The chimney was narrow and twisty I could see very little and I was, I suppose about halfway up. It was difficult to tell. I assumed that the chimney hadn’t been swept for an age which was why everything was caked in soot. I coughed as I breathed in the cloying black powder. It was not pleasant, but it was never pleasant to do this job. It was getting harder and harder to squeeze myself through the narrow passages and I wondered in passing what was to become of me.

I had been apprenticed to Josiah Hopgood and had been for much of the life that I had any recall. I never knew my parents, having been brought up from a baby in the orphanage. When I was old enough to stand on my own two feet without falling over and have a reasonable understanding, I was given to Mister Hopgood. I believe money changed hands, but I was unaware of how much my life was worth.

I heard sometime later from another boy in my trade that Mister Hopgood’s previous apprentice had met with an accident whilst up a chimney when a fire had been lit and he unfortunately perished. Some said that Mister Hopgood lit a fire to hurry the boy up, but nothing was proved.

I was getting a bit big to do this job and my employer had, of late, been talking of letting me go. I had no idea of my age, but I was told that I was but ten or eleven years of age. The younger you are and the smaller you are the better for a chimney boy. Some of the chimneys are but eighteen inches wide.

Eventually, I reached the top of the filthy chimney and my head emerged and I could breathe in the cold winters air. This was the one part of the job I liked. To breath fresh air was something God-given and it was something that could not be taken away from me, even in those harsh times.

‘Come down yer little wretch.’

I sighed, Mister Hopgood was not a man to be kept waiting and all too soon I was back on the ground and we were in his cart going to the next job.

It was late by the time we arrived back at the yard. I was tired, so tired that I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. But I could not eat or go to my bed as I had to muck out the stable, and clean and feed the horse before I could ever think of myself. Mister Hopgood would check up on me once he had eaten his supper and woe betide me if I had not completed my duties.

My employer used the strap on me on more than one occasion and the marks on my backside proved that I was in trouble more times than not. One time, he used the horsewhip on me when he was in his cups and it was an experience that I never wanted to be repeated.

I slept with the horse on the straw bed. It was good that I could sleep with her as the warmth from her body helped to keep the chill from mine.

You may imagine that I was living a terrible life, but you must remember gentle reader that I knew no better. There were children on the streets without parents or employment and they starved. Charity was in short supply and the orphanages' and workhouses were either full or not taking anyone in due to greed or financial strain. So, I was lucky in many ways and I thanked God for at least having a stable roof over my head, all be it a leaky one.

One of the things being a chimney boy was the fact that I had little opportunity to wash myself properly. I was constantly in a filthy state and the only times that I could clean myself was when I was washing down the horse. Even then, I was chastised by my master for wasting water. I did do my best though. I had heard stories of boys getting dreadful diseases from not keeping clean. I was not in full health myself, my belly and private parts had started to ache and get sore about a month before, but I dare not say anything to my master as I knew that it would not go with me if I told him what ailed me.

About a week later, I cannot be precise, as each day seemed to trip into another, my master came for me in the morning. He had a young boy with him, he could not have been more than eight years old.

I had been asleep, and I rubbed my sore eyes as I tried to wake up.

‘Tom, get up you lazy dog.’

I struggled to my feet.

‘This is Harry, you are to teach him all yer know, although you know little, he knows less than you. We are goin’ out on a job in half an hour. Get the horse and cart ready.’

He pushed the boy at me turned on his heel.

Harry looked terrified.

‘Don’t worry, his bark is worse than his bite – sometimes.’

It appeared that Harry had come from the workhouse and had been sold to Mister Hopgood as an apprentice like me.

He said very little and looked scared for his life.

‘Our master is a harsh man but as long as you do your job to his satisfaction, he will leave you alone. Help me with horse and cart.’

He just nodded, too frighted to talk, even to me. I wondered how long he would survive, he seemed frail. He coughed a lot and I wondered if he had the consumption, he was very pale and shook slightly.

On an impulse, I gave him a hug and that seemed to make him drop the reserves that he had. He sobbed into my shoulder and I must admit to having a few tears myself.

‘Come,’ I said, ‘dry your eyes, we have work to do.’

With two of us working it took a little less time to get things ready and by the time Mister Hopgood arrived, we were ready for him. Neither Harry nor I had eaten but I rarely had time for food in the morning even though I knew that Mister Hopgood’s shrewish wife fed him well before he went to work. Harry would have to get used to an empty belly. Going up chimneys on a full stomach was not conducive to negotiating the narrow ways.

That day was a hard one. I had to show Harry the ropes and he was slow to pick things up. I truly believed that he was not up to the harsh realities of the job and I wondered how long he would last. But he was plucky, I would give him that, and by the end of the day, he was as dirty as I and had managed to sweep two chimneys by himself.

Unfortunately for me, I got stuck up a chimney at one point, as it was just too narrow for my growing body. Somehow, I managed to wriggle back down and then Harry was sent up to complete the job. I got the back of Mister Hopgood’s hand for my trouble.

By the time we arrived back at the yard, Harry was almost dead on his feet and I was the one left to sort the horse and cart out even though I felt far from well myself. Over the previous month, As I have said before, I had had a nagging pain in my belly and groin and in addition to this, my chest felt itchy and swollen. I did not know what caused all those aches and pains but I was worried as many boys who worked in chimneys fell ill with dreadful diseases, especially in the groin area, due to the dreadful conditions we had to work in.

Over the next week, Harry got much better at the job, but it took a lot out of him. Mister Hopgood once thrashed him for falling asleep up a chimney!

Sunday was a day of rest for Mister Hopgood but not for us apprentices, we still had to look after the horse and cart and do other chores that Mister Hopgood or his wife would have us do. They say that there is no peace for the wicked. I think that Harry and I must have particularly wicked to be treated so poorly.

