Category Archives: serial

Goldie’s Journey: From Hardship to a Warm Home. (Goldie and the Beare Family Part 7)

Image by V.M.Sang using Bing Image Generator.

Picture shows a well-dressed Victorian woman with small blonde girl and a slightly older boy walking along a snowy street. A ragged man and boy watch them pass.

Goldie could not believe what was happening. This must be a dream, and soon she would wake to hunger and cold, not to mention fear of Mr Smith. 

She sat on a small stool before the fire. Warmth. Lovely warmth. Even with no clothes on, she felt warm. Warmer than she ever remembered.

This was a beautiful house. She had never been inside a house like this. It was clean, with furniture that was not broken or torn. Thick curtains that would keep out the cold. Clutching Jacob Rabbit to her naked chest, she stood and wandered to feel them. Soft. Almost as soft as Jacob.

“Is this real?” she whispered to the rabbit.

The door opened and Mrs Beare came in. 

Mamma, she said I was to call her.

“I’ve borrowed these clothes from the vicar’s wife, Emily. She has a little girl about your age. Come and let me help you to dress.”

I’m Emily again. I have my proper name back.

Mamma dressed her in what looked like expensive clothes. She had always worn clothes passed on to the poor by richer folk. They had been worn out in places, and the fabric thin.

Mamma held up a white dress. “Arms up,” she said. 

When Emily complied, she dropped the dress over the child’s head. “Now turn around so I can do up the buttons.”

When the buttons were fastened, Mamma tied a blue ribbon around her waist.

The dress was not as long as Mamma’s. It came halfway down her calves. A hint of the frill around the legs of her bloomers peeped from below.

Mamma picked up a brush and teased out the tangles from her golden hair. “I can see why they called you Goldie. And you have a soft natural curl to your hair. It will be easy to fashion.” She held Emily at arm’s length. “You are exquisite. Now let us go and eat dinner before Mrs White has a fit.”

They left the sitting room and entered the dining room. 

 Mr Beare’s eyes opened wide. “I can’t believe this is the same little girl that was asleep in Harold’s room. She’s beautiful.”

Emily smiled and cast her eyes down.

Jane had set a fourth place, and when all four were seated, Mrs White entered carrying a platter on which sat a large goose. She was followed by Jane with a tray of dishes. The pair placed their burdens on the table.

“I’m sorry about the soup, Ma’am,” Mrs White said. “There was not enough to feed you all.” She glared at Emily.

Emily felt her face heating.

“That is all right, Mrs White. It wasn’t your fault,” Mrs Beare replied.

Emily squirmed in her seat and kept her eyes down. It was her fault there was not enough soup.

Mr Beare, Papa, carved the goose and served everyone.

There were potatoes, and a sauce made from some kind of green fruit. Mamma said they were gooseberries, so called because they were served with goose. Another dish had sprouts, and yet another had carrots.

After eating all these delicious foods, Emily had never felt so full in her life. She thought of the thin gruel she had eaten at Mr Smith’s, and grimaced.

After Jane cleared the remnants and dirty crockery, Mrs White returned with a plum pudding. She placed it carefully on the table and Mrs Beare served each of them. 

When they finished eating, Harold looked at her, and took a deep breath. “It’s Christmas, Mamma. We had our presents, but Emily hasn’t had anything.”

Emily grinned. “Yes, I have. I have a new home and family. That’s the best Christmas present ever.”

“But I want to give you something.” He pulled Jacob Rabbit from under the table. “You are now my little sister. You love Jacob, and so I’ll give him to you.”

His parents smiled.

After eating, the family repaired to the sitting room, Emily clutching Jacob Rabbit to her chest. Mamma sat at the piano and played Christmas carols, to which they all joined in singing. After a while, Papa got out the dominoes and they played until Emily ‘s eyes began to close.

Jane had made up a bed for her in her very own room. As she lay, her eyes closing, she believed this was the best day ever.

*****

Mr Smith stomped around the sparse loft room. “What d’you mean, no one’s seen ’er? She can’t just disappear.”

Jack spoke quietly. “P’rhaps she ran away after you beat ’er.”

“Then she’ll be ‘idin’ somewhere.” He turned to the other children. “All of you. Go out and search. Look in every corner, every empty ‘ouse, ware’ouses; everywhere you can think of.”

A few weeks later, Jack went up to Mr Smith, cowering. “I seen Goldie.”

Mr Smith grabbed the boy. “Where? Why didn’t you bring her back?”

“Couldn’t. She were with a well-to-do lady. Dressed nice, she were. Lady were ‘oldin’ her ‘and, like she were her mother or summat.”

Mr Smith sank into his chair. “Couldn’t be ‘er. A girl what looks like her. That’s who you saw.”

Jack shook his head. “Was ‘er a’right. Saw me, she did. Shook her ‘ead at me. Rekernised me for sure.”

“Well, we’ve searched for ‘er for weeks now. We need to get back to business. There’s no money coming in while you are all out searchin’. If that were Goldie you saw, she’s lost to us.”

The End

I hope you enjoyed the story of Goldie. Please let me know what you thought in the comments.

Finding Family: The Journey of Emily the Orphan. (Goldie and the Beare Family: Part 6)

Mrs Beare looked at the child, who had cowered away at the mention of the orphanage. She frowned. “What is it, child? Surely the orphanage is better than your Mr Smith?”

“Ma said it was a bad place. When I were bad, she said she’d send me there.”

Mrs Beare put her head on one side. “So you have a mother?”

“No. She went to heaven. Annie found me and took me to Mr Smith. She said I’d be one of her girls when I’m old enough.”

Mr Beare strode into the room. “That settles it. She must go to the orphanage. We cannot allow her to become a fallen woman.”

His wife sat on the bed with an arm around the little girl. She turned to her. “What’s your name?”

“Mr Smith calls me Goldie.”

“But what did your mother call you? Can you remember?”

 Mrs Beare had to lean forward to hear the whisper.

“Emily.”

“Well, Emily, tell me what you did for Mr Smith.”

“Begged. He said I’m pretty so people’ll feel sorry for me and give me more.”

