CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Kaia weighed the sheets she held, trying not to be too obvious about it, looking past the other girls in the dormitory as she considered her plan. The windows of the Sydney Street Foundling Hospital were set high, out of the reach of the children within. In theory, it was to prevent distractions, but everyone there knew that it was to make it harder for those within to simply escape.

Around her, the other girls were running around, and in moments like this it was almost possible to believe that this was a normal place. The youngest of them were playing a game of pick up sticks in the corner, while a couple of the others were reciting rhymes. It was only the fact that they were doing it quietly, so that Mrs. Garrow wouldn’t hear, that reminded her of what this place was

really

like. She said that children should be seen, not heard, and enforced it with all the violence her cane could bring.

Kaia hated that cane. She hated the way the Garrows acted, like they were doing the girls a favor with every punishment. She hated all of it.

She was still thinking about how much she hated the place when the clang of the breakfast bell came from below. The other girls scrambled to put away the few toys they had, lining up in their plain, basic clothes, grey with age and scrubbing. The ones who hadn’t made their beds yet did it now, and the older ones checked that the younger ones had washed behind their ears, and all the other places the Garrows might look.

They filed out, and just by not going with them, Kaia was committed to this. There would be a punishment for not doing as the others did. One of the smallest ones glanced back, and Kaia put a finger to her lips. Kaia was determined, because the alternative to running was far, far worse. Tomorrow was her birthday; seventeen, and everyone knew what that meant.

No time to think about that. She had to be brave about this. She had to act.

Kaia started counting under her breath. She had three minutes. Three minutes before Mrs. Garrow came to check on the room, and make notes on which girls deserved her wrath. Three minutes before she found Kaia here, trying to leave.

Using her bed as a platform to climb from, she hauled herself up to the window. Kaia was grateful that her skirts weren’t the full hooped ones that most women she saw outside seemed to wear, but the combination of them and layers of underclothes was still enough to slow her climb a little.

She was small for her age, because it wasn’t as if the orphanage wanted to spend any more than it had to on food. Every penny Mrs. Garrow and her husband saved meant there was more money in their pocket. At least now, her size allowed her to fit on the small space of the windowsill long enough to slide the window open and fasten a rope made from bedsheets into place. Strands of blonde hair fell around Kaia’s heart-shaped face as she looked down. It was a long way down to the street. If she fell…

The answer, Kaia reminded herself, was not to fall. Being scared had never helped her avoid a single punishment. She had to get away.

In theory, tomorrow, Kaia would be able to simply walk out the front door of the place. Girls of seventeen were too old for London’s orphanages, by law. Kaia knew it didn’t work like that, though. If she did it that way, it would be the workhouse at best, and Mrs. Garrow had already talked about the patron she’d found who was willing to offer a girl like Kaia a position as a servant. Kaia wasn’t naive enough to believe that any well-off man did something like that out of the goodness of his heart. She knew she was one of the prettier girls there, and what such a man would want from her in return for the position. She’d stood by her bed with the others when they’d come round, ostensibly touring the building, but also making their choices. If she went, she would be nothing more than a plaything, until her new patron tired of her and threw her out onto the streets. The thought of it disgusted her.

No, she couldn’t wait until tomorrow. Dropping down on the sheet, she put her weight against it, hanging there with shoes not really designed for the purpose of scraping against the wall. Kaia had put knots in the sheet, but still, it was a hard climb down to the ground, and a cold one. The first rays of the morning sun were only barely cutting through a mist that threatened to freeze Kaia to the bone, turning that mist red in the dawn.

She was close to the ground when her hands slipped from the makeshift rope. Kaia had a moment of pure terror as she fell, but she felt her feet touch the ground after just an instant. She’d fallen a few feet at most. Relief flooded through Kaia, and not just because she’d survived the fall. She was out of the orphanage; she was free. The joy that came from that was tempered only by the need to get away. Kaia paused for only the briefest moment to take in the square, whitewashed exterior of the place that had been her home as long as she could remember. She’d only ever been out of it with the other girls, and now she was free of it. This would, she swore, be the last time she looked on it.

Kaia set off at a run, heading north. She needed to put as much distance between her and the orphanage as possible. The barrow boys were wheeling barrows to market in Covent Garden or Whitechapel. The ones who had early shifts at a factory were making their way out to them from the tenements they shared with a dozen other families.

The filth of the streets was impossible to avoid, and the air was as thick with grime as with fog. They said that you could tell how long a sheep had been in the city by how grey its coat was, and right then, Kaia could believe it. The few horses she saw so early didn’t even bother with boys following them to collect their manure. She simply had to pick her way between it all.

Kaia walked quickly, reasoning that the more she lost herself, the harder she would be to find in an hour or two from now when the Garrows noticed that she was missing. Kaia wondered how much effort they would put into looking for her. Another day and she was free to do as she wished, but at the same time, if they’d already taken money from her would-be “benefactor,” they might look harder. Better to keep moving.