I was in a deep sleep when I was roughly aroused on the Monday morning. I had slept badly as the aches and pains I was feeling had gradually got worse.

‘Come with me boy,’ said Mister Hopgood.

I struggled to my feet. Looking over at Harry, I could see that he was still fast asleep. I envied him.

I followed Mister Hopwood out of the shed, feeling slightly light-headed and sick in my belly. It was just dawn and it was cold. Frost was on the ground and the chill in the air crept into my bones as I shivered violently.

I was taken to the house and led into the sitting room, a rare privilege. There was a fire in the grate, and I longed to go over to it to warm my cold body, but my attention was taken by a man sitting in a chair with a glass of something in his hand.

‘This is the boy,’ said my master.

The rather portly man looked me up and down. I do not think that he liked what he saw. I desperately wished that I didn’t feel so unwell. It was if my belly was on fire.

‘Not much of him, is there? He looks more like a girl.’

‘He’s stronger than he looks.’

‘Why is she, I mean he, so pale?’

‘He doesn’t get much sun up the chimneys and appearances are deceptive Tobias. He’s a good hard worker, just a bit too big for the chimneys.’

‘Hmm, how much?’

‘Ten pounds.’

The man barked a laugh.

‘Ten pounds, you are jesting me Josiah! Five pounds and not a penny more.’

‘Seven pounds and I’m cutting myself to the quick for that.’

‘Six and you have a deal. Otherwise, I’ll walk out without her…him and he can rot in hell as far as I’m concerned.’

‘Six it is then. You have a bargain there.’

I was hardly paying attention to what the two men were saying and simply wished that I was dead.

Just then, without warning, I was violently sick on the floor and more particularly, over the man’s boot.

‘What the hell! Josiah, are you making a joke of me? I don’t want him. He’s like a sick dog.’

‘Just a slight stomach ache. He ate bad meat yesterday.’

This was news to me as I had not eaten meat for weeks.

‘I don’t believe you. You just wanted to make a fool of me. There is no business here today.’

With that he just got up and left, slamming the door behind him.

I was feeling a little better after being sick, but my master was furious. He hit me with the back of his hand and I landed in a heap onto the floor. It was only by luck that I did not land in the foul mess that I had left.

‘How dare you, you little wretch. You are nothing but trouble and I want nothing ter do with yer. Get out and don’t come back.’

I could not believe what he was saying.

I stood up unsteadily, pushing my long unkempt hair out of my eyes.

‘But Sir,’ I pleaded, ‘I belong here. You are my master.’

‘No longer. I will not feed and keep someone who cannot do the work and I cannot sell you as you are, sick and feeble and I cannot afford any doctors bills. Collect yer things and get out before I beat yer to within an inch of your life. Get out, I say!’

I could see by his face that if I stayed any longer it would be worse for me and so with a heavy heart, I left his presence and went back to the shed. I picked up my meagre belongings and sadly turned to leave.

‘Where are you going Tom?’ asked Harry as he rubbed his eyes of sleep.

‘I am to go. I am no longer wanted or needed.’

He looked shocked.

‘Where are you to go.’

‘I do not know. Now listen Harry. Be careful and try not to make him angry. Do your work and you will be fine.’

He was on the point of tears and I felt very much the same but before I made a fool of myself, I quickly hugged him, said goodbye and left the only home that I had known for years. It wasn’t much and I had been treated cruelly but I had been better off than many.

I found myself on the street with the few clothes that I had, bundled up in an old towel. I wore the thin coat that I had used to keep the chill off on those harsh winters that were quite normal in the north of England. I have said little about where I lived. Bradford in Yorkshire was the town where I was born, lived and worked. A grim place for those who had nothing. A town surrounded by mills and coal fields, factories and tanneries. The stench would make gentle ladies swoon but having lived there all my life, it meant nothing to me.

The watery sun was now up and there was some warmth in the air as it rose up above the grim buildings. I still felt cold and ill and was almost numb with the shock of what happened to me. I had been thrown out on the streets to fend for myself. I thought that I had been apprenticed to my master and that I at least had some sort of security in my work and lodgings. It was now obvious that I was surplus to requirements as my master now had Harry and no longer needed me. He had tried to sell me and if I had not been sick all over his carpet and that horrid man’s boot, I would have had new employment. What that employment would be, I never found out.

Now, here I was, in a desperate situation with no money or means to obtain food or even a place to put my head down overnight. I was already hungry, which was rather strange as I also felt sick. The only food that I had consumed was some stale bread and small beer the night before. I had brought that up this morning, leaving me with a delicate but empty stomach.

The lane was now getting busier with carts and people going about their business. There had been some snow overnight that had turned into a dirty brown slush. My shoes were little protection against the cold and I started to shiver. I came to the area where there were some shops and alehouses. I went to one baker's shop with all manner of cakes and loaves of bread in the window. My mouth started to water at the site of such wonderful comestibles. I knew that it would be pointless to ask for anything without money, but I was not born yesterday, and I knew what to do.

I went down a side alley that led around to the back of the shops, parallel to the lane.

I was lucky that there was no one about. There was a large bin and after ferreting about, I found a stick of bread. I took it quickly, brushed off the dirt and then walked on, eating as I went. The bread was stale and hard, but I was just happy to have found it. After the bread, of course I was now thirsty and finding myself back in the lane, I went over to the horse trough and after breaking some ice, I drank deeply. The water was far from clean but, beggars can’t be choosers.

Was that what I was to become, a beggar? I hated the thought of that. I always felt pity for those people who had to do that thankless work and had been thankful for my employment, despite the hardships and difficulties.

