Chapter 2 - Hard Life at the Orphanage

It was a starry, bright sky, unexpected to see in central London. We all know there are billions of stars on the stellar sky ... but that night they seemed to be at least twice as many. There was almost no need for street lamps or moonlight. The moon looked like a big carriage lazing in the sky trying to throw her weight around the little stars.

It was so nice outside, even though it was so cold, that anyone lying on the roof of the orphanage “Angel’s hand”, did not regret that light show in the sky.

“It's wonderful ...” the silence was broken by a crystalline voice of a little girl. It was Elizabeth Catherine Edwards, who was to celebrate the fine and wonderful age of nine.

Yet, her face could not be seen, because it was completely covered just like a Bedouin’s in the desert, covered in thick, old blankets from head to toe because of the biting cold outside.

“Yes ... and you didn't want to come up here. It's cold…. Very cold, you were crying like a kitten”, another voice came from a pile of blankets. That pile with the same kind of shabby blankets lay on the old roof. The girl sat on her back gazing at the multitude of luminous constellations scattered about the lurid sky.

The other girl, Elizabeth's best friend, was Dorothy Miller. Dorothy's appearance couldn’t be distinguished either, but one could see, even with the multitude of blankets she was covered with and hid her, that she was a chubbier girl than Elizabeth.

Dorothy was eleven years old, and besides being like a sister to Elizabeth, she was the one who took care of Elizabeth since the first day they met.

They became best friends the moment they saw each other, the day when Elizabeth was brought to the orphanage. Dorothy gladly welcomed Elizabeth into her bed, when no one wanted to have the bed anyway too small, seized by a weak and sickly little girl.

And since then, the two girls did everything together. They slept together, ate together, and did together even the daily chores that the orphanage's management forced the children to do, to get used to the hard life, they said. The two girls were inseparable.

When Dorothy suffered from a mild form of pneumonia, which could have unwanted consequences, it was Elizabeth who took care of her ... Not the intendants, not Miss Blackwood, whom nobody liked, but Elizabeth Edwards.

She was the one who tried to lower her fever with wipes rubbed with snow from outside, brought in as many times as it was necessary although it was freezing cold. She often went out barefoot having no time to put on shoes, for Dorothy was like a burning furnace. Poor darling, she used to come back with hands and feet numb from the bitter cold outside, but she did not complain. When she saw Dorothy opened her eyes and smiled, she forgot about the frost she had to go through. She got warm ... from her pure, kind heart to those around her and went out again to bring the snow so necessary to lower Dorothy's fever.

One day Elizabeth had her ankle twisted and no one cared about her except Dorothy. On the contrary, Mrs. Blackwood was glad she was right again with her words, when she kept telling her that she would break her leg one day if she went on jumping like a little goat and so it happened.

Dorothy was the one who assisted Elizabeth. For four days Dorothy struggled until the poor luckless blonde girl managed to walk again on her own. She used to join her absolutely everywhere, being tied up as sisters are.

Despite all, now the girls felt good, healthy, they spent time on the roof gazing at the mass of stars, competing in imagining interesting creatures up there.

“Here's a pony”, said one of them.

It was Dorothy pointing at a constellation.

“It's more like a ... I think it's Capricorn's constellation,” Elizabeth replied.

Suddenly there appeared a small pony, made of a little balloon taken out of a toy circle with unicorn shape. On top of that, it was also lit up, as if that constellation from heaven came down and took life in that pony just created.

The bright unicorn hopped for a while around the girls highlighting the roof after which it broke leaving behind only dimness and some splashes of water.

The two girls looked at each other.

“You did something again...” Elizabeth looked at Dorothy, inquiring.

Dorothy was just as curious. It was not the first time when such mysterious things happened. Around them, when they were together, such unusual things kept happening all the time. Still, the two were just as puzzled now. And as usual, they blamed each other, unaware which of them made appear ... that stuff.

Of course, then, as they did each time something curious happened, they looked carefully around to be sure there wasn’t someone else to follow them and make these shapes.

“It was you for sure, this time I didn't really do anything. Look, I held my blanket,” Dorothy apologized, after making sure there was no one around them.

Elizabeth looked into the bedroom and tried to scare Dorothy:

“Maybe it was Miss Blackwood ... I think I saw her at the window too,” she smiled, letting the other realize it was just a joke.

