Running from family

Chapter One
On the Run1

The day had finally come to a close and blackness had swallowed the street. On the corner of the pavement stood a tall, figure, waiting and gazing up at the moon. Autumn leaves swirled around his feet and a stray dead maple leaf fell onto the brim of his bottle green bowler hat, he flicked it away impatiently and continued to gaze up at the moon, occasionally checking up and down the street for the man he had arranged to meet but who was late.
One could tell this man did not like waiting by the impatient way he cracked his knuckles behind his back and took off his bowler hat to run a hand through his dark, slick hair.
Behind him, barely noticeable in the gloom, stood a small, dark-skinned girl in grubby rags that were once distinguishable as light blue. She had deep gashes across her face and arms and she looked tired, unhealthy and worn. This poor child was a slave to the man with the bowler hat.
Finally, a light came round the corner, bobbing up and down in the darkness as a short, fat man limped towards the waiting man. The man with the bottle green bowler hat stepped out to block the newcomer’s way and as he stepped into the light of the lantern the little man gave a start, ‘Blimey! You nearly shocked me ou’ o’ me skin Mr. Fletcher, sir!’ He said, clutching a hand to his heart.
‘Put that blasted light out, you idiot!’ hissed Mr. Fletcher, through his teeth.
‘Oh-Oh righ’ you are righ’ you are’ the smaller man licked his fingers and pinched the flame in the lantern, almost immediately, but not before it was out, he pulled out his hand and shook it out like it was soaked, wincing in pain at the heat. Mr. Fletcher rolled his eyes and set off at a stroll up the street. His slave and the little man followed obediently.
‘What news do you bring me, Fowler?’ Asked Mr. Fletcher, getting straight to the point; He was not a man who enjoyed small talk. Also, I must add that Fowler being his second name, Mr. Fletcher’s humble assistant (the small, nervous man walking along side him now) is truly named Benjamin Fowler, only Mr. Fletcher, being the unpleasant man he is, called poor Benjamin simply, Fowler. As you can imagine this is not a particularly pleasant name to keep as it gives others the impression of a foul stink. Insulting Benjamin, however, was not one of Mr. Fletcher’s deepest worries.
‘I-I ‘ave contacted the local press sir, an’ several ‘thers all ‘ver London, I will see ‘o it your daughters are -' But whatever he was going to say was choked in his throat quite suddenly as Mr. Fletcher swung round and clamped a hand over Fowler’s grubby neck and thrust him back against the brick wall they had just been passing.
‘Those girls’ He spat on the floor ‘Are ... no ... relation ... to me’ He hissed through gritted teeth, right in Fowler’s disgustingly grimy face, which was steadily turning purple. ‘Understand?’ Mr. Fletcher said, slightly louder, his voice thick with threat. Since Fowler was slowly turning blue and found that he couldn’t find the breath to consent he nodded as hard as he could for a man under his circumstances. ‘Good’ Mr. Fletcher said curtly and released Fowler, who slid down the wall and slumped onto the ground, gasping in huge gulps of air.
But Mr. Fletcher simply continued to walk up the street, with his cloak billowing out behind him, like he had not just attempted to strangle a man. Fowler recovered himself and ran on to catch with him, Mr. Fletcher’s slave following suit, she looked terrified but not shocked, as if she had seen this all before.
‘Fowler, I will need you to put Mr. Frank LaMayo up to top job in finding the girls. Once we have found them, which we will, if they have found any kind of safe keeping he will be the one to lure them away from the safety and bring them straight to me. Tell him I am intending to buy him a slave for his trouble’ throughout this short speech, especially towards the end, Mr. Fletcher’s slave was sure to keep any look of disgust off her face. Fowler was now writing hurriedly on a little pocket notebook and nodding frequently.
‘Now go Fowler. And don’t let me smell your foul stench again until you have good news.’ At this Fowler did a half salute half nod and ended up poking himself in the eye. He let out a yell of sudden pain. ‘Fowler! Do you want to get us over heard or caught!? Now go I say, go!’