The rest of my morning found me wandering along the lanes and roads trying to think of what I could do. In the end, I made my decision. The clothes that I was wearing were filthy, as was I. I had in my head that I would ask about employment, where, I did not know but my current appearance would not help me obtain gainful employment. I would have to clean myself up somehow and hope against hope that my illness, if that was what it was, would not hinder me.

I made my way down Old Mill Lane to the River Dearne and under the bridge, I took all my clothes off and shivering violently, I washed myself as best I could. My groin looked red and sore and my private parts were shrivelled and ached somewhat. My chest looked puffy and itched like mad. I had heard stories of some sweep’s boys having cancerous lesions around their private parts that spread throughout their bodies. and I wondered if I was going to suffer the same fate.

I shook off such depressing thoughts and continued with my task of making my appearance a little more acceptable. My clothes were very grubby, but I was able, once I had dried myself using my old coat, to brush off the worst of the grime and soot that permeated the cloth. I quickly dressed again, and my efforts at least made me feel a trifle warmer.

Once I started walking, I felt warmer still, but the exercise seemed to weaken me, and I was soon out of breath.

It was four hours later by the church clock that I finally realised that no one wanted to employ me. I tried the cotton mill, they had no use for me as I was a little tall to go under the machinery. I went into several shops, all to no avail. I even tried the undertaker as I knew that they used child mutes at funerals but there were no positions available. The one place I would not go was the coal mine. I knew that I was just not strong enough for the work and having worked as a chimney sweep, I had a horror of once again working in dark confining conditions.

By this time, I was weak with hunger. This was Christmas time, and you would have thought at that time of goodwill to all men, that there would be more charity around. But I found no charity. I plucked up the courage and went into a bakers’ shop and asked for anything that they could spare and I was told to get out. The butchers had some succulent looking pies and I asked for something, anything to keep the hunger at bay, but with the same result.

I sadly continued on, not knowing where I went and found myself on a wide street in a more prosperous area. There were big houses on each side of the road, and I wondered who lived in them.

On an impulse, I walked up one drive as the day grew dark and I made my way around the back of the house. There were people inside and the lights were on. I could see what I took to be a living room through one of the windows and a gaily dressed Christmas tree. There was the sound of a piano and people singing carols.

I found myself at a back door. I could smell all sorts of wonderous things. What the foods were, I had no idea, but my mouth was watering greatly and my hunger increased severalfold as I hesitantly knocked on the door.

A few moments later the door opened and plump woman with a red face, wiping her hands on an apron, peered out. She did not seem well pleased to see me, and my heart sank.

‘Yes, what is it?’

‘Do you have any work or perhaps a crust to spare?’

‘No, I can’t abide beggars. Now be off with you before I set the dogs on yer,’

She slammed the door in my face cutting off those wonderful smells coming from the kitchen.

I sank to my knees and cried. Everything was getting on top of me and I felt so cold, hungry, ill and alone.

After a few minutes of this self-pity, I unsteadily rose to my feet and left, passing the bright living room with happy laughing people, and out into the road.

I had no idea where to go. I had used up most of my strength and I felt a despair that I had never experienced before. I think that I was ten or maybe eleven years old and I had a feeling in my bones that I would not reach my next birthday, whenever that was.

I trudged on down the road. My feet were sore as I was not used to walking such long distances and by now, my thin shoes had holes in them. After a short while, I just had to stop and rest. I sat down with my back against a large oak tree and shut my eyes.

It was getting ever darker and something cold hit my nose. I opened my eyes and could see that snow was falling, at first gently and then with more strength. I could not stay where I was as I would surely perish if I did.

I struggled to my feet and a pain lanced through my groin making me cry with pain. I waited a moment for the pain to subside and then I looked left to right, not knowing which way to go.

Then I heard bells in the distance. Almost instinctively, I turned toward the sound of the bells.

The snow was coming down harder now and started to cover the ground, covering the muddy road in a white blanket where, in parts, it was difficult to discern where the road began or ended.

If I had the time or inclination to think it, I would say that it was a pretty scene, but I had no time to think of such things where my very life was in balance. I had no delusions about the peril I was in. if I did not find food and shelter soon, I knew that I would perish.

What would the next day, Christmas day I think it was, bring me? I had visions of being found dead on this road, stiff and cold. Another victim of the cruel fate that many in these harsh times had experienced.

I was so close to giving up and I sank to my knees, my tears falling on the snowy white ground.

Then I heard the bells again, nearer than before. Something attracted me to the sound of those bells, and it was enough to make me rise up and go on despite the desperate need I had to lay down and go to my endless sleep.

Just then I heard the muffled sound of hooves come from behind me and there, bearing down upon me was a horse and carriage. I somehow dived out of the way as it thundered by me. The driver either did not see me or care about me. I heard the whip on the horses as carriage disappeared into the snowy curtain that was before me.

Somehow, the incident with the carriage woke me from the lethargy that was once again threatening to engulf me and I staggered on towards the bells, the bells that were somehow important to my very life.

Time passed and the snow gradually lessened and then stopped. All I could hear was the sound of my laboured breath, the crunch of the snow beneath my poor tortured feet and those bells.

The road gradually bent to the left and there before me was a church.

At that moment, the bells stopped chiming and there was a hushed silence. The church was brightly lit from inside and the figures in the stained-glass windows looked almost alive in the flickering light.

I cried at the sight of the church and falteringly staggered through the lych-gate and down the path that led to the church porch. Once again, the snow started to come down, but more gently now and I was pleased to get out of the biting wind and into the welcoming shelter of the porch.

I sank down on the stone bench lining the side of the porch for a moment, to get my breath back. Those final few feet had taken much from me and I barely had the strength to do any more. I just sat there listening to the hymn almost in a stupor, but not quite.

The sound of an organ struck up and then the singing started. To my confused mind, it sounded like the heavenly choir as the congregation sang O Come All Ye Faithful.