“Emily, I will not let you go to either Mr Smith, or the orphanage. I have an idea, but I need to talk to my husband about it.” She stood. “Stay here. Harold, come along with us. Bring a toy to play with, but leave Jacob with Emily.”

“But, mother…”

Mrs Beare frowned. “Don’t argue, Harold. Do as you are told.”

He handed his rabbit to Emily with a sullen look, and followed his parents. “What if she runs away with him?”

“We will be outside the room. She will not be able to leave without us seeing her. Go and take your train into the sitting room until we call you.”

Mr Beare stood, head cocked to one side. “What is it, Grace? What’s going on in that head of yours?” He laughed. “I can’t see what alternative there is to the orphanage.”

“Oh, but there is, Albert. You know how I…we…wanted more children, but none came after Harold? Remember our prayers, asking God to help us? We thought that He had decided we should have no more children.”

Mr Beare nodded.

“Well, I think He has answered our prayers after all.”

“You mean… .” He looked at the bedroom door.

His wife nodded, a smile covering her face. “Yes. Emily. I think that God has sent her to us, both in answer to our prayers and to help her, too. I think we should adopt her.”

Mr Beare frowned and shook his head. “I’m not sure, Grace. Adopting a street child? She’s a thief. She entered our house and took things.” He gazed at his wife. 

“She took an opportunity that presented itself. She only did it from fear of this Mr Smith. She’s a beggar, not a thief.”

“It’s a big risk, Grace. Suppose Mr Smith still has some influence over her?”

Mrs Beare sighed. “If she’s living here with us I do not see how Mr Smith, whoever he is, can get to her.” She held onto her husband’s arm and gazed into his eyes. “Please, Albert. You know how I long for another child, especially a little girl. And here God has provided us with one. Are you going to reject God’s gift?” She opened her eyes wide and smiled at him through her eyelashes.

“You know I can’t deny you, especially when you look at me like that.” He bent and kissed her. “I won’t reject God’s gift, either.”

If it had not been unladylike, Mrs Beare would have jumped up and down.

“You realise we’ll have a difficult job getting her civilised?”

She grinned. “Yes, but I like a challenge.”

On entering the room, Emily was huddled in a corner of the bed, holding Jacob the rabbit tightly. She stared at Mrs Beare with wide open eyes.

Mrs Beare sat next to the little girl. “How would you like to live here with us, Emily?”

Emily frowned. “You want me to be a maid here?”

“No, no. I…we want you to be our little girl. Our daughter. We want to adopt you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will live here with us. We will give you clothes and food. You will go to school. You will have toys. You will have everything our son, Harold, has. He will be your brother.”

“Not go back to Mr Smith?”

“No.”

“And have a rabbit to cuddle, like Jacob?”

“Yes. And other toys, too.”

Mr Beare entered, looking severe. “You’ll have to be good, though. No more stealing.”

Emily put her hand in her pocket and drew out the brooch she had taken from Mrs Beare’s jewellery box. 

She held them towards Mrs Beare. “Sorry. Mr Smith would beat me if I had nothing to give him.” She hung her head as tears filled her eyes.

“You will call me ‘mother’, or mamma, if you prefer, and Mr Beare you will call ‘father’ or ‘papa’. But first we must get you clean and see to those wounds.”

Mrs Beare called Jane and told her to prepare a bath. When the hot water had been poured into the metal bath set before the fire, Mrs Beare washed Emily’s hair and gently sponged her back. Her clothes she gave to Jane with instructions to wash them, and to dry them as quickly as possible before the range. She then plastered a salve on the raw switch marks.

“What are we going to dress you in? You can’t walk around naked. It is indecent.” Mrs Beare thought for a minute. “Wait here, Emily, I won’t be long.” She left the room and sought her husband.

As she crossed the hallway, Jane rushed up the stairs.

“Ma’am, Mrs White says the dinner is ready, and will be spoiling.”

“Oh, Jane, tell Mrs White I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be too much longer. Try to keep it hot, please.”

Jane dropped a curtsey and went back down the stairs. 

Mrs Beare entered the dining room. “Albert, we can’t have Christmas dinner with Emily with no clothes. The vicar has a little girl about the same size as Emily. I’m sure his wife will not mind lending us an old dress of hers.”

Mr Beare rose and tapped his pipe on the side of the fireplace, where a fire blazed. “And you want me to go and ask.”

“Yes, please. She can’t put her old clothes back. Not only are they ragged, but they were filthy, so I had Jane burn them.”

“And I suppose I’ll have to ask for some underwear, too. All right. I’ll go straight away.”

Mrs Beare reached up and kissed him on the cheek, then returned to the sitting room and Emily.

If you would like to read more of my writing, you can click on the books in the sidebar. You will be taken to a page where you can choose your favourite on-line book store.

A Child in Need: The Story Behind the Burglar (Goldie and the Beare Family Part 5)

Image created buy V.M.Sang using Bing AI Generator

“The door’s not closed.” Mr Beare frowned as he mounted the steps. He turned to his wife. “How come you didn’t close it behind you? I know you were in a hurry, but it is not like you to be so careless.”

His wife followed him into the house, pulling the hatpin from her hat and removing it. She hung it on a hatstand by the door. “Jane was behind me, Albert. She must not have pulled it closed properly.” She went to the top of the stairs leading to the basement and called the maid.

Jane curtsied from the top of the stairs. “What did you want, Mistress?”

“When you came out of the door to go to church, did you close it properly behind you?”

“Oh, Mistress, I really don’t know. I was rushing, see. I’m sorry if I left it.”

Mr Beare hung his cloak and hat on the stand. “You should be careful, Jane. There are all kinds of undesirables around these days. If someone had noticed, they would have been able to walk right in and help themselves.”

Tears trickled down Jane’s face. “I’m sorry, sir.” She curtsied again. “It won’t happen again. I’ll be extra careful in future.”

Mrs Beare placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “It’s partly my fault, Albert. I told Jane to come through the front door instead of the basement. We were late, and it would have taken her a few more minutes to go down to the kitchen and use the servant’s door.”

