Читать книгу Orphans of War - Leah Fleming - Страница 13

‘Mrs Plum, was I good in the show? Do you think Father Christmas’ll know where me and Sid live?’ whispered Gloria as she and Maddy skidded along the ice on the lane home from church, with little Sid and Mrs Batty, past the tall trees, their branches arching with snow. ‘He won’t know we left Elijah Street and if there’s no one there, somebody’s sure to nick the presents if he leaves ’em on the doorstep…Mrs Plum?’

Plum wasn’t listening at all.

‘Don’t be a chump,’ laughed Maddy. ‘He’s magic, he knows everything, doesn’t he? We put our letters up the chimney at the hostel. He’ll take them there or to your cottage, won’t he, Aunt Plum?’ Maddy turned round but their escort was not listening, walking behind them, lost in another world.

She’d been very quiet all day and Maddy had seen her dabbing her eyes when they were singing carols. She must be missing Uncle Gerald, who had come to visit them for a few days last month. He didn’t look like Daddy at all. He’d ignored the children in favour of chatting to Ilse and Maria in the kitchen, but then popped half a crown in her hand when he left, so he wasn’t that bad.

Aunt Plum was behaving very oddly, not looking a bit Christmassy at all in her black coat and hat. Every time she’d asked when Mummy and Daddy were coming she just shrugged her shoulders and turned away. ‘It’s this wretched weather spoiling everyone’s plans and we can’t change the weather, Madeleine. It’s in the Lord’s hands.’ What a funny thing to say? Was Plum cross with her? No one called her Madeleine except Grandma.

They’d sung their hearts out in church although she loved the quiet ones best, like ‘Away in a Manger’. The donkey pooed in the yard and made a stink, and Gloria sang her solo without forgetting her words.

The gang from the Old Vic had a great snowball fight outside church on the way home and Gloria got hit and had a hissy fit when her costume got soaked.

‘Gloria in Excelsis!’ they teased her.

‘Shurrup! I’m not Gloria Chelsey,’ she screamed back.

Maddy thought she looked silly in the long white gown made out of a tablecloth, and the halo, but now the two Conleys were so excited and Sid was racing ahead.

‘Jungle bells!’ he shouted. ‘I’m listening for the Jungle bells.’

‘It’s bed and no nonsense, the both of you,’ Aunt Plum said, shoving them through the gate of Huntsman’s Cottage. ‘The quicker you go to sleep, the earlier the day will come, won’t it, Mrs Batty? There’s church in the morning and dinner at the hostel. Tomorrow I want everyone to have a lovely day. Now shoo! Remember, we’re last on Father Christmas’s round so no disturbing Mrs Batty at all hours of the morning or you’ll be disappointed.’

‘Yes, miss.’ Gloria waved, much too full of herself to listen to a word she was saying.

‘Is there really a Father Christmas in the sky?’ asked Maddy. ‘Greg says it’s all fairy tales. He’s never had a proper Christmas and all his presents came wrapped up in the same paper from the Council. “It was the matron what done it,” he said.’ Maddy took hold of Aunt Plum’s hand for the last lap home.

‘Well, if Gregory doesn’t believe, he’ll just have to go without presents, won’t he? He’s jolly lucky to be staying here,’ she snapped, and Maddy was surprised by her outburst.

‘But he has no mummy and daddy, not ever,’ she defended her friend.

‘Lots of children have no mummies and daddies because of this damn war,’ Aunt Plum answered in a cold voice, looking ahead. ‘Come on, up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire, it’s been a long day. We don’t want to spoil the surprises, do we?’

‘I just wish the telephone would ring for me,’ Maddy sighed. ‘Good night and God bless. See you in the morning.’

‘Not too early,’ came a tired reply. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll have a lovely day, I promise.’

How can I say such a thing? How can Christmas Day ever be lovely again for the child? How can I spoil Christmas with such terrible news? Plum paced her bedroom floor, hugging herself to keep from shivering.

She should have taken Maddy for a walk in the snow and told her the truth when she had the chance but she’d flunked it. Why? What did it change? Why cast a gloom over the whole day, put the house into mourning for people they’d never even met?

The news would dampen all the joy of the surprises in store for the children, just for the sake of another twenty-four hours or more. Why not just let her open her presents and have their big party on Boxing Day as promised? Time enough then to break the terrible news.