I stayed some time with my eyes closed just listening to the heavenly music, then, after a while, I shivered violently and realised that I could not stay there another moment as the cold would soon surely kill me.

Struggling to my feet, I went over to the door and with shaking hands, I lifted the latch and pushed open the door.

It was so much warmer inside that I was almost overwhelmed by the heat from the gas lanterns and the throng of people in the packed church.

No-one paid any attention to me as they looked to the front and carried on singing.

Oh, come, let us adore him;
Oh, come, let us adore him;
Oh, come, let us adore him,
Christ, the Lord.

I walked hesitantly down the aisle as the hymn finished, impervious of anything but the altar at the far end and the huge cross and stained-glass window behind.

I was somehow conscious of members of the congregation staring at me as I dragged my weary feet, on towards the altar.

The organ fell silent and then, as the vicar walked over and climbed the stairs to the pulpit, he glanced over to me.

I looked at him and in the deathly hush, I could hear my voice weakly say.

‘Have pity on me.’

It was then that my feet gave way, and everything went dark.

I was told that I was in a fever for some time and my life was despaired of. I know that I had vivid dreams of being stuck up a chimney and my master lighting a fire under me. Another dream was being stuck in a snowstorm and buried under a pile of snow with no way of extracting myself. The pains that I suffered were great and my belly sometimes felt on fire, but all of that time I somehow felt that I was safe and in my saner moments, I was aware of some gentle ministrations from a lady with a kind voice.

I gradually become more aware of my surrounding and realised that I was in a soft warm bed, in a cheerful room the like of which I had never been in. I really wondered if I had died and gone to heaven. If that was so, I heartily approved of heaven! I went back to sleep, and the bad dreams thankfully left me only to return on very rare occasions.

I awoke one evening and stretched. It was quite dark, except for some candles and a cheerful fire in the grate. I looked about the room and was satisfied that I was not dreaming, I was really there and not in someplace where I would rather not think of. The bed was warm and soft, and I was wearing some sort of very fine cotton nightgown and I had a cap upon my head tied up with a ribbon bow beneath my chin. It all felt very strange

I started slightly as I realised that there was a lady sitting in a chair by the side of the fire. She was wearing spectacles and was reading a book by the candlelight on a small table. She wore a fine silk gown and had a day-cap upon her head. She was not an old lady; indeed, she was quite young and very pretty.

I coughed and winced as it was somewhat painful.

The lady looked up and smiled.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘the sleeper awakes.’

She got up, put her book down and walked over to me.

‘How do you feel?’

‘Much better Ma’am.’ I replied. ‘How came I here, if I might ask?’

‘Of course you can ask, silly.’ she laughed as she sat down on the bed beside me.

She had a very pretty laugh.

‘Do you need to drink?’

My throat was very dry

‘Yes please, if it is not too much trouble.’

She helped me sit up in bed, plumped up my pillows and then when I had settled in my new position, she picked up a glass from the bedside table and handed it to me.

With slightly shaking hands I put the glass to my lips. She covered my hands to stop them shaking so much as I sipped the cool water. Her hands were warm and soft.

‘Have you had enough?’

I nodded and she took the glass from me and placed it back on the table.

Sinking back into the pillows, I looked at the lady.

‘Please Ma’am what happened to me?’

She took my hand and that felt very nice as I had not had such a thing happen to me before.

‘You remember nothing?’

‘No ma’am. Well, I remember going to the church and then I think I fainted.’

‘Yes, you did. You were brought here very ill and in fact, I regret to say, close to death. Our doctor was summoned, and he informed us that you had pneumonia and numerous other ailments and that you were a very sick girl.’

‘Am I better now?’

‘Much better, your fever broke last night and some of the other ailments, such as your poor sore feet, are getting better by the day.’

‘I am so sorry to be a trial to you…Ma’am did you say girl?’

She looked puzzled.

‘Yes, of course, why do you say that?’

‘I…I am a boy.’

She looked at me with concern and felt my forehead.

‘Are you unwell again, shall I fetch the doctor?’

‘N…no Ma’am I am quite well, not very well, but quite well. You said that I am a girl, but I am a boy and have always been so.’

She looked at me silently for a moment and I wondered if I had angered her in some way.

‘What is your name,’ she asked quietly.

‘Tom Hardy ma’am.’

‘So that was why she was wearing boys’ clothes,’ she whispered to herself.

She looked startled, began to say something and then she looked at me with concern.

‘Can you tell me how you came to be in the church in such a parlous condition?’

‘Yes Ma’am,’

‘Good, give me a moment.’

She let go of my hand, which saddened me somewhat and left the room her dress rustling as she walked. I could hear the murmur of voices and then she came back in with a man. It was the vicar, I recognised him from the church. He was a tall man with striking blond hair and looked about the same age as the lady. He was, I was informed later, the Reverend Pettigrew, the third son of Lord Masterson and that he did not use any other title other than Reverend.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘it is nice to see you so well and able to take notice once again. My wife says that you feel up to telling us your story but first, are you hungry?

‘A little sir.’

‘That is good as I have asked cook to prepare you some bread and soup and this should be ready by the time you tell us your tale.’

The lady sat by my bed again and the vicar sat in the chair as I told them everything.

I will not recount my tale, dear reader, as you are fully aware of what had happened to me and the sorry life that I had led in my short life. To say that the vicar and his wife were shocked at hearing my story was an understatement.

At various points, the lady was about to interrupt me, but the vicar asked her to wait until I had finished my tale.

I was somewhat exhausted by the time I finished, but the soup and bread revived me somewhat.

The vicar and his wife waited patiently for me to finish my meal before continuing. They went over to the fire and talked quietly while I finished my meal, which was excellent and the tastiest thing that I had ever had, even though in my mind, I was somewhat distracted by what I had told them and the mistake that the lady had remarked about her thinking that I was a girl!

