stairs, to take a look at the portraits hanging on the wall. There were so many and they all pictured distinguished looking men. But I did find it strange that there were no portraits of any women, not even his Lordship's mother but then again men were of more importance in this day and age, than woman could ever be. One day, I told myself, one day we will be equal and I just hoped that this day would be in my lifetime.

I knocked on the door and waited to be summoned into her bedroom. I had thought it strange that she wanted to see me in her bedroom and not the drawing room but thought that perhaps she was having a rest after the long journey from Bath.

"Come in." Lady Salisbury shouted and I turned the door handle and took a deep breathe, before entering the room. She was sitting at her dressing table and turned to speak. "The menus. Come take a seat." she said pointing to a beautifully carved chair beside of her. She wasn't dressed properly yet and had on her nightdress made of pure white cotton with little satin bows, covered by a dressing gown of the same material and design. Her long grey hair was hanging loose around her shoulders. "Don't stare. That's a good girl." she said and I was shocked that I had been caught staring.

"Sorry M'lady." I whispered, hanging my head in shame. "Come now. Let us get down to business. I am having a small party tonight, hence why I am resting. Here is the menu that I want prepared and please see to it that the food is prepared to Mrs Storey's high standards." she told me handing me a piece of white paper.

"I take it you can read?" she asked me. "Yes M'Lady." I answered quite indignant that she thought I couldn't read and write in this day and age. It was 1884 after all and reading and writing was a pre requisite for employment at Beaumont or so Mr Warren had informed me when I first started. "Have a quick glance over that and if there is anything you are not sure of please ask." she told me, moving over to her bed. "Now if you don't mind I need to dress, so off you go." she said, with a wave of her hand and I left the room just as the Lady's Maid entered.

I stood in the kitchen staring down at the menu that she handed me. Along with the party she had prepared the menu for the rest of next week and some of the food was more elaborate than I had anticipated.

"Everything fine?" Mr Warren asked, seeing the bewildered look on my face. "Yes. It's just that M'Lady has given me the menu that she wants and she is having a party here tonight." I told him. "And?" he asked. "Well everything is fine really. I can cook pigeon, partridge, pickled fish and even oysters. It's just this one thing that I am not quite sure of how to cook" I told him." And what is that pray tell." he asked, with a curious look on his face. "Lobster, Mr Warren. I don't want to show my ignorance but what exactly is a lobster and how is it cooked?" I asked him, hoping that he wouldn't think me stupid.

"Lobster you say. Well that is a bit strange, as eating lobsters I thought had gone out of fashion. I did hear that in New York society it has come back into fashion and when I think of it, her Ladyship did go to New York at the beginning of the year. Perhaps these friends of hers are people that she met in New York." he told me.

"Well that doesn't help me. I have never heard of lobsters." I told him. "Very strange Patricia. Don't take this the wrong way but poor people, like us, used to eat lobsters all the time. Did you never get lobster for supper when you were a child?" he asked and I shook my head. "Well the first thing to do is go to the fishmonger and buy some and you could ask him how they are cooked." he told me and I chastised myself for not knowing that a lobster was some kind of fish. If I knew that then I would have known to ask the fishmonger. I suddenly felt so stupid for not having this knowledge but all my time in the kitchen's here at Beaumont and at the Salisbury Mansion, lobsters were never on the menu. "Thank you, Mr Warren." I told him, folding up the piece of paper and putting it into my apron pocket. "Any time Patricia. Any time." he replied before walking off.

I cooked all day for the party and Susan helped me immensely. Her promotion and pay rise was approved by Mrs Watson and Susan suddenly became a changed character. She was now more confident and always had a smile on her face. "Nearly finished Miss O'Hara. Is there anything else I can help you with?" she asked. "Well funny you should ask that Susan. Can you run down to the fishmongers and ask him for some lobsters?" I asked her and by the blank look on her face, she too had never heard of this fish.

"Now the party is for around thirty people. So can you ask him how many I would need to feed that many people? And please ask him, and this is very important, how do I cook them." I told her and she nodded before disappearing out of the door.

Thirty minutes later she appeared in the kitchen, with a box of what I can only describe as black and red monsters, that looked somewhat like large crabs. "Hey they're moving." I told her. "Why are they moving." She stared at me and shrugged her shoulders. "I asked him how many you needed and he gave me these." she said handing me the box of monsters with huge claws. "He weighed each one and said you were to boil them for at least 20 minutes and no less." Susan told me. "But how do I kill them?" I asked her. "You don't Miss O'Hara. He said you were to boil them alive, something to do with being poisonous or something. Anyway if you boil them then you will know that they are safe to eat. He says you then pull them apart and just eat the flesh inside the body, like crabs." Susan said wrinkling up her nose. "That's the most disgusting thing I have ever heard. Boil these creatures alive. I don't think I can do this Susan. Can you fetch Mr Warren for me?" I told her and she ran off to fetch him, just as I felt that I was about to be sick.

I put the box of monsters on the table and ran over to the sink and was actually vomiting when Mr Warren came into the kitchen to speak to me. "Heavens. What is going on here?" he asked, as I cleaned the sink and splashed cold water onto my face. "Lobsters Mr Warren. Lobsters." I told him pointing over to the box. "And." he asked, confused by the state that I was in. "Boil them alive." I said and he shrugged his shoulders. "For goodness sake Patricia. Will you please control your emotions. If that is the way they need to be cooked then so bit it. Now pull yourself together and Susan here will help you." he said and by the look in Susan's eyes, I had gone down in her expectations as a cook.

Mr Warren rushed out of the kitchen saying that he had his own duties to attend to. "Right Susan put on some pots and boil some water up." I told her and she immediately obeyed. When the water was boiling, I tried to pick one of the lobsters up but dropped it again, when it nipped me. "Slippery little things aren't they?" I said and Susan laughed. "Do we cook them one at a time or stick them all into the same pot?" she asked. "How many pots have you boiling?" I asked her. "Three large pots. Is that enough?" she asked. I shrugged my shoulders. "We will just have to see." I replied shaking my head.