She’d sworn Madge Batty to secrecy and not told her mother-in-law yet, but held the secret to herself. It hung heavily in the pit of her stomach like a cannon-ball, making her feel sick. She sat in the candlelight wishing she could take the pain away from the child herself. It was making her shake just thinking of ways to break the news gently–but there was no easy way to tell this news. Perhaps the vicar could do it? Perhaps Pleasance would see it as her duty, or they could do it together?

No, she was going to break it to Maddy and try to explain why she had not come straight out with it.

Oh, how she wanted to put off the moment when the child’s face crumpled in disbelief, the moment Maddy realised she too was an orphan of war, that her future was now in the hands of others and that she must face life alone.

No, that wasn’t strictly true. Maddy wasn’t alone. They must take her on here. She was a Belfield child and no one would turn her away from Brooklyn Hall.

Plum shivered in the darkness as she shoved the little trinkets into the girl’s red knitted stocking with trembling hands: ribbons, nuts, a mouth organ, a book, a little sweet shop, a cut-out theatre, a comic and some home-made toffee. The dress and the second-hand bike were waiting under the tree in the hall as her special presents.

Am I doing the right thing to hold back? What would Arthur and Dolly want me to do but love and comfort her like the daughter I never had? I must give her one happy day after all she’s been through. Surely it’s not wrong, Lord, to let the day pass uncluttered with gloom, but how do I tell her?

It was the one special day in the year when all the evacuees could forget this wretched war, stuff themselves with treats and have a big party. She had to think of the other children: Gloria, Sid, Greg and the rest. She must pin a smile on her cheeks and make sure the celebrations went ahead as planned. She thought of all the sad children in London, Coventry and Birmingham, children with no homes or toys, living as best they could. Her children were the lucky ones. It was so safe here. It was if there was no war going on at all.

As for Pleasance and Uncle Algie and the oldies, they would doze by the fireside waiting for their blow-out dinner, loosen their belts, dress up in their jewellery, drink sherry and pass pleasantries.

She would wait for a suitable moment after Boxing Day. It was not as if there were bodies to claim, nothing but the hush-hush phone call, perhaps further discreet communications to follow. It would not be announced on the wireless for days, if ever. No one wanted to hear such news around Christmas.

‘The first victim of war was always truth,’ she’d once read. Nothing was done to disturb public morale. Who wanted to know that a troopship was caught by submarines only a hundred miles off the Irish coast?

All over the country there would be other sad hearts receiving this call or telegrams around Christmas Eve. ‘I regret to inform you that…’ Her first thought had been that it was Gerald and then she was flooded with relief that it wasn’t him. But now she was sickened by guilt at what she was withholding from the child.

Plum stroked her red setter Blaze for comfort. He nuzzled in for more. What have I done? I just want to give Maddy a few more hours before I destroy her world. Every Christmas for the rest of her life will be spoiled by this news. It’ll be a time of dread and sorrow. I just want her hope to last a while longer. What harm can that possibly do?

Gloria could hear Mr and Mrs Batty whispering in the kitchen, after lunch on Boxing Day. It was something to do with terrible news at the Hall but when she popped her head round the door they drew back and changed the subject.

She was good at earwigging, hovering behind doors at Elijah Street, listening to stuff she shouldn’t. That’s how she’d learned from her aunties about the birds and bees and how babies got made, how rubber johnnies stopped them and how Old Ma Phipps could get rid of them if you was caught. Manchester seemed a long way away, and she wondered if Mam was thinking about them. Would she send them a present?

She’d never had a Christmas like this one. Elijah Street was just pop and sweets, singing and fighting and waiting outside the public in the dark. There was always a toy but it was broken by teatime. There was nothing about Baby Jesus in the manger and candles in the church, singing carols in the snow and making presents for each other. Everyone went to church in Sowerthwaite; only Freda and her mam went to the Kingdom Hall and they didn’t believe in Christmas Day.

At Elijah Street they were sent to Sunday school to get out of the house of an afternoon but it was just a tin shack hall with no candles and decorations. She’d never seen such a big Christmas tree as the one in Brooklyn Hall. It smelled of disinfectant and melting wax. They spent ages decorating the one in the hostel with tinsel and paper chains. It was lovely.

Did Mam ever think about the two of them? How could she just shove them on a train with no word that they were safe? Sid had already forgotten their old home. He looked blank at her when she asked him about Mam. Gloria got hot and cold just thinking where she might be. One minute she was sad, the next spitting flames. What Mam had done wasn’t right but coming here was great. She didn’t want to worry about someone who didn’t care about them, not now.

