Tag Archives: Goldie and the Beare Family

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

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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

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serial, short story, stories

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

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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.

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christmas, serial, stories

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

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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.

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The Story of Goldie: A Journey Through Poverty Part 2

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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.

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