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Rated: 13+ · Other · Other · #2004764
Part two of a family story
"We have to look after our sisters," cried Barnaby, as the baby was carried off. Mary struggled with the woman who was attempting to drag her to the women's quarters.
"What's wrong with her?" the woman asked.
"She doesn't like strangers," explained Jude, trying to pull Mary away from the woman.

When their parents died the children had been bundled up and sent to London. As new arrivals in Portsea, the Parish did not want responsibility for the orphans. The workhouse they were taken to was one of the largest in the country, and one of the most crowded.

In their weakened state to fight was futile. The two boys were taken to the boys' school, the baby to the nursery, and Mary to a wing reserved for 'idiots'.
"At least we're still together," said Jude as the two huddled under the thin blanket provided. They weren't even told when their sisters died. As Jude's fever grew he was moved to a new home on the outskirts of the City.

Jude was the lucky one. The home was surrounded by trees and the children were able to play in the fresh air. He soon recovered but constantly fretted for his siblings. For three years he had no contact with his kin.
"You're fit and well now, you're going back to the boys' school," the Beadle told him. His only thought was of being reunited with his family.

"Where are my brother and sisters?" he asked as soon as he arrived.
"Your sisters died, son. And your brother has been apprenticed." Jude had no tears left to cry, but what he did have was a strong will. He would escape this place and find his brother.

The following Sunday the inmates of the workhouse were led across the road to the church. Jude fidgetted in his seat, anxious for his freedom. As the service ended the boy slipped into the crowd and vanished down the road towards Covent Garden. Somehow he would find Barnaby, his only remaining kin.

"Oy, you cheeky beggar!" The woman grabbed for Jude but had no chance of catching him. Apple successfully filched, he was weaving through the crowd until he became just another dirty faced urchin in a sea of many. Each person he spoke to got the same question, "Do you know my brother, Barnaby Luck?" Then his luck ran out.

"Gotcha!"

It was the beadle's man, come to take him back to the workhouse. He struggled but could not break away from a strong pair of hands experienced in the catching of boys.
"Where did you think you were going? There's no life out there for a boy on his own," the Beadle insisted, "but if you're so determined to leave here I have a place for you; a man from Newcastle is looking for a boy." Jude's heart sank. He had no idea where Newcastle was, but it wasn't London. He might never find his brother.

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