“If it were Miss Blackwood, some horrible little monsters would surely appear. Some of them would be so ugly to make your heart crack with shock, but no more hideous than she is...,” Dorothy replied.

“Still, I don’t know other witch except her.”

“It's not her ... I'm sure she's sleeping now,” said the other. “She’s tired all the time, probably because she is almost one hundred and five decades old,” the plump girl joked.

Then she yawned widely, ready to swallow the moon at that moment.

“Clark Brown said she might be two hundred,” Elizabeth went on.

Hearing these words Dorothy became serious.

“You know very well there is no such thing. There is no being to lives more than 100 years.”

“Yes, turtles ... some of them.”

“Anyway ...” Dorothy became snippy. “Miss Blackwood, whether she is or not two hundred years old, she’s snoring loudly now. Which we should do as well…let’s go to bed. Tomorrow is our day to clear the floors ...”

The girls stood up and dressed up as mummies in those blankets, went down into the attic bedroom. The window made a terrible creaking noise, like a train that had to brake urgently, when Miss Edwards opened it.

“Do you want the witch to come?” Dorothy frowned whispering.

The two girls came down to the room that was too crowded.

Without turning on the light, Dorothy closed the window more carefully than it was opened, very slowly, then she removed the thick woollen blankets and lay down to sleep.

The other girl did the same. The bed, although not very large, was more than enough for the two girls.

“Good night.”

“Sleep well.”

The two girls closed their eyes and started dreaming divinely, as they smiled in their sleep.

It was not easy to smile in there. All you had to do as a child was to grow to become and adult as soon as possible to face hardships of life before time. Moreover ... getting to do what a child their age should never do.

The girls fell fast asleep because they were exhausted. While they were falling asleep, in the corridor of the orphanage, near the door where they slept with the other seven girls, there was a silhouette walking.

It was the shadow of the person who followed the two girls as they were lying on the roof of the orphanage lost in their thoughts of the constellations.

A shadow projected by a body covered with a black cape, under which only the ends of a dress could be seen and under the hood of which a large, snub nose, full of warts stuck out.

The person hiding under that cape so that no one could discover who she was started to move down that narrow corridor. Two people next to each other could hardly be able to go through.

That person stopped softly at every door, listening to check if there was any noise from the rooms where the children slept.

She lingered some more time by the door of the bedroom where Elizabeth and Dorothy slept. As she did not hear anything, she opened the door very slowly, as it used to make strange noises when opened and stuck her odious and monstrous nose into the room, as if she sniffed around.

The truth is that eyes couldn’t help anyway, considering how deep the darkness was in that room. Anyway, that person's eyes followed the direction of the nose ... targeting the two girls’ bed, Elizabeth and Dorothy, as if she could see them in the dark.

Brrr ... chill would creep into anyone’s spine just thinking they are in bed and someone is at the door or is creeping into the room.

Even adults could get scared, needless to speak about children. Besides, that person knew very well where the girls slept ... she looked straight at them and what is more, she snuffled that area.

Luckily all the kids slept and they didn't see that there was anyone in the room. Fortunately, after a few moments the odd person left the room, closed the door and left further.

Without caring for the other doors on the corridor, the walking cape with stub nose got to the end of the corridor, after which she climbed down the stairs very softly, as if floating on the steps.

…

In the corridors of the orphanage “Angel’s hand” there was a lot of fuss and noise, as it was in a beehive.

Although it was a small orphanage, with hardly any room for 25 children, there were actually over 50 little angels living here.

Plus Miss Blackwood and a janitor who should provide the security of the area. As you can see he was not quite effective, considering that anyone could walk in the middle of the night in this orphanage, as it happened the night before.

There was also a very nice cook, whom the children especially liked when she offered them a little dessert, for example the popular Sunday donuts, not too sweet, but they were a delicacy for these children. One could say the cook was the only person that some of the children liked.

And of course there was also Aaron Harp, the director of this orphanage.

The orphanage building had dark corridors and sloping walls, with ragged cloths stuffed in the broken windows to prevent the cold, with little effect, with old blankets mended too many times. Perhaps they were mended by the children who slept under them, because it was done in a clumsy way.