Mr Beare nodded and smiled at Jane. “Well, let’s forget it, shall we? Go and get changed into your uniform.”

Harold, Mr and Mrs Beare’s eight year old son came out of the sitting room.

“Mamma, someone has opened one of the sweetmeat bags.”

His parents rushed in and Harold pointed to the open bag on the roof of the Nativity scene.

Mr Beare picked it up. “Only one eaten, it seems.”

A scream came from the kitchen, followed by the sound of running feet.

“Oh, sir, I’m sorry. So sorry. Someone’s been in the house. They took a bite from a mince pie.” Jane held out the evidence. “I’m sorry for leaving the door open. Please don’t dismiss me.”

“No one is dismissing anyone,” Mrs Beare said. “So far nothing has been taken or damaged except one sweetmeat and one bite of a mince pie. Go back to the kitchen and see if anything else has happened.”

“We’d better be certain nothing else has been taken, Mary,” Mr Beare said. “First let us see if anything has been taken from down here, then we can go upstairs and check.”

It was Harold who noticed the missing spoon in the dining room.

“That’s odd. They only took one small spoon. Look at all the other silver they could have taken.” Mrs Beare drew her brows together.

As they pondered this, Jane came rushing back. She panted before she managed to speak. “They’ve drunk the soup, Ma’am. I went to heat it up, and there was only a little bit left.”

“Let’s inspect upstairs,” Mr Beare said, striding to the staircase. “Jane, go back to the kitchen and help Mrs White finish the preparations for the meal.”

Jane curtsied and left.

The family ascended the stairs. Mr and Mrs Beare went into their bedroom and Harold went into his. 

Mrs Beare inspected her jewellery box and frowned. She turned to her husband. “The moon brooch you gave me is missing, but nothing else. The burglar only took one spoon and one piece of jewellery.”  

Harold ran into their room. “Mamma, there is a girl asleep on my bed.”

Mrs Beare straightened. “A girl?”

Harold nodded. “Yes. And she’s got Jacob.”

All three went to Harold’s room. Peering through the open door, they saw Goldie fast asleep and hugging Harold’s rabbit.

Mrs Beare’s eyes softened. “But she’s so little. Is she the burglar?”

“It would seem so, my dear. She’s obviously a beggar or a vagrant. We need to notify the police.”

The little girl woke, looked at the three people in the room and leaped to her feet, throwing the rabbit to the floor.

Harold dived for his toy, shouting “Jacob!”

The girl ran for the door and tried to duck under Mr Beare’s arm, but he was too quick and managed to grab her. He wrapped both arms around her, and as he did so, she screamed again. 

“It hurts. Please, it hurts.”

“Don’t hold her so tightly, Albert.”

“I’m not. It shouldn’t hurt her.”

The girl was crying now. “Please don’t get the police. I’ll give back what I took. Just give me some money. Only a little money, or Mr Smith will beat me again.”

Mrs Beare took the child’s hand and prized her away from her husband. “But it does hurt her.” She knelt beside the weeping child. “Where does it hurt? Did Mr Smith hurt you?”

The child nodded and sniffed, rubbing her hand over her nose, spreading snot across her face.

Mrs Beare took out a handkerchief and wiped it away. “Show me where he hurt you.”

The child turned around. “My back. He hurt my back.”

Gently, Mrs Beare pulled the ragged dress away from the child’s shoulders. She drew a quick breath. There, across the child’s back were three long welts. The remains of blood traced their path. 

She turned to her husband. “This child has been brutally beaten until she bled.” She stood her fists opening and closing. “We cannot allow her to return to such a man.”

“You’re correct, dear. I’ll contact the man in charge of the orphanage. They’ll take her if I ask him. I have influence.”

Mrs Beare looked at the child, who had cowered away at the mention of the orphanage. She frowned. “What is it, child? Surely the orphanage is better than your Mr Smith?”

“Ma said it was a bad place. When I were bad, she said she’d send me there.”

Mrs Beare put her head on one side. “So you have a mother?”

“No. She died. Annie found me and took me to Mr Smith. She said I’d be one of her girls when I’m old enough.”

Mr Beare strode into the room. “That settles it. She must go to the orphanage. We cannot allow her to become a fallen woman.”

Will Goldie be sent to the orphanage she so dreads?

Finding Warmth at Christmas: (Goldie and the Beare Family part 4)

Image by V.M.Sang and Bing AI generator.

Picture shows a small ragged girl sitting in front of a fire in a Victorian sitting room. There is a Christmas tree in the window.

The next day was Christmas, so Mr Smith told them. People would be feeling generous. They would be walking the streets visiting friends and relatives after Church. “Go and make the most of it.  Beggars, look pathetic, and pickpockets, be sneaky.  Merry Christmas, and good pickings.”

As the children descended the stairs, Jack tapped Goldie on the shoulder. “Mr Smith put me on pickpocketing. Go to my old spot by the church. Should do well today.”

Goldie trudged through the snow and leaned against a wall. She thought the church looked pretty with the snow on the roof and spire. Snow coated the ancient yew trees.

She looked at the gravestones. They look as if they’re wearing white hats.

The bells began to ring, calling the worshippers to Christmas Mass. Shortly, doors opened along the street as families made their way to the church. Everyone called “Merry Christmas” to their neighbours, and children laughed in anticipation of the presents to be opened later.

No one noticed the small girl, shivering by the church wall.

The door of a house opposite the church opened. A man strode out, followed by a boy of about eight. 

The man turned back. “Hurry. We’re going to be late.”

“Just fixing my hat, dear.” A woman came out pulling on a pair of gloves. She turned back. “Hurry, Jane. You must not be late for church. Not today, on the birthday of Our Lord. Has Mrs White left already?”

A young woman rushed out pulling the door closed behind her. “Coming, Mrs Beare. Yes, Mrs White is probably already in the church. She has everything ready for dinner, so she went ahead.”

They passed Goldie without giving her a single glance. She watched them enter the church, and soon heard singing; beautiful Christmas carols.

The sky looked leaden. The wind blew the snow into little heaps in corners and at the base of walls. Goldie looked at the houses lining the street. 

