The Address(93)

The girl looked worn and miserable.

“Have you had your supper yet, Siobhan?”

“No, miss, there’s been no time.”

“Then down you go to the servants’ dining room. Get yourself something to eat. I’ll handle the children until then.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I won’t be long.” Siobhan bobbed her head and hightailed it out of the flat.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Christopher let out a loud burp followed by a sigh.

“You were unhappy then, my boy. But now you’re all right.” She kissed him on the head, covered with fine black swirls of hair. A beautiful boy, in such a sad position. An orphan child.

In the twins’ room, Emily had hoarded all of the dolls, which were piled up on her bed. She sat in front of them, arms crossed, her mouth an angry line. The twins ran to Sara as she entered the room.

“Emily won’t share!” Both faces featured upturned noses and bow lips, like beautiful dolls themselves.

“I won’t because they keep on breaking them. Look.” As proof, Emily thrust a porcelain doll at Sara.

Indeed, the doll’s head had a crack that ran down one side of the forehead.

“I didn’t mean to step on her,” wailed Luther.

“You did; I saw you stomp her on purpose.”

Sara fixed her gaze on each child, one at a time. “Now then, let’s stop fighting, shall we? And you’ll have to share the dolls, Emily. Perhaps we can divide them up so that every child has the same amount. That way you will each be responsible for the care of your doll, and if something happens, it won’t affect the others.”

Emily looked up at her, dubious. “Where is Siobhan?”

“She went downstairs to have something to eat. Your father asked me to look in on you. Now, I know it’s difficult with your mother away, but Miss Honeycutt will be here in the next couple of days and then everything will return to normal.”

“What if Mother dies?” Emily spoke with a quiet candor.

“Yes, what if Mother dies?” the twins echoed.

“I have no doubt the doctor will take very good care of her.” Sara should stop speaking. She didn’t know anything about the situation and was possibly giving them a false hope. But her job was to comfort them, and this was the best she could do, under the circumstances. “For now, shall we divide up the dolls, then I’ll ring up for some sweets?” Today was Thursday, when the downstairs chef made pineapple pudding.

“Yes, please.” Luther twirled about with excitement. “I’ll take the doll with the cracked head. I don’t mind.”

Sara smiled. She put Christopher down in his crib and he settled in nicely, staring through the slats as they went through dolls of all shapes and sizes, and divided them up. The last one, made of rags, had seen better days, and all the children agreed that it should live in Christopher’s crib and be his first doll.

When she laid the doll down beside him, he gave her a silly, drunken smile.

She rang for the pudding and the four of them had a tea party in the bedchamber, full of giggles and gentle teasing. When Siobhan’s footsteps were heard trudging down the hall, Sara reluctantly gave her good-byes, promising to return soon.

By then, Christopher was fast asleep.



Even after Miss Honeycutt’s return, Sara stopped in daily to visit with the children either before or after she returned from work. When Miss Honeycutt needed a break, Sara’d take them up to the roof promenade and let them run around, while she held Christopher in her arms.

Although Mrs. Camden had been gone less than a week, something about having her away, winning this temporary reprieve from the very fact of her in their lives, had made her and Theo even bolder. He slept in her bed most evenings, and she welcomed his presence, even if she couldn’t sleep through the night with him there. She would lie awake, wondering how much longer they had. He didn’t seem to mind that she was getting closer to his children.

For the past two nights, instead of lying awake in bed, listening to Theo’s snores, Sara crawled out and slipped on her dressing gown before sitting down at the sewing machine. Its whir made her heart sing. Deep into the night, she would work on her fancy new machine with fabric she bought at Stewart’s Department Store. First up were sashes for the girls and a necktie for Luther, all in different shades of blue, from cyan to a deep azure. For Christopher, she had already made a sailor outfit with a navy collar and matching tie.

In the back of her mind, she knew she was trying to make up for the baby she’d lost. Trying to prove to Theo that she was a perfect mother, much better than his wife. This morning, in the depths before dawn, she had wished the woman would die. She’d almost run her own finger under the needle and barely missed getting an awful prick, as if the machine had understood her selfish sentiment and decided to punish her.

On Friday evening, when Sara went downstairs to tuck the children into bed, Theo announced that he had a surprise for them all for the next day. The kids pressed him for information, and he held off for a couple of minutes, telling them that he couldn’t possibly let on about the secret or they’d never be able to get to sleep.

Which, of course, only served to rouse them more.

“Please, tell us!” Emily was now standing on her bed, jumping up and down.

“You might as well; they will never sleep as it is now,” said Sara.