Christmas Child: an absolutely heartbreaking and emotional Victorian romance by Carol Rivers (i wanna iguana read aloud .txt) 📗

Ettie smiled, forgetting her tears. ‘Thank you.’

‘But listen!’ He pushed her away. ‘Don’t get no ideas. I’m not staying, not even for you.’

Ettie felt sad. She would miss this boy with the beautiful grey eyes, but who spoke words that could be so hurtful.

‘Friends are supposed to look after each other,’ Ettie said softly.

‘I’d be no good to you if I stayed.’

‘Why not?’

Michael stared at her solemnly. ’Do you really think the bishop couldn’t help the nuns if he wanted?’

This was a question that took her by surprise.

‘Listen, the Roman candles are rich, Ettie,’ he continued passionately. They’ve got more money stacked away than the Queen of England. If the bishop wanted, he could flog that ring on his finger and buy a whole new orphanage! But he won’t. ‘Cos this is the East End and out of favour with the toffs who fill his coffers. Mark my words, the sisters are done for.’

‘Michael,’ she gasped, ‘please stop.’

‘It's the truth. I'm older than you – and wiser.’

Ettie wanted to say that he must be wrong, but the words seemed to stick in her throat. ‘Stay for the children,’ she begged one last time.

Michael took hold of her shoulders. ‘Sorry, kid.’

‘You're really set on going?’

He nodded.

She flung her arms around him. ‘Oh, Michael, I've grown so fond of you.’

He held her gently as though she was china. ‘Tell you what,’ he mumbled and made a show of straightening his jacket. ‘We'll meet up somewhere like Victoria Park.’

‘Victoria Park? Is it close by?’

‘Just down Old Ford Road.’

Ettie nodded uncertainly, her brown hair falling across her eyes. ‘When?’

‘First Sunday in December. Three o’clock sharp at the water fountain.’

‘I’ll try.’

Michael laughed cruelly. ‘You see, you’re scared to come, ain’t you? You won’t even go out on your own.’

Ettie didn’t understand Michael when he lost his temper. He’d say things he really didn’t mean. She’d always prayed that God would change him. But now she feared that Michael was a lost soul. A tear trickled down her cheek.

‘Cheer up,’ he said with bravado. ‘You’re my girl, remember.’ He bent and kissed her cheek.

She blushed, trying to ignore the unfamiliar pain in her chest.

‘You watch out for yourself, Ettie O’Reilly. This world's a rotten place. The sooner you get used to the idea the better.’ He waved jauntily. ‘See you soon. That is, if you’ve got the guts.’

Ettie shivered as she watched him hurry down the passage. She felt so cold without him. As if something was dying inside her. She wanted to go with him. But there were the orphans to consider. She had to look after them until they left the orphanage.

Slowly she returned to the schoolroom, trying to forget the awful things that Michael had said. As much as they hurt, there were tender new feelings growing inside her. And she knew Michael was the cause of them.

Chapter 4

It was a sombre grey day at the end of November and the temperature in the laundry was almost freezing. Ettie's fingers were numb and red raw. All the children’s clothes had to be washed in cold water since there was no soap left to clean them with. This made the scrubbing twice as hard.

Sister Patrick was pushing the wet clothes through the wringer with laboured movements and sighed to herself.

‘Sister Patrick?’

‘What is it child?’

‘Has Mother Superior had news of Michael?’

‘Why should she? The boy ran off.’

Ettie was surprised that the nuns hadn’t been more concerned at his disappearance. ‘Shouldn’t we try to look for him?’

‘He left of his own accord; there’s nothing we can do.’ Sister Patrick looked up from the ancient wringer with its huge rollers. She swept the beads of sweat from her cheeks. ‘A boy like Michael will always find trouble.’

‘He was beginning to change,’ Ettie insisted.

The nun shook her head wearily. ‘Then God will look after him,’ she said and walked slowly to the big basin. ‘Ettie, I have some news for you. Dry your hands and sit on the stool.’

Ettie obeyed. Sister Patrick’s face was solemn and that could only mean one thing. This news wouldn’t be welcome. Ettie's heart lurched.

Sister Patrick said heavily, ‘Mother Superior has found you a position.’

Ettie looked blankly into the misted spectacles.

‘You are to be placed with a shopkeeper and his wife near the city. Your duties will be much the same as they are here. Your board and lodging will cost nothing.’

‘Sister Patrick, I’ve never been to the city before.’

‘London is full of splendour and majesty. You’re very fortunate. Mother Superior has provided your new employers with a good Character. She has written the reference herself.’

‘Thank you,’ Ettie replied. ‘When am I to leave?’

‘In the new year. After your fourteenth birthday.’

Ettie screwed her hands into fists, her nails biting painfully into her palms; a needed distraction to hide how desperate she felt.

‘Ah, my dear girl, I know it’s hard.’

Ettie nodded. The news had come as a dreadful shock.

‘Your new position is an enviable one.’

‘What will happen to the orphans?’ Ettie blurted out.

‘They will be found homes soon.’

‘But where?’

A grim expression crossed the nun’s face. ‘That’s not your business, Ettie.’ A cold finger touched her cheek. ‘Say your prayers now.’

Ettie hung her head. She shut her eyes tight and asked Jesus, Mary and Joseph to make her request come true. For she knew there was no one else to keep up the children’s spirits.

When she opened her eyes, she was alone. Once more she returned to her bargaining with God. This time she offered the only thing she had left. ‘I don’t care for myself, dear Lord, but help the orphans,’ she begged, though after some thought, she added hopefully, ‘Or best of all, send a miracle to change the bishop’s mind.’

On the first Sunday of December the terrible news was broken.

The chapel was so cold that Jack Frost had scratched his long nails on all the windows.

’We cannot afford to light the fires,’ explained Mother Superior as she stood, hands clenched, before the orphans. ‘I am sorry to say