They were getting ready for the Boxing Day party at the Hall, and she was dressed in her new pinafore dress and shirt. It was navy-blue corduroy with rick-rack braid where the hem had been let down–not very partified at all but it was better than her other skirt and jumper.

Sid had on his new Fair Isle jumper that itched him, and his ginger curls were plastered down with Mr Batty’s Brylcreem. Father Christmas had got the right address and Sid was thrilled with his toy farm and tractor, and she was pleased with her crinoline doll in its own box until she saw Maddy wobbling on her new bike on Christmas Day. Why hadn’t he brought her one too?

Greg was helping her ride it on the path where the snow and ice were cleared away. Maddy was wearing a new velvet dress, all shiny and soft, the colour of peacock’s feathers, under her school mac. It wasn’t fair. She’d had two Christmasses–one at the Hall and the other at the hostel.

Greg was wearing long trousers and a new blazer, strutting around like the cock of the midden. Everyone was dressed up and on best behaviour. Maddy wanted her to see all the presents. There was a little toy sweetie shop with jars and scales and boxes of Dolly Mixtures given to her, and a book and presents from the staff. It wasn’t fair.

Gloria begged for a shot on the bike but Greg said her legs were too short to ride it and that got her mad, so she and Sid hid behind the sofa and scoffed all the jelly beans in the toy sweet shop. Aunt Plum was cross. She didn’t smile once but, Gloria realised now, that would be because of the terrible news.

Now as they stood in the porch to go off to their proper party, Mrs Batty patted her head and told her to play nicely with Maddy ‘Be a good girl and no fighting…’ They skated down the path and Gloria had forgotten her mittens. The snow was too cold to make balls without gloves so she darted back in through the open door to the basket where their hoods and scarves were put.

The Battys were still gabbing about the terrible news and she moved closer. What she heard had her running out into the chill. Wait till she told Maddy that she’d heard it first!

Maddy loved her new bike but it was too icy to ride on it properly. Father Christmas’d given her lots of nice surprises but not the one she really wanted, which was for Mummy and Daddy to arrive on time and sing carols at the piano and tell her all about their travels.

She’d begged to spend Christmas Day with the vaccies. It was fun at the hostel, with turkey and Christmas pudding with threepenny bits for everyone. They’d played silly games and charades and there was a singsong. Aunt Plum was very quiet, though, and looked a bit tired. Miss Blunt was away and the vicar and his wife came to help.

Now, on Boxing Day, Grandma was inspecting the buffet table for the bun fight this afternoon.

‘I don’t know why we have to do this?’ she snapped. ‘Children, let loose around the house like wild animals, are not my idea of fun. It’ll all end in tears. Oh, do shift that vase out of reach, Maddy. It’s priceless.’ Maddy duly obliged.

‘I’m not sure that sort of bright blue suits the child,’ Grandma added, eyeing her dress again. ‘You need red hair to carry off that colour. She’d be better off in a kilt and jumper, much more sensible.’

‘Oh, Mother…let it rest,’ Aunt Plum snapped as she dragged on her cigarette. ‘Let her enjoy the party dress. There won’t be many more in the shops if this blasted war goes on and on,’ she sighed. ‘If you can’t dress up on Boxing Day, it’s a poor show.’

‘Who rattled your cage this morning? You’ve been a crosspatch for days…This was all your idea. What time are the hordes descending?’ asked Grandma, lighting her own cigarette.

‘Soon. I just think it’s good for the youngsters to mix with all ages. It’ll do the old codgers good to have a bit of life about the place. All they do is snore and eat. Uncle Algie’s promised to do some conjuring tricks if I can peel him away from the wireless. Aunt Julia has promised to give a recitation…’

‘Oh God, must we?’

‘No, she said it was suitable for children.’

‘How would she know? She’s never had one of her own,’ snapped Grandma.

The bickering went on but Maddy was too excited to get upset. Those two were always sniping at each other, like Uncle George and Ivy, up and down the bar of The Feathers. It didn’t mean anything. Then she thought of last Christmas and how so much had changed and how sad it was not to be back where she truly belonged.

Then Gloria and Sid arrived early and she thought she ought to let them have a try out of her bike.