I bet it is warm inside. I’d love to go into one, just for a few minutes, to get warm.

Her teeth started chattering as an extra strong gust of wind swept along the street. As she watched, the door to the house where the Beare family lived swung slightly open.

Goldie’s eyes popped. The maid must have failed to close it properly in her hurry when she left.

Could I? Should I?

Goldie sprinted across the street.  Has God done this so I can get warm? Looking around, and noticing the street was empty, the little girl slipped through the door. She pushed it so it looked closed, and gazed around.

She found herself in a narrow hallway with stairs climbing on the right. A small table stood at the bottom of the stairs with a vase containing dried flowers. 

Doors opened on the left and right. Goldie picked the left one. It opened onto a large room filled with warmth from a fire damped down behind a metal fire guard.She ran to its heat and held her hands out to it with a blissful smile. 

As the cold seeped out of her bones, she gazed around the room. Three chairs faced the fire. One had large arms and wings on either side of the back.  

That one would swallow me up.

The second chair was closer to her size, and with no wings it might be more comfortable.

Gentleman and ladies’ chairs. Too big for me.

The third chair looked like a child’s seat. Much smaller than the others, and placed right in front of the fire where she could warm her feet. She sat in it and held her feet out to the warmth of the fire.

In the window stood a large tree. The family had decorated it with wooden ornaments, all different shapes and brightly painted. She also spotted some little bags hanging from the branches. A large star decorated the top.

How pretty.

Below the  tree was a scene with little figures. There was a man and a woman gazing at a  baby lying in a crib filled with straw. At one side, three more men, one with a lamb over his shoulder, knelt before the baby. On the other side, three men carrying elaborate boxes with a camel behind them had their eyes on the baby. A donkey and cow completed the scene. 

Over the fireplace was a large mirror that someone had decorated with holly. The glossy, green leaves contrasted with the bright red berries. Branches of green rested on other surfaces and gave a sweet scent to the room. 

Goldie crept towards the tree. She longed to taste the sweets hanging there. She reached out her hand, but pulled it back. After standing there for a few minutes, she pulled a bag from the tree and opened it. Taking out one of the sweets, she popped it into her mouth. Sweetness burst over her tongue. She had never tasted anything so sweet, and she was unsure if she liked it. She spat the sweetmeat out and threw it into the fire, dropping the bag on the floor, where the other sweets tumbled out.

On the mantelpiece, a clock ticked. How long would the church service last? When she’d sat outside before, it had seemed like a very long time.

It’s only just started. I can stay here for a bit longer. Then I can go and get money when the people come out.

She gazed around the room and decided to explore the house. 

Rising, Goldie crossed the hallway and entered a room with a large table in the centre. It was set for three people with crystal wine glasses and silver cutlery. In the centre was  a bowl with holly and ivy. 

She picked up a silver spoon and popped it into her pocket. 

Mr Smith will be pleased. He might even give me extra food like he did when I got some silver coins. These people won’t miss a little spoon.

That would be worth more than she could collect by begging. 

On leaving the room, she sniffed. The enticing smell of food drew her to the stairs leading to the basement. Her stomach growled. Maybe she could find something to eat down there before going upstairs. Careful, in case there was a servant who had not gone to church, Goldie crept slowly down.

The stairs led into a kitchen with a range at one end and a scrubbed wooden table in the centre. A cupboard stood opposite the window and on it were some pies and a large cake. Goldie picked up one of the pies and bit into it. 

“Ow! That’s hot.” She placed the pie back on the plate and peered around. There on the top of the range was a copper pan with soup in it. She felt in her pocket and fished out the spoon she had taken from the dining room. Dipping it into the pan, she first blew on it, then took a sip. 

“Mmm. Delicious.” She continued eating until her stomach felt full.

Putting the spoon back in her pocket, she returned to the hall and then climbed the stairs to the landing. The first room she entered was a large bedroom overlooking the street. She peeped out of the window. No one about. They’re still in church. Good.

The bed was huge, and covered with a red counterpane. Opposite it was a dressing table. 

There was a glass tray on the top, and a pair of glass candlesticks, one on each side. A small box decorated with painted roses stood in the middle of the tray. She lifted the lid.

A brooch took her eye. It sparkled with what she thought might be diamonds and was in the shape of a crescent moon. She slipped it into her pocket. Mr Smith would be so pleased with her that he would never beat her again. 

She heard a voice in her head. Her mother’s voice. We might be poor, but we are honest. Taking things that belong to someone else is wrong.

She took the brooch out and stared at it.

Ma wasn’t goin’ to be beat if she didn’t take something. She had a job in the mill.   She put it back into her pocket

I wonder if there is anything in the next bedroom?

She made her way across the landing and into what was obviously a child’s bedroom. A small bed with a blue counterpane stood opposite the door, and on it was a fluffy rabbit with a blue bow around its neck. On a chest of drawers Goldie noticed a toy train. Blue curtains hung at the window, tied back with a blue cord.

Goldie yawned. The warmth and the soup filling her stomach made her sleepy. What a lovely rabbit. She picked it up and cuddled it. It was soft and warm. She stroked its fur, burying her face in it. The rabbit seemed to want her to cuddle it more so she sat on the bed and leaned back, holding the toy close to her chest.

Slowly her eyes closed.

I hope you are enjoying this story. Please leave your comments in the box.

If you would like to read more of my work, you can click on the book covers in the side bar and you will be taken to a page where you can choose your favourite online store.

Maybe you would like to read a poem each day next year. Follow this link to see book 1 and this one to see book 2, or click on the book cover in the sidebar.

The Struggles of Goldie: A Tale of Hunger and Survival (Goldie and the Beare Family part 3)

Image created by V.M.Sang using Bing AI image generator.

They had not eaten all day, and Goldie’s stomach growled. She crossed the room to where Annie stood with a cauldron. As she approached, Annie lifted a bowl and spooned some of the contents of the cauldron into it. She handed it, along with a spoon and a slice of bread, to Goldie.