What I took to be a manservant came in and took away the plates and the vicar and his wife came over. The lady sat on the bed as before and took hold of my hand whilst the gentleman stood beside her smiling gently.

I had a feeling that I had nothing to fear from these people and I relaxed slightly.

‘So, you are Tom Hardy?’

‘Yes ma’am.’

‘You are an orphan and do not know who your parents are or whether you have any relatives.’

‘Yes ma’am, I have no-one.’

I felt tears well up in my eyes and wondered what would become of me.

‘Now do not cry little one, you are safe here and we promise that we will not send you away.’

In my short life, I had found it hard to trust anyone, but she appeared to have tears in her eyes when she said that, so I knew that she was genuine.

‘Well,’ she continued after a few moments of composure, ‘let me explain a few things. We brought you home from the church with help from two of the parishioners. Luckily, Doctor Snodgrass was in the congregation and he supervised matters. I came back while my husband carried on the service.’

‘Yes, I was surplice to requirements,’ he said laughing.

His wife looked at him and frowned.

‘One day Edmund your jokes will be the death of you, or me.’

He held up his hands and said, ‘Sorry, my dear.’

Obviously trying to hide a smile, she turned back to me and continued.

‘When we brought you home, the scullery maid and I stripped you of your filthy boys’ clothes and cleaned you up as best we could under the circumstances. A quite difficulty procedure when someone is not conscious. I might add, before I married Edmund here, I was a nurse, so I am no stranger to unclad bodies, male and female.

‘We then conveyed you to this bed, unclad, so that the doctor could give you a thorough examination to find out what ailed you. To my mind, I saw what looked like a young boy but with strange abnormalities especially in your chest and groin regions.

‘As soon as the doctor saw you, he exclaimed that you were a girl and not a boy and he wondered why you had been dressed as one. Then he surmised that your clitoris, or girl parts, could have been mistaken as a penis at birth as it is unusually large, and it was possible that you may have been mistakenly labelled as a boy. The mistake was compounded by the fact that you had a thin layer of skin that hid your female opening and prevented the excretion of certain fluids. The skin covering has been removed and the area cleaned.’

‘I do not understand.’

‘No, I expect not. I will more fully explain everything to you when you are feeling a bit better. These are things that only women talk of and I can see that my husband appears to be a little embarrassed. we will spare his blushes. In the meantime, will you take my word for it that you are a girl?’

I nodded, not understanding much of what she said but trusting her more than I had anyone in my life.

‘Anyway, once the doctor finished examining you, we dressed you in a nightgown and cap being the only things that would go anywhere near enough to fit you.

‘Doctor Snodgrass dressed your feet, which were in a poor condition due to exposure and blisters. He said that you had a fever and pneumonia in one lung. Although luckily, not as serious as it could be. He also, and I am sorry to talk of such matters, looked more closely at your private parts as they were quite red and swollen. Judging by the soot found on your clothes and parts of your body, it was ascertained that you worked with chimneys and that explains why you were dressed and obviously employed as a boy. Some of that soot had caused irritation hence the redness and swelling. You had various other scars and inflammations on your body which the good doctor treated with salve. Tell me, were you beaten?’

‘Often ma’am.’’

‘For what reason,’ asked the vicar.

‘For not working hard enough.’ I replied.

‘Is that why your back has many scars?’

I nodded.

She shook her head in sorrow.

‘So much wickedness in this world. Anyway, you were ill for some time and we despaired of getting you well again. However, the crisis passed and you gradually got better and here you are now, well on the mend.’

I looked at her and then the vicar. This was hard to take in. I had one thing that nagged at me.

‘So, I am not a boy.’

‘That is correct,’ replied the vicar.

‘I am a girl?’

‘So it follows.’

‘I was never a boy?’

‘Never in this world.’

It was all too much for me in my delicate state.

I fainted.

When I awoke, I didn’t know where I was. And then I remembered. All that had happened to me came flooding back. I had collapsed in the church and had been brought back here to be made well and convalesced. All this was aside to the revelation that I was a girl!

Daylight streamed through the windows. There was a lady who I did not know sitting where the vicar’s wife sat before. She was knitting. I looked at her before she became aware of me. She was somewhat older than the vicars' wife and she was wearing a black dress, a white apron and starched cap. She looked up and smiled.

‘Well, there you are Miss,’ she said as she got up, put the knitting down on the chair and came over.

‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘Well, bless me my dear, you fainted away and then had what the doctor called a minor relapse. Nothing serious though and nothing like as bad as before. You are stronger now and well on the mend.’

‘I am sorry to cause so much trouble.’

‘Lord above Miss, you are no trouble to anyone. A sweet little thing like you? No, we are pleased to see you coming along strongly. But we need to feed you up and get some flesh on those scrawny bones of yours.

I wondered if I had been dreaming. So much had happened to me in such a short space of time.

‘I…Is it true that I am a girl, not a boy?’

‘Lord above us, you are as much a girl as my dear sweet Emily, sitting at home looking after the baby and pealing the spuds.’

‘I…I thought that I was a boy.’

‘Not in your life my dear. You are a pretty little thing and I declare that you will turn more than a few heads when you grow older. Now I am to tell cook when you awake. She wants to feed you up. Now you just wait here.’

She left me to my thoughts.

So, it was true, I was a girl. I somehow didn’t mind it and it did not seem so very strange anymore. Perhaps I should have been horrified at the thought of wearing skirts and being pretty but somehow it did not. How I would cope in the world now that I was a girl, I did not know, but cope I would, as I had through the adversary of the whole of my life before.

I had a need to use the commode which was, I had been told, in the cupboard like affair in the corner. There was no shyness in me in this respect, as the life that I had led up to now did not accommodate such thoughts. You completed your ablutions whenever and wherever necessary, in public or rarely, in private.