Holding the saddle, she let Gloria sit up but her legs wouldn’t reach the pedals and they kept slipping sideways. Two falls and she’d had enough.

‘We mustn’t get dirty,’ Maddy whispered. ‘I mustn’t spoil this hem.’

‘I’ll have it when it’s too short…It looks silly on you,’ said Gloria, rubbing her fingers on the velvet pile.

‘No it doesn’t,’ Maddy snapped back, pulling the skirt away from her. Why was she being so mean? Then she spied a crocodile of vaccies from the hostel coming up the drive, carrying their best shoes in baskets. She led them through the back entrance and the cloakroom to change their shoes and take off their coats.

The parcel from America had been full of shirts and trousers, and everyone was dressed up. Enid and Peggy were sporting earrings and painted lips–now they really looked silly–but Greg and the boys were looking smart and grown up. Maddy wondered if he still didn’t believe in Father Christmas now.

Everyone collected chairs for the game in the hall, marching round the tiled floor to the music from a wind-up gramophone and rushing for the seats when the music stopped. The dining-room table was extended with a huge white cloth on which were plates of sandwiches, mock sausage rolls, mince pies and wodges of Ilse’s crumb cake. They had to stand for grace, and then it was every hand for itself as the boys leaped to get platefuls of grub.

After tea and pop–Sid spilled his on the rug–Sukie and Blaze rushed round trying to mop up all the crumbs and then it was time for the children to sing for their supper to the assembly in the drawing room. Gloria did her usual show-off routine, singing ‘Bless This House’, which the vicar’s wife had taught her on the quiet.

Then Great-uncle Algie appeared in a black evening cloak and top hat and tried to do a few card tricks, making them laugh. He conjured up eggs out of nowhere.

He asked for a volunteer and Bryan stood up as his assistant. The eggs came and went, and for his last trick he placed a magic egg on Bryan’s head, said some magic words and cracked it with his conjuring stick. It broke all over his hair and dribbled down his face and onto his jumper. Everyone roared, but Aunt Plum was furious.

‘That’s his new jumper…How could you waste an egg like that!’

Poor Uncle Algie looked quite shocked at his telling-off but Grandma came to his defence.

‘What’s got into you? He’s done his best to keep the natives calm. Thank you, Algie. We’ll take the children back into the hall for pass the parcel. Really, Prunella, there was no call for that!’

Everyone pushed and shoved back out of the room, leaving Aunt Plum almost in tears. ‘I’m sorry, Algie, I’ve a lot on my mind,’ she sighed.

Gloria pinched Maddy’s arm. ‘I know what it’s all about. She’s had bad news,’ she whispered.

‘She never said,’ Maddy replied curious now. ‘Is it Uncle Gerald?’

‘’Spec so. I heard Uncle and Auntie in the kitchen talking about his ship going down, but don’t say nowt. I was earwigging behind the door. She’s a widow woman now, that’s why she’s been wearing black.’

‘But why hasn’t she told Grandma? She’s got a red suit on. Uncle Gerry’s her son. How strange? Come on, we’ll be especially nice to her.’

Maddy kept looking at her aunt sideways. Plum must have kept her sadness all to herself to give them a good Christmas. How kind she was. Poor Uncle Gerry, never to see him again. How brave she was to bear such bad news.

The party seemed to drag after that and Maddy was glad when the last ones had gone home and she could put her hand in Aunt Plum’s and squeeze it gently.

‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘It must be awful for you.’

‘Know what, Maddy?’

‘About your bad news. Gloria heard the Battys talking. She didn’t mean to but they were talking loud about Uncle Gerald’s ship going down…’

Aunt Plum was staring at her hard. ‘Is that what Gloria told you?’

Maddy nodded. ‘Is that why you’ve been wearing black clothes?’ Poor Aunt Plum was looking very strange and grasping her chest. Then she took her arm and guided Maddy towards the little morning room with French doors that opened out onto the side garden where the bird table was.

‘Let’s just shut the door for a minute. You’re right, I’ve got some bad news but it wasn’t Uncle Gerald’s ship. You see, a ship did go down…We don’t know all the details yet. There was a phone call the night before Christmas Eve. I thought it was best to let you all have a proper Christmas. Mrs Batty was there when the call came through. I don’t know how to say this, Maddy, but it wasn’t Uncle Gerald.’ She paused.

In that split second Maddy saw the look on her face and knew what she was going to say and put her hands to her ears. ‘No, no…Please, no, not my mummy and daddy!’