Goldie looked into the bowl. There was what looked like a piece of fat and a few carrots floating in a greasy liquid. She sat on her mattress and spooned some into her mouth. It tasted like it looked; a greasy, watery liquid with very little sustenance. But she was very hungry, so she wiped the stale bread around the bowl and forced the meagre repast down. When she had taken the bowl back to Annie, she lay on her pallet. Still hungry, she fell asleep.

The next few weeks were the same. She went out with Jack and sat next to him on a pavement somewhere richer folk would pass. He told her that Mr Smith was very pleased with the money they were making. Soon he was going to let Goldie go out on her own. 

She shivered at that thought. Yes, Jack had taught her the things to say, how to say it and what to do, but the thought of being out there on her own made her tremble. What if she was no good at begging? She had seen enough to know that Mr Smith would make no concessions for a novice. She had been lucky so far and had not been beaten, but if she did not make enough money, she would certainly feel the switch.

She crept out on her first day. Where to go? It was not Sunday, so it was no good going to a church. The shops. Yes. She would go to the shops. Sometimes people bought food for her from one of the stalls. 

I hope Mr Smith doesn’t find out about the food. I don’t think he’d understand.

She sat on the pavement and shivered. Winter was on the way. Her clothes had become even more ragged in the weeks she had been in Mr Smith’s ‘employ’, as he called it. She was permanently hungry, and getting even thinner than she had been when she first started ‘working’. A tear formed in the corner of her eye. Her stomach rumbled. It did nothing but rumble these days.  Mr Smith and Annie gave them enough food–just. How she longed for a full stomach. Or a fullish one would be enough.

Here comes a kind-looking woman.

Goldie let a tear fall. “Missus, a coin please. I’m so very hungry.”  That’s true. “I have no home. No one to feed me. Please. Just a farthing.” She held out her hand. 

The woman walked past, drawing her skirts in as she did so.

Not kind at all.

The next three people passed with barely a glance at her.

A man threw a penny in her direction. It struck her on the arm. She rubbed it and went to pick up the penny. 

As she did so, she heard the man say to his companion, “I don’t know why these beggars are allowed where decent people live.” He glanced at Goldie. “But one has to do one’s bit. I give alms as the Church says we should.”

I bet he’s never been hungry.

The men disappeared around a corner.

A costermonger pushed his barrow along the street. He had fruit for sale.

I wonder if I have enough to buy an apple. She looked at the few pennies, halfpennies and farthings she had collected. No. I don’t want to be beaten.

That evening, after eating the thin gruel Annie provided, Mr Smith came to her mattress. She cowered. What had she done?

“I knew you would be good. Folks are sorry for a pretty little girl. That was a nice haul you got today.” He stared at her with his eyes narrowed. “You must do the same tomorrow. Make them feel extra sorry for you. Mebbe you can get some silver coins. Threepenny bits, tanners or even a shilling. You work on ’em. Here.” He handed her a bowl and spoon. “Some extra as a reward.”

Goldie stared at the gruel, then, dipping her spoon into it, she gobbled the foul stuff. 

That night she slept badly. She shivered, and not only from the cold. What would Mr Smith do if she did not get any silver coins? Would he take the switch to her?

The next day her fears were realised. It was cold, and snow began to fall. The middle classes stayed at home, except for the men rushing to work, and rushing home again. 

Goldie pulled her shawl closely around herself, but it made little difference. People were too anxious to get home out of the snow to think about the little girl on the street corner. She dragged her feet on her way home.

“You must have spent some of the money.” Mr Smith’s eyes blazed. “You can’t have only got this much.” He tipped the two pennies and one farthing onto the table.

“It snowed.” She began to cry. “Everyone hurried past.”

“Well, I don’t believe you.” Mr Smith reached for his cane. “You spent some.”

That night she felt the switch for the first time.

Swish “One.” Swish. “Two.” Swish. “Three. I’ll be lenient and stop at three, but if you spend any more of my money, you will get the full six.” He leaned the cane against the wall and left.

Sobbing, she lay on her stomach. Her back burned. She reached around and her fingers came away bloody. She had not had anything to eat. Mr Smith had refused to allow her any gruel. 

A shuffling made her turn. One of the other children, a girl of nine, crouched by Goldie’s pallet. 

She held a bowl half full of gruel. “I knew he wouldn’t feed you tonight so I saved some of my food for you.”

Goldie sat up and passed her hand over her eyes. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you giving me your food?”

“Mr Smith is a bad man. He treats us bad. But it’s better than the streets. Lots die in the cold out there. Lots get other horrid things done to them. Lots become cripples. I like you, so I give you some food.”

Goldie had not heard this girl say so much before. She had always been quiet. 

She took the bowl. “Thank you.” She put it to her mouth and drank the thin broth. Although it did not satisfy her hunger, the empty feeling went away a bit.

The Story of Goldie: A Journey Through Poverty Part 2

Artwork by me and Bing AI

“Come on.” Jack dragged her out of the door, pinching her arm as he did so.

“Ow!” Goldie shook him off as they descended the stairs. “What’ll happen to Peter?”

“Get switched. Prob’ly have a meal stopped, too. Shouldna ’ave kept money back. Mr Smith likes switchin’ ’e does. Don’t give ’im any chance to switch you. Do as ’e says, right and proper, and you’ll be a’right.” 

Goldie looked around. “What’s this place? Who lives in these rooms?”

Jack shrugged. “Mr Smith lives in one. Annie in another. The rest are Mary and her girls.”

“Mary said she wants me for one of her girls when I’m grown. What do her girls do?”

Jack paused on the stairs. “They’re whores. Know what them is?”

“I think so. A whore lived near us, before mamma died.” She sniffed and ran a hand across her face leaving a dirty smudge. “Lots and lots of men visited her. Mamma said she sold her body to them.” She screwed her face up. “I didn’t understand what she meant.”

They reached the door and Jack led her into the street. Rubbish blew past them, and the wind whipped Goldie’s hair into her eyes. A scrawny cat jumped onto a wall opposite.

Jack turned right along the street. Tall tenement blocks of houses rose on either side, cutting out the sunlight and making a corridor for the wind.

