Free A Carriage for the Midwife by Maggie Bennett Page A

her little breasts and a soft fuzz of hair in that secret place that was muddied with shame and pain. And she was taller; field labour had hardened the muscles of her arms and legs.
    Susan stared at her own blood, the signs of womanhood, and some deep, primitive instinct sprung into life: this was her body, which belonged only to her. She was no longer a helpless victim, but a woman with rights over what was hers, and a duty to protect it. It was time to escape from the shadow.
    What should she do? She could leave the Ash-Pits at any time and find work as a maidservant, in or out of doors, but there was Polly to be included in her plans. Susan decided to consult the lady who had helped her before and was known as a friend to poor women and children, so she called at the Glover cottage early one morning in August.
    ‘If ye please, Miss Glover, Oi need to find work f’r Polly an’ meself,’ she said carefully. ‘There be not enough to feed us all now the boys ha’ got bigger, an’ besides, Bartlemy be a drinker, an’ . . .’
    She hesitated. Unable to tell the untellable, she had planned to say that her father regularly beat them, though in fact he never had.
    Miss Glover listened and nodded without pressing Susan to finish the sentence.
    ‘I understand you, Susan. As a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking about this. Now that you have finished school, you need to start earning money for yourself rather than for your parents. Now, I hear that a laundrymaid is needed at Bever House. Would you like me to speak to Mrs Martin for you?’
    ‘Oh, but ye see, Miss Glover, ’tis Polly as well,’ said Susan anxiously. ‘Be there work f’r two laundry-maids?’
    Sophia smiled and shook her head. ‘I really don’t know about Polly, Susan. She’s only twelve years old, isn’t she?’
    ‘Nearly thirteen. Oh, she can’t be left at the Ash-Pits wi’out me, Miss Glover!’
    ‘Why are you so worried about her, Susan? Do you mean that she would be in danger of being ill-treated?’
    ‘Oh, aye, Miss Glover, ill-treated.’ Susan grasped at the word. ‘He’ll – he’ll ill-treat her when he be drunken. Please, Miss Glover, Oi couldn’t leave her in that place!’
    She clasped her hands together beseechingly, and Sophia was startled by the real terror in the wide grey eyes. This girl is hiding something, she thought, and the matter must be urgent.
    ‘All right, Susan, don’t worry, I will see what can be done. Go to your field work now, and leave this to me.’
    Susan stared dumbly at her, as if wanting to say more but not knowing how. Sophia smiled reassuringly.
    ‘I promise, Susan.’
    ‘Thank ye, Miss Glover – oh, thank ye!’
    Susan spoke from the heart, but the crisis came sooner than anticipated, for the very next evening the shadow pounced upon her in the bracken alongside Quarry Lane. Her brother Jack had been trotting along beside her, and quite suddenly disappeared.
    ‘Now, Sukey, be quick. Another little game wi’ yer dad, eh?’ – the sickeningly familiar growl.
    His hands were on her buttocks, pulling up her skirt. A wool pad and bandage were in place to absorb her flow, yet she could sense the great fleshy thing ready to thrust between her thighs; but this time she neither bent over in submission, nor let herself be thrown to the ground. Instead she straightened up and turned round to face him, eye to eye, for the first time.
    ‘Stop it! Oi won’t have ’ee, never again.’
    After a moment’s glaring hesitation he lunged at her, grabbing at her gown; that was when she began to scream and hit out with both fists, so that he had to duck and dodge.
    ‘Hush up, Sukey, hush up, yer little fool,’ he muttered, and, seizing her round the waist, he put a hand over her open mouth. She sunk her teeth hard into it, and he yelped.
    ‘Damn ’ee, yer little cat, wha’s up wi’ ye? Shut yer mouth, can’t ’ee, else folks’ll hear!’
    But now the rage and fury – and the bitter sorrow – pent up