Rough Justice Read Online Free Page A

board, with authority over the entire staff in the establishment – had chosen to give them all the day off to mark the opening of the new year. He had added that so long as the cook left sufficient provisions for the day, he would take care of the younger children himself. It was only the outbreak of a spate of vomiting, and the subsequent admission of four of the children to the hospital ward, which had caused Mr Thanet, somewhat reluctantly, to request that the matron should come down from her top-floor quarters and then remain on duty with him.
    Clara Sully had agreed to do so with a mixture of anger and relief: anger at missing the opportunity to visit her brother and his wife in their neat little home in Bow, but relief that the children would have her there on the premises should they need any sort of . . . well,
help
or
protection
. Not that there would be any circumstance or even any likelihood that they would need her for either of those, of course, she added to herself in the mental note that had become automatic over the years of her employment by Mr Thanet. This thought process allowed her to carry on in the self-deluding pretence that nothing wayward had ever occurred in the home. And neither would it ever occur in the future.
    Anyway, it was lucky she had been there; efficient as Walter Thanet might have been when it came to fund-raising, and the eliciting of public support for the good works of the establishment,Clara was thankful that his skills in bathing vomit from little girls’ naked flesh would not be called upon. It wasn’t that she thought that the youngsters would suffer: even if, perish the ridiculous thought, something should occur, from what she had read and had heard they were from a class where such things were seen as normal and had no effect on them whatsoever. But all that was of no matter – what was most important was that nothing should happen that might arouse the interest of any do-gooding busybodies, resulting in a scandal and the place being brought to the attention of the authorities. It was, after all, not only the children’s home, it was her home too, the place where she had lived for so many years. If it were to be closed down because of Mr Thanet’s indiscretions – that didn’t even happen, of course – where on earth would she go? She had every intention of making this place her home until they carried her out in all her glory, and, if she had anything to do with it, nothing was going to prevent that from happening.
    Accustomed as she had become to children being quite filthy when they were admitted to the home, Clara Sully still could not prevent herself from gagging as she stripped off Nell’s clothes in preparation for immersing her in the tin tub that she had filled with hot water and a good grating of carbolic. Dirt and disorder disgusted her. It was one of the reasons – along, of course, with the accommodation, the excellent regular meals, thefree laundry and the succession of girls to clean her rooms – that she had taken to this work in the first place. It had become Matron Clara Sully’s mission to introduce a little decency into the lives of those less fortunate than her. It didn’t stop her feelings of revulsion, though, and not only at the dirt. The matron would also never cease to be appalled by the women who led the sorts of lives that resulted in them having children, which were then discarded.
    Despite all those many years of experience, when Clara Sully peeled off the child’s final petticoat, she was shocked at just how thin the little girl actually was. Obviously, this tiny scrap of undernourished childhood was the unwanted offspring of some wanton creature who had neither the means nor the intention of caring for her, so why hadn’t she bothered to dispose of the child earlier? The matron knew the answer. It was obvious. Those idle wretches were too lazy even to do that. She’d like to meet some of those women face to face, and give them