The Boy with the Latch Key

‘Would yer? Thanks, mate, that’s great,’ Archie said. ‘I’ve heard about yer – playin’ football and runnin’ fast an’ all …’

‘Come on then,’ Billy said. ‘I’ll come with yer down the nick if he agrees and back you up …’

Billy opened the door of the phone box and they squeezed in together, Billy asking for a number and putting the coins in when the police officer answered. They chatted for a bit, Archie watching anxiously all the while and then smiling as Billy gave him the thumbs up.

‘Thanks Sergeant, I’ll do the same for you one day.’

‘Just keep your nose clean so I don’t have to arrest you …’

Billy grinned even more as he replaced the receiver and turned to Archie. ‘He’s goin’ to meet us there in ten minutes. He says you can have five minutes and that’s all. He ain’t supposed to do it, but he likes you, Archie – and he don’t think yer mum should be there …’

‘Thanks, Billy. You’re a real mate …’

‘Play football, do you?’ Billy asked as they walked the short distance to the police station. ‘Only, I help Peter to run the football club and we keep it goin’ even in the summer – keeps everyone fit and interested.’

‘Can I join?’

‘Why shouldn’t you?’ Billy nodded and held Archie’s arm. ‘We’ll wait out here until Sergeant Sallis gets here – he’s the best of them, believe me …’

As they stood outside in the rather fitful sunshine, which kept disappearing as clouds scudded across the sky, a rather unkempt-looking man walked out of the side door of the police station and glanced their way. For a moment his eyes dwelled on them thoughtfully, and he half smiled to Archie before moving off. Billy noticed that his walk changed from a brisk stride to a careless shuffle, and his whole demeanour seemed to change as he disappeared down an alley. It struck him as a bit odd, as if the man wanted to be thought something other than he was, but he forgot it as Sergeant Sallis arrived and smiled at them in his friendly manner.

‘Right, I’ll take you in, lad. Billy, why don’t you wait across the road in case Archie needs a hand when he comes out …?’

‘Yeah, all right.’ Billy watched as the two went inside the police station, the sergeant’s hand on the boy’s shoulder. It was rotten for Archie having his mother locked up – especially when even Sergeant Sallis didn’t believe she was guilty.

It was wrong and he felt upset for his new young friend, but there was nothing he could do. Billy couldn’t even find himself a decent room or earn enough to support a wife …

‘Mum … how are yer?’ Archie said as she was ushered in and he saw she was wearing the same dress he’d brought in for her the day after she was arrested. ‘When are they goin’ to let yer out?’

‘It’s you, not yer, Archie,’ she reminded him gently and moved towards him, holding her arms out.

Not usually one for hugs, Archie moved towards her and threw his arms about her, close to tears. He struggled to hold them back because he knew she would cry if he did. This was the second visit since she’d been in here and the first time she hadn’t been able to hold back her tears.

‘I miss you, Mum,’ he said, automatically correcting his speech for her. ‘June is miserable. She wants you home – we both do. I would’ve brought her but Sergeant Sallis says he can’t allow it. He shouldn’t have let us meet, but he’s all right.’

‘Yes, he has been kind,’ she said and smiled through hovering tears. ‘As kind as he can be in the circumstances …’

‘Have they told you when you can come home?’

Her bottom lip trembled. ‘It may not be for a while, Archie,’ she whispered. ‘They got me a solicitor and he says the case will go for trial – but I know he thinks I’m guilty …’

‘Mum! They can’t think that,’ Archie said loudly. ‘You would never do anything bad. I know you wouldn’t …’

‘Keep on believing in me, my love,’ she said in a choking voice. ‘And promise me you will look after your sister. Please, Archie. You have to take care of her until I can get home to look after you both …’

‘Oh, Mum, it isn’t fair. June hates being at St Saviour’s – and I don’t much like it, though it’s better than bein’ on the streets …’

‘You’ll be safe with Sister Beatrice,’ his mother said and stroked his hair back. ‘I wish this hadn’t happened, Archie. Someone hates me – I think Reg Prentice is behind all this, but I can’t prove it … and no one but Sergeant Sallis believes me …’

‘The judge will, Mum,’ Archie said fiercely and hugged her again. ‘I wish I could make him pay for what he’s done – that rotten manager of yours …’

‘Promise me not to do anything stupid,’ she said and kissed the top of his head. ‘You’re like your dad, Archie, and I know you’ll be all right at St Saviour’s. Don’t let them split you up and ask Sister to keep you here in London until I get home – but if they don’t I’ll find you. I promise …’

‘I’m sorry, Archie, but you’ll have to go,’ a voice said from the door. ‘If my chief constable finds you here I’m for the chop. It’s back to your cell, Mrs Miller …’

‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘And thank you so much for this …’

Archie stared rebelliously as she was led away, but he followed the police constable who beckoned him and showed him out of the side door.