"Right you grab one and I'll grab one." I told her and with that, we each grabbed a lobster and rushed over to the pot of boiling water and threw them into the pot. Immediately they began to squeal and the look of horror on Susan's faced mirrored the look of horror on my own. "Right let's just be brave and get this done." I told her and we put the rest of the lobsters in the pot and tried to ignore their screaming, as we prepared the pigeon, potatoes, vegetables and fruit cake for dessert.

"What on God's green Earth is that dreadful noise?" Mrs Watson asked, as she came rushing into the kitchen. "Supper. Sorry Mrs Watson, it's the lobsters. Apparently they have to be boiled them alive otherwise poison comes out of them. That's what the fishmonger told Susan." I explained. Mrs Watson crumpled up her nose and quickly disappeared again and soon the screaming died away and the kitchen was quiet again.

As the food was served to the party guests, I began to clean away the mess that we had made. "Hey that's my job." Annie shouted rushing over. "Sorry Annie. Off you go then." I told her stepping out of the way. I was so used to cleaning up the cook's mess that I forgot that others were employed to do that now and that I was the cook.

Later that evening Mr Warren came down to inform me that the meal went well and her Ladyship wanted to pass on her compliments to the cook. I sighed with relief, as I wasn't sure if things would turn out as they should. "Just to let you know, we will be doing all of this next week when her Ladyship's daughter visits from France." Mr Williams informed me. "Hopefully it will not be a complicated menu as tonight." he said before disappearing again.

That night I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, as I was so exhausted not just physically but mentally.

In the morning, as it was my day off and Lord and Lady Salisbury were out for the day, I visited Rosie's grave. I was surprised and pleased to see a headstone erected with her name on it and laid some roses on top of her grave. "I miss you loads Rosie and wish you were still here with me. You will never guess but I am the new cook at Beaumont Gardens." I told her in a whisper, so no-one else would think me mad to speak to someone who was no longer with us. "I pray for you every night. I do hope you can hear me." I said, before saying a little prayer before leaving.

As anticipated Lord and Lady Salisbury and their daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter came to visit for what was supposed to be a few days but turned into a few months.

"Have you seen them yet?" Rosie the young kitchen maid asked me. "No Rosie and I expect that none of us will." I told her and saw the disappointment on her face. At supper that night Mr Williams informed all of us that the family would leave in the morning and were not expected back for several months.

It seemed that Lord and Lady Salisbury were travelling to France to stay at some chateau, which I think meant large house. "What are they like, Mr Williams?" I asked him. "Nice enough. Their daughter Caroline takes her Ladyship. In fact I would go as far to say she is the spitting image of her Ladyship but obviously when she was much younger." he said and one of the footmen sniggered. Mr Williams glared at the young footman, who quickly made his apologies and left the supper table. "As I was saying. Their son-in-law, I think is of Italian birth, as far as I am aware. Italian nobility I presume but they live in France with their daughter Gabriella." He told me and my heart stopped. "Gabrielle?" I asked. "No Gabriella. I do believe they are two distinct names but they do sound the exact same, in my opinion. It is ridiculous to misspell a name and claim it to be different. What do you think Mrs Watson?" he asked. "I do not claim to know the goings on of the gentry, Mr Williams. Suffice to say I would never have called any of my children that name in the first place." she replied bluntly.

As the months flew by, I became more confident with my abilities in the kitchen. My skills at ordering supplies and filling out all the forms soon improved. And as the years flew by, myself and Susan enjoyed each other's company and she became quite an accomplished cook. I asked her one day, if she thought of applying to another house as a cook but she simply shook her head.

Every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday were baking days and in the Autumn months, we made an array of jams and preserves and kept them in the back of the larder cupboard.

On my days off, I always visited Rosie's grave with a fresh bunch of flowers and when I spoke to her, I always felt her presence.

It was now 1894 and I was 32 years of age. In one of our little evening chats Susan asked me why I had never married or even talked about having a sweetheart. She herself had been stepping out with one of the valets from down the road now for several years. Although there were was no talk of marriage, they had a steady relationship. My answer to her was that I was too busy and had too full a life to share it with a husband. The truth was that I had never had any of those feelings that I had many years ago, with Sean Brady, with any other man. In fact I had never even kissed a man since my time spent with him. I wondered where he was and what he was doing and hoped that at least he was happy. I thought of father. Was he still alive? And then my thoughts turned to my darling daughter Gabrielle and I hoped upon hope that she was happy in her life wherever it was. She would now be 18 years old and could possibly be married by now and I could even be a grandmother. I shook my head and laughed to myself, as this was the first time that I had even contemplated that I could be a grandmother. One day God may be good to me and let me see her just once, before my time on Earth was over, or was that asking too much?

One day Mr Warren came into the kitchen and told me that there was a rather scruffy man at the front door asking for me. "Are you sure?" I asked him and he nodded. "Now, I will let it go thing time but I don't want any males of unknown persuasion to come calling at this door." he said brusquely and I stared at him in disbelief. Why had he suddenly turned into a bad tempered man? "If you think he is a gentleman caller, you can think again Mr Warren. I don't know who he is or what he wants but he will get a quick kick up the backside from me." I told him, before rushing out to see who had the audacity to come to the front door or and ask for me by name.

I had to look twice at the man in front of me, before I recognised him. He wasn't a gentleman caller, as Mr Warren had thought, he was in fact my brother Pat. "You're looking good, our Patricia." he said smiling. "What on Earth are you doing here and at the front door no less?" I asked him. "You took a good while to find but I'm here to tell you that father is dying and he wants to see you." Pat explained looking down at the ground, not wanting to look me straight in the eyes. "Where is he?" I asked. "At home." Pat answered. "And mother?" I asked him. "She died years ago, not long after father returned home." he told me. "And Seamus?" I asked, wondering about my eldest brother. "Seamus is in prison. He killed a man after a drunken brawl and he won't be out anytime soon and there is talk of him being hanged if found guilty. Don't ask me when the trial is cause I don't bleeding know." Pat told me, without any emotion in his voice. I knew that my two brothers didn't really get on but when I was pregnant they somehow clubbed together to make my life hell.

"And you. How are you?" I asked him. "Married with six kids now Sis." he told me. "Don't call me sis" I said angrily. "I haven't been your sister for a very long time."

