had wept bitter tears in her own room but knew she must be strong. She was now sixteen but earned only a few shillings each week and knew that it would be hard to manage without her mother’s guiding hand. Ma had mentioned the name of their father’s rich relative but Lucy expected nothing from him for she knew that her mother had refused his help after Pa died, because of her pride. Mr Stoneham’s lawyer had offered financial help but Ma had refused it and nothing more had been heard from Mr Stoneham. Now Lucy had Ma to bury and did not know how she would manage it.
Unless she could find five pounds, they would bury Ma in a pauper’s grave. The vicar had been to visit and asked what hymns she wanted sung in church and he’d told her that it would cost six pounds for the burial if they wanted a good oak coffin. All they had in the world was the eighteen shillings in Ma’s purse and two shillings Josh had left in his pay packet that week. As a lowly apprentice at the factory, he received only three shillings and sixpence a week.
‘Where are we goin’ ter get five pounds?’ Josh asked anxiously. Kitty was whimpering, crying for her mother. Lucy had given her bread and jam and it was all over her face.
Lucy picked up a flannel, wet it and wiped her sister’s face. ‘Crying won’t bring Ma back,’ she reproved and received a resentful look from Kitty, who at eight years old, and the baby of the family, had been her mother’s favourite.
‘I want Ma!’
‘So do I, but she’s dead,’ Josh said. ‘Stop that row, Kitty. We have to talk about what we’re goin’ ter do next.’
Lucy’s eyes went to the corner cupboard. Ma had loved it and she loved it too, but it was one of the few things of value they owned. ‘I suppose we could sell the cupboard,’ she said half-heartedly. ‘And we could sell Ma’s weddin’ ring or her gold pin that Pa gave her …’
‘Not the weddin’ ring,’ Josh said. ‘The pin and the cupboard and her clothes – you could sell her shoes at that stall …’
‘Josh!’ Lucy was distressed. ‘Must we sell Ma’s things when she’s hardly cold?’
‘Do you want Ma buried in a pauper’s grave?’
‘No, I don’t,’ Lucy said and tears trickled down her cheeks. ‘I can’t bear it, Josh! Why did it have to happen?’
He shrugged and looked miserable. ‘There’s Dad’s writing box in the tallboy,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘It may be worth more than the cupboard.’
‘We can’t sell Dad’s box whatever happens,’ Lucy said. ‘Supposing he comes back and asks for it?’
‘He’s dead,’ Josh said, and he was angry. ‘The box is mine as head of this family now he’s gone – and if I decide we’ll sell it, we will.’
Lucy supposed he was right. Men usually inherited everything and he was nearly a man, even though nearly two years younger than Lucy.
‘Where do we sell whatever we need to sell?’
‘There’s Ruskin’s stall on the market for the clothes and I’ll ask around for the furniture,’ Josh said and ignored Lucy’s reproachful look. ‘Ma isn’t goin’ to want her clothes, Lucy. We should let the things we like least go first – because we’ll need to sell a bit at a time or they’ll cheat us.’
‘What do you mean? Why should we sell more than we need for the funeral?’
‘Because they won’t let us stay here,’ Josh said. ‘We haven’t always paid the rent on time since Pa went – and now there are just us three the landlord will want us to leave.’
‘Where shall we go?’ Lucy had not thought she would have to leave their home and for the moment she was stunned, leaving her brother to make the decisions.
‘I’ll find us somewhere,’ he said, assuming the mantle he’d taken for himself. ‘But we have to sell some bits of furniture, because we shall only be able to afford a room – so the tallboy and the parlour furniture go first and then we’ll see.’
Lucy looked at the set of his face and knew he was hating this as much as her, but it had to be done. They must sell the things Ma had been so proud of and keep only small bits and pieces they could easily take with them. Besides, it looked as if they would have to sell most of what they had to cover the cost of the coffin and burial in hallowed ground …
Lucy counted the coins in her purse. She had five half-crowns, six shillings and several sixpences and pennies. It was all they had left in the world after paying their debts and the rent owed for the cottage they were leaving that day.
Lucy hadn’t seen the room Josh had found for them yet, but she guessed, from the look in her brother’s eyes, that it was not what they’d been used to. He’d loaded most of what they still owned on a barrow he’d borrowed and taken it on ahead. They’d managed to keep their mattresses, their father’s box, Ma’s sewing box, the corner cupboard and a few blankets, some crockery and their own clothes and trinkets. Their clothes were in three leather bags, which had belonged to their parents, and that was all they had left in the world.
Lucy was loath to sell her mother’s few bits of jewellery and she wore Ma’s wedding ring around her neck on a ribbon which was sewn together so it could not come untied and be lost. The little gold pin with a cabochon ruby was pinned inside Lucy’s frock, but that was all they had left. A gold cross and chain and a silver brooch had been sold, as well as a gold stock pin that belonged to their father. It had been Josh’s by right but he’d preferred to keep their father’s writing box.
Josh had taken some of their money to pay the new landlord. Because they were young, Mr Snodgrass had asked for a month’s rent in advance and Josh had paid him.
‘You can’t blame him,’ Josh said when they’d discussed it. ‘Why should he trust us?’
Lucy wondered if they could trust the landlord, but she didn’t challenge Josh, because he’d searched for the room and was proud that he’d found them somewhere to go. He was two years her junior but considered himself the man of the family. Mr Pottersby next door had hinted that they should go to the workhouse.
‘Kitty is not yet nine and should be in care of the wardens,’ he’d said to her. ‘You and young Josh can work, but what’s she to do all day? You won’t be able to afford to send her to school. Be sensible, lass, and put her in the workhouse. They’ll take care of her until she’s old enough to work – and then you can fetch her home.’
‘I’ll never let my sister go to the spike,’ Lucy told him proudly. ‘My father would want us all to be together.’
‘You’re a good lass.’ Mr Pottersby shook his head sadly. ‘The wife would take the little one in but we can’t afford to keep her …’
‘You’ve been good to us, sir,’ Lucy admitted, because his wife had sometimes brought her mother hot food in the middle of the day, when Lucy was working and could not look after her. ‘But Kitty wants to be with us.’
‘Well, I’ll wish you luck, Lucy,’ her neighbour said. ‘And if you want to sell that cupboard of yourn, I’d give yer thirty shillings fer it.’
Lucy had already been offered three pounds and refused it, so she shook her head and smiled. ‘Thank you, but we shall