I arose from my bed and stood up, rather unsteadily. My feet were bound in bandages and felt sore, but I was able to get over to the commode by means of holding onto furniture. I opened the cupboard raised my voluminous white nightgown out of the way and sat on the pot.

It stung slightly as I relieved myself, but this was nothing new as I had experienced this before. I was thankful that the pains were now less harsh and from the look of my private parts, they looked not as swollen and angry. Also, I was aware of a slit below what I now knew to be my girl parts. What was it? Oh yes, clitoris. It looked strange, but I was reluctant to investigate further and just wiped myself clean with a cloth and stood up allowing the folds of my nightgown to fall.

The garment was obviously big for me and the sleeves were folded back, and the hem dragged the ground. It was so strange to wear such a feminine garment with its lace and ribbons around the neck. I was not unhappy to be dressed so. Anything was nicer than the horrid, dirty, worn clothes that I had been wearing before. It was so nice to be clean.

I walked unsteadily over to the wardrobe, upon which was a long mirror and I looked at myself. I gasped. I looked like a girl. I took off my nightcap and my hair, now clean and shiny, cascaded about my shoulders. I do not ever remember having my hair cut, my master would not allow for such extravagance and could not care less about my appearance. I was surprised at the colour of it as it was blond. I thought it to be much darker, but never before having it thoroughly washed, I had not been truly aware of the true colour of it.

I was feeling somewhat fatigued, so I made my way back to the bed and lay back on my feather pillows.

A few moments later a maid came in and asked me to sit up. A tray was put on my lap.

‘Can you feed yourself Miss?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ I replied,

Of all things, she curtsied and then left me to my own devices.

I wondered at my position in this household. I had never been treated so well and the servants seemed almost deferential. I had seen this before in a few of the big houses where servants were in contact with their betters.

That brought to me thoughts of what might happen to me once I had recovered from my sickness. Would I be put out onto the streets to fend for myself or perhaps sent to the workhouse?

I shuddered at that thought. Then I remembered that the vicar’s wife had told promised that she would not send me away. Perhaps I would be a servant or scullery maid. I would not mind that, as I am not work-shy and would like to repay the vicar and his wife for their kindness towards me.

Being in bed convalescing gave me time to think of things less than pleasant. I worried deeply about little Harry and I wondered how he faired. I hoped to be able to find out once I was back on my feet again. I could not ask the vicar or his wife to help Harry, as I had no right to do so, but I promised myself that if I could do something for him when I was able, I would.

I had my soup and bread and soon felt full. My limited exertions made me feel sleepy and so after finishing my very welcome meal, I lay back and was soon asleep.

The next day, I was allowed up and I sat by the window in a dressing gown and swathed in blankets. The log fire in the room was cheerful and I felt as warm as toast.

The view outside was over a garden. It was pretty garden and quite large, but I could not see the full beauty, as everything was covered in a thick layer of snow. I had believed myself so lucky to be where I was, tucked up nice and warm without having to worry about anything in particular, at least in the short term. I had seen the vicar’s wife every day and sometimes several times a day and she had told me in no uncertain terms that I was safe and would be well looked after, although she would not tell me much about my future.

It was decided that the name Tom would not be suitable for a girl and was asked if I had a name that I would prefer. For some reason, the name Olivia came instantly to my mind and henceforth I was to be named thus.

One day during my convalescence the vicar and his wife came into my bedroom as I sat drowsing in the chair by the window. Another man came in with them and I was told that it was a Mister Prendergast, and he would ask me a number of questions.

I was somewhat frightened of Mister Prendergast as he was a large imposing figure with a belly to match, but he soon put me at ease after I was informed that he was just there to gather information.

I told him my story and became somewhat upset at the recall of it. However, Mrs Pettigrew held my hand, and this helped me to get through the telling of my sorry tale.

After I finished, he thanked me kindly and then turning to the vicar said, ‘I will make enquiries about what we have discussed, and I will contact you when I know more of this.’

I was confined to the bedroom for a week and then the doctor pronounced me fit to quit my sickbed. Earlier that week, the housekeeper came in along with the maid and asked me to remove my clothes.

I did as I was asked, and I was measured from head to foot. I was told that this was needed for me to have some clothes made up for me.

I wondered at what clothes that might be but was too shy to ask.

So, the time came for me to leave the confines of the bedroom. I was awoken one morning by the maid who gave me some breakfast to eat on the table by the side of the bed. I had now progressed to more solid food and I eagerly consumed the eggs, bacon, sausages and toast. I regret to say that although my appetite had improved greatly, I was unable to eat everything put before me.

I kept stealing glances over to the wardrobe and chest of drawers where I knew my new clothes had been placed. I was informed the previous evening that I was to wear them that morning after breakfast and then join Mrs Pettigrew in the morning room. The maid was to help me dress once I had completed my repast.

Somehow the maid knew when I had finished eating, she came in, removed my tray and then proceeded to help me dress.

You may think, gentle reader, that I knew how to dress, as I had done so the whole of my life, but I had never before dressed as a girl and it was a vastly different process to the one I was used to.

All manner of clothes were put upon the bed and I wondered whether some mistake had been made as there was so much there!

I will not recount the procedure used when I was dressed as I fear that it may bore my readers. It took some little time to be dressed, I was pulled, pushed cajoled and eventually the ordeal was over.

I looked at myself in the mirror with some surprise. I saw little of the urchin boy that I thought I was.

My dress was white and tied with a red ribbon around my waist and fell to my calf. I was told that I would normally have stays, whatever they were but due to my delicate condition, that would have to wait until I was able to stand the inevitable constrictions that such garments have. It was a pretty dress with red bows on the sleeves and red piping on the hem. Under the dress, I had a chemise, two petticoats and some pantaloons that just showed beneath the dress. Over my silk stockings, I was wearing soft slippers as my feet would not tolerate shoes at that moment.

