Читать книгу An Orphan in the Snow - Molly Green - Страница 11

The news about the Americans coming into the war was the only topic in the dining room at dinnertime. Even Matron couldn’t stop the children cheering and shouting ‘hurray’ when they heard the grown-ups talking and laughing that Jerry wouldn’t know what hit them now the Americans were about to swell the numbers in the military. Everyone joining in except Lizzie, June thought sadly. It didn’t matter that Lizzie and most of the children were too young to understand how much it meant that finally Churchill had got his wish. It was enough that they were following the older children, who were clearly excited. But not Lizzie. The little girl would be upstairs in the nursery having her dinner, but there’d be no childish laughter escaping the room as there were no other children to share it with. June was certain that if only she knew the full story she’d be able to help Lizzie, whom she hadn’t seen since those few minutes yesterday. She’d settle in for a few days and have a word with Iris and Kathleen – ask them their opinion – but until then she’d make sure to go to the kitchen every morning, where she knew Lizzie regularly curled up under the watchful eye of Bertie, and speak to her even if the little girl never answered. Momentarily, June closed her eyes. Lizzie reminded her so much of Clara.

‘Let us hope you’ve enjoyed your morning off,’ Matron said, a touch of sarcasm dripping through the words. ‘There’s plenty to learn and I want you to start right away, so please come to my office as soon as you’ve finished.’

June helped serve the dinner, which was stew and bread, with rice pudding to follow, all the while thinking of Lizzie alone in the nursery, though it was hard to think straight with all the noise. The children were not allowed to talk but that didn’t stop them scraping their chairs, coughing, slurping, sniffing, whispering. One child was making a racket with two spoons and June was surprised Matron hadn’t reprimanded him. Then she realised. Matron would be watching to see whether she could control the children on what was only her second day.

‘Will you please stop banging those spoons,’ June said in a firm voice. The child took no notice, just grinned and carried on doing it. The child opposite with ginger hair and freckles began to giggle. She had to say something or else they’d get the better of her, though it was difficult as they were several seats away.

‘The boy who would love to play drums and is practising with two spoons – what is your name?’

There was a silence. The children’s heads swivelled to look at the offending boy. The boy banging the spoons gave another loud clash.

‘Could someone tell me his name if he can’t answer for himself?’ June persisted.

‘It’s Thomas, Miss. He’s always mucking about,’ said the ginger-haired boy.

‘No, I’m not,’ Thomas shouted.

‘No talking!’ Matron glared across from the neighbouring table. ‘That goes for you, too, Miss Lavender, unless there is an emergency.’

Several children giggled. June went red with annoyance. If Matron was going to pull her up in front of the children, she didn’t stand a chance. The children would think they could get the better of her every time.

‘This is an emergency, Matron,’ June spoke in such a low voice she wondered if Matron would hear. ‘If I hear any more from you, Thomas, I will … I’ll …’

‘What, Miss? What will you do?’ His eyes were like two shining pieces of coal, challenging her.

‘You will be promoted to monitor of the games room. And you will clean it up after the children every day for a fortnight whether you’ve played in there or not. They won’t have to do it – you will.’

‘That’d be right good, Miss,’ Peter said, grinning at the scowling Thomas.

‘Now no more talking. That goes for all of you.’

‘Even you, Miss,’ Thomas muttered under his breath.

The rest of the meal passed in silence allowing June’s thoughts to stray to Lizzie again. She couldn’t get the little girl out of her head. A child who had suffered such a terrible shock it had made her dumb. It was wrong that Matron would not allow her to join in with the other children who might even be able to encourage her to speak. And she still didn’t like the idea that Lizzie was left alone while someone came downstairs to eat a meal, no matter how quickly, and then go back upstairs. Anything could happen in between. Hilda was not acting at all responsibly but Matron had clearly sent a warning not to interfere. Well, she was afraid she might not be able to heed that warning. Where was Hilda anyway?

Completely forgetting Matron’s order to report to her office, June jumped to her feet and stacked the plates nearest to her.

‘Can you finish this?’ she mouthed to Iris, who nodded.

June dumped the dishes in the kitchen and practically ran up the flights of stairs, her heart hammering as though she were a naughty schoolgirl about to get found out. Past her own room and the maids’ to the end. A door in front of her was conveniently marked ‘Nursery’ and she tried it. It was locked.

‘Lizzie, are you in there?’ June shook the handle. There was no sound. Of course – the child couldn’t make herself heard. She thought she heard a scuffle of shoes. ‘Lizzie,’ she called again. ‘It’s Miss Lavender, the new lady who has come to help look after you and the other children. Is there a key in the door? If there is you could turn it. Open the door. And I could say “hello” to you.’

She stood quietly, straining her ears to pick up any noise of a child. Nothing. She must have imagined the other noise. Bending down she put her eye to the keyhole but her view was restricted. She could just make out what looked like the end of a cot.

‘Can I help you, Miss?’

June jumped to her feet at the sound of Gilbert. She hadn’t heard his approach and it unnerved her.