Everything went all fuzzy round the edges and her throat sort of froze so she couldn’t swallow. There was a ringing in her head. Plum’s words were faint, something about enemy action and a troop ship off the coast of Ireland, lifeboats and survivors, but it was all very quick. ‘No, no, it’s not true…?’

Aunt Plum nodded. ‘I’m so sorry, darling. I didn’t know how to tell you.’

‘But there are lifeboats and they can last for days? They found the children from the City of Benares when all was lost, days and days after!’ Maddy was pleading for hope.

‘It’s been nearly two weeks. There were only a few survivors. It must have been very quick.’ There was no comfort in her words.

The mantelpiece clock ticked and the fire crackled and blew out smoke. The blackbird was hopping around for crumbs and the icicles were dripping from the stone bird table. Time seemed to stand still.

‘Then they’re never coming home, are they?’ she said, looking Plum straight in the eye.

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘So I’ll have to go to an orphanage like Anne of Green Gables?’

‘Of course not! Your home is here in Brooklyn.’

‘But Grandma doesn’t like me. She wore a red suit…’

‘She doesn’t know yet…about Arthur. I had to tell you first. I didn’t see the point in spoiling your Christmas,’ Aunt Plum sniffed.

‘There’s no Father Christmas, is there?’ Maddy said, feeling ice cold inside. ‘All I asked him for was to see Mummy and Daddy again and he sent them to the bottom of the sea. It’s all lies! All of it…’ she screamed.

‘Maddy, I’m sorry, but Brooklyn is your home,’ Aunt Plum stuttered, looking older and unsure. ‘Forgive me if I’ve got it all wrong. I’ve never had to do this before. I just wanted you to have a nice time. Your home is with us now.’

‘No it’s not! I’ll not stay where I’m not wanted. I’ll go to the Vic and stay there. I’m not a Belfield any more!’ she spat out, and jumped off the sofa, making for the door. She wanted to get away from this house. Grabbing her gabardine mac and galoshes, and the dog lead, which got Blaze bounding after her down the steps, Maddy stepped out into the dusky whiteness of the front drive.

There were no tears in her eyes. She couldn’t cry. It couldn’t happen twice, could it? First Uncle George and Granny Mills and now Mummy and Daddy? That wasn’t fair. It didn’t make any sense.

Maddy wandered down the lane in a daze, picking out the frozen footsteps of the hostel gang before her. She looked up at the tall poplar trees standing like Roman candles, the snow on the bark making pretty patterns. It was all so crisp and white and silent, so beautiful and so sad.

Would Mummy and Daddy know how sad she was? Did they care? Were they out there somewhere looking down on her, watching over her, with Granny too? She hoped so.

How strange that her own life was going on right now whilst their lives had been over days ago and she didn’t know. All the time she was having fun at Christmas and the school concert, they were already gone. Her life was going on and they’d just disappeared. Now she’d grow and change and do things and they wouldn’t know–or would they? Oh, how she hoped so. It was the only comfort she could cling on to.

Maddy looked down the avenue of poplars and thought of all those other boys who never came home, who were just names at the bottom of the trees. Now Daddy would be a tree on the lane with Uncle Julian. How strange all her family were in a far-off place and she couldn’t reach them.

Now the dark chill wrapped itself round her but she wasn’t a bit afraid. She didn’t feel cold. She didn’t feel anything but a numb sort of tiredness as she made her way to the Victory Tree. She felt safe there tucked away, hiding in the crevice.

It was like sitting in the tree in The Feathers all over again, but without any hope of letters coming from Egypt. All she wanted to do was curl up and sleep until the war was over and things would go back to how they were before.

How could I have been so stupid? Trust Gloria to get it all wrong and spoil the moment; that silly nosy little tyke! Plum jumped up to follow the child. How could I take it on myself to play God and get it so wrong?

Pleasance would have to be told but not yet. First she must find the girl. It was too cold to be wandering about in the dark. Her footprints would be easy to follow and chances were she’d head for the Old Vic and to her friends.

Plum wished there was a phone in the house to warn Vera Murray, the vicar’s wife, of the situation. It was not surprising Maddy preferred the shabbiness of the old pub to the genteel grandeur of her grandparents’ house. Hurt puppies always headed for safety, where they could watch the world from under some table and lick their wounds.