My hair was brushed until it shone by the maid. I was by now used to having my hair brushed each night by Mrs Pettigrew who, I think, gathered as much enjoyment to the task as I did.

‘You look very pretty Miss.’

‘Thank you Mary,’ I replied.

‘You are expected downstairs in fifteen minutes. Would you like me to help you to find your way?’

‘Yes please.’

‘I will just return your breakfast things to the kitchen and then I will come back for you.’

‘Thank you.’ I replied, not taking my eyes from the reflection in the mirror.

As I stood there, I briefly felt regret that I was no longer a boy. But then I never was a boy. I was a girl in hiding, a sham if you like. I had no idea what my future was but compared to my past but surely it was better now. I would savour every moment and hope that I was not dreaming and that I would wake up still working as a filthy chimney boy.

I shuddered at that thought but was distracted by Mary returning and leading me out of the room.

The house was larger than I expected. The vision that I had of the vicarage was of a somewhat smaller property. We went down a carpeted corridor past several doors on each side and then descended the rather splendid staircase to the hall below. I had been in such fine properties before in my duties as a sweep and this was finer than many. I was in a somewhat confused state, compounded by strange feelings I had regarding my clothes and how strange they felt upon me. I rustled as I walked, and it was somewhat diverting. In addition to those strange sensations, I wondered how I would be viewed by the lady and gentleman of the house. They had never seen me dressed like this. Would they laugh or deride me?

I felt a rivulet of perspiration go down my back and wondered if I might faint before reaching the bottom of the stairs but Mary, bless her, must have seen my distress and she held on to my arm to steady me.

‘Don’t worry Miss,’ she whispered, ‘you are as pretty as a picture.’

This gave me some courage and as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I took a deep breath as I was led across the hall to some double doors. A manservant was standing outside, stood to attention like a soldier and he opened the door before me and I was led into a large and splendid room, I took to be the breakfast room.

To the side was a large fireplace with logs spitting in the fire. The walls were covered in portraits and paintings of various types and ages. To the left was a dining table and at the end, by some large double doors that led out into the garden were some deep leather armchairs.

It took moments for me to take all of this splendour in as I was more interested in the occupants of the armchairs. The Reverend and Mrs Pettigrew.

Mrs Pettigrew put her hand to her mouth and her eyes widened when she saw me. I had a fear that she would not be pleased with what she saw, and I was almost heartbroken as I had grown extremely fond of her and I had hoped that she felt the same as me.

‘Olivia, my dear you look lovely.’

She came over with tears in her eyes and hugged me.

To my knowledge, I had never been hugged in such a way before and it was almost indescribable. I felt tears well up in my eyes, tears of joy.

It took some moments before I was in any sort of fit state and I feel that Mrs Pettigrew was in much the same condition. The vicar had sat down again, his face hidden behind his newspaper, I believe somewhat embarrassed at such show of emotion. I almost smiled at that thought. Women were allowed to show emotion and it was nice that I did not have to be ashamed or hide tender feelings.

Once we had overcome our emotions, I sat opposite them. Outside, the snow was yet to thaw and a robin was on the patio looking in at us, his redbreast showing clearly against the white blanket.

‘Olivia, we have news for you,’ said the vicar, ‘my dear, would you like to explain?’

I turned to Mrs Pettigrew with some dread in my heart. Was her show of affection a prelude to bad news?

‘Olivia, I know that you are wondering what is to become of you. We have tried to ascertain if you have any relatives alive that might want to take you in. We made enquiries to your previous master, an odious man, I must say, but he had no idea who your parents were. We also had no luck with the foundling hospital. Evidentially you were left on the steps of that establishment as a new-born, without any note or indication as to who your mother might be. You are, therefore, truly a girl without any connection to call your own. Do you have any preference as to what you would wish to do?’

I looked at her, not knowing what to say.

‘Are you happy here?’ asked the vicar gently.

‘Oh, very Sir, I love it of all things!’

‘And do you like us?’ asked Mrs Pettigrew.

‘Yes Ma’am, you have been so kind and generous and…and I love you both!’

I put my head in my hands and cried. There, I had said it. It had been in my mind for so long without my even forming the words. I had loved them as soon as they had shown me some kindness. I loved the way she brushed my hair so gently at night and I loved the kind gentle nature of the vicar. Now I had spoilt it all and would be sent away to God knows where!

I heard a rustle of skirts and I looked up. Through my tears, I saw Mrs Pettigrew put her arms out and hold me tightly. I felt the strong hand of the vicar stroking my hair and I knew that I had not said the wrong thing after all.

Some moments later, I had composed myself and I was sipping some orange squash. Tea had been called for and the reverend and his wife sipped their hot drink. They were somehow communicating with each other without saying words. Raised eyebrows and nods of heads being the means of communication.

My heart, by now had stilled somewhat and I wondered what would now be said of my future.

With a slightly shaking hand, I placed my glass on the tray and put my hands on my lap, my fingers distractedly playing with a ribbon on my dress.

Mrs Pettigrew put her cup and saucer down and then turned to me.

‘Do you feel more composed my dear?’

‘Y…yes Ma’am.’

‘Good. My husband and I have spoken to people in authority who have shown no objection to what I propose. I have to say to you that we have never been blessed with children because I am not able to bear them. We have longed to be able to have a child and of late have considered the possibility of adoption. Then, by providence, you appeared on the doorstep of the church. We feel that it is a sign that you were meant to be with us, and we would be very happy to adopt you if you feel that you would be happy with us. What say you?’

