The Letter by Kathryn Hughes Read Free Book Online

help you?’
    Alice spun round to face the Matron. She had a rather kind, expressive face which did not fit with her voice and Alice was momentarily taken aback.
    ‘My name is Alice Stirling and I’m here about the baby.’
    ‘What baby? We have lots of babies here.’
    ‘Of course,’ Alice apologised. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know his name.’
    ‘You’ll need to be more specific, I’m afraid.’
    A baby began to cry in the distance and Alice suddenly felt her throat constrict and her eyes filled with tears. She wiped them away with her gloved hand.
    ‘Are you alright?’ asked Matron, her tone softening somewhat.
    ‘Not really. I lost my little baby, you see.’
    ‘And you think he might be here?’
    Alice was confused for a second.
    ‘Oh no, of course not. He’s dead.’
    The matron’s eyes widened at the bluntness of Alice’s response. She took her by the arm.
    ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
    Alice nodded as the Matron led her to her office and closed the door.
    ‘Now, why don’t you tell me what all this is about?’
    Alice felt an overwhelming desire to unburden herself.
    ‘My baby. My beautiful baby, Edward, died when he was only five months old. Consumption, they said. There was nothing I could do but I know Henry...’
    ‘Henry?’ interrupted Matron
    ‘My husband,’ explained Alice. ‘I know Henry blames me. He says he doesn’t of course, but I couldn’t even keep him alive until his father returned from the war. What sort of a mother am I? He never got to see his own son. Now we barely speak, he drinks too much, never shows me any affection and thinks his grief is worse than mine because at least I got to spend five precious months with Edward.’
    The matron handed Alice a handkerchief.
    ‘Now, now. Don’t blame yourself. Lots of babies die from consumption. It’s very common, you know. I’m sure you did everything you could.’
    Alice blew her nose noisily into the handkerchief.
    ‘It wasn’t enough though, was it?’
    She didn’t know how much longer she could endure this misery.
    Matron glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘We’re about to have tea now and I need to go and supervise. Why don’t you join us?’
    ‘You’re very kind. I will, thank you.’
    ‘Then you can tell me what brings you here. You mentioned a baby?’
    Alice followed the Matron to the dining room where all the children were already seated along rows of oblong wooden tables. Tea was simple, just thick slices of bread and butter and a watery stew.
    Alice had known it was him the moment she saw him. It was the heavy gash over his left eyebrow that had confirmed it. She went up to him as he sat in his high chair banging his spoon. As soon as she approached he stopped, beamed a toothless smile and held his arms aloft, asking to be picked up. Alice scooped him up and breathed in his milky scent. He had a little paper wristband on bearing his name and date of birth. ‘William Edwards. DOB – 20 th March, 1918’.
    ‘It’s alright,’ Alice whispered in his ear. ‘Mamma’s here now.’
    Later, in matron’s office, Alice learnt the full story of how little Billy had ended up in the orphanage. Like Alice, Billy’s mother, Frances Edwards, had given birth during the war, but tragically his father, Albert, had been killed in action just a month before the Armistice that brought an end to the hostilities. Nobody could be sure how this had affected Frances Edwards, but it was safe to assume that the news brought insurmountable grief on the young mother, for on Armistice Day, November 11 th , 1918, as church bells around the country rang out in celebration, Frances cradled her precious baby and held him tight as she leapt off a railway bridge. She was killed instantly but miraculously, Billy survived with only a deep cut over his left eyebrow. It seemed his mother’s body had cushioned his fall. Despite various pleas, no relatives had come forward to claim Billy so he had been placed in the orphanage by the