He shifted from foot to foot, not knowing what to do. "Are you coming or what?" he suddenly asked me. "Not." I replied, looking at the shocked expression on his face. It was obvious that he didn't expect me to decline. "But Patricia. He's dying for God's sake." he said, with a confused look on his face. "And." I said defiantly. "It's no concern to me. In fact, as far as I'm concerned you all died years ago. So bugger off and don't you dare come to this door again." I told him before slamming the door in his face.

I stomped back to the kitchen and now found myself in a foul mood. "Everything all right Patricia." Mr Warren asked. "Don't ask." I told him. "But I must ask. Did that man bother you in any way? Do you want me to deal with him?" Mr Warren asked me. "I have dealt with him. Don't worry, Mr Warren if he knows what's good for him, he won't come to this door again." I told him and he looked at me confused. "He's my brother." I told him before walking down the corridor. I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my head. But I didn't want to explain my fractured family life to all and sundry, as far as I was concerned my father left me and was as good as dead anyway.

I tossed and turned that night and wondered when I actually developed a conscience. What did my brother want me to do? Did he really expect me to drop everything and run back home to tend to my dying father? Why did he not just let me be?

Unable to sleep I rose from my bed and made my way into the kitchen to heat up some milk to drink. Someone, somewhere had said that it is a good way to soothe a troubled sleep and I hoped that whoever said that knew what they were talking about. I was so tired but my brain was in turmoil and I couldn't drop off to sleep, no matter how hard I tried. Now sitting sipping hot milk, I knew that I would be up all night and started to go through breakfast, lunch and supper menus in my head, which further drove me mad.

"What's going on here. I thought I heard a noise. Can't sleep Patricia?" Mrs Watson asked me, as she walked into the kitchen. "Sorry. Did I wake you Mrs Watson." I asked.

"Not really, I am finding it rather hard to drop of to sleep tonight and to tell you the truth I don't really know why. It is not as if I have more on my mind than usual but what can I do but make myself hot milk." she said. "Good luck with that one. I have just finished my hot milk and I don't feel any different at all." I told her.

Mrs Watson sat down beside me. "A problem shared is a problem halved, my old mother used to say." she told me and I laughed. "What's so funny." she asked, confused by my sudden laughter. "It's just that I seem to be doing the same as you and quoting things that my mother often said too. I think we are both turning into our mothers Mrs Watson." I told her.

"I sincerely hope not. I never told anyone this but my mother was a whore and ended up in the workhouse." she whispered and I was shocked. "I was not the only child you know. I have several brothers and sisters who I don't know and never wish to know. They all have different father and my own father was no better than a passing sailor, who paid my mother for her troubles." Mrs Watson told me.

I felt slightly uncomfortable with what seemed to be some kind of confession of her dark family life. Why would she tell me this? Did she want me to open up and confide in her about my troubles? "I have shocked you haven't I Patricia." Mrs Watson said and I shook my head. "No. Everyone has skeletons in their closets Mrs Watson. Everyone has secrets too." I told her. "Do you have a secret Patricia?" Mrs Watson asked. "I have many secrets Mrs Watson." I replied laughing. "But there is one thing that is on my mind and what I don't know precisely what to do about. "Perhaps you can help me Mrs Watson. That is if you can spare the time." I told her and by the look on her face she was intrigued.

"My brother came to see me today to tell me that my father is dying. He actually expects me to drop everything and go to his bedside. Now I left my family behind many years ago and as far as I am concerned, I owe them nothing." I told her. "So why are you not able to sleep if you don't think that you need to do as your brother asks?" she asked me and I shrugged my shoulders. "The only person in my family that I love is my father but he let me down." I told her, now trying to stop myself from bursting into tears.

Mrs Watson patted my hand. "Now dear. You loved him once and by the sound of it, you still do. He is your father and if you don't go to see him and make peace with him you never will." she told me and I knew that she was right. "Now I can inform Mr Warren, in the morning that you had to leave for a little while to deal with a family emergency as your father is gravely ill." she told me. "But I can't just go." I said now brushing the tears from my face. "Of course you can. Look, Susan can take over all the cooking until you get back. My advice Patricia, is to go to your father and make peace. If you do that you will come back a different person with a new outlook on life and much more happier than you are now. I assure you that I am talking sense and how do I know. I will tell you Patricia. My whore of a mother died in the workhouse but before dying she asked to see me. It caused huge arguments with myself and my husband but I brought her back to my home and cared for her until she died. We spent quality time together. She asked for my forgiveness and I asked for her forgiveness. I would never regret the time we spent together. Go to your father Patricia." she said and I knew that what she was telling me to do was the only thing that would bring me peace of mind.

The next morning I left to return to Rutland Street, the place of my birth and now the place where my father was dying. What I didn't expect to find there was my brother Pat, his wife and six children all living in the same flat with my father.

My father was lying on a sofa in the corner of the room and the place was a filthy mess. "Can't you get a place of your own?" I asked my brother as soon as I had arrived but he just stared at me. "Plenty of room for all of us." his wife, a large woman with an angry face told me. I ignored her and I ignored my brother, as they were not the reason that I had come home.

My father was sleeping and looked very old and drawn in and it was obvious that he was gravely ill. "This flat will be ours when he passes." My brother's wife informed me, with an angry look on her face. "Pat has arranged it with the landlord." I stared at her before answering her. "And." She glared at me with hatred in her eyes. "I'm just saying."

Some of their younger children ran into the room and before long they were fighting and screaming. "Can't you keep them quiet? Father needs peace." I told my brother who immediately ushered the children out to the streets to play.

"Has the doctor been to see him." I asked as soon as he had returned. "Of course. There's nothing they can do for him. I don't want you to stay. I want him to wake up and say what the hell he's got to say to you and then you can bugger back to your big fancy house." Pat told me. "That is exactly what I want to happen too. I don't want to stay here in this rat infested dump, any longer than I have to." I told him and I immediately saw the anger in his face.

"Think you're better than us eh? Think us no better than the dirt on the bottom of you shoe?" he screamed at me and I simply ignored him, which riled him even further.