Gentle reader, I could not say a thing, my voice was choked with emotion. I just nodded my head and rushed over to my new mother and then father and hugged them as I had never hugged anyone before.

A month later, I found myself in church with Mother. It was strange to say that word, but I said it repeatedly, Mother this and Mother that. Father was in my heart and mind too. He was so kind and gentle with me. A tutor had been employed to teach me how to read and write. I was evidently intelligent and had an aptitude and was absorbing everything I could from that learned man like some sort of blotting paper!

I was wearing a lemon-coloured dress with a short cape as it was somewhat chilly in the church. On my head was a bonnet that matched the colour of my dress. In my lace gloved hand was the bible Father given me just the day before.

It was all still so very new to me. The clothes and the way the servants treated me and the sudden and very welcome elevation of my position was all somewhat overwhelming. The adoption papers had been drawn up very quickly and put before a judge and it was soon official. I was now Olivia Pettigrew; daughter of the Reverend and Mrs Pettigrew and I could not have been happier.

We all stood up as the vicar (my father!) came down the aisle followed by the choir, singing All Things Bright and Beautiful, a new hymn that was quite lovely.

After the choir had arrived at their pews and Father had climbed the stairs of the lectern, my eyes strayed over to the choirboys sitting there resplendent in their white surplices with starched ruffs about their necks.

My eyes lit upon one boy. I kept staring at him. There was something familiar…something…It was Harry!

I nearly fainted with shock, my mother saw me stagger slightly and must have realised what was going on.

‘Olivia,’ she whispered, ‘you will see young Harry after the service.’

Harry looked at me, grinned and then winked at me!

Although I should not have wished it, I wanted the service to finish as soon as possible so that I could speak with Harry. I must admit to paying little heed to Father’s sermon, but I think that he could forgive me just this once.

Eventually, the service did end, and Father went back up the aisle followed by the surpliced boys, one of them being Harry who grinned at me as he passed!

‘You will see him at home once he has changed out of his vestments,’ said mother as we walked down the path to our house.

And see him I did. He came to the sitting room about half an hour later. He was well dressed in a sailor suit and cap and he looked healthy and happy.

We hugged and then sat down. There were two glasses of squash and some raisin biscuits on a plate. As he nibbled, he talked. He was so much more self-assured than when he was with me at Hopgood’s I could hardly put a word in as he chatted away.

‘You look very pretty Olivia, fancy you being a girl. Mind you there was something about you.’

‘It was as much a surprise to you as it was to me. I still cannot get used to being a girl.’

‘I’m sure you will.’ He replied. ‘of course, I have known about you for a while now.’

‘What happened to you?’

‘After you left, Hopgood was awful to me. I think he realised that I wasn’t strong enough and he hit me and treated me very badly. I got stuck up a chimney once and he put a fire in the grate to move me along. He was told off by the master of the house for that. A day or so later, the horse was not very keen to get up in the morning and he kicked it. Toby got up reluctantly and then kicked him back. Hopgood should not have been standing behind him. The horse hit him on the head and broke Hopgood’s neck.

‘I called for help, but nothing could be done. A strange thing happened then. A man came into the stables and talked to me. He asked me about you and the circumstances about your leaving. He then told me to go with him and I agreed as I had nowhere else to go. He seemed kindly and somehow, I trusted him.

‘The man whose name was Mr Johnson saw that I was somewhat sick, and he took me to a doctor. I thought that I was very ill, but the doctor said that I had an infection. He gave me some horrible stuff to drink and a poultice that smelt something awful and then he sent me to the schoolmasters' house, they had evidently agreed to take me in whilst I go better. Anyway, the schoolmaster and his wife took a fancy to me and decided to keep me. That was fine as they are nice people and I have grown to love them.

‘I have a nice singing voice and so I was asked to join the choir and that is my story. I was told by the vicar that you are with them and I was so happy to hear the news. I had so worried about you when Hopgood told you to leave. The vicar said that it would be nice to surprise you in church and I can see that was so!’

We both laughed at that and the duplicity of the vicar. I knew that he had a strange sense of humour but was unaware just how strange!

That night I went to my bed tired but happy. The sound of an owl awoke me at some time. I did not know the time, but I found it difficult to sleep. The fire in the grate was low but still glowing enough to see its light dance onto the ceiling. I got up from my bed, wrapped a shawl around my shoulders and went over to the window.

Pulling open the heavy velvet curtains, I looked out onto the extensive gardens, bathed in the light of a full moon. I marvelled at the fact that I now lived in such a splendid house and my parents were titled. It took some explaining by Mary that Papa is a Lord and Mama a lady. Why he decided to take the cloth, I would ask one day. We live in a mansion and the church is within the grounds of the estate. Papa laughingly said that the mansion is the biggest vicarage in the country!

The snow on the ground looked so pretty. I yawned and then, as I scratched distractedly at a rather tender breast under my nightgown, I considered my position. I was now a girl, but I had always been so without knowing it.

I had, more by luck than anything else, found love and happiness after despairing of ever finding such a thing. Mama and Pappa were wonderful people - I still found it strange to call them that, but it is so nice. I am part of a family and live in a wonderful house. I have a friend in Harry, and I am to go to school soon, once I am able to read and write properly that is.

So many good things!

I yawned. I was for my bed again.

Then something caught my eye and I saw a deer crossing the garden beyond the lake. behind was a fawn, scrabbling around in the snow to find something to eat. Its mama called to it and the fawn galloped up to it and nuzzled against the neck of its parent.

They then dashed off towards the woods, the snow flying in the air in their wake.

I smiled. They had each other and that was so good.

I had parents too now and I was loved by them. I had, I hoped, a great future in a loving family. My past, I would put behind me like a bad dream. No longer would I be hungry, thirsty and in pain. With God’s will, I would be the best girl my parents would ever wish for.

I could not ask for more.