But even so ... it was a place called home by all those children abandoned by parents forever, left to chance.

If one looked into these children’s eyes in the morning, eyes which showed no sign of joy, one could realize that days in this orphanage were not quite pleasant.

Howbeit ... it was much better than outside, where you could lose your life in a moment or worse, to struggle to survive all alone.

And they all knew it ... especially the two little girls who were different from the other tired, sad children.

One of them was ten now, with blond hair, frail and dressed in some old clothes, she outgrew.

The other was dressed in the same way, but in dark-coloured clothes, still slightly plump, but extremely nice.

The little blonde was Elizabeth. The other girl had got darker eyes and hair almost the same as Elizabeth’s. Even her skin was quite similar to Elizabeth’s. She was Dorothy, almost a head taller than Elizabeth. If you didn't know they came from different places and from different families, you could swear they were sisters.

Both girls swept the stairs to the bedrooms.

“Beth, do you want to climb the roof again tonight? To look at the stars. They’re so beautiful ...”

“Sure, Dorothy. I just hope it won’t rain as it happened last week,” the girl said squeezing out a smile.

The two girls looked at each other and started laughing. Even though they had problems with the rain the week before, ending up soaked like two cats fallen in a wash basin, the two girls laughed out loud when they remembered that day.

“Do you remember Miss Blackwood yelling at us when she found us so wet ... how she ran after us with that rod in her hand?”

“She managed to hit my leg. Look, I still have the blue mark,” Dorothy showed Beth.

“She didn't hit me. Though, she could do it ...”

Dorothy looked at her friend. She smiled at her dearly, but also sighed.

“Miss Blackwood beat me quite often. Still, she never beat you ... Maybe because I'm older than you,” Dorothy smiled without much conviction, standing on tiptoe to look taller.

Withal, she quickly stepped normally again and began to sweep the floor, but only for a moment. She paused and leaned into the sweep like a Templar leaning on his sword, displaying a lofty posture as if she won an important battle.

“I could understand that. However, I will never understand how Miss Blackwood manages to find you all the time. She looks like spying you. As if she had an invisible string tied to you and her hand, and all she has to do is look for the other end to find you.

Elizabeth shrugged. She didn't know what to say. Though, in the end, she said, whispering to Dorothy:

“Maybe she's an evil witch ... and she looks at her crystal globe all the time after me. I heard her bite is poisonous like that of the most venomous snake in the world. And that thin rod she uses to beat children, is actually her fingernail from the little finger that she let grow ... she never cut it and her touch is just as venomous as her bite,” Elizabeth concluded laughing.

“Clark told you this nonsense. You know there is no such thing. We are old enough not to believe that.”

Dorothy thought a little, then continued quite frightened by the girl's words:

“If it were poisonous, something should happen to me so far as she keeps beating me pretty often ...”

Elizabeth laughed when she saw her friend’s fearful look.

“Clark told me this. I found it interesting and I wanted to share it with you. You almost believed me,” the girl smiled working hard to sweep the floor.

“That’s not true.”

The girls giggled together, enjoying each other as if they were not two orphaned children, but two happy sisters.

“Miss Blackwood is coming!” yelled a small boy, as thin as a stick.

Suddenly, the corridors of the orphanage were filled with children, who would become like little worker bees when the queen bee came to visit.

Some of the children wiped the floor with some damp cloth where Dorothy and Elizabeth just swept the area. Other children made their beds again – they do it several times a day to prevent being reprimanded for not doing anything and others organized things that were already organized, but in a more orderly manner this time.

The two girls continued to sweep the floor in the bedroom where they just entered so enthusiastically that when Miss Blackwood came to them, even she smiled at the image she saw.

Miss Blackood was a weak, wrinkled old lady, with white hair in a bun. Her face looked dark not because of the age but because she was always frowning. The old lady used mostly one leg, limping. Watching her better one could recognize that stub nose, full of warts.

The little smile disappeared instantly.

The two girls also quit smiling. They felt it was too strange to see Miss Blackwood smiling like this. A smile that old hag would put on her face only at a kid’s death. Yet, something almost as serious was about to happen.

“Dorothy Miller, Mr. Harp is waiting for you. Looks like you're leaving us today ...”