"Get lost." he screamed, pushing his youngest children out of the way and slamming the front door on the way out. "Now look what you've done. He'll be at the pub all night now and we wont have any money to buy food. I hope you're happy now." his wife screamed at me and the children started crying. "Can you not keep them quiet. Father has to have a calm environment." I told her and she laughed. "Some of that gentry has rubbed off on you. Calm environment. Go to hell."

She dragged her children outside and I was grateful for that. "Father it's me Patricia." I said, whispering into his ear. His eyelids flickered and he slowly opened his eyes and reaching out touched my face with his fingers. "Patricia. My darling little girl." he said with a raspy voice. "Do you want water father?" I asked him and lifted up the dirty cup that was half filled with water and let him take a sip from it. I looked around the flat and saw that it was a disgusting mess and as my father fell asleep again, I began to tidy up. I brushed and cleaned until it began to look more like a home and less like a rubbish dump.

The children, my nieces and nephews came running into the flat again, followed by their larger than life mother. "Tidied up then. Are you saying 'I cant do housework?" she snarled at me. "I just tided up because father was sleeping. I know you're busy with your children and I don't know how you have time to do anything." I said, trying to be friendly but her face stayed angry. "Just because you don't have children of your own." she snapped and I turned away from her and back towards my father.

I stayed with my father, who now and again regained consciousness and smiled at me, a weak smile but still a smile. His lips were now turning a horrid shade of blue and I knew instinctively that he had not long to go.

A few hours later he took his last breath and I wept for the father that I loved with all of my heart. When Pat eventually came home, I could smell the drink on him. He saw the look on my face. "Look I work hard and I deserve a drink now and again." he told me. "Where do you work?" I asked trying to act as if I was interested. "Steel works. It's a bugger of a job but it puts food on the table. I'm going to bed." he said. "Pat.' I shouted. "What is it now." he asked. "Father has passed." I told him and rushed to his side before falling to the floor weeping.

For some reason, I didn't expect my brother to take my father's death so badly but he did. He lay on the floor bawling his eyes out and even his wife and children couldn't console him. "I'll send little John here to fetch the doctor." his wife told him. "Why he's dead? What good would a doctor do now?" he asked. "A doctor has to confirm that he is dead and he will organise for the undertakers to take him away." she told him.

Pat jumped to his feet. "No-one is taking him away. We will lay him out here, just like we did with mother." he said glancing at me. I hung my head and stared at the floor. For some reason when he spoke about my mother, I felt guilty. "Anything you want Pat. John run and fetch Doctor Jones." She told her son, who immediately ran out of the door.

After the doctor confirmed my father's death, Pat washed him and laid him out in his best clothes. One by one the neighbours and friends came to visit and pay their respects. My father had many friends. They all stared at me when they entered the room, as if I had horns on top of my head. They wondered who I was, I could tell by the whispering that some of them knew who I was and took great delight in informing the others that I had abandoned my family to work and live with the gentry.

That night when everyone was gone, I knelt by my father and prayed for his soul. "A bit late that eh?" Pat said walking up behind me. "I always prayed for him, even if I never saw him again." I told him. "You know all he could talk about, after mother died was you. His little girl and when he was dying all he kept asking was for me to bring you to him." he told me with anger in his voice. "You weren't here for mother and you weren't here for father. Even Seamus wasn't here. I was the one left to deal with everything. " he said and once again I felt guilty.

"I'm sorry Pat but you know our family was complicated." I replied. I put my hand on his shoulder. "Sorry Pat. Let's not fight. Let's be there for father, at least until after the funeral." I said. "He's getting buried in a paupers grave." He confessed and I gasped in horror. "Why?" I asked. "Why do you think? I live on the breadline Patricia. Once I pay the bills and buy food and clothes for the kids I have nothing much left." he told me.

"You have money left over to the pub." I said angrily. "Just a pint or two. Can you really begrudge me that Patricia?" He said and I shook my head in dismay. "Maybe if you didn't have so many children, you could afford things." I told him and he glared at me and I could feel another argument brewing. "Sorry Pat. Forgive me. I want to bury father and I'll talk to the undertaker, as I have some money saved, not a lot but some." I told him. "The Great Patricia O'Hara come to the rescue." he said sarcastically.

"What's wrong with you? Have you forgotten what a rotten life I have had? Have you forgotten how you all treated me when I was with child? Have you forgotten how mother took my baby from me and how she made father leave? Well have you?" I screamed at him.

He shook his head. "Do you remember that I was sent to that damn laundry place with the nuns and how it was only father who came to fetch me when I turned 17? I can't have any more children, not since mother let that damn doctor rip my womb out of my body. I haven't got a husband, a family or a home. I am a cook in a fancy house belonging to someone else. I have nothing. So don't you dare think that you have had it rough brother dearest." I screamed at him.

His wife, her name still unknown to me, came running into the room. "Keep the noise down everyone is asking me if there is a fight going on in here." she said, before storming out of the room again. I burst into tears. "Look sister lets' start again. We are both grieving and we haven't seen each other for years." Pat said. "And whose fault was that, mother's." I told him. "Well all I can tell you is that she regretted everything." he told me. "And how do you know that?" I asked. "Cause she told me on her deathbed. She also told me the name of the woman that she sent your baby to.' he said and I was stunned. "You know who took her." I asked. He shook his head. "All I remember is a name that my mother said took your baby. You may not want to hear this but mother did regret everything." he told me. "Yes, she regretted but still wouldn't tell me who had my baby or where she was. She regretted nothing and I don't want to talk about her any more. I have pushed any memories of that woman tight out of my head." I told him, feeling that I was about to burst with anger.

Pat walked to the other side of the room. "I'm not listening to you rubbishing my mother's good name. She was a good mother to me and Seamus." he said. "Yes and look how Seamus turned out." I reminded him. "That was his choice and nothing to do with mother. I don't want to fight with you. Just pay for fathers funeral and then you can disappear out of our lives again." he told me.

"I want that woman's name." I said with determination in my eyes. "Well if memory serves me right, Mother told me her name was Lizzie Gallagher. I think she lived down Wilson Street, by the corner of the old textile factory that me, Seamus and father used to work at. "Lizzie Gallagher, Wilson Street. Thanks Pat." I said trying to memorise the details that he had just told me.

