The pool of St Branok

She looked at him scornfully. "What, you? How? No one can't. I'm frightened of him. See ... he wants my money ... Every day he takes it off of me ... all I've got, every penny. Then he's oflf. It's good when he goes ... He's in the gin shop ... and he stays there. I wish he'd stay all night. I wish he'd never come back."

"Where do you get your money?" I asked.

"I works, I does. I goes to old Felberg and he gives me a tray ... sometimes it's flowers ... sometimes it's pins and needles ... sometimes it's apples. You never know with old Felberg. Then I brings back what I've took and he takes it and gives me tuppence back ... and that's my money, I reckon. But he don't. He takes it off me and he's off round the gin shop. I'm frightened of him ... when he hits me ... but more when ..."

She faltered and I put my hand on her shoulder. I said: "We can stop this, you know. Mrs. Frances wants you to stay here. She can do something ..."

"It's me Mum," she said piteously.

When Frances came in her face lighted up with joy.

"Fanny!" she cried. "So you've come. Good girl."

"Oh, Mrs. Frances, I was so frightened of him last night. You said come."

"Of course I did and at last you are a wise girl. Now then. This is your home for a while. We're going to look after you. No harm can come to you here."

"I could bring me money back from Mr. Felberg."

"You can forget Mr. Felberg. You're going to be here while we put our heads together and come up with something. You're not going back, Fanny, not again."

Frances was a wonderful woman. I have said that many times, I suppose, and will continue to say it. I imagine that Timothy and I were rather sentimental in our approach; we wanted to fuss over Fanny, to make much of her, to compensate for the terrible life she had; but Frances was different —brisk and business-like. I could see that was what Fanny needed. She would despise our attitude. To her it would seem "soft."

Frances said: "We'll get you out of those clothes ... fast. We'll get Mrs. Hope to put them on the fire. We'll find something for you. And a good bath is what you need and your hair thoroughly washed. Then we'll give you something to do, eh? What are you good at, Fanny? You'd like to help in the kitchen. There are lots of things to be done there."

I could see that that was the way to treat her.

Timothy and I were amazed. We saw Fanny change overnight. The frightened waif became a self-important person. Fanny belonged to the streets. There was nothing soft about Fanny. Her stepfather must have been an ogre to have frightened one of her spirit. She was a cockney— shrewd, quick-witted, full of what Mrs. Penlock would have called "sauce" or "lip."

She adored Frances, looking upon her as some superior being. For Timothy and me she had a certain affectionate contempt, but she thought we were "soft." "Nobs," she called us, which meant that we spoke differently and acted in a manner unlike that of the people she had known before she came to the Mission. For some reason we had been born into soft living and we lacked the knowledge of how to protect ourselves. We had got by because we had never had to face up to what to her was real life. I am sure she felt we were in need of her protection rather than she was of ours.

But our special place in her affections was due to the fact that when she had decided to come to the Mission we were the first ones she had seen and I do believe that we had somehow persuaded her to wait for Frances and that was at the root of her affection.

Frances was a special person. Born a "nob" she was for all her fancy voice and high-class ways one of them.

Fanny changed the Mission for us. She was the first one we looked for when we arrived. She would give us that rather casual greeting and smile secretly as though we amused her.

Timothy and I talked of her a great deal when we were alone and wondered what Frances would decide about her future. Frances had said that, so far, she was unprepared to make a decision.

"The girl's still frightened of that terrible man," she said. "She's aggressive, isn't she? I know what that means. She's telling herself she's strong. She's got to be because somewhere in her mind she is afraid she is not finished with him yet. She is trying to tell herself she can stand up to him. She must never go back."

"Good Heavens, no," said Timothy.

"It's risky. I suppose he's legally in the place of father. He will know where she is. He'd guess. I've tried to get her away from them before ... We'll have to watch for him. I expected to hear from the mother. Strange I haven't."

"Do you mean she will try to get her back?" I asked.

"She wouldn't want to. She knows it's best for the girl to get away. But he wants the pennies she earns. He can get drunk at the gin shop on Fanny's few pennies. There is something else. The mother hinted ... You know what I mean."

"You did mention it," said Timothy quietly.