Fowler ran off, banging into a tree as he fled, shaking out his hair and flung himself round the corner and out of sight, by which time Mr. Fletcher and his slave had already disappeared into the night.
If only the two men knew they were so very close to one of their three desired captives, for, crouched behind a tree on the opposite side of the road, Evangeline Fletcher was listening intently to every word the two men had spoken. And she was shaken by it. A huge gust of icy wind caught Evangeline’s caramel blonde hair, whipping it round her face. She shivered, delicately and stood up, her gray flecked eyes scanned the street for any sign of anyone watching before she bolted up the road with the distinct, lingering feeling of being watched.
As she ran through the night, anyone who might have seen her could easily have thought her a ghost from the moonlight shined down on her and reflected off her faded rose coloured dress in strange ways. Every few seconds she glanced over her shoulder for the lean, tall figure of her father or perhaps a short limping Fowler but no such person appeared out of the darkness. She ran through the night alone. She ran straight to ‘Pippins’ Lane and up the first path on the right, to the house with a shiny red door and golden knocker.
At the third knock the door swung open and in the door frame, surrounded by bright candle light was Evangeline’s sister Violet. Violet was as dark as her sister was fair, she had dark auburn coloured hair down to her shoulders that was straight and prim while Evangeline’s was filled with a variety of curls from ringlets to waves that fell down to her elbows. Violet had big blue eyes that were, at that moment, shining with tears. She pulled Evangeline into a crushing hug and sobbed onto her shoulder.
‘You p-promised you would o-only be g-gone a-an hour’ she stammered through her tears holding Evangeline, still closer and sobbing harder than ever. Evangeline returned her sister’s hug and laid a hand on her sister’s hair to sooth her.
‘Shh...Shh...I’ll explain inside but, come on lets get out of this cold before some one sees us’ Evangeline pulled her sister who was still clinging onto her like a life raft into the warm house. She untangled herself from Violet, keeping her hand, and led her into the living room where she sat her down on a chair beside the roaring fire. Evangeline sat on the rug by the fire and re-told what she had seen and heard from their father and Fowler.
Almost the moment she had finished, Mrs. Jenkins walked into the room and gave a start when she saw Evangeline, nearly dropping her tray of rock cakes.
She shoved the tray into Violet’s arms and ran to hug Evangeline,
‘Oh, sweet pea, why were you gone for so long, I was so worried about you and what your mother would say if I lost you!’ She pulled back to look at Evangeline at arms length. Evangeline’s freckled face was sprinkled with mud and her dress was torn in places.
‘Oh dear, you look like you have been pulled through a hedge backwards! What ever have you been doing?’
Evangeline opened her mouth to speak but Mrs. Jenkins held up her hand to silence her
‘on second thoughts, I don’t want to know! Lily is upstairs resting, the tired little thing’
Mrs. Jenkins flopped down onto an empty arm chair and took a rock cake from the tray Violet had now placed on the floor and began to munch on it silently thinking to herself. Mrs. Jenkins was a rosy cheeked, plump little woman with one six year old girl and a newborn baby the same age as Lily. She was serving as Lily’s wet nurse as Lily’s own mother couldn’t do it and Mrs. Jenkins was already producing milk for her new born baby son, Bobby.
As she sat there by the fire Evangeline thought of the night she and Violet had forced their company upon poor Mrs. Jenkins and this whole mess had begun, not three days ago on the day of Lily’s birth...32


‘Honestly Evangeline, you worry too much, your going to go eternally grey!’ laughed Camilla; however her tinkling laugh was silenced by mother’s scream of pain from the next room. Each of the Fletcher daughters winced in unison at the terrible sound of their mother in labour, even little Elizabeth who, at two, didn’t really understand what was going on. Violet squeezed both Victoria and Elizabeth’s hands as a sign of comfort but it didn’t do much good.