Goldie pulled her threadbare cardigan closely around her as she followed Jack along the familiar streets. As they passed one house, she paused, snuffling back tears. She turned to the boy. “I used to live there.” She pointed at the house. “We lived in a room at the back.”

“Did you have brothers an’ sisters?” Jack took her arm and pulled her away.

Goldie shook her head. “Papa went to heaven when I was very little. Mamma worked in a mill. She said I’d work there soon.” She sniffed. “I don’t want to work in a mill. Some of my friends got hurt real bad. They had to go under the machines to get bits of cotton. They call them sca…scave…scavengers.”

“Did you run away?” Jack asked.

Goldie nodded. “Mamma got poorly. She was being sick all the time and pooing. Our room smelled real bad. Then Mamma went to be with Papa in heaven.” She began to cry.

“Then Annie found me. I was very hungry and cold and she promised me somewhere to sleep and food to eat if I worked for Mr Smith.” Working for Mr Smith would be better than the mill.

Even if Mr Smith were a hard man, and it seemed he was, if she were a good girl and did as she was told, she would not get the cane.

Jack continued to lead her through the streets of the town.

Following, she found herself in a part of the town she did not know. The children sat on the ground opposite a church. 

Bells rang from the steeple calling the people to worship. 

Goldie noticed the gravestones surrounding the building. Her mother would not have the luxury of such. Goldie did not know what happened to her mother’s body. People came and took it away. 

A woman arrived to take her to the orphanage. The little girl had a fear of that place. Her mother had often threatened to send her there when she was angry.

Goldie looked around. This was where the ‘posh’ people lived.

The street was clean. Goldie looked at the houses. Most were tall with three stories above road level, and some had steps leading to a basement. Doors opened and people dressed in their best clothes flocked towards the church.

The men wore black or dark brown suits with white shirts and colourful cravats. High black hats were the height of fashion and every man sported one, removing it before entering the building.They shepherded their wives dressed in more colourful attire, although still fairly sober for church. Most of the dresses had bustles, but a few of the older women still wore the wide, hooped crinolines. Like the men, all wore hats.

They hustled their children into the church, barely looking at the two ragged children sitting opposite.

Goldie’s face fell. “What will happen if we don’t take anything back to Mr Smith? Will he switch us?”

Jack patted her on the back. “Don’t worry, Goldie. When they come out, they’ll feel they should do something for charity and then they’ll give us money. I ain’t never been here on a church day when I got nothing.”

The few passersby sniffed as they walked past, and one or two crossed the road. A couple dropped a few small coins in the children’s hats, but it was a  pitifully small amount. Then the church doors opened. The people spilled onto the road. A carriage drawn by a bay horse drew up and a family climbed inside.  The carriage trotted away.

People chattered outside the church. Goldie noticed the congregation beginning to disperse and was about to give up hope of anyone giving them alms. 

It was then that Jack stood. “Please spare a coin. Me and me sister is ’ungry. We ain’t ’ad nuffin to eat since yesterday morning.” He reached out a hand as a couple passed.

The woman searched in her bag and tossed a penny to the pair.

A little girl looked at Goldie. “Mamma, we can’t let such a pretty little girl starve. Give her something.”

The mother puckered her brow. “How do we know they will spend it on food? You know what these beggars are like.”

The girl looked shocked. “Mamma! You heard what the vicar said. ‘Jesus said when you feed one of these poor people, you are feeding me.’ And he said, ‘Suffer the little children to come unto me.’ Jesus would not have left them begging without giving them something.”

The girl’s father came up to them. “She’s right, you know.” He felt in his pocket and dropped a coin into the hat. Then he shepherded them away.

Jack looked into the hat on the floor. His eyes opened wide. “A shilling! He gave us a whole shilling!”

During the next few hours several more people gave them money, and when the daylight began to fade, they made their way back to the house where Mr Smith lived.

When he saw how much they had gathered, his face almost split with his grin. “I knew you would be good as a beggar, Goldie. Now go and get something to eat.”

I hope you are enjoying this serialisation of my story inspired by Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

I love hearing from you. Please leave your comments in the comments box.

If you would like to read some more of my writing, click on the book cover in the side bar to take you to a page where you can buy from the retailer of your choice.

Goldilocks Reimagined: A Darker Story Unfolds

I have been writing a few stories based on fairy tales. I’ve completed two. They aren’t exactly retellings, but stories inspired by them.

I thought you might like to read one of them. It’s too long for a single post, so I’m serialising it. I hope you enjoy it.

This story is inspired by the Tale of Goldilocks and the three bears.

But first, a brief reminder of the story.

You will remember that Goldilocks was walking in the forest and entered a cottage.

It belonged to three bears, mother, father and baby. She tried all their chairs, and only baby bear’s fit. She ate their porridge, but one was too hot, one too sweet and the last just right. She went upstairs and tried their beds. One too hard, one too soft and baby’s just right. Here she fell asleep.

When the bears came home, they found someone had been sitting in their chairs and eating their porridge. When they went upstairs, they found Goldilocks asleep in baby bear’s bed.

In the story, Goldilocks jumped out of the window, landed on a passing hay cart and was taken home.

Image created with Bing Image Creator

I’ve set the story inspired by this fairy tale in Victorian England.

Now read on.

The little girl woke as a loud voice called, “Come on, you lazy bunch of layabouts. Time to be working.”

She struggled to a sitting position stiff from sleeping on a thin mattress on the floor.

A lad of about twelve thrust a piece of stale bread into her hand. “Get your water from yon bucket.” He passed on to the next child.

Yesterday, a woman who called herself Annie, brought her here, but where ‘here’ was, she had no idea. Annie found her crying and shivering in the street. She had been nice to her, told her she would take her somewhere where she would have a roof over her head and something to eat.

There were five other mattresses on the floor, and children were slowly getting up from them. The boy with the bread was handing a slice to each child.

She took a bite from her slice. It was hard and tasted slightly mouldy, but she was hungry, so she swallowed it. She rose and wandered to the bucket. There were some chipped cups next to it and she dipped one to fill it, gulping the drink down.

She gazed around the room. The ceiling sloped and had wooden beams. The floor was bare wood and apart from the mattresses, there was nothing else.

