An Orphan in the Snow Page 10
‘Don’t take it, Miss.’ Alan’s eyes were black with rage. ‘It’s mine. I keep it with me all the time. It’s useful for all sorts of things. I don’t do nothing bad with it.’
‘I’m sure you don’t but I’m taking it anyway. You haven’t answered my question. Did you tell Bobby that God was all a pack of lies?’
‘Yes, and it’s true.’ Alan turned on her. ‘And grown-ups know it’s all lies, but it’s a good way to send us to church and the like, to keep up us out of their hair.’
In spite of herself, June admitted there was a lot of truth in Alan’s outburst. She remembered how she and her two sisters had had to go to church twice on Sundays, Stella hating every minute.
Before she could answer him there was a squeal from behind. She swung round to see Betsy, her eyes wide with fear, pointing to something on the stone slab floor. ‘Miss! Miss! It’s a hugest spider.’
‘It won’t hurt you.’ June rushed over to the child, then took a step back. Betsy was right. It was the biggest, blackest spider she’d ever seen. Shaking, she rushed to the nearest classroom and grabbed the blackboard rubber.
‘Not sure what you’re going to do with that, hen.’ Bertie laughed, coming out of her kitchen to see what all the commotion was about. ‘Keep your eye on it. I’ll get the spider-catching kit.’
‘A spider-catching kit?’ Alan’s face was agog with curiosity, the confiscated penknife seemingly forgotten.
Cook was back in a twinkling and, bending down, she deftly got the spider in her Pyrex pudding basin and quickly put a plate over the top. ‘Somebody open the front door, please,’ she called.
‘Kill it!’ Betsy shouted.
‘Kill it, kill it!’ More shouts from the other children, who rushed over to see if the spider was really that big.
‘This is one of God’s creatures,’ Bertie said to the children now crowding round and watching in awe as the spider struggled up the side of the basin and fell back. ‘Why would you want to kill it?’
‘Because it’s horrible, Cook. It’ll bite,’ said Megan.
‘Get away with you, child, it won’t bite. Aye, he’s been nice and cosy in the corner but I’m putting him outdoors. But don’t be surprised if he finds his way back in again. They don’t like the cold.’
The children stopped shouting and began to take a real interest in the trapped spider, which was desperately trying to escape. Three or four of the older ones followed Bertie and in a couple of minutes they were all back inside.
‘I’ve let the poor thing out near one of the kitchen sheds,’ she said, laughing. ‘He’ll get in there through one of the wee cracks. He must have wondered what on earth was happening.’
The doorbell interrupted any further discussion about the spider, and one of the maids hurried to open it.
‘Do come in, Reverend Halliday,’ she said. ‘The children are all seated ready for you.’
The children left the chapel looking slightly dazed from the long service. June told them there was pop for them, and tea and biscuits for the grown-ups, laid out in the dining room. When she followed the children in, trying to keep order, she was surprised to find Hilda pouring out the drinks.
‘I hope you’re satisfied,’ Hilda said between gritted teeth when June went to collect her own cup of tea.
June’s first thought was to ignore the girl. But Hilda was plainly waiting for a response.
‘What do you mean?’
‘That bitch Iris reported me.’
June took a step backwards from the vehemence in the girl’s tone.
‘Don’t call her that, Hilda. It’s a horrible word.’
‘It’s too good for her, if you ask me.’
June drew in a sharp breath. ‘What are you talking about, anyway?’
‘You know perfectly well what about – Dumb Lizzie who pretends she can’t speak.’
June’s stomach turned. ‘Has something happened to Lizzie?’
‘No, but the way Iris went on, you’d think it had.’ Hilda angrily poured tea into the next cup and it sloshed into the saucer.
‘Who did she report to?’
‘Matron, o’course. Who told me I didn’t have to look after Lizzie no longer. I’m needed to help Cook. I hate kitchen work.’ Hilda practically spat the words out. ‘I like looking after Lizzie.’