Finally, after nine terrible hours of the maid ran into the drawing room, where the sister’s sat and announced the baby had been born. But before any of the girls could so much as shout in celebration, their father, Mr. Fletcher burst into the room, dragging his wife by her fore arm and carrying a small child in his free arm.
‘This is Marie all over again!’ he shrieked at his wife throwing her on to the ground at his feet. All the girls gasped; it was not only the way in which he was throwing around their mother but the fact that they were never, ever, aloud to speak of Marie who had attempted to elope when she was eighteen. Mr. Fletcher had found her and her husband who fled and her sisters never saw her again. That was nearly eight months ago and it had brought great shame to the family.
‘You disgrace me with your children, Mary! You are clearly incapable of giving me a son, a noble heir, and I won’t stand for it any longer’ He turned to Evangeline who cowered slightly away from him, he addressed her;
‘If your mother neglects to give me a son then you will, in the morning I am going to find you a man and you will marry him. You will give me a son, and I will say it is mine. But we will never speak of this wretched girl again’ He drew back his hand to strike the baby in his arms. But, without fully knowing what she was doing Evangeline yelled ‘NO!’ and ran forward, staying his arm.
She and her father gazed into each others eyes in shock and horror at her disobedience for a few heart stopping moments then,
‘No’ she whispered again in a small voice, still holding onto his arm but applying no pressure.
‘How dare you!’ He hissed in her face, spitting with rage, but she dared not wipe it off. He shoved her to the ground with the elbow she was holding and dropped the baby carelessly onto her lap like a handkerchief. Luckily, he had insisted earlier that day that all his daughters wore their best clothing to honour his soon to be born son, so Evangeline’s many skirts offered a substantial cushion for the little baby.
‘Tomorrow morning I will call for Mr. LaMayo, a good friend of mine, to come to the house to meet his future bride. You will be wed with in the month. No objections. Now get out of my sight and never disobey me again or so help me you will go the same way as Marie’ everyone in the room, save for Mr. Fletcher, gasped but he turned on his heal and strode from the room, still shaking with rage. No one spoke until the front door slammed. Then Mary Fletcher ran to Evangeline and hugged her close.
‘You must run’ she whispered simply, into Evangeline’s hair, ‘Run with Lily, that’s the baby’s name’ she added hastily The moment she is old enough not to need mother’s milk then you must get as far away from here as you can. You can write to your Auntie Helen if you like. But until then you can live with Miranda Jenkins who I know has just had a baby boy and will be able to feed Lily. I know she will take you in; she owes me a huge favour. If you stay here your father will surely kill Lily and you will be forced to a life of unhappiness. I know you will, your father always keeps his word. I will not let you have the same fate I had’ she said determinedly taking Evangeline’s face in her hands ‘I would go with you and Lily myself only I am weak and ill. I must stay here to protect your sisters. You must leave at once’ After this little speech she stood, bringing Evangeline and Lily up with her, ‘I will pack Lily’s things and you must go and pack yours’ She said and began to lead a still shocked and silent Evangeline from the room.
‘Wait!’ called Violet catching up with them down the hall ‘I want to go with her. Please, I can help her take care of Lily!’ she said looking deep into her mother’s eyes. Mary stood there in the hall looking between her two children, tears sprang in her eyes as she realised the logic in this plan and finally she nodded, not trusting herself to speak and bustled off up the hall to fetch Lily’s things. Poor Mrs. Fletcher, she had already lost one child and now she was to loose three in one night. But she knew she had to be brave. Brave for her children leaving and brave for her children remaining who were sitting on the chair in the drawing room still unable to speak…3

‘Rock-cake, dear?’ Mrs. Jenkins asked, shoving the tray under Evangeline’s nose. Evangeline forced a smile and took one, ‘Sure’ she said while carefully hiding it under her skirt; she had had enough experience with Mrs. Jenkins’ cooking in three days to last a life time!