Mrs. Blackwood smiled again, but she hid something for sure. The hideous old lady was satisfied and did not try to hide that feeling. She was extremely happy to finally separate Dorothy and Elizabeth. The old woman was countless times disturbed by the fact that the two were together everywhere, as if this seemed to be against the natural.

“But ... Beth,” Dorothy was trying to say.

Miss Blackwood, though, grabbed Dorothy’s arm almost dislocating it, pulled the girl close to her, dragging her to Mr. Harp’s office, the orphanage director.

In vain did Dorothy cry and resist, Miss Blackwood would not let her go. She watched Elizabeth Catherine Edwards crying for her best friend and looking helpless, an image that made the old woman smile even happier.

“Little lazy beasts! Clean it up!” the witch yelled at the children.

And those little kids went on doing what they did every day, working for the slight advantage of sleeping under a roof, in small, cramped little rooms, smelling of wet and mouldy wood, which was sometimes even colder than outside.

Elizabeth left the room and ran to the bedroom where her old, shabby bed was. She jumped into it and kept crying for her sister Dorothy, the only one who took care of her in the years spent at the orphanage ... until this day. The day that became almost as sad as the one when her parents died ...

This day was also sorrowful because a close and wonderful friendship faded.

Even if the two girls swore to remain friends no matter what happened, it was almost impossible to keep a friendship when the other one completely disappeared from your life, unaware where and with whom she left.

Elizabeth Catherine Edwards knew this ... and couldn't stop crying for this reason…

“Take care of her,” Miss Blackwood tried to show exaggerated care for Dorothy. “We will miss her...”

But Mr. Gangsley, yes, that Mr. Gangsley from Scotland Yard, just a few years older, felt the charade and raised his eyebrow slightly.

The woman, whom anyone could feel at first sight as sly as a fox, maybe even worse, even shed a few tears.

“Thank you,” Mr. Gangsley shook her hand, though. “Thank you very much. Even if I can't offer everything to Beth, I'll do my best to offer her what she needs. A quiet home and a life as decent as ... possible. For so long I tried to find this little orphan and offer her what I set myself to do ... what I promised myself and her when I let her go to this orphanage.”

The woman who only two moments ago cried with fat crocodile tears, smiled softly:

“I'm sure you will offer her a much better life than here. I'm sure it will be better for her. Although we will miss her a lot.”

The modestly dressed, but clean, gentleman greeted Miss Blackwood with a smile and marched to the carriage where Dorothy Miller was helped by the coachman to get on. The little girl was now in the carriage crying heartbreakingly - she lost a sister for some strangers.

“Mr. Wangsley!” Miss Blackwood yelled at the officer, just before he got on the old carriage.

“Gangsley ... Gangsley Taylor.”

“Mr. Gangsley, you know we used to call her Dorothy. There are other girls named Elizabeth. For ... not our Beth ... you know her, her safety. In case who killed her parents ...”

“Of course,” said Officer Gangsley. “Of course…”

“I wish you a happy life. I also wish her a happy life.”

Mr. Gangsley said nothing to Miss Blackwood, just got on the carriage.

“Let's go!” he yelled at the coachman, who almost fell asleep on his seat in the shabby old carriage.

The carriage began to move creaking all over, as if it started on its last road.

After a few moments, Gangsley continued:

“What a sly fox ...”

Still, as he saw Dorothy didn’t cry and looked at him, he apologized as a gentleman would do:

“I apologize for speaking like that ... Please excuse me.”

He looked calmly and softly at the girl.

“My dear Elizabeth ...”

“Dorothy,” the girl interrupted him.

Gangsley cleaned his throat.

“My dear, Dorothy. I will be your father from now on. And your future mother can’t wait to meet you. She’ll definitely be happy to see you. She’s a very generous and gentle woman ...”

The girl was cool as a cucumber, but she stopped crying. She knew it would be better where she went without Miss Blackwood and she’d have her parents. However… she’d painfully miss her friend, Beth.

“I want to tell you I took some things from your parents a few years ago at your home. When I found you ...”

Dorothy couldn't say anything. She just thought ... the fact that this neatly dressed gentleman knew her past made her dream. Finally, someone knew something about her and her family. Maybe even ... who knows ... maybe that gentleman was someone in the family. Even a farther uncle would be fine. Who knows? Maybe if she tells him about Beth, she'll take her home too. It may take a few weeks or months, but even so, if she her Beth could be together again, it was worth waiting.