"Right I'm off. I will go and pay for father's funeral and make sure that he gets a headstone but then I'm done. I won't be attending his funeral but I will visit his grave in my own time, when I think I'm strong enough to face it." I told him as I made my way to the front door. "Just one more thing before I go. Please tell me if he is to be buried beside mother?" Pat looked surprised. "No. Not if you are paying for the funeral. Mother was buried in a pauper's grave and I don't even know where her grave really is." He told me with sadness in his eyes. I walked towards him again and going into my coat pocket, I pulled out some money and pushed it into his hands before running out of the door.

As I walked back to Beaumont Gardens, I tried hard not to cry. I knew in my heart, that I would never see Pat again and for Seamus, he would soon be hanging at the end of the noose man's rope, as I heard some of the visitor's to the house telling Pat's wife, that he had been found guilty of murder.

I arrived back at Beaumont and Mrs Watson seemed surprised by my swift return. "He died a few hours ago." I told her. "Are you not staying with your family until after the funeral?" she asked. "I'm not even going to the funeral. I paid for a grave, so he didn't end up like my mother in a pauper's grave. I also paid for a headstone and gave my brother some money. I have done my bit and now I'm getting on with my life." I told her and she knew by the look on my face that I meant what I said.

Lizzie Gallagher. That name would be imbedded in my mind for all eternity. She was the woman who took my baby and gave it to another woman to bring up as her own. One day I would seek her out but today, I would busy myself with my chores as I wanted to block out my father's death.

# Chapter Twelve

The months and years rolled by, with not much happening in my life but work and bed. Every Sunday I visited the graveyard and laid flowers on both my father's grave and my best friend Rosie's grave. I now spoke to both of them and it was a routine that somehow became the norm.

At night I would lie awake thinking of what I would say to Lizzie Gallagher and wondering if she even remembered my Gabrielle. It was so long ago now, that most probably she wouldn't have a clue to who she gave or sold her too. I wasn't quite sure if my mother received money for my baby or if it was this Lizzie Gallagher who took the money from the new parents. But people did not exchange babies just for fun, so money most probably was involved.

Gabrielle would be coming up to her 30th birthday and I wondered if there was any point in trying to locate her now, at such a late date. I quickly answered my own question, of course there was a point. If I could just see her once, that would be good enough for me, as I just wanted to know that she had a good life. One day I would find out I was sure of that.

Lord Salisbury came down to his London residence at least twice a week but his wife Lady Salisbury, I heard was becoming quite frail and rarely put in an appearance these days. Because of this some of the staff were let go, as we really just needed a skeleton staff these days.

Rosie, who was in her late twenties, had married and as she was pregnant, agreed to leave with a payment by his Lordship for her good service to his family. Meg another of my kitchen maids ,was transferred to the kitchens in his Lordship's country estate but many of the other staff were not was so lucky.

All the dismissed staff where giving a gratuity and told not to disclose the amount to anyone, otherwise the payment would be immediately taken off them again. His Lordship thought that talk of money was vulgar and all of his staff where paid differently but not allowed to discuss it. His Lordship being gentry, had the luxury of thinking that money was vulgar but the rest of us counted every penny that we had.

The kitchen staff now consisted of myself, Susan and Annie and to tell the truth much of the time we had to find something to keep ourselves busy with, as Mrs Watson was always on the lookout for ways to save money for his Lordship, which made me laugh at the absurdity of it as he had so much money that he had redecorated the house at least twice, in the last year.

One morning and for no reason in particular, apart from curiosity getting the better of me, I set out to find Lizzie Gallagher to speak with her. I went to Wilson Street but found that it had been demolished and didn't know then where to turn, so I asked in a few shops if they knew Lizzie Gallagher and could tell me where she lived. No-one I asked had heard of her which I thought was rather strange. Did Pat lie to me?

Eventually I spoke to an old man who was leaning against a butcher shop door and asked him if he had ever heard of Lizzie Gallagher and was surprised when he told me that she had. "We call her Big Liz Gal but yes I do know her." he told me and I asked him if she was still alive and if he knew where I could find her. He pointed across the road. "She's in No. 40. Deaf as a post these days but still going strong. She must be near a 100 by now." he told me and I slipped him a few shillings for his help.

Crossing the road, I searched Williams Street until I was standing outside of her house. She lived in a tenement not unlike the one I grew up in but the area was slightly nicer.

I stood for ages not knowing whether to go in or not and eventually a woman came out and asked me if I needed help. "I'm looking for a woman called Lizzie Gallagher or Big Liz Gal." I said and she told me that the old woman lived on the bottom floor, to the rear of the building. "Watch yerself dearie. She can be a bit of a handful can our Liz." she said laughing.

I stood outside of her front door and took a deep breath before knocking. The woman who I had been speaking to, passed by and preceded to walk up the stairs. "No good knocking dear. She's as deaf as a post or that is what she would have us believe. Just go in, she won't bite." she said laughing and I opened the door and walked inside.

Inside the flat, smelled rather stale with a distinct aroma of urine, so much so that I gagged when the stink hit my nostrils. "Hello Lizzie." I yelled before edging my way further into the room. The place was silent, expect for the tic tock of a rather large grandfather clock, which sent a shiver down my spine. If the woman had made a fortune of selling babies, then it wasn't apparent from how she was living. Perhaps I was wrong, I told myself. Perhaps she was merely a do gooder who wanted to help and perhaps money never changed hands.

I spied the old woman sleeping in an old and tattered armchair, by a dying fire and for a moment thought that she was dead. She was so pale and so very very old. I jumped when she opened her eyes. "Who are you?" she shouted. "Can I speak with you for a moment?" I asked. "Who are you? Get yerself outta my home." she screamed.

"Archie. There's a burglar in my house." she screamed and I looked around half expecting to see a man rushing into the room, just to be confronted by a large ginger tomcat.

