Amy Dorrit's father is not very good with money. Imprisoned before her birth in the minimum security prison, The Marshalsea, on charges of fraud and bankruptcy, he has not seen the free world in over 20 years. Amy grew up in community housing, along with her elder siblings, Edward and Felicity, under the care of their ailing Uncle Frederick.
At the tender age of 10, Amy knew that the world around her was cruel, her mother having taken herself away from her children in an inescapable and fatal haze of prescription medications, leaving the two teenagers and a young girl to the bumbling efforts of their imprisoned father, and his well-meaning but unwell brother.
By the time she reached 15 Amy Dorrit was well aware of her lot in life, and under the supervision of her home economics teacher, she learnt to cook and sew and keep a house tidy. Under her maths teacher she learnt how to balance a budget and stay within a meagre income. Under her Careers teacher, she learnt how to cultivate a respectable CV out of very little life experience.
Under her father's occasional tutelage, she learnt that they had not always been so poor. Under her sister's well-meaning guidance, she learnt to fight with her fists and kick with her tiny legs. Under her brother's grumbling, she learnt her family was once housed in a grand ol' home, with a garden that stretched, filled with an ambling rose walk, a pond or two, even a hedge-maze. All lost to us now, though, her brother would sniff as he turned his attention back to the paused video game he spent most days on; discontent with the hand he had been dealt.
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At age 22, Amy was well-versed in her family history, and even more wisely, well-versed in how to be useful. Her father scorned the idea that his family would be forced to seek employment, for they had been landed gentry for many generations previously, and so all three siblings had learned to hide their various exploits, maintaining the fiction their father so very much wanted to believe.
Edward didn't have to do much lying to their father, for he flitted from one low-paid job to the next, always restless, and impatient to be home again to play his PlayStation. One month he would be cutting carcases in an abattoir, the next he'd be pumping gas at the station, then the next he would be sweltering in the kitchen of a take-away pizza shop, and then he would once more be unemployed for months on end until his pay checks ran out and the pittance he got in government benefits required him once more to seek work.
Felicity had, with their Uncle's assistance, gotten herself a job working as a dancer in a burlesque club, where she twirled and sang. She spent her evenings delivering high kicks into the faces of cash-heavy tourists who'd seen some American movie about the dancing, seedy old men with questionable intentions and art nouveau hipsters who would listlessly sway to the shrill jazz music. Dancing was something Felicity had a natural gift for, and the stage manager had already given her a few solos, and had always hinted that scouts from theatrical agencies might come knocking, a promise that never eventuated as she became the sole drawcard for the bar. During the day she slept, shopped and socialised with a gaggle of fellow dancers, occasionally condescending to go on a lunch date with one of the hipsters who dared ask her out.
Amy, in comparison to her brother, was a picture of industry. By 17 she worked two jobs, working as a cleaner during the day, and waiting on tables in the evening, then staying until after close to be a dish-pig and clean the endless dishes in the kitchen. By the early hours of the morning she would go back to her uncle's home, collapse on her tiny single bed which doubled as a couch in the daytime in the study of the small apartment. She would sleep little more than 5 hours, before waking once more to make her family breakfast, and head on out to clean other peoples' homes.
Uncle Frederick had once been a talented musician, confident on all wind instruments, from the flute and oboe to the trombone, trumpet and French horn. However a lifetime of smoking had left him with lung problems, and found all but the clarinet impossible to play. He had sold his prized instruments and managed to secure a small apartment to call home, which only a couple months after, would also become home to his pregnant sister-in-law and her two children. After a decade he became the legal guardian of the three children; he was closest to the youngest of them, little Amy Dorrit with her freckles and large and innocent eyes staring up at him in wonder and love. He had been there since her day one, when he had nine-year old Eddy and seven-year old Felly out in the corridor of the hospital, waiting with them to welcome their newest family member. William Dorrit had been serving the first month of his 30-year sentence when Elizabeth Dorrit found out she was expecting, and was forced to wait until his youngest child was 6 months old before he was permitted to meet his new daughter.
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William Dorrit once held People Magazine's title of "Hottest Rich Man in the UK", a title he held in private honour for the three-year long reign he was awarded the label. Publically he was a well respected businessman, shrewd with his associates, but reportedly well-liked and always reported positively in the press. This way have had more to do with the fact that William had been golf pals with the Press Giants than his unwavering good behaviour; but defrauding the IRS and all his various business partners for over $40 million put a significant dent in the public opinion of the formerly lauded gentleman.
In having served over 20 years of his sentence, many things had changed in his life, but his sense of social standing had remained unchanged. The prospect of his children being forced to seek employment was untenable, and as such, the three of them had learned to hide their various employments from their father.
William Dorrit was the eldest, wisest, and formerly the richest person housed in the Marshalsea Minimum Security, and had such been given the title of Father of the Marshalsea. In truth it was a pittance of an accolade in comparison to his former title, but after two decades in prison, he regarded it as an equal honour. He had favour among the prison guards, who would always make sure he was comfortable, well fed and was given due acknowledgement by the other inmates.
Head guard, John Chivery always made himself available to the Father of the Marshalsea, and had even on occasion, allowed the three children to visit outside of regular visiting hours. In truth, the three Dorrit children had always been welcome by all inmates, and Amy could often be found at another inmate's table, playing a game of Checkers, or listening to stories of a misspent youth. Indeed, when Edward and Felicity began to beg off from visits, Amy would attend faithfully, and after seeing her father settled in conversation during visiting hours to a former associate, she would go and see other prisoners and make them feel a little bit better about their position.