Kaia had already formed a plan: she would try to reach a station, Paddington or Euston. From there, she could try to slip onto a train heading somewhere, anywhere. Brighton, Liverpool, maybe even go as far north as Scotland. No one would ever look for her there. Even the Garrows wouldn’t hunt for her as far as Edinburgh.

The thought of the station kept her moving. If she kept walking north, she would reach it. She would wait outside it all night if she had to. Then it was a question of finding a way onto a railway carriage without being seen, or finding a way to get a ticket to somewhere else. Kaia could do this; she had to tell herself that. She could.

Kaia found herself crossing a bridge, lit by gas lamps at intervals that had yet to be doused for the morning. Even in the fog she thought it was probably Westminster Bridge, with arch after arch reaching down slightly unsteadily into the water. She crossed over into the district, making out buildings in the hazy distance. The Houses of Parliament were bright even this early, and Kaia stared at them in wonderment. Kaia had heard somewhere that their precincts had hundreds of rooms, and that there were servants and cooks on hand to supply anything the members there wanted. Kaia couldn’t even imagine living in that kind of luxury. She stared at the buildings now, so close to the place she’d been brought up and so utterly different, all at once.

People walked the other way, heading to what she assumed were offices there in the city. The men who passed, and they were almost all men, were dressed with a wealth that made Kaia feel small and grubby by comparison.

She saw one or two eyes on her as she walked, and flinched at it, thinking that they might see her for who she was and drag her back to Mrs. Garrow. She had to force herself to keep walking, telling herself that she was simply out without a bonnet or a coat. They didn’t

know,

however much the fear inside her might tell her otherwise. She might not look like she lived here, but at least, she guessed, she could pass for someone’s servant.

How long did she walk for? Long enough that she could feel the chill of the fog in her bones, at least. Long enough that the mist off the river started to clear a little, so that she could make out the shine of the moon above. Long enough that she became hungry, and started to look round for something to eat.

That was the next problem: Kaia had no money, because aside from sixpence at Christmas, the Garrows didn’t believe in that kind of generosity towards their wards. She found herself envying the men who passed. Some would be leaving wives who had made them breakfast, or houses with paid cooks. Some would be making their way to their clubs, to settle down in soft armchairs and have food brought.

Kaia

wished

that she could have a life like that. Not even a life like that; she wished that she could just have a life that was safe. In spite of having no way to buy anything, when Kaia scented roasting food on the wind, she found herself drawn inexorably towards a small side street that seemed packed from end to end with food vendors. Kaia waited at the end of it, staring at the sausages and roast chestnuts, eel pies and apples with the longing that came from having walked too far with too little to eat.

What could she do, though? She couldn’t just snatch something from one of them. She didn’t want to be a thief.

“Out of the way, girl,” a big, burly man ordered her, striding along with a cane in one hand that he swung in time with every meaty step. He looked as if he hadn’t missed a meal in his life, and would probably trample over anyone who suggested it. He bought so much food from one vendor that Kaia could barely believe it, pies and apples that made Kaia’s stomach rumble. He shoved past her again on the way out of the alley, making his way over to a small park, where he sat down by one of the trees, eating with such speed that Kaia thought he might choke with it. He laid out the food he had, while reading from what appeared to be the day’s broadsheet.

Kaia drifted closer, thinking that she might be able to beg some small measure of food from him. A man like that, who had so much, and was so rude about it, might not miss

one

apple.

She edged forward, working up the courage to ask. She made her way slowly towards the tree the man was sitting under, trying to convince herself that this stranger might help her. Kaia’s nerves at doing it made her almost creep forward towards him.

She found herself staring at the man looking back at her.

“Thief!” He surged to his feet. “Thief, I say!”

“I’m not-”

The man struck out at her before Kaia could begin to explain, lashing out with his cane so that she had to leap back from it. Kaia’s terror propelled her away from him, and in a second, she had set off running before she even knew what she was doing. She ran blindly past the trees, towards the wrought iron railings at the far end of the park, not looking back, not slowing down. If she just ran, she could—

A hand clamped onto Kaia’s arm, jerking her to a halt, and turning her to face a man dressed in the uniform of a constable. Kaia cried out and tried to break free, but he held onto her, then fastened cuffs onto her wrists.

“Got you!” he said. “Filthy little thief. What are you even doing this end of the city?”

“I… I’m sorry,” Kaia said, not understanding. “I’m not a thief. I didn’t know I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry.”

“Tell that to the beak, girl,” the constable said. “Thieving from rich folk? You’ll be lucky if you don’t find yourself transported off to the colonies.”

Horror filled Kaia at those words. The colonies, Australia, meant the other side of the Empire, the other side of the

world

. She’d heard the stories of how brutal things were over there, with the heat, the cruelty of people who ran things. To be sent there was as good as a death sentence.

“But I’m not a thief!”