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Fiction
Last Updated: 13/04/2006 13:02:04
Off To See The Wild West Show Part 2, Chapter 1 (1/4)
By Frank Beill
1886: Hull, Yorkshire
(1/4), (2/4), (3/4). (4/4).
Part 1
Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20.
Part 2
Prologue, Chapter 1, 2, 3.

The extra twenty-four hour wait only made me more desperate than ever to discover what had become of my old friends. It didn't feel right to be back and not be with them. They were Hull to me. I needed to see them and for them to see me. Would they believe little Sammy could have grown so much? Would I be as tall as George now? My friends were all I wanted to remember about this place. What did they look like now? Sal must have grown into a beautiful lady? So many questions.

Impatience overcame me. No need to be dragged up the steps. One bound and I was at the door. The answers should be there or, at least, the beginning of them.
My knuckles tapped urgently on the 'booking office' window distracting the new Master from his paperwork.

The window slid open.
'Good day, Mr Smyle.' There was no warmth in his greeting. He must have checked on me too. What had he discovered? Nothing complimentary about me in the orphanage records, of this I was sure.

I nodded politely in reply.

'I can tell you something about your sister and your friends. However, I am afraid the information about the Smith children is rather old. They left us a long time ago - in 1890, in fact. Selina went into service with a family named Johnson in Westbourne Avenue and George was apprenticed to a Mr Wilson, a blacksmith, on Hessle Road.'
'I have written the addresses on a piece of paper.' My informant paused for a moment. He gave me an enquiring look before opening a heavy black ledger.
'You are able to read, aren't you?'

'Yes ... and write, as well. I managed to learn to do them both in my time here.' I smiled. I'd learned a great deal more since leaving though. 'Now I do them all the time ... and calculations. I am a bookkeeper among many other things.'

He handed over a loose piece of paper from inside the book.

'I am sorry, but your records ...' He looked down and fumbled with the ledger.
Clearly the information recorded by his predecessor didn't match up with what the person standing in front of him was saying. Winners - not losers - write history.
'Records kept by Mr Rodgers, I expect.' I shook my head and smiled to myself. 'Is he still with you?'

'No, he left us about ten years ago. He went back to Scotland, I believe.'

'Good.' I felt relieved. This was one reunion I'd no desire to make. Scotland was not far enough away, as far as I was concerned. I wished him somewhere a lot warmer as his final destination.

'What about my sister, Mary?'
'She was with us for four years and left in 1896 to become a pupil teacher at Tweed Street Board School.' The new Master appeared proud of an ex-scholar doing so well for herself. 'Again before my time here - but the staff who remember her say she was a model pupil.'

Continued... Next Page (2/4)

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