The man who had shouted at the children stood next to a door. He pointed at the little girl. “You. Come here. What’s your name?”

She looked around to make sure it was her the man was talking to, then tiptoed towards him.” M-m-my n-n-na…” She burst into tears.

“Stop that.” The man scowled. “I’m Mr Smith. You will call me ‘Sir’. Got that? If you can’t tell me your name, I’ll call you Goldie. Now Goldie, how old are you? Do you know? You look about five.”

Goldie nodded.

Mr Smith looked down his long nose. “When Annie found you on the street yesterday, you were alone. Do you have any family?”

Goldie shook her head, still snuffling.

Mr Smith nodded and smiled. He looked at Goldie out of the corner of his eye. ” I’m going to help you, Goldie, and you’ll help me. You’ll get shelter and food from me, and in return you’ll work for me.”

The door opened at that moment and a woman entered. “Oh, I see you have a new child.”

She strolled up to Goldie and lifted a lock of her hair. “What a lovely colour. Like spun gold. She’ll make a good candidate as one of my girls.”

“Not until she’s much older, Mary.” Mr Smith laughed. “Undesirable as many of your clients are, I don’t think babies are on their list.”

Mary shook her head, smiling. “You’d be surprised what some of my clients want. I can supply most things, but even I draw the line at very young children.”

“Most noble of you. But you aren’t getting Goldie. She’s much too valuable to me.”

“Begging? Yes, I can see such a pretty child would make the punters feel guilty and then they’ll give more.” She gave a short laugh. “But bear me in mind when she gets old enough to join my establishment.”

“What do you want? You wouldn’t come up here for nothing.”

“Oh, I heard about your new acquisition and wanted to see if she is as pretty as rumour has it.”

Mr Smith shook his head. “Annie only found her yesterday, and already everyone knows about her.”

“Well, you know what it’s like round here. I’m off now I’ve seen her. Remember me when she’s grown up enough.” She flitted through the door, leaving Mr Smith scowling.

He turned to Goldie. “You’re to go with Jack. He’ll teach you what to do. Now get out of my sight.”

A boy of about ten with scruffy dark hair stood and came across to her. “I’m Jack.” He pulled Goldie towards the door as Mr Smith reached for a cane standing next to the bucket of water.

“Come over here, Peter,” she heard him say. He swished the cane, and it made a buzzing sound as it passed through the air. “I’ll teach you to keep money back. You need to hand over all you get.”

A snuffling boy of about eight years old dragged his feet as he walked across the room.

To be continued.

Did you enjoy this? Comments in the comments box, please.

Would you like to read more of my writing? You can buy any of my books by clicking on the cover in the side bar. It will take you to a page where you can buy from your favourite online store.

Painting The Sky #writephoto

Why didn’t Michelangelo paint the Last Supper? And what problems did he encounter when he painted the Sistine Chapel?

Find out in this hilarious story by Geoff Le Pard.

Painting By Heavens

‘Mr Angelo?”

‘Please, call me Mike. And you are?’

‘Ann Officious-Bastard.’

‘Of course. How can I help?’ Mike looked over his shoulder at the gods, some of whom were firing balls of fire at the curtains. ‘Take five, people. I need to deal with Ann. Yes, Zeus?’

‘Can I have a discomfort break?’

‘You had one an hour ago.’

‘That was a gratuitous volcano. I’ve a tsunami building pressure in my Azores and if I don’t let it go soon….’

‘Yes, alright. Just don’t lose the toga.’

Zeus exploded up and out of the ceiling in a shower of sparks and sprinkles.

Mike turned back to Ann. ‘Gods, eh? Can’t live with them, can’t… well, anyway. What can I do you for?’

If you would like to receive an exclusive, free short story by me, called The Haunted Table, simply click the link. This will take you to the page where you can download it.

Maria and Tom have bought an antique table for the old cottage they have just moved in to. When they hear strange noises in the night that sound like crying, they worry their house is haunted, but the sounds seem to come from the table.

They set about trying to find what is causing the disturbances. The answer is stranger than either of them had thought.

(Clicking the link will add your email address to my email list, but don’t worry, you can unsubscribe immediately if you wish. Nor will you get any spam. I only send out an email each quarter, or if I have any exciting news–like a new release.)

Shadow Stalker Book 3 by Renee Scattergood

shadow-stalker-cover

Things go from bad to worse when the Galvadi Empire develops a new technology to use against the shadow stalkers. Now Kado and Makari are more determined than ever to keep Auren away from their enemies, but Auren decides enough is enough and takes matters into her own hands. She turns herself over to the Galvadi to get close to Drevin and Makari has no choice but to play along. He is forced to either torture Auren to prove his loyalty or die knowing she will be tortured and enslaved anyway. Somehow they have to get close enough to Drevin to bring him down and put an end to the Galvadi’s tyranny once and for all.

Shadow Stalker Part 3 (Episodes 13 – 18) is now available for Pre-Order! It’s 50% off for a limited time, so hurry and reserve your copy!
http://reneescattergood.com/books/shadow-stalker-part-3-episodes-13-18/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Shadow-Stalker-Part-Episodes-13-ebook/dp/B01LAUV5E8/

Get The Whole Series

shadow-stalker-about-the-author

 

 

shadow-stalker-writer-1

 

Renee Scattergood lives in Australia with her husband, Nathan, and daughter, Taiya. She has always been a fan of fantasy and was inspired to become a story-teller by George Lucas, but didn’t start considering writing down her stories until she reached her late twenties. Now she enjoys writing dark fantasy, and she’d dabbling with paranormal thrillers under a pen name.

She is currently publishing her monthly Shadow Stalker serial, and she has published a prequel novella to the series called, Demon Hunt. She is also working on a new series of novels, A God’s Deception.

Aside from writing, she loves reading (fantasy, of course), watching movies with her family, and doing crafts and science experiments with her homeschooled daughter. Visit her site for more information and a free copy of Shadow Stalker Part 1 (Episodes 1 – 6): http://reneescattergood.com

 

shadow-stalker-social-media-links

Website/Blog: http://reneescattergood.com/

Renee’s Author Spotlight: http://reneesauthorspotlight.blogspot.com.au/
– A blog where I feature indie and small press authors.