“I hope Elizabeth will resist,” the girl tried to back up herself.

“Did you say something?” her new father asked.

“Nope.”

Dorothy gave up the idea of being sad. She even smiled at Mr. Gangsley.

When he saw the smile, the officer couldn’t help rejoicing. Finally, he could see a sign of acceptance. He was not very used to children. His wife and he were not blessed with their own kids but he knew that smile was a good sign.

What he didn't know was that he was lied to shamelessly by Miss Blackwood. The girl he took out of the orphanage to bring her up wasn't that little girl who lost her parents more than 7 years ago. This girl was Dorothy Miller, not Elizabeth Catherine Edwards.

…

Some girls, about thirteen years old, gathered in a bedroom by one bed, although time to sleep was announced by Miss Blackwood’s yells and screams more than fifteen minutes ago.

The children gathered around Elizabeth's bed. The bed where she would sleep for the first time without Dorothy, her best friend.

The blonde girl, unable to sleep, kept herself busy with a thing she used to do most of the time when she felt restless.

She organized some stuff in that bed. There was a narrow, pinched pot on the bed, its upper part being covered with a canvas that had some small figures cut into it. The bottom of that old and parched pot was completely missing, and on one side it had a bigger crack. At the bottom the pot had a piece of a blurred and broken mirror, with the mirror facing the upper part. There were some more pieces of mirror on the windowsill and on a small almost damaged nightstand. The one on the cold sill faced the dusty window, and the one on the nightstand faced the broken pot.

Elizabeth walked around the room gingerly. She had two more pieces of broken mirror the size of the palm in her hand. Beth moved around the room still spinning those little pieces of the mirror.

At one point, the moonlight reflected by that mirror toward a closet, triggered excitement among the children as it spread into the dark room.

But that wasn't all. Elizabeth took a younger girl by the arm and whispered to her:

“You have to keep this mirror, but be careful not to cut yourself. Hold it as I give it to you ...”

Elizabeth carefully put the mirror in the child’s hand. The child beamed with joy, making sure that nothing bad could happen to her. Afterwards she asked another girl willing to help, to do the same with another piece of mirror.

Elizabeth fixed up the piece of mirror at the window, then she got close to the mechanism on her bed. The pot followed; she gave some more indications whispering, after which the light entered the room as she wished.

The system of mirrors brought the light of the moon up to that pot, and the light reached the ceiling of the room through those canvas cuts, in the form of cute little animals.

All the children were surprised at Elizabeth's miracle.

Moreover, when the interesting objects’ creator began to move that wheel under that pot, the animals projected on the ceiling started to move throughout the room, as if it were a real green jungle with elephants, rhinos, but also with whales and octopuses. Everything was a real show worthy of the greatest kings and queens.

Even if the spectators were not monarchs' daughters, they enjoyed themselves like real princesses. That room was filled for a few moments by the most privileged children in the world.

They enjoyed themselves until a slammed door and lumping steps could be heard down the corridor. The show ended pretty quickly as it happens to anything that’s too good to be long-lasting.

“Miss Blackwood,” a kid said in low voice.

All the children ran quickly to their beds, never minding that Elizabeth had plenty of things to hide in the closet by her bed and under it.

Yet, the girl managed to hide them very quickly, and then she lay smiling in her bed. This bed seemed much bigger now and much colder, for Dorothy was no longer near her. Still, the thought that the kids who witnessed her little invention fell asleep wondering what terrific inventions she would come up with the following nights, made her forget her heart-breaking pain.

  The door of the room opened slightly, screeching like a train braking violently before stopping. It was wide open for a moment, for someone to look inside. No one dared breathe.

After a few moments it closed with the same squeak and scared kids’ quick breath sounded like a starting engine. On the other side of the closed door, one could hear slow steps of heavy shoes stopping from time to time.

The same squeak that made the girls startle could be heard two or three times that night then they could not hear any step any longer.

In silence now, free, they could afford thinking of… anything. They could dream sublimely, because that was the only thing that belonged to those children in this world. The dream was the only world in which they were their only masters.