June swallowed her delight. This was marvellous news. If Matron was finally convinced Hilda was not capable of looking after a child who needed special attention, then she might be able to talk her round to putting little Lizzie in her own care. Mixing her in with the others.
‘So who’s looking after Lizzie right now?’
‘Who d’ya think? Matron.’
June’s heart plummeted. This was almost worse than Hilda. But at least if there was one thing Matron loved it was her days off. She couldn’t be in sole charge of Lizzie every single day. She’d be forced to put Lizzie in someone else’s care. June was determined it would be herself.
‘Hilda told me she was no longer in charge of Lizzie,’ June ventured when she was sitting down in Matron’s office. She’d made an appointment to see Matron but her reception had been anything but welcoming. Matron had curtly told her to take a seat. As usual she had the accounts spread out on the desk in front of her, and once again June was sure she didn’t really understand what the figures meant.
‘Yes, that’s right. Nurse Marchant reported her to me. I didn’t realise Hilda was leaving the child on her own when she went to get her dinner.’
‘But you were the one who told me—’ June started, but Matron put her hand up.
‘So I will now be in charge of her well-being.’
‘What about when you have a day off?’
Matron glared over the top of her glasses. ‘I rarely have a day off, but when I do I’ll put her under Nurse Marchant’s care. She’s a nurse, after all.’
‘But if she’s busy in the sick room—’ June tried again.
‘Please don’t argue with me. I know what I’m doing. I believe I have slightly more experience than you with the orphans.’ She kept her eyes glued to June’s. ‘That will be all, Miss Lavender.’
‘May I ask where Lizzie is at the moment?’
‘Look around.’
And there in a dark corner of Matron’s office was Lizzie, staring in front, her three fingers in her mouth. There was no sign of recognition in Lizzie’s blank eyes. It was as though she’d never been outside to build a snowman and given a little smile to June to share their secret.
‘Quite safe, you see. Now would you please leave? I’m very busy today getting the books in order for the accountant.’
June left the office fuming. What a horrible woman. But at least she’d come to her senses and stopped the twenty-minute time lapse when Lizzie had no one in the nursery with her. But what kind of a life was it stuck in a chair in Matron’s smoke-ridden room? June was desperate to change things – but how? Maybe Murray would come up with a suggestion tomorrow. She hugged the thought to herself. Tomorrow she would see him.
Until then she’d go and find Iris. She couldn’t wait to hear exactly what her friend had said to Matron.
Chapter Ten
Iris was in her usual chair in the common room when June finished getting the children to bed. They’d been more noisy than usual with Christmas looming.
‘Only ten days and four and a quarter hours till Christmas, Miss,’ Gordon had reminded her. He was a tall, thin boy with a frowning forehead, giving the impression he was older than his eight years. He could add any numbers in his head before the other children had even written them down, no matter how complicated they were, and loved impressing them with his practically infallible memory, though he wasn’t a good mixer. He preferred to speak to the grown-ups.
‘That’s right, but best not to mention it too much to the younger children as they get over-excited about Father Christmas coming down the chimney with his sack of presents.’
‘Good job it’s a large chimney, isn’t it, Mi
ss?’
June couldn’t tell whether he was simply making a comment or being sarcastic because he no longer believed in Father Christmas. If so, she hoped he wouldn’t tell the other children and upset them the way Alan had.
‘You’re looking all sparkly-eyed, Junie,’ Iris said as June slumped down on one of the nearby sofas. ‘What’s up?’ She squinted at her. ‘Oh, I bet it’s Murray. Well, when are you going to see him again?’
‘It’s supposed to be tomorrow afternoon at the bookshop. I thought I could slip away as it’s my day off and also Matron’s. I never understand why she and I don’t have different days off. After all, I’m supposed to be her assistant.’
‘So she can keep her eagle eyes on you, of course,’ Iris said. ‘She doesn’t want to risk you having a day without being under her control. You might do something she wouldn’t approve of.’
‘I might at that. It’s so frustrating when I can see what a bad effect she has on the children – and on me.’ June sighed.
‘I agree.’ Iris lit a cigarette. ‘Sorry – forgot to ask you.’