‘There’s a child in there. I was worried that she’s alone and frightened.’

‘Why do you say that?’

She shouldn’t have passed any remark to Gilbert. He’d made it clear that he disliked her on sight and she couldn’t say in all honesty she felt any better towards him. But it was too late. He was asking her questions.

‘Matron said Hilda leaves her while she has her meal.’

‘Aye. That’s right.’

‘But if the child should have an accident …’

‘I’m here if anything like that happens.’

‘But you can’t be everywhere,’ June said, knowing it was the wrong thing to say, but not able to help herself.

‘What right have you got coming here, poking your nose in things which don’t concern you? You’ve been here five minutes and want to change everything.’

‘No, you have it wrong, Mr Gilbert. I just want the children’s safety.’

‘You want to leave well alone, Miss,’ he said. ‘That’s my advice.’

What was going on here that two people were warning her to mind her own business? Why wasn’t a child’s safety and well-being of paramount importance? June sighed. Why was nothing straightforward? All she wanted to do was help. That’s what she was here for, wasn’t it?

Suddenly remembering Matron, she simply nodded at Gilbert and rushed down the stairs.

‘Where have you been?’ Matron demanded as June entered the office. ‘I said for you to come straightaway … wasting my time.’ She removed her spectacles and glared at June.

‘I’m sorry, Matron. I needed something from my room.’

‘Well, we’d better get on with it.’ Matron pursed her lips as she handed June a sheet of paper. ‘Perhaps you’ll read that and ask me any questions.’

June quickly scanned the paper. Everything was timed from the moment she rose from her bed. She was to help the children get washed and dressed, take them downstairs for breakfast, and make sure they cleaned their teeth. From that point the teachers took over until dinnertime at one o’clock, where she would help the teachers to supervise them. While the children were in class she was to make the beds of the very young children, help Hilda clean the dormitories, sort out their dirty washing for the laundry room and help there when needed, mend their clothes, darn their socks, and help Hilda with the ironing. Then help the teachers to supervise the children’s supper at six o’clock. She would have an hour off every afternoon.

With that list of chores for forty children she wondered how she’d fit in that hour for herself.

‘Any questions?’

‘Yes, Matron. I wasn’t told I’d have to help in the laundry or do the ironing. I thought that was Rose and Mabel’s job.’

‘Several of the orphans frequently wet the bed. It’s too much for the two girls without help.’

‘Couldn’t Hilda help out?’ June’s heart was beating nervously, hoping she wasn’t speaking out of turn.

Matron frowned. ‘She’s kept busy all the time. As I’ve told you before, we’re short-staffed as it is. There’s a war on, you know.’

‘Yes, I do know.’ June nearly added, ‘and my sister’s husband was killed in it,’ but managed to stop herself. ‘I’m not afraid of hard work, but—’

‘But nothing.’ Matron’s eyes flashed. ‘These orphans are obviously more of a challenge than your sister’s three boys. So if you don’t feel you’re up to the job, perhaps you should be looking elsewhere.’

‘No, of course I’ll do my very best.’ June folded the sheet of paper and put it in her overall pocket.

‘Then that’ll be all, Miss Lavender.’

‘I wondered where you’d got to,’ Iris said under her breath as June slipped into the common room.

‘I was worried about Lizzie and went up to the nursery but the door was locked so I couldn’t get in. Then Gilbert sneaked up behind me, making me jump, and asked what I was doing. He was quite rude.’

Iris’s face was serious. ‘Don’t take any notice of him. And no, I don’t approve at all of her being left alone, and neither does Kathleen. But you can’t tell Matron, and I’m afraid Hilda hasn’t got much between the ears.’

‘I’ve just had a bad run-in with Matron.’

‘Haven’t we all.’ Iris grinned. ‘What happened?’

June told her briefly what had taken place, and showed her the long list of duties.

‘She’s having a laugh,’ Iris said. ‘You’re a trained nursery nurse. You shouldn’t have anything to do with the laundry. You’re Matron’s assistant.’

‘But I have no idea what Matron does.’

‘As little as she can get away with,’ Iris said. ‘She disappears several times a day. We’ve all seen her sneak off to her cottage. Probably has a quick one. You can always smell it.’ She wrinkled her nose.

‘Do you mean a cigarette?’

‘That, too, I expect,’ Iris said. ‘But mainly a drink, and I don’t mean a bottle of lemonade either.’

June’s heart plummeted. Knowing how her mother had taken to drink after Clara died, June knew Matron was not going to be easy. But she wasn’t here to make such observations. Her duties lay with the children.

‘You said you’d tell me what happened to Lizzie.’

Iris looked from side to side out of the corner of her eyes. ‘Let’s go to my room and I’ll tell you what I know.’

Although Iris’s room was bigger than June’s it was so untidy it only looked half the size. Her nurse’s uniform was half dangling over a chair, the cap fallen to the floor, and to June’s embarrassment there was a brassière and a pair