The cat jumped onto the old woman's lap and hissed at me. "My name is Patricia O'Hara and I believe that you knew my mother, Margaret O'Hara." I told her. Lizzie Gallagher shook her head. "Maybe you knew her as Maggie O'Hara." I suggest and still her eyes looked blank. "I can't hear you. Speak up." she shouted to me. I bent down closer to her. "My mother was Maggie O'Hara." I said, before she reached out and grabbed the neck of my coat and spat right onto my face. I reeled back in horror and wiped the spittle from my face, with the sleeve of my coat.

Just then a man in his sixties came into the room. "What's going on here?" he asked and I explained that I wanted to speak to the old woman. "What about?" he asked me. "Well I want to know if she knew my mother Maggie O'Hara." I said. "Leave it to me dear. My mother can be a real besom when she wants to be and isn't good around stranger." he told me.

He bent down towards his mother. "Mother. This young lady is here to talk about Maggie O'Hara. Do you remember he?. Maggie O'Hara." he shouted and she smiled at him. "Maggie. Sure. Good old Maggie but she's dead. Died years ago." she said, with a croaky voice. When she smiled, I noticed that her teeth were rotten and many of them were missing. I also noticed that the smell of stale urine was now stinging my eyes and turned my head away from her.

Her son was rather stout, bald headed and when he smiled, his teeth where also rotten but thankfully the smell of stale urine was only coming from his mother, so I moved towards him.

"What do you want to know about your mother, dear?" he asked. "My mother gave my baby to your mother, over 30 years ago and I was just wondering if your mother remembers who she gave my baby to." I explained and the man looked at me with shock. "That was over 30 years ago. How is she supposed to remember something that happened so long ago?" he asked me. "Could you just ask her for me please." I told him knowing that this could well prove to be a fruitless journey.

The man asked his mother and she nodded. "Look I don't know what you are expecting to hear. Even if she somehow remembers your mother and your baby, there is no guarantee that she is telling the truth." he told me. "Why?" I asked confused by his statement. "Cause she's touched in the head a bit. She hasn't always been like that but she is getting worse as the days go by." he explained. "Well if you could just ask her what she remembers and I will take it from there." I told him praying that the old woman could still recollect memories from the past. "Tell her mother what you remember." He asked his mother. The old woman cackled. "I remember everything. Don't think I can't cause I can." she replied which surprised me. "I remember Maggie O' Hara bringing be a bastard child and asking me to give it away." she said staring into the now dead fire and patting her cat. "Who did you give the baby to mother?" Her son asked on my behalf. There were a few moments of silence, as she seemed to be trying hard to remember. "Doctor Pike. I gave the baby to Doctor Pike." she suddenly declared feeling pleased with herself for remembering such a fact from so long ago.

"Doctor Pike died about 20 years ago." her son told me and my heart sank. "Did Doctor Pike tell you who he was giving the baby to mother?" he asked. The old woman kept staring into the dead fire, as if she was lost in her own mind. "I don't know if this will be any good. Once she goes into herself she can be like that for hours." he told me. "Oh please try just once more for me." I begged him and he sighed before asking his mother the same question again.

"Doctor Pike told me that he had parents for that poor bastard child. They were hoity toity gentry. The wife was barren and they wanted an abandoned baby, to bring up as their own. I remember he said that they would be leaving the next day with the child and that I should be glad that she was going to a good family." she told us.

"Do you remember their names?" I asked but she shook her head. "Doctor Pike didn't tell me their names but they were leaving this country on a boat and going abroad." she said and I was stunned. Could my Gabrielle be living in a foreign land?

"Archie put some coal on the fire. I feel a chill going through my old bones." she asked her son and I knew then that Archie was her son's name and not the cat's. "Do you know what country they were going to?" I asked her and she nodded. "Frogs legs." she shouted. I turned to Archie and asked him what he thought that she meant but he shrugged his shoulders.

Old Lizzie Gallagher suddenly closed her eyes and began to snore. "Well that will be her for at least a few hours. I hope you got all the information that you needed?" he asked. "Not quite but it will suffice for now. Anyway Archie, thanks for all of your help." I said, pushing some money into his hand. "No need for that dear." he said and I smiled at him before turning on my heels.

# Chapter Thirteen

Over the next few days, I busied myself at work trying to forget what Lizzie Gallagher had said, as she was probably havering in her mind. But if she was telling the truth then my Gabrielle was given to a rich family and Doctor Pike had arranged it, so at least I took some comfort in that fact.

At the supper table one night Mr Warren mentioned that Lord Salisbury was having some friends over for a night. They were foreign associate of his son-in-law and his Lordship wanted to show them London. "How long are they staying Mr Warren." Mrs Watson asked. "I was informed that it would only be for a night or two." he replied. "How many of them are there." I asked, thinking of the menu and what to prepare. "Five in total. All men and don't worry you won't have to cook them frogs legs." he said. I stared at him "Frogs legs?" I asked. "Yes they come from France and they eat frogs legs over there." Mr Warren replied. "You are joking. People in France eat frogs legs?" I asked. "Yes but don't worry when in England, they will eat what we eat." Mr Warren replied. "Tell me this Mr Warren. Is it only in France that they eat frogs legs?" I asked him and he nodded before replying, "Yes, as far as I am aware."

So that was what Lizzie Gallagher meant when she said frogs legs. My daughter had been given to a couple who then went to France. "I never heard of something so disgusting in all of my life." Mrs Watson said aloud, to no one in particular. "One man's food is another man's poison, or so they say Mrs Watson." Mrs Warren replied and Mrs Watson pulled a face, which indicated that there was no way that she would ever consider eating frogs legs.

"His Lordships daughter lives in France doesn't she?" I asked Mr Warren. "She does indeed Patricia." he replied. "How long have they lived in France?" I asked him. He stared at me and I felt that he was amused by my inquisitive question. "They married here and went off to France to live about 30 years ago, perhaps a little longer." he told me. "Why all of these questions Patricia." he asked. "Just curious. Was her daughter born in England. Mr Warren?" I asked. "No. I don't believe that she was, in fact it was all rather strange. She had been at His Lordships' country estate a few weeks before the baby was born and to tell the truth you would not think that she was with child. But then again every woman is different. They left for France and then we received the news from His Lordship that he was now the proud grandfather of a granddaughter." Mr Warren told me. "Have they only the one child?" I asked him and he nodded. "The granddaughter is married now herself and has three children of her own. And I do believe she also lives in France."

