‘Betty.’
Mrs Mason frowned. ‘What’s that short for?’
Betty shrugged. Daddy had called her his little firefly because she burned brighter than anything else in the world. Mummy had said she was just Betty, and Elizabeth on Sundays. ‘Elizabeth on Sundays?’ she guessed.
‘Elizabeth. That’s better.’ She stared at Betty a bit longer. ‘But it’s a bit much for such a little thing. Eliza. Would you like to be Eliza?’
Betty shook her head, but the woman turned away and shouted over her shoulder. ‘Charles! We shall call her Eliza.’
Mr Mason broke away from the rest of the group. ‘She’ll have to earn her keep. Cooking and cleaning.’
Mrs Mason pursed her lips at her husband. ‘We’ll see about that.’ She turned back to Betty. ‘Come along, then, Eliza. I’m Mrs Mason. I’m going to be your new mummy.’
Jane
I only saw Jennifer once more.
Two weeks after the visit from the child-welfare woman, Mrs Reed told me to pack all my things into an old suitcase because I was leaving to go to my new school. I was so happy to be escaping the Reeds, but I could not go without saying goodbye to Jennifer.
I sneaked out of the front door and darted down the stairs. I’d never normally dare, but I had to see her and what could Mrs Reed do now? She’d already decided to get rid of me.
I banged on Jennifer’s door, my heart pounding in my chest just as loudly as my knuckles on the wood. She was home.
‘Jane, is everything all right?’
‘I wanted to say goodbye.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To boarding school.’
She smiled. ‘Well, I wish you all the best. Do come and see me when you are home for the holidays.’
I half-opened my mouth. There was so much more I wanted to say. Jennifer was my angel. I was desperate to leave the Reeds, but the idea of leaving her behind was so incredibly sad.
‘Jane. Jane Eyre. Come back here at once,’ Mrs Reed shouted from the landing above.
‘Goodbye.’ I threw myself at Jennifer, wrapping my arms around her. She patted me gently on the back and then stepped away.
‘Take care of yourself, Jane.’ And then the door swung closed.
‘Don’t keep me waiting, girl.’ Mrs Reed pouted. ‘Get your bag. It’s time you left. And I don’t want you to talk to that interfering woman again. Ever. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Mrs Reed.’ For the first time in my life I realised that I’d told a lie. If I got a chance to see Jennifer, I knew that I would.
A taxi took Mrs Reed and I into the centre of the city, and pulled up in front of a large building. There were several big buses parked there, and people everywhere. A lot of them were carrying suitcases too. Mrs Reed told the taxi driver to wait for her.
She was leaving me here. I looked around at the crowds and the bustle and the strange faces. I didn’t want to be with Mrs Reed, but I was suddenly a little bit afraid of being alone in such a busy place.
‘Now, where is that teacher who’s supposed to meet you?’
When we found her, the teacher looked very old to me, with short grey hair and a narrow, pinched face. She looked at me through her glasses when we were introduced.
‘Bien. Come, child. Say your goodbyes to your mother and we will find our places on the bus. It is a very long way to Dubbo.’
‘She’s not…’
‘Behave yourself at school,’ Mrs Reed interrupted me. She looked at the floor for a second, and opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something more, but then she turned and walked away without once looking back.
The bus was not crowded, so the teacher left me sitting alone while she found her own seat. The journey took hours. We stopped a few times for people to get on and off, and to buy food and use the toilet at a petrol station. After a couple of hours, we were out of the city and driving through open spaces. I liked the open spaces. They reminded me of the home that I was starting to forget. I slept sometimes as the bus went on and on and on into the night.
The teacher shook me awake at last.
‘We are here, Jane Eyre. Come along.’
It was very dark and my head was still fuzzy with sleep as we walked up to the gates. I looked up and read the name of the school.
Our Lady of the Rosary Girls’ Boarding School.
A light over the gate gave off a soft golden glow as I walked beneath it. Perhaps here things would be better for me.
Betty
‘Come and sit by me, Eliza.’ Betty squeezed onto the seat next to Mrs Mason. ‘That’s right. Sit by your mummy.’
Betty did as she was told. She didn’t remind Mrs Mason that she was not really her mummy. Or that her name was really Betty. She had learnt that Mrs Mason didn’t like it when she did that. Mrs Mason liked to have her close by, and liked to be called Mummy. She liked hugs and kisses. And if Betty did all those things, she was given treats and pretty clothes. And she could avoid Mr Mason and his son. That was something else she had learnt in the past weeks, or was it months? It was best to stay away from them.
Mrs Mason opened a magazine on her lap, circling one arm around Betty to keep the magazine open in front of them both. The magazines Mrs Mason bought had pictures of women who looked like Mrs Mason, living in houses that looked like the Masons’ house. She liked to show Betty the pictures and tell her about what was in style and what was out. Today the magazine was open at a recipe page. ‘We need to pick the dessert for Mr Mason’s dinner on Friday. There are important people coming. What do you think?’
Betty peered at the pictures before thrusting a stubby finger at the one that looked the most chocolatey.
Mrs Mason scanned the text. ‘Golliwog Biscuit Cake?’
Betty nodded.
‘And will you help make it?’
‘Yes.’
Mrs Mason tickled Betty’s tummy. ‘Good girl. I’ll let you lick the bowl.’
Mr Mason strode into the room. ‘Is our son home yet? Where’s Richard?’ He stopped. ‘Why do you always have that little thing sitting right on top of you? She should be making herself useful.’
Mrs Mason pursed her lips. ‘She is. She’s helping me plan supper for Friday evening. We’re going to make Golliwog Biscuit Cake.’
‘Don’t be stupid, woman. You can’t serve that to my guests. Make a proper dessert.’
Betty shrank back a little, trying to hide behind Mrs Mason like she always did when Mr Mason was home.
‘Is Richard home?’
Mrs Mason glanced at the clock. ‘He should be here any minute.’
The front door clicked open right on schedule, and she heard the Masons’ teenage son stomp into the hallway and then into the front lounge. His habitual slouch straightened instantly when he saw his father.
‘I