A Cold Night In January
It was a bitterly cold night in January when she came in. I remember it well, it was the night little Tommy Munro died. He had scarlet fever, a really awful thing it was - he was so small and fragile... But anyways, I don't suppose you came hear to hear about that, eh?
Well, like I said, it was just a bitter cold night. Just terrible. I had just come down from the infirmary, where little Tommy was quarantined from the other kids. Scarlet fever, you know? Spreads like wildfire amongst the little ones. I heard a loud knock at the door. Scared me out of my wits. I had just ran down to get some more towels out of the linen closet when I heard it. I opened the door, and there was a cloaked figure slumped against the door.
I was afraid it was another vagrant, they come here sometimes, poor drunk things. I usually give 'em something to eat and send 'em on their way. But this was different. I tapped her shoulder and she reached for my hand. The hood of her cloak fell back and I saw she was in agony. Pretty thing too, wavy red hair and gray eyes. Porcelain skin... You could tell she hadn't been livin' on the streets. Most girls who come here to have their babies ain't got nowhere else to go, no husbands and no way to pay a midwife. They have their babies and leave 'em here, or else they die. Well, she wasn't the first, I reckon she won't be the last.
I brought her in and laid her down, she was in a fit state but she grit her teeth. Some girls are screamers... scares the hell out of the little ones upstairs sometimes. She was a strong one. Within an hour or so she had that baby out. Beautiful little thing, head of strawberry blonde hair. A girl. Her mother was so thrilled... I found that almost peculiar, most girls some in here not wanting to even set eyes on their babies. I supposed she had loved the father of this one, but something had happened. You hear about it all the time. Family disowns 'em... Or they run away, have the kid, and go back home afterwards, no one the wiser.
She didn't say much, but you could see in her eyes how thrilled she was. Asked me to call the child Josephine Dawson. I asked what her name was and she told me Rose. The next morning she was gone. Just up and left. I never knew where she was from. She left some money on the bed, and a letter in a sealed envelope. It was adressed to Josephine. I took the money and the letter and locked 'em in my desk. I suppose when she's old enough to leave here I'll give them to her.
She's got spark, little Josephine. She plays cards and marbles with the boys, never cared for dolls or teddy bears like the other girls. She's got her mother's pretty face and the most lovely blue eyes... Her father's eyes, I suppose.
Oh, I almost forgot to offer you some tea, Mr. Hockley! Now, I've told you my side of the story. What was it you came her for today?