Mrs Watson came into the conversation. "I don't think tittle tattle about His Lordship or his family is something to be conducted at this supper table." she told us with a raised eyebrow and a stern face. "Of course not Mrs Watson." I told her as a way of apology.

Lord Salisbury and his friends arrived as expected and they ate partridge, beef and smoked herring and not frogs legs, which I was happy about. It was bad enough having to cook lobster when it was requested but I would draw the line at frogs legs.

I lay in bed that night, wondering if His Lordship's granddaughter Gabriella, could possibly be my daughter although the whole idea was rather far fetched to me. As they lived in France and only ventured to His Lordship's country estate in Bath, I was hardly likely to clap eyes on her and see for myself if she was indeed my daughter.

# Epilogue

(25 years later)

"I feel rather ill and have no option but to stay in bed today Annie." I said and Annie nodded. I was now nearing 70 years of age and felt at least 10 years older. My body was giving up on me but I tried my hardest to fight against the overwhelming fatigue that engulfed me and had done just that, until this very morning. For some reason I found it an effort to even lift my head from my pillow and had to resign myself to the fact that my body wanted to rest today.

Mr Warren had died over 15 years ago with a heart attack and Mrs Watson had been shipped off to a niece in Scotland about a year before that, after a kidney operation. She died two years later but we didn't find out about this until months after her death. Mrs Storey too was long dead. Poor Mrs Storey. It filled me with sadness when I thought of her, as we had become so close over the years. I wrote at least once a month to her and she regularly replied, until the day she died. She had taught me so much about cooking, which stood me in good stead throughout my life and I would be forever grateful to her.

Mr Warren's death was sudden and came as a shock to all of us. He had appeared to be his usual self that day but later collapsed and died in the hallway. I was glad that I was able to attend his funeral and say my goodbyes and thought often of him.

I could not attend the funerals of Mrs Storey or Mrs Watson but I often thought of them these days. Funny how when you get older, you think more of the past and less of the future.

The servants used to joke that Mr Warren and Mrs Watson would marry one day, as they were often seen together on their days off but whatever the truth about their relationship, they made sure that it was kept quiet. I tried only once, to question Mrs Watson about their relationship and she nearly blew a gasket, so I let it be as it was none of my business anyway.

I was glad that Mrs Watson wasn't at Beaumont, when Mr Warren suddenly died, as it may have been too much for her to bear. With her ill health, due to her kidneys, she had left Beaumont exactly a year before his death and as far I knew, never did find out about his passing. She died herself around a year after Mr Warren but her niece didn't even have the courtesy to inform us. We only found out about her death, when one of the servants visited a family member, who stayed in the same village, and went up to visit her and discovered that she had died. When he returned and told us this fact, we were all shocked that we were not informed and not given the opportunity to go to her funeral.

I lay with my eyes closed and thought of my brothers Pat and Seamus. Seamus had been hanged for murder and Pat had drank himself to death. They were both buried in my father's grave, the one that I had bought and paid for and the same one that I too would be interred in, when the time came. I had been assured that there was space for me in their grave and had paid in advance for my name to be added next to my father and brothers. We would all lay together for eternity and I hoped that we would get on with each other in the next life because we didn't get on together in this one.

The only person missing from the grave was my mother who was buried somewhere in a field adjacent to the graveyard in a pauper's grave. Pauper's graves were never marked and there was no way to find out exactly where she lay, not that I had ever tired to do that anyway.

Thoughts of my mother still pierced my heart and I wondered if she ever regretted what she had done to me so many many years ago. Perhaps we should have made peace, all those years ago when she was dying but at that time all I had in my heart was hatred, for the woman who stole my baby for me. Now that I am older, I am also wiser and realise that things are not as black and white as a younger version of myself, thought they were.

A tear ran down my face and I brushed it away. No good every came from thinking of the past and the things that we could have done better. I thought of Sean Brady and wondered if he was still alive. Was he happy with his lot in life? Did he marry and have children? Did he ever discover that he was a father to a little girl called Gabrielle? These are questions that I will never find the answer to in this life but perhaps in the next life, we will all meet up again and this time we will all be happy.

Susan came into the room with some tea and an assortment of sandwiches. "You must eat something Patricia." she told me and as she lay the tray on the table beside my bed, I reached out and held her hand. "Susan. I never told you but I'm telling you now. You are a good woman and an excellent cook.' I told her. She smiled. "Thank you so much for your kind words. It has just took over 30 years for you to tell me this." she replied laughing. I laughed with her.

Susan, like myself, had never married. She had her younger brothers and sisters to feed, when her mother took to her bed. Whether her mother was ill or not, she never said but she was still alive today by some miracle and still laying in her bed. I had hoped that when her brothers and sisters married and left home, she would find someone of her own but she still had her mother to care for, so she remained a spinster.

"How's your mother Susan?" I asked her. "Oh you know. Still the same. The doctors says there ain't nothing wrong physically but mentally she's nuts." she replied and we both laughed again. "You are the sunshine in my life. Have I ever told you? Your smile lights up any room." I said. She patted my hand. "Stop this sentimental rubbish Patricia O'Hara. If I didn't know you better, I would say that you were as nutty as my mother." she told me with a big grin on her face.

She sat on the bed beside me and I held on tightly to her hands. "Did I ever tell you about my Rosie?" I asked her. "No you never mentioned her but Mr Warren one night when he was rather much the wear for port, did talk of her." she replied and I was surprised by this. "Did he? That's so unlike him, to gossip." I told her and she nodded.

"I think maybe he was having a bad day and perhaps drinking a little too much port." Susan told me.

"I'm so sorry that you lost her. By all accounts she was a terrific girl." Susan said. "Yes. I thought she was one of the loveliest girls in the world but now I can put you in that list Susan. You've been so good to me over the last few weeks when I wasn't feeling too good. You never pried." I told her. "Less of the girl. For heaven's sake Patricia, I'm not that much younger than you. Any day now, I will be telling you to move over and let me in beside you." she said laughing.