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00NTJY1W2

Smashwords Author Page: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/rscatts

AuthorsDen: http://www.authorsden.com/reneescattergood

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/RScatts

BookBub Author Page: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/renee-scattergood

Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8507658.Renee_Scattergood

Renee’s Shadow Stalkers: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/16rTPYCAwDq5cpyxHfphx0-x6ka9C7DWoJsdgYa2CyAw/viewform

Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/reneescatts

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ReneeScatts

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/100671337443224225702/posts

LinkedIn: https://au.linkedin.com/pub/renee-scattergood/56/963/3

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/rscatts/

Hosted By:
Secret Realm Reviews & Services

Buy Links:

Shadow Stalker Part 3 (Episodes 13 – 18) is now available for Pre-Order! It’s 50% off for a limited time, so hurry and reserve your copy!
http://reneescattergood.com/books/shadow-stalker-part-3-episodes-13-18/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Shadow-Stalker-Part-Episodes-13-ebook/dp/B01LAUV5E8/

Another visit by Renee. this time it’s about Shadow Stalker book 2

shadow-stalker-writer-1

 

Welcome back, Renee. I’m so glad you can visit again. Tell us a bit about Shadow Stalker Book 2. I’m susre everyone will want to know what’s happening to Auren after Book 1.

About Shadow Stalker – Part 2 (Episodes 7 – 12)

Episode 7: Bound by Fate

Auren’s best friend was captured during the Galvadi invasion, and her rescue attempt goes awry. Now Auren finds herself in the hands of an enemy who knows her true identity…one who has the power to be either her destroyer or her salvation.

Episode 8: Broken

Auren doesn’t succumb to Makari’s torture, so he decides his father was right about her being the delohi-saqu. Now he resorts to more sadistic methods to extract information, which could doom the Coalition if Auren fails to resist.

Episode 9: Turning Tides

Now that Makari knows the truth about Auren, he has sworn to protect her and help her escape. But when the other guides become suspicious, Makari’s loyalty is tested, and he is forced to do something he swore he’d never do again.

Episode 10: Separate Paths

Auren finally meets Shai, Kado’s daughter, but she is too weak from her months of torture to escape the reconciliation center. Makari takes over Shai’s cleansing sessions, but that means Auren will face daily torture again. To make things worse, Makari disappears and Auren is given a task that means taking the life of someone she loves.

Episode 11: Escape Part 1

Auren and Shai begin their escape, but it doesn’t go as planned, and they are forced to adjust their plans. They are pushed to their limits, and Auren has to put her untried abilities to use or risk being recaptured.

Episode 12: Escape Part 2

Makari has decided to stay with the Galvadi for Auren’s protection. Auren and Shai are on their own, and nature seems to be against them. After being seriously injured, Auren falls ill and it starts to look like they will never reach their meeting spot with Kado on the southern shore.

Buy Links:

Want to get Shadow Stalker Part 2 (Episodes 7 – 12) free too? http://reneescattergood.com/subscribe-today/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Shadow-Stalker-Part-Episodes-Bundles-ebook/dp/B010H5Y9R2/

My Review

Book 2 lives up to all the promises of Book 1. Auren has to escape from the Galvadi, which she does with the help of the Emperor’s son, Makari. The two of them fell in love when he went to torture her.

She discovers another young shadow stalker imprisoned and the two of them, with the help of Makari, plan their escape. It does not go according to plan, however and the dangers are still around her. Makari, too, has to face dangers of his own.

As with Book 1, the story keeps the reader on the edge of his/her seat. It moves quickly and poses questions you want answered.

Auren is a well-drawn heroine. She is realistic and has her faults as well as her good points. She feels fear and anxiety, just as anyone would in those circumstances. Ms Scattergood’s characterisation of all her characters is good. Both books are well worth a read and I can’t wait for the day book 3 is released.

 

 

shadow-stalker-about-the-author

Renee Scattergood lives in Australia with her husband, Nathan, and daughter, Taiya. She has always been a fan of fantasy and was inspired to become a story-teller by George Lucas, but didn’t start considering writing down her stories until she reached her late twenties. Now she enjoys writing dark fantasy, and she’d dabbling with paranormal thrillers under a pen name.

She is currently publishing her monthly Shadow Stalker serial, and she has published a prequel novella to the series called, Demon Hunt. She is also working on a new series of novels, A God’s Deception.

Aside from writing, she loves reading (fantasy, of course), watching movies with her family, and doing crafts and science experiments with her homeschooled daughter. Visit her site for more information and a free copy of Shadow Stalker Part 1 (Episodes 1 – 6): http://reneescattergood.com

 

shadow-stalker-social-media-links

Website/Blog: http://reneescattergood.com/

Renee’s Author Spotlight: http://reneesauthorspotlight.blogspot.com.au/
– A blog where I feature indie and small press authors.

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00NTJY1W2

Smashwords Author Page: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/rscatts

AuthorsDen: http://www.authorsden.com/reneescattergood

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/RScatts

BookBub Author Page: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/renee-scattergood

Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8507658.Renee_Scattergood

Renee’s Shadow Stalkers: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/16rTPYCAwDq5cpyxHfphx0-x6ka9C7DWoJsdgYa2CyAw/viewform

Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/reneescatts

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ReneeScatts

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/100671337443224225702/posts

LinkedIn: https://au.linkedin.com/pub/renee-scattergood/56/963/3

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/rscatts/

Hosted By:
Secret Realm Reviews & Services

Thank you for visiting, Renee. I’ll see you next week for an update on Book 3, soon to be released.

There will be another visit by Renee on Tuesday 27th September when I’ll be reviewing Book 3 of the Shadow Stalker books. I won’t therefore be posting on that Tuesday as usual. I have work to do on the edited copy of The Wolf Pack my publisher has sent me. Look for my next post the following Tuesday, October 4th, when, as it’s the first Tuesday of October. I’ll be posting the next episode in Asphodel’s story.