Maddy wasn’t running away, she was running to where she knew there’d be a welcome. To Plum that thought was no comfort at all.

When Mrs Plum arrived at the hostel everyone was still clearing up the mess before bed. The little ones had been sent up first and Greg was summoned into the kitchen to hear the bad news.

‘Maddy’s disappeared,’ said Mrs Plum. ‘Gone to ground. Have you the foggiest where she’d go, Gregory?’

It made him feel grown up that she always consulted him in a crisis, as if he was important.

‘I think I know where she’ll be, miss–up the garden by the big tree, in our Victory HQ. You’ll find her there,’ he offered, feeling so sorry for young Maddy ‘I’ll fetch her back if you like,’ he offered. ‘She won’t have gone far, not in the dark.’

‘I’ll come with you.’ Mrs Belfield jumped up from the kitchen table.

‘Give me five minutes so she don’t run off,’ he said, knowing that if it were him he wouldn’t want grownups fussing. Maddy was a funny kid, even for a girl.

Greg crunched up the allotment path whistling ‘Colonel Bogey’ so she’d know it was him. ‘I know you’re up there, Maddy Belfield. I’ve brought some cocoa and syrup with condensed milk…Poor Mrs Plum is doing her nut wondering where you are,’ he yelled, watching the steam come out of his mouth into the chill air.

‘Go away! I’m not talking to anyone,’ she shouted back.

‘Don’t be daft. It’s freezing out here. Come down while it’s still hot.’

‘I don’t care!’

‘Yes you do. You don’t want the dog to catch a chill, do you? It’s sitting on the icy ground.’ There was silence and he saw her peering out into the darkness. He shoved the mug into the hand dangling from the tree.

‘The vicar’s wife says we can cook chips in the frying pan tonight if we clear up afterwards.’ That was their favourite treat when The Rug wasn’t around.

‘I’m not hungry.’ Maddy sniffed at the cocoa as if it was poison. ‘What’s it like being an orphan?’ she added. Her glasses were all steamed up from the hot drink.

‘It’s just a label you get stuck on you. It don’t mean anything. I’ve got no mam and dad, never had, and what you never had you don’t miss,’ Greg said, which wasn’t exactly true but he wasn’t sharing that with anyone. ‘I’ve had loads of aunts and uncles, some good and some rotten…I just heard your bad news. I’m really sorry. You’re not really an orphan, though, you know.’

‘I was just trying it on for size,’ Maddy answered, hugging the the hot mug for warmth. ‘My parents aren’t ever coming back. I don’t know what to do.’

‘But you’ve got yer gran and yer auntie. You’ve got family. Orphans have no one.’

‘I don’t want to go back to Brooklyn Hall, not now.’

‘It’s a bit stuffy there but it were a good do this afternoon for the little ones, and you belong with that lot, up there. Mrs Plum is your real Auntie.’ Greg didn’t want to admit he’d had a right good nosy around and grabbed as much grub as he could.

He felt sorry for Maddy and that was why he had taught her to ride her bike and get her balance, even if she looked a bit odd with her patch and glasses, her eye flickering all over the show. She was no Shirley Temple, not like Gloria, but he quite liked her funny stare.

‘If you ever run away again, promise to take me with you,’ she begged. ‘I’m not stopping where I’m not wanted. Mummy and Daddy are drowned so I’m like you now.’

‘No you’re not and never will be. They’ll look after you up at the Brooklyn. Mrs Plum cares about you. She’s a good ’un.’

‘But I’m useless at everything and Grandma ignores me,’ Maddy sighed.

‘Come off it! You’re top of your class, not a dunce like me. I’ve missed so much schooling…’

‘You make things with your hands. Enid can dance. Gloria can sing. Everyone likes her…’

‘Gloria’s a right little show-off.’

‘You don’t like her?’

‘She’s only a kid, OK as girls go,’ he said quickly. It didn’t pay to take sides between girls. He’d learned that one early after being bashed up in the first hostel near Leeds when he’d tried to stop a fight between two girls. ‘Look, here’s Mrs Plum coming to find you. She’s been worried.’

‘I don’t want to see her,’ Maddy snapped, darting behind the tree branches, spilling her drink and leaving a trail of milky cocoa for the dog to lick up.

‘Oh, don’t be daft, it’s not her fault…She’s doing her best to help. It is Christmas,’ Greg replied, not knowing what to say now.