"You're built like a horse but me, I'm just skins and bones now. I think this is it Susan. I think I am going to meet my maker very soon indeed." I told her and was quickly chastised for saying such a thing. "That's enough outta you. You old goat. What absolute rubbish. You've a bug or something and anyway you'll be sorted out soon." she told me, with a wag of the finger. "Whatever do you mean?" I asked. "The doctor is popping into see you sometime soon. And there is no good shaking your head. You need a tonic and he will give you one." she said but I continued to shake my head. "I don't need a doctor. It won't do any good." I told her. "Now don't be saying that. You'll be up and about in no time." she replied.

I let go of her hands, as I knew that I was keeping her from her duties. "You had better get on." I told her. "Or are you bossing me about. Only having a laugh and your right I must get that baking done." she said walking towards the bedroom door. "I'll be back to see you soon. Now you have a rest and the doctor will be here to see you soon." she told me. I opened my mouth to protest, as I didn't need or want a doctor but she had already disappeared out of the door.

I lifted my head from the pillow and tried to pull myself up but immediately fell back down again. I had no strength left in me and I closed my eyes telling myself that after a little nap, I would be well enough to get out of bed. I suddenly took a pain in my chest and thought that my time had come but it disappeared as quickly as it came and I was relieved.

An hour later, I awoke to find a young man, who I surmised was the doctor staring down at me. "How are you Miss O'Hara. My name is Doctor Fowler." he said. "Please doctor, call me Patricia. And I'm fine and there is no need for you to be here." I told him. "Let me be the judge of that Patricia. Now can you tell me what the problems is and then I will examine you." he said with authority in his voice.

"I'm just a bit tired." I told him. "For how long?" he asked and I thought about lying to him but what was the point in lies. "I haven't been feeling right for months now doctor. I can't stomach a bite to eat and I feel so weak to tell you the truth." I confessed. "Do you have any pain anywhere?" he asked me and I told him that I had a slight twinge in my chest but it only happened once and just lasted for a few seconds.

He nodded his head and pulled out some strange looking instruments. He placed part of the instrument in his ear and placed the other part in the middle of my chest. He took my temperature and looked in my eyes, ears and down my throat with a small torch before preceding to feel at my stomach. When he was finished he placed all of his instruments back into his brown leather bag.

"You have a slightly odd rhythm to your heart and you seem to be dehydrated, which means you need to drink more water. Now I am going to prescribe some tonic for you and I want you to take it every two hours." he told me.

I immediately thought of Rosie and the tonic that the doctor gave to her that didn't make any difference to her predicament. "Now let me feel you pulse." he said placing his fingers on the inside of my wrist. Immediately I saw that his face had darkened and I new that something was worrying him.

"It's serious isn't it doctor?" I asked him. "I won't lie to you Patricia. Your heart is weak, I'm afraid and there is not much I can do about that. The tonic, will at least make you fell a little better." he told me. "How long do I have doctor?" and I watched as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Now rest, drink plenty of water and remember to take your tonic every two hours. I will pop in tomorrow to see you." he said as he moved towards the door. "Don't worry doctor. I'm prepared if God wants to take me home." I told him. He nodded and quickly disappeared.

Susan came in with a large jug of water and a glass.

"The doctor says you've to drink lots of water and no arguments. He told me that he left you a bottle of tonic, do you want me to give you some of it now?" she asked me but I shook my head. "I'm not that feeble that I can't manage to take my own medicine but thanks anyway." I replied. She poured out a large glass of water. "I'll leave it beside you bed. Can I ask Patricia." she asked nervously. "What did the doctor say?" I smiled at her.

"He said that I had a bug and I will be up and about in no time, so don't worry." I lied to her and she let out a sigh. "Thank God for that. You know I have been praying all day that you would get better soon, so I'm glad it's nothing serious." she said and I saw the relief on her face. "Do you think you can manage some soup later?" she asked me and I nodded. "Good. Well you rest and I'll pop in soon to see you. Oh by the way, I have something that might interest you." she said, pulling a newspaper from her apron pocket. "There is a piece in the newspaper about Lady Salisbury. You know the 10th anniversary of her death." she said and I smiled weakly at her and stifled a yawn. Susan notice. "Sorry I'm babbling again. Anyway the newspaper has a picture of not only Lady Salisbury but also her daughter, granddaughter and grandchildren. I believe she has five grandchildren. Anyway Lord Salisbury has written a beautiful piece about his wife. You know it would bring a tear to a glass eye, as my mother would say. Did you know that Lord Salisbury is in his 90's? Would you believe it? I only saw him last week and he looks as if he's at least 20 years younger." Susan told me. I tutted. "Don't exaggerate Susan. He looks like a little old man and walks with a cane." I replied with a smile.

"He probably looks younger because he's has such a privileged life. Not like us Patricia. We work hard all our days and look 20 years older than we really are." she said. "Speak for yourself. I still look as if I am in my 50's." I said, trying to laugh but feeling the pain in my chest again.

"Anyway. To get back to what I was telling you. There is a picture of His Lordship's granddaughter Gabriella in the newspaper. I remember that you always seemed rather interested in his granddaughter and I have heard you on more than one occasion saying that you would like to see her, at least once. So, I have brought this picture of her in the newspaper." she said, smoothing out the newspaper and handing it too me.

I took it from her hands. "Could you fetch my reading glasses for me Susan? They're in the drawer over there." I asked pointing over to the chest of drawers, at the other side of the room. "Sure." she replied and on fetching my reading glasses she said her goodbyes and left me to read the newspaper.

I quickly turned the pages, until I found the piece that Lord Salisbury had written about his wife. As soon as I found it, I scanned the photographs to look for Gabriella to see for the first time, what she actually looked like.

When I came upon the photograph, I saw that she was now a lady in her 50's and looked very grand and regal. I looked closely at her five children and smiled. They all looked like their mother and they all looked like their grandfather, Sean Brady. At last I had found my daughter and I could go to meet with God, a happy and contented woman. As the pain in my chest worsened, I felt as if I was being crushed. Somehow I knew my time on this Earth was over and I hurriedly clasped my hands in one last prayer and asked God to look after my daughter and my grandchildren, until we all met again, in the next life.

The End