June shook her head as usual, then laughed. ‘I said I’d join you one of these days, didn’t I?’
‘You ducked out the other evening.’ Iris lit one for her. ‘What an awful woman Matron is,’ she continued. ‘She can’t possibly keep Lizzie cooped up in her stinky office all day. Poor little kid. She’s never going to speak at this rate.’
June inhaled. The smoke hit the back of her throat and she coughed so hard she felt she was choking. Iris jumped up and got her a glass of water.
‘Thanks, Iris.’ June took several gulps, her eyes stinging and tears pouring down her cheeks. ‘I don’t think cigarettes and I agree with each other.’ She gave Iris a rueful smile. ‘I hear you spoke to Matron.’
‘Yes.’ Iris flicked her ash into a nearby ashtray. ‘I told her Hilda wasn’t fit to look after children. And especially not to have sole charge of a child who needed special attention.’
‘I’ve said the same thing so many times.’ June felt a little peeved. ‘She told me flatly Hilda had the job and that was that. So why did she listen to you?’ She didn’t mean it but it came out as an accusation.
‘Because I’m a nurse, I expect.’ Iris laughed, patting June’s hand. ‘I’m supposed to know these things. And if she doesn’t make any changes I’m going to report her to Head Office. It’s gone on long enough.’ She took another puff of her cigarette. ‘Anyway, about tomorrow. I can switch my day off with Kathleen and we can go to town together. Then separate and you can meet your pilot.’
‘We’re only going for a cup of tea,’ June said, flushing. ‘And he’s not my pilot. I wanted to ask him some questions, that’s all, and he thought it might be a good idea for us to meet there. And it would give me a chance of a few hours away from the home. Much as I love it, it can be rather oppressive sometimes.’
Murray kept popping into her mind all through the following morning. She visualised those incredible blue eyes. His capable shoulders. The strong jaw. Every time she pictured him her heart did a somersault. It was ridiculous. But she couldn’t help smiling.
June barely tasted her dinner. She put it down to the grumbles of some of the younger children because it was liver and bacon. The twins were pushing it around their plates, and she spotted Betsy hiding the pieces of cut-up meat under her mashed potato. June wasn’t that keen either but she knew they were lucky to get such good food when so many mothers had to queue for hours and still came home with barely enough to feed a family. She hoped the other children wouldn’t start making a fuss as there was no alternative, though she had to admit that most of the older children didn’t moan or complain too much. It had been drummed into their heads that there was a war on, but they were fortunate at Dr Barnardo’s. There was always enough good basic food.
But that didn’t stop Bertie from preparing special treats for Christmas.
‘I’ve been saving up rationed ingredients for the cakes and puddings since September,’ Bertie told June when she brought in a pile of dirty plates from dinner. ‘A wee bit here and a wee bit there. It takes some juggling, I can tell you.’ She pushed the large mixing bowl across the pine table to June. ‘Here, hen, give a stir and make a wish.’
Immediately, June’s eyes went to the small child crouched in the corner in her usual position.
‘Lizzie, come and help me stir the puddings. You can make a wish.’
Lizzie slowly took her fingers out of her mouth, each one making a small sucking noise. Her eyes brightened with interest. Slowly she uncurled and trotted over on unsteady legs.
That’s because she hardly ever uses them, June thought. This is ridiculous. Something has to be done.
Bertie brought a stool over and lifted the little girl up on it. ‘Make a wish, Lizzie.’ She handed the child the wooden spoon.
‘Poor wee bairn,’ Bertie said under her breath so only June heard, then spoke normally to Lizzie. ‘Why don’t you ask for Father Christmas to come down the chimney and bring you a pretty dolly to take care of.’
Lizzie put the spoon in the mixture and tried to stir it but it was too stiff. Before June could come to the rescue the child burst into tears of frustration and tried to climb off the stool.