He looked up at the tall outline of the trunk, how it branched from the base into a V shape, outlined against the whiteness. ‘Old Winnie would like this tree,’ he said, making his fingers into a Churchill V sign. ‘A proper V for Victory Tree is this. Come and see,’ he smiled, pushing his fingers in her face. ‘See!’

Maddy came down, stood back and looked up. ‘You’re right. It is a V shape. How clever of you to give it a name. It’s our Victory Tree now. I like that but it doesn’t change anything. I’ll never ever have another Christmas again…It’s all lies, isn’t it?’

‘Oh I don’t know, I did rather well from Father Christmas. It pays to keep an open mind,’ he smiled, thinking of his smart new blazer, long trousers and proper brogue shoes, his racing car annual and some shaving tackle.

‘But you said there wasn’t any Father Christmas. So if it’s true, why pretend?’

‘Because it makes grown-ups pretend and give us presents and treats, they play games and sing songs just for a few days in the year. It’s make-believe but we get a holiday and people get boozed up. This’s been the best one I ever had,’ he argued.

‘But it’s all lies, all of it,’ Maddy insisted.

‘I think some bits are worth keeping, with this war being on and all…’

‘I don’t understand you. One minute you say one thing and the next you change your mind,’ she snapped.

‘Well, that’s one thing I did learn in the orphanage…not to believe everything other people tell you. You’ve got to think your own thoughts and look after yourself. When it’s bad I do a bunk, when it’s OK I don’t,’ he replied. He’d been let down so many times by being shoved here and there, smacked for nothing, made promises that were never kept.

‘Was it really bad?’

‘Sometimes, and other times…’

‘There you go again, not giving me straight answers.’

‘I wish I could,’ Greg smiled. ‘Here comes your auntie, plodding through the snow. It’s time you went home before we all freeze to death.’

Poor kid, he thought, as the two figures walked slowly in front of him in silence. What a horrible Christmas present. He’d long ago stopped wondering why he was put in a home. He liked to think his parents were killed together and only he survived in a car crash. The thought that someone had just dumped him there and gone off and forgotten him…When he got wed and had kids he’d make sure his children were close by his side.

Grandma was sitting in the drawing room, knitting socks on three needles. She didn’t look up when Plum and Maddy entered the room. They sat down on the sofa together opposite her.

She paused with a big sigh. ‘Well? What is it now?’

‘Maddy’s got something to tell you,’ said Aunt Plum, squeezing Maddy’s hand to give her courage to say the hard words and not cry.

‘Mummy and Daddy aren’t coming here,’ she said, waiting for Grandma to put down that blasted grey sock and ask why.

‘What’s it this time? Theatricals are always so unreliable,’ Grandma said, and carried on with her knitting

Maddy swallowed hard, trying not to be cross with her. She didn’t know the news and it was Maddy’s job to break it. Aunt Plum said she would tell herself but Maddy had insisted. It made her feel very grown up.

‘They can’t come home because they got sunk in a ship. My parents are drowned.’ Maddy felt the tears welling up but she stayed very calm as the knitting dropped from Gran’s hand.

‘Is this true, Prunella? Arthur’s dead…another of my sons is dead?’

‘And my mummy too. I know you didn’t like them but they were my mummy and daddy and I’ll never see them again.’ That’s when her tears just burst out and she couldn’t stop them.

‘Oh dear God! The ship went down? Where?’

‘The week before Christmas, Mother. We received a call at the hostel. I said nothing until after Christmas to spare you both, but Gloria Conley blurted out something to Maddy. I had to deal with it but I did mean to tell you first.’ Aunt Plum had gone very pink.

Grandma sat very upright, staring into the embers of the log fire, shaking her head.

‘Arthur…he always was musical. Heaven knows where he got it from…not me. He was always Harry’s favourite…mentioned in dispatches in the Great War. Now Arthur’s gone. I don’t understand.’ She talked as if she was very far away from them. ‘We never got to say our piece,’ she whispered to herself. She suddenly looked very old.

‘It’s all right. Daddy wouldn’t mind,’ Maddy interrupted her reverie, hoping to give her grandmother some comfort, but it only made things worse.

‘But I mind! Things were said that can’t be put right now. I was hoping to sort out my papers with him.’ She paused and stared at Maddy as if looking at her for the first time. ‘I’m so sorry, Madeleine, sorry for your loss and your disappointment. You must be feeling very shocked. Come and sit by me.’