In the autumn when the cold comes

And when the wind is wont to caw

Then a sudden urgent someone

Slammed so hard the old front door,

And I fell then and I tumbled

All the way unto the floor

I was broken then and humbled,

Never needed, never more.

It was mid-singing that I looked up a bit at my dark family mass all groaning along, and there I saw all those backs of head, all that Iremonger hair out and combed or else under bonnet, but one head was not pointed down at all, one was up and turned back and looking exactly at me. It was Cousin Pinalippy. There was not much love in that face as it stared and stared and found no approval. It turned at last but I remembered it as our family hymn persisted.

Watch me, keep me, please remember

I am not something to be lost,

In the howling dark December

In the winter’s rubble frost,

I am useful, I am needed,

Do but hear me now, I moan.

My entreaties are not headed

On the heap ground I’ve been thrown.

Now there’s nothing left to speak of,

Now there’s no one to say my name,

Do you hear the last small creak of

A thing only full of shame,

A nameless and faceless no one,

Lies out here upon the mound,

So smashed, so trodden, so undone,

Who shall ne’er again be found.

Then the family dispersed for the night to its own corners. I waited for all to flood away, shook Tummis’s hand, wished him goodnight, and at last retreated for the day, too shocked by the thought of Pinalippy and tomorrow’s event to mingle more.

7

A TORTOISESHELL SHOEHORN

Lucy Pennant’s narrative continued

The women servants took me along a passageway and into a different room with pegs and benches. I was given new clothes, the simple black dress and plain flat shoes and white cap that they all wore. The white mob cap had a red bay leaf stitched into it. They told me I should change now. There was a little stall they showed me to, there was no door to it but a small curtain. I changed. One woman folded my old clothes and took them away. I didn’t care, they belonged to the orphanage. Goodbye to that leather cap, I shall not miss you a jot. The remaining women, some of whom were girls of my age, patted me and brushed my hair, and nodded at me, purring almost, saying again and again, ‘It’s all right. It’s all right.’

‘Whoever said it wasn’t?’ I replied.

One of the older of the women whispered, ‘How lucky! A new relation! We’re all one family here. You are at home now, you’re where you’re supposed to be at last. No doubt you’ve been other places, never mind, you’re home now.’