A Sister’s Sorrow. Kitty Neale

to do,’ Sarah cried in a blind panic. Though she’d seen her mum give birth before, she’d only been ten years old at the time, and had been overwhelmed with horror through most of it. Now thirteen, she was still unsure.

      She knew it would be useless to appeal to any of the neighbours for help. Mrs Brown had passed away and none of the other women in the block would have anything to do with her mum.

      ‘Shall I get the doctor?’ she said desperately.

      ‘Don’t be so stupid. I don’t need a doctor, I just need some gin. Pass me that bottle,’ her mother demanded, indicating to a bottle of alcohol in the tiny kitchenette.

      ‘But … but that ain’t no good for the baby,’ Sarah pleaded, though she was loath to disobey her mother’s orders.

      ‘Don’t you backchat me, just get it. I need it for the pain,’ her mother ground out through gritted teeth.

      Sarah reluctantly handed her the almost empty bottle, which she quickly drained.

      ‘It’s no good, I need more,’ she cried, groaning again and writhing on the mattress.

      ‘But we ain’t got no more,’ Sarah answered, recoiling at seeing her mum in such discomfort.

      ‘You’ll have to get yourself down the offie and get me a bottle on tick,’ her mother said, then closed her eyes and moaned loudly again.

      It was obvious to Sarah that another painful contraction was washing over her mother. She waited for it to pass before saying, ‘They ain’t open yet, it’s too early,’ grateful that she wouldn’t have to go out begging again. She found it humiliating, and would much rather scavenge for food to eat or clothes to wear.

      ‘Oh, for Gawd’s sake, gal, use your bleedin’ head for once, will ya! I can’t bloody think straight. Go and have a word with Eddy in the next block, and tell him I’ll see him straight next week. I don’t care where you get it from, just get me some bloody gin!’

      Fearing her mother’s violent temper, Sarah rushed from the room and back out into the damp corridor. She didn’t want to leave her mother in pain, but considering the mood she was in, Sarah knew it would be useless to try to reason with her. She ran down the stairs, but couldn’t face going around to Eddy’s flat. She’d tell her mum that he wasn’t in. His place stank, and she wrinkled her nose at the memory of it. She found him a rather odd man, and the way he leered at her gave her the creeps and made her feel uncomfortable. He was one of her mother’s long-term customers, and, for as long as Sarah could remember, Eddy had called in to see her mum once or twice a week.

      Sarah began to aimlessly wander around the small estate while racking her brain for a solution. It was impossible. She couldn’t think of anywhere to wangle any alcohol. As it was, she didn’t like going into the side room of the pub to get her mother’s booze, and liked it even less when she was made to go cap in hand.

      After half an hour, the sun from behind the clouds was almost set and the temperature was rapidly dropping. Sarah’s teeth began to chatter. She’d have to return home empty-handed and face her mother’s fury, though it was of some consolation that her mum would be sober for once.

      Outside her front door, Sarah reached through the letterbox and pulled out a piece of string with the key tied on the end. She opened the door and walked back into their one-roomed flat. All was quiet, so she assumed her mother must have fallen asleep. Then she heard a strange gurgling noise.

      Curious, Sarah quietly tiptoed over to the mattress where her mother lay, and gasped in shock. She stared in disbelief at a naked new-born baby, lying on the linoleum and kicking his bony legs out. She reacted instinctively and quickly gathered the child in her arms. He felt cold, but she was thankful that he appeared to be well. She grabbed a towel and gently wrapped the small boy, hardly believing she was holding her new baby brother.

      Sarah gazed at the bundle and smiled sweetly. He was so thin, his tiny ribcage was sticking out, which put her in mind of a lame sparrow she’d once found. ‘Hello, little one, I’m your big sister,’ she whispered, and kissed the boy on his bloodied forehead.

      Her mother stirred and pushed herself up onto her haunches. ‘Oh, you found him then. Where’s me gin?’

      ‘Sorry, Eddy was out so I couldn’t get any. Look, Mum, you’ve had a little boy,’ Sarah said, holding out the baby.

      ‘Yeah, I know, you stupid cow. Who do you think cut the cord, eh, the bleedin’ stork? Now get him out of my sight.’

      Sarah frowned. ‘But … but I think he might be hungry … you need to feed him.’

      ‘I ain’t having that little bastard hanging off my tit. Get rid of him. I don’t want to see him again.’

      Sarah blinked, hardly able to take in what her mother was saying. ‘What do you mean? How can I get rid of him?’

      ‘I don’t know, sling him in the Thames or dump him in the park. Just get rid of it. I can’t afford another mouth to feed, not with you bleeding me dry.’

      With that, her mother turned her grubby body to the wall, leaving Sarah bereft. She gently rocked the baby in her arms, and Mrs Brown’s words came into her head again. She’d said her mother had murdered her last child. Maybe it was true, as she now wanted Sarah to do the same to this one.

       Chapter 2

      Sarah huddled on her mattress in the opposite corner of the room from her mother, and gently cooed at her brother in her arms. She’d wrapped a blanket around him now, but it hadn’t pacified his crying. Now she worried that his screams would wake her mother, who was snoring loudly, and she started tapping her finger and thumb together. ‘You’re hungry, little one. What are we going to do with you, eh?’ she whispered.

      Though it was early evening, Sarah hoped her mum would stay asleep, but knew that even if she did it would only be a short reprieve. All hell would break loose when she woke to find that Sarah hadn’t got rid of the baby. Still trying to hush her little brother, she rose to her feet and quietly left their flat, to walk along the corridor to knock on her best friend’s door. Jenny was thirteen, the same age as Sarah, in the same class at school, and Sarah inwardly prayed that as she was appealing for the baby, Jenny’s mother wouldn’t turn her away.

      ‘Hello, Jenny, I couldn’t ask a big favour, could I?’ Sarah pleaded when her friend opened the door. Jenny was short for her age, and her blonde hair and blue eyes gave her a baby-faced appearance, making her look much younger than Sarah.

      ‘What have you got there? Your mum had the baby then?’ Jenny asked as she craned her neck to peer into the bundle Sarah was holding.

      ‘Yeah, a little boy. Thing is, my mum’s worn out and she’s asleep, but I can’t stop this little blighter from crying. Could I cadge a bit of your mum’s formula and a bottle, only ’til the morning? I’ll bring it back, I swear.’

      ‘Come in, you can ask her yourself,’ Jenny replied and opened the door wider. ‘So what’s he called?’

      Sarah looked at her brother and it occurred to her he didn’t have a name. ‘Er … Tommy. His name’s Tommy Jepson.’

      ‘Ah, that’s lovely,’ Jenny said as they walked into the kitchen. ‘Mum, Mrs Jepson’s had her baby, a little boy called Tommy.’

      Jenny’s mum’s expression was stern, and four small faces peered at Sarah from around the kitchen table. The flat had the luxury of four rooms, but as Jenny had five siblings it still felt cramped and overcrowded, yet warm and cosy. If Jenny’s dad was home, Sarah wouldn’t have been invited in, but now, as she stood in the kitchen, she wished her flat was like her friend’s. It always smelled of freshly baked bread, unlike the damp smell that greeted Sarah in her flat.

      Sarah’s eyes quickly scanned the room, and she