Free Custard Tarts and Broken Hearts by Mary Gibson Page B

of all the times Sam Gilbie had asked her to ride in this cart, feeling she would give anything if only it could be one of those times now. And then she found herself making a stupid bargain with God. If you spare Bobby, I’ll be kinder to Sam. I promise I’ll ride in the bloody cart whenever he wants me to. Spare Bobby, she prayed silently and fervently, and I’ll keep the promise I made his mum, I will, just let Bobby be all right…
    Sam pulled up the cart in Vauban Street and helped her down. ‘He’s a strong little ’un, Nellie. Try not to worry too much, he’ll get through it,’ he said quietly.
    She wished she could believe him. If the other two children in the street had been carried off by dysentery, what was there to save Bobby? People were blaming the dock strike for the lack of fresh food and milk. Hungry children had to be fed and, like other families, they’d been forced to buy the ‘specks’ of rotting fruit and whatever ends of meat were left over at the market. She knew too well how hungry boys would eat whatever was to hand; she’d never forgive herself if Bobby had eaten bad food, just because she wasn’t there to supervise.
    Alice must have heard the cart draw up and in seconds she was at the front door, flinging her arms round Nellie. ‘Oh, Nell, he’s bad. Come quick, he’s been asking for you.’
    Her father was slumped in his chair, staring at the empty grate. She didn’t think he saw her as they passed through the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedroom, where Bobby was lying alone in the bed he normally shared with Freddie. A white-faced Freddie, all the bravado knocked out of him, now knelt beside the bed and she rushed over to join him.
    ‘Bobby,’ she said, gently stroking the little boy’s damp hair, ‘it’s Nellie come back to see you.’
    His eyes flickered open and he gave her a weak smile. ‘Dad let you come home! I kept asking him. I didn’t give up, even when he got angry.’
    Nellie swallowed the tears. ‘’Course I’m home, I wouldn’t leave you, would I?’ She held the little boy’s hand and it was icy cold. She felt down to his feet and, though the room was stifling, they were frozen too. Her sister’s fearful look told her everything.
    ‘Stay with me now, Nellie, don’t go away again,’ the boy pleaded weakly.
    She looked at Alice, who nodded. ‘Dad’s taking it bad, Nell. I don’t think he even noticed you come in.’
    ‘I’m here, Bobby. I’m staying here.’
    And she kept her word, kneeling at the little boy’s side, hour after hour, as the window darkened and the stars came out. Periodically she got up and tried to make him drink. Alice had been dozing in the other bed, comforting Freddie, but now she got up and asked anxiously, ‘Can’t we call the doctor out, Nell?’
    She shook her head. ‘There’s no money for the doctor, Al, but everyone says the best thing is to keep putting the fluid back in them.’
    She got up to fetch Bobby another drink, but Alice caught her arm. ‘Come on, Nell, let me take a turn watching.’
    But Nellie would not leave him. With the dawn came a change. His shivering increased and his breathing became shallow. And then she felt all the strength leave her and she fell sobbing on to the bed. ‘What good’s a promise to you,’ she shouted at God, ‘if you’re going to take him anyway!’
    She must have been screaming, for her father came running up the stairs and, kneeling down beside her, gathered her into his arms.
    ‘It’s my fault, Dad, I’m so sorry. It’s the strike did it, it’s the bad milk and food. We caused it, it should be me there.’
    Her stern father’s face melted with tears. ‘You can’t blame yourself, Nell. He could have caught anything, swimming in that filthy river, and I found out they’ve been eating food from the wharf side. It’s been rotting there for days. That could’ve caused it.’
    She was stunned. She had expected blame, abuse, rage, but not this vulnerable,