One Glance

Chapter 17

"Why can't I remember that not once have I ever seen a coin, whether grimy copper or bright gold, that had but one side."  Andrew Levkoff, A Mixture of Madness

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Chapter Seventeen

Mary had been successfully keeping up her ruse at the textiles factory for a month. What little money she had earned went into rent and food to keep Jamie occupied throughout the day.

Luckily, he had not wandered into the factory anymore after his first visit. Mary had been very firm with him, and he had obeyed her. What was more? He asked for his parents less and less. It had been several days since he had mentioned them.

Jamie was still very little. From what she could remember, she believed that he was approaching is third birthday. Could children forget their parents? If he could, they would make her crime so much easier. What had been a foolish and emotionally irrational crime could simply be forgotten.

So long as Mary continued to keep her head down, eventually the search for the most wanted child in Britain would cease.

The search for Jamie was still in the papers frequently. Her name was everywhere, as was her description, but luckily for her, there were countless slender women with dark hair in the country. The boy that they were searching for was blond. Mary's constant use of grease in Jamie's hair saw to that.

Jamie was not allowed outside anyway, but Mary never ran the risk.

That did not stop the questions from the women that she worked with, though. The warden, Mrs Dawson, was the worst of them. Every day she found her way to Mary's workstation, under the guise of inspecting her work, before she would ask her one question or another. Mary did her best to remember her story.

Mrs Dawson's questions were curious, but they sounded as if they came from a once clucky mother. Mrs Dawson looked to be a cold woman, stern woman, but Mary believed that seeing a small child had brought out some maternal sense in her. Mary only wished that she would show that maternal side to one of the other mothers in the factory. They always were talking about their children, complaining about their children, worrying about their children.

"There was absolutely nothing at the butcher today," moaned Bertha Stubbs, the woman who worked at the station beside Mary. "Nothing but scraps for the dogs."

These women were always complaining about something, but Mary could understand now where it came from.

Mary felt compassion for Jamie, no matter their situation, and she did feel terribly for what she had done. Everything decision she had made prior to taking Jamie away had come from love.

Whenever there was nothing decent to eat, and she had to put Jamie to sleep hungry, she felt the pain that these women felt when they could not feed their children.

Mrs Stubbs was a skinny woman with a bony face and even bonier hands, hands that were ideal for the needlework that she was tasked with. Everything she had, she gave to her husband and children. Her husband had been a poor foot soldier who had lost his leg in battle and could now no longer work.

"I managed to get a cabbage though. Might have to dress it up a bit to entice the little ones," Mrs Stubbs continued quietly, more to herself than anyone else. "But if they're hungry enough, they'll eat it." She set to work on the fabric in front of her.

Mary looked at the embroidery in front of her. She had nearly completed a beautiful rose in pink cotton and wondered what rich little woman was going to buy it. How few problems the rich had.