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At 22, Amy moved up in a pay scale bracket and was deemed too expensive to be waiting tables and cleaning dishes, and so was laid off with an appropriate severance package for her years of hard work and loyal service. It was a pitiful sum in total, but with her superior budgeting skills, she could make it stretch for a total of three months, providing her siblings didn't catch wind of the total sum.
A former inmate of the Marshalsea, Richard Plornish, who had served a decidedly short three-month sentence for a few too many driving infringements, was an ever-faithful assistant when it came to job-searching. In his first month of imprisonment, he had waited for his wife and their five kids to arrive for visiting time, but after a half hour of waiting he had decided that Isabelle must have been caught up – perhaps the twins had been caught up with some mischief at school. His guilt had grown at his failings, until a shy and sweet 16 year old Amy, who had been affectionately dubbed the Child of the Marshalsea, had dropped into the seat across from him and asked him how his day was going. Isabelle had arrived only a few minutes later, with their five children in tow, all of whom Amy took under her wing, and onto the small play area to give the couple some privacy.
Amy reminded Richard of his eldest child, Melissa, who was a scant two years younger, and after his release, swore to always be available to provide her whatever assistance he could. Isabelle never forgot the kindness of the young girl, and backed up her husband's efforts when Amy approached them afterwards if they knew of any jobs going around. Isabelle Plornish also acted as a sounding board for the shy girl, helping cultivate her resume and interview skills and even offering their address in Bleeding Heart Place to use in place of her real community housing apartment as the first few job searches had been fruitless when people had learnt her address.
It was to the Plornish family that Amy once more returned after she had been laid off. She had already done a search through all the job sites at the library, applied for them all; had done a resume drop of virtually every shop in town, and all without success. Isabelle had heard through the grapevine that a friend of their landlord was potentially looking for a house keeper, and passed on Amy's details through to the older woman.
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Amy was down to the last week of her budgeted money, and was starting to stress with only one house-cleaning job still available to her as the others had downsized and regrettably let her go. At least they all gave her favourable references and their best wishes.
"What's cooking your goose, Little Dorrit?" huffed Uncle Frederick on the Tuesday morning. Amy had hung her head in her hands after a pitiful bowl of cereal with not enough milk, and silently bemoaned that she had only $20 to get them enough food for the week. She had smiled at the childhood nickname, granted to her because of her short stature.
"It's just a small, minor monetary inconvenience." She had sighed in return, trying to conceal the worst of it from her beloved uncle.
"I see," he regarded her quietly, the hiss of his oxygen tank the only thing breaking the quiet of the room. Edward was comatose in his bedroom, and Felicity had spent the night with friends, leaving the two of them the only awake members of the household. "But how much of an inconvenience is it Little Dorrit?"
Amy looked at her uncle, seeing past the ravages his face and body had suffered, seeing only the man who loved her as unconditionally as her father.
"We have less than $30 to get us through the week. I can't afford to put food on the table. Ed and Felicity keep their own pay but I can't afford to feed us all on $20 for a week. You have to keep your pension because of medical bills and you pay the rates and you keep a roof over our heads. I just," she paused and put her head back into her hands, "I can't keep us fed on $20." She looked back at her uncle with tears in her eyes. "I've been searching for jobs since I got laid off, but nowhere wants me."
Frederick carefully put a hand on his niece's shoulder as the tears fell.
He cleared his throat and took a deep breath through his nasal cannula before regarding the girl he loved, "Feed yourself on that money, love. Ed can buy his own damn food, Felicity can fend for herself, and I can make my own damn pasta. You take care of us all, but that money is rightfully yours. You worked too damn hard to make something o'yourself, and I'm not having you wither away here because your brother can't be stuffed to keep at something long enough to figure out that work equals pay. That money is yours, so don't you dare spend it on anything or anyone but yourself, I'll not stand for it Little Dorrit."
It was perhaps the longest speech she had ever heard him make, and the tears in her eyes doubled as her Uncle commanded her to be selfish, something that went entirely against the grain of her person.
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The twenty dollars did last Little Dorrit until the Thursday, when she was granted an interview at a Mrs Clennam's home. The formidable Mrs Clennam was the woman to whom Mrs Plornish had spoken of previously. She was regarded by all as an uncharitable and fierce woman, shrewd and unforgiving in her business with others. She was accompanied by her live-in nurse, Affery French, and her business partner, a surly and grim Jeremy Flintwinch whose face had long ago forgotten the ability to pull any expression aside from a grimace.
Although wheelchair bound after a stroke, Mrs Clennam was equally as unstoppable as she had been previously. Amy approached her with her usual, unflappable kindness, and apparently melted the icy heart of Mrs Clennam, who hired her as a house keeper within ten minutes and put her to work that day. A generous income was supplemented by included meals and the promise that she could have any day off that she ever wanted to take.
Amy nearly cried in relief, but pushed it aside in order to show her employer that she was worthy of the trust she had been given. It was impossible for Amy to have known that taking that position she was irrevocably changing her life.
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Chapter one. I've had this fiddling around in my head for a few weeks now after rereading LD. I LOVE the story of Little Amy Dorrit and after searching in vain for a modern retelling – I decided to craft my own. I have NO idea how long this will take, or if I'll manage to finish it.. but I'm currently on summer break from teaching, so anything can happen. I also LOVE Charles Dickens' work because he rambles on and on (apparently he was paid per word - Any evidence that this is true?) which is pretty much how I speak/write in real life, so that works.
PLEASE review.