Soon Violet was snoring in her chair; Mrs. Jenkins went to fetch a blanket rather than waking her up. At some point while she was away Evangeline followed Violet’s lead and drifted off into sleep.
*
When Evangeline woke she kept her eyes tightly shut. She had been having the most wonderful dream after such a long restless night. She was dreaming that she was at home, comfortable in her huge bed (well, it was a little bigger in her dream than it was in reality!), the sun coming through the windows was playing on her face keeping her warm and her mother was shaking her gently awake.
Evangeline snapped her eyes open in sudden hope but her searching eyes only found Mrs. Jenkins, standing over her and shaking her shoulder.
Some of the fire, left over from last night, was still simmering in the hearth; this was what had been warming her features. ‘Breakfast, dear’ said Mrs. Jenkins gently and she scurried from the room, leaving behind only the smell of lavender and eggs. Violet’s chair was empty, so she was obviously already awake and breaking her fast, as it were.
I think I’ll just rest a little longer, thought Evangeline but her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, unmistakable wail from the kitchen. Evangeline leapt from her chair like her backside had been stung by a bee, flung off the blanket that had been wrapped, tightly around her and ran into the kitchen. She caught up a wailing Lily in her arms and started to examine her carefully.
‘What is it? Is she hurt? What does she want?’ she demanded from Mrs. Jenkins, who was fumbling over a stove of eggs. When she turned around to face Evangeline she gave a start,
‘Oh, my dear’ she said ‘You look such a mess! Go upstairs and wash and change, I will tend to Lily, she’s just hungry is all. I have washed and ironed your blue dress and left it on your bed for you. You’ll be wanting a nice hot shower too’ she mused, looking pointedly at Evangeline’s mud streaked face and tattered hair.
Evangeline fingered her face and hair self-consciously and put down Lily, back in her cot/basket (a straw basket was the best Mrs. Jenkins could spare for a cot at the time) before rushing upstairs to wash and change. The hot water undid knots in her back and she scrubbed at her hair until it was shinny and caramel blonde again. Once it was dried it bounced back into its irregular curls. She pulled the nice and clean, cornflower blue dress on and made her way downstairs again to treat her aching stomach to some bacon and eggs, that it so longed for.
‘There, dear’ said Mrs. Jenkins, smiling as she walked in ‘You look so much better. Like a whole new Evangeline Fletcher!’ She tipped a generous portion of eggs on to Evangeline’s plate. Violet was already seated at the table in a lilac dress (ironically, purple was her favourite colour!) and a light yellow, cotton shawl. She nodded and smiled at Evangeline in greeting.
A small thud sounded from the front door, announcing the paper and mail had arrived. Mrs. Jenkins went to fetch it. While she was away, Violet leaned over to Evangeline,
‘What do you think she’ll say about us maybe going to live with Aunt Jean?’ she whispered.
‘I don’t know but make sure you don’t mention anything until Aunt Jean’s letter comes back’ replied Evangeline in an equally hushed voice. They both leaned back again as Mrs. Jenkins entered the room. Last night, when Evangeline had been eavesdropping on her father and Fowler, she had been sending a letter to Aunt Jean, asking if her, Violet and lily could come and stay with her. They hadn’t told Mrs. Jenkins yet for fear of hurting her feelings as they were so easily hurt and she didn’t know that the reason for all these precautions were so serious as they hadn’t told her and even if they had wanted to, she wouldn’t let them. But both Violet and Evangeline had a feeling that Mrs. Jenkins curiosity was starting to win over her good intentions and that soon she would start asking questions.
Mrs. Jenkins bustled into the room with the morning’s paper in one hand and some letters in the other. At the same time, Violet and Evangeline looked up at each other as if thinking the same thing. They were both remembering what Fowler had said about all the local newspapers being told of their disappearance.
But before either of them could make a grab for the paper Mrs. Jenkins, humming tunelessly to herself, got there first and gave out a shriek when she saw the front page, dropping the paper with a smack on the table.