‘You’re a lucky lad,’ he told him. ‘I wouldn’t have risked my job like the Sarge has … Get off with you now and behave yourself …’

Archie shot him a resentful look and left. He became aware that tears were trickling down his face and brushed them off angrily as he went to join Billy in the café opposite.

‘All right now?’ Billy asked and got up to join him. ‘I’ll take you to meet some of the football team. You’ll be fine with Sister Beatrice and if there’s any justice your mum will be out afore you know it …’

‘Ah, Nancy,’ Beatrice said as the girl knocked and then entered her office. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Nancy replied. Her soft fair hair was pulled back into a neat plait at the back of her head and she wore the pink gingham dress that was the uniform of all the carers. She was an attractive girl who could have made more of her looks if she’d tried. Since Nan had left them, she’d unofficially taken over her duties, liaising with Beatrice over the rotas and doing extra duty when needed. ‘I just wanted to let you know that I shall be visiting Terry this weekend.’

‘How is your brother?’ Beatrice felt the tiny prick of guilt she always felt when Nancy mentioned Terry. He was now living in a special home in Cambridgeshire for the mentally retarded, where Nancy said he was happy and content to spend his days. ‘Any change?’

‘Not really,’ Nancy said and sighed. ‘Last time I was down he didn’t know me for the first hour or so and then he came out of his trance and was pleased to see me. I never know for certain whether he will recognise me or not.’

‘That is so sad for you, my dear. I had hoped he might make a complete recovery.’

‘Mr Adderbury explained it to me,’ Nancy said. ‘Terry is blocking the past out of his mind. He isn’t violent these days. Everyone says he’s easy to look after, and he helps the gardeners, but he doesn’t remember much about what happened before they took him to the clinic, and sometimes he doesn’t seem to know me. I think it’s the treatment they gave him when he was first taken in …’

‘Well, perhaps it is better for him, Nancy. If the past hurts too much … not all of us are as strong as you, my dear.’

‘I don’t think about it; it’s over and gone and I’ve put it behind me,’ Nancy said, though something in her eyes told Beatrice that wasn’t quite true. ‘Well, I’ll get on. Tilly is in this morning but she can’t do everything on her own. We’re changing the linen today.’

‘I’m sure you’re very busy,’ Beatrice said. ‘Thank you for reminding me that you will be away this weekend.’

‘Jean said she would come in on Sunday if we need her.’

‘Yes, that would be most helpful, but I doubt we shall need her,’ Beatrice said. ‘Wendy will be on duty and I’m sure we can manage for once.’

Returning to her paperwork after Nancy had gone, Beatrice sighed. Jean Marsh had worked for them as a carer before her marriage, and had two young children at school. She sometimes worked a few hours in the mornings if they were short-handed, but it was a case of balancing the budget. Beatrice was fortunate in her staff, she knew, because they were all dedicated to their jobs and willing to work extra hours, often for no extra money. Wendy would sometimes do the work of the carers if necessary, even though her training meant she should not be asked to do menial work, but she never objected in a case of emergency.

Beatrice’s longest-serving carers were Tilly and Kelly, both of whom seemed devoted to St Saviour’s, and although Tilly had married she hadn’t left them, nor did she intend to until she had children. Kelly had a long-standing boyfriend, but no plans for marriage as far as Beatrice was aware. She supposed it was because both she and her friend had families to look after at home, but neither of them confided in her as Nancy and Wendy did. Nurse Michelle had recently given her a month’s notice, because she was having another child, and that meant Beatrice would have to try and find a replacement. It was so difficult to find a good staff nurse willing to work at the home. These days they were all busy at the hospitals, perhaps because nursing wasn’t as popular an occupation with young girls as it had once been. Beatrice had read something about nurses from overseas wanting to come to Britain and she wondered if perhaps she might be luckier if she took on a nurse from another country – and yet there might be difficulty in getting permission for them to work here for more than a few months.

If Angela were here she would know exactly what to do about that sort of thing. Beatrice had resented it when she’d first been appointed as Administrator for the orphanage but she certainly felt the lack of Angela’s organising skills …

A knock at her door made Beatrice look up. Most of her staff simply knocked once and put their head round the door, but this person had knocked twice and was obviously waiting for an invitation to enter.

‘Come in then,’ Beatrice said impatiently. She wasn’t really surprised when Ruby Saunders entered. The young woman was wearing a brown pleated skirt and a fawn jacket over a brown jumper. Her dark-brown hair was dragged back into a tight knot and she’d clipped it firmly back with brown slides. Her complexion was pale and she wore only the faintest smear of pale-pink lipstick. She certainly wasn’t vain about her appearance, that much was apparent, because underneath those dowdy clothes and awful hairstyle there might have been an attractive woman.

‘Ah, Miss Saunders, what may I do for you?’