‘Oh, Lizzie, please don’t cry, my angel.’ June put out a steadying hand as Lizzie was about to lose her footing. She longed to take the little girl in her arms, comfort her, but she didn’t dare. If she frightened her at this early stage she might not ever gain her trust. ‘You’ll make me cry next. Here, lick the spoon. No one will notice. That always used to be my favourite thing to do on baking days.’
To her relief, Lizzie sniffed back the tears and put her little pink tongue out and flicked it over the spoon. Just like a cat. June felt a ripple of pleasure that Lizzie was enjoying it. And then she turned to June and gave that small sweet smile again. And June had to steel herself from crushing Lizzie to her, feeling her warm, soft little body, and telling her how she loved her and would always keep her safe.
She felt Bertie watching her curiously.
‘I’ll have to say something,’ she said. ‘You’re better than anyone with the child.’
‘I’m glad when I know she’s with you, Bertie, and not in Matron’s smoky office. It can’t be good for her. But I so want her to join in with the other children.’
‘I’ve mentioned the same myself to Matron,’ Bertie said, folding a tea towel and hanging it on a rail by the sink. ‘But the woman never listens. She might now she’s got you though.’
‘I’m just a silly little girl, as far as Matron is concerned,’ June told her.
‘Give the Fierce One a bit more time to get to know you,’ Bertie said. ‘But don’t let her get you down. She might even break into a smile, one of these days.’
That was all very well, June thought, but it didn’t help Lizzie now, when she needed it most.
The mixture smelled wonderful even before the puddings had gone into the oven.
‘Not as good as they should, hen,’ Bertie said when June complimented her. ‘I’ve usually got them all made by August. Earlier the better. But it takes longer these days to collect enough coupons to get all the ingredients. And even if you have coupons there’s no guarantee they’ve got what you need.’
June glanced up at the kitchen clock. Quarter to two. She only had a few minutes to change and would be lucky to walk to the top of the lane and then catch a bus into town – all in an hour.
‘Junie, are you ready?’ Iris called. ‘Harold is outside waiting to give us a lift in the motorcar. He’s going into town.’
June didn’t need any persuasion. The sooner she was in town the sooner she’d see Murray. She was out of the door in a flash, Iris laughing and running behind.
‘Give Murray my very kind regards,’ Iris said, as the motor came to a stop in the High Street and Harold went to open their door, ‘if you can remember,’ she added, tweaking June’s hat so it sat straighter on the honey strands.
‘Tell me that after you’ve spent a few hours in his company.’ Iris looked wistful. ‘I’m going to leave you here and make my own way back. I need to buy some sewing needles and replenish the first-aid tin, then I’m back on shift in a couple of hours.’
She waved goodbye and was soon out of sight. June thought she’d feel pleased to be left alone, ready to meet Murray in private, and was surprised to find she half wanted to run after Iris – tell her not to go – tell her to join them for a cup of tea. All of a sudden she felt nervous. She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep, calming breath. She was a grown woman. All she was doing was having a cup of tea with a very nice man.
But she knew she was fooling herself.
She turned the corner and there he was, outside Brown’s Books. As she approached him she could see a smile begin to tug at his mouth. For an instant she wished they were courting. Then she could run into his arms and be enclosed and safe. He would kiss her warmly – on her lips. Tell her how much he’d missed her. But they were just friends, and that was marvellous as well. She smiled, as much at her silly daydreams as at Murray himself.
‘I didn’t know if you’d really come,’ Murray said, beaming, as he pecked her on the cheek.
‘I told you I would. Something or someone would have to stop me from keeping my word.’
‘I’m the same way.’ Murray took her hand, his eyes seeking hers. ‘Do you want to walk a bit or shall we go straight to my favourite teashop? If it’s not too busy we can talk. You said you had two problems, and I’m a good listener. Have even been known to resolve a problem or two occasionally.’ He gave her hand the gentlest squeeze.
That familiar tingling when he touched her, even though he was wearing his leather gloves. She felt her cheeks warm. Did he realise what an effect he was having? He still had hold of her hand and it felt right. She could hold his hand forever and not get tired.
‘That sounds lovely.’ Her voice came out a little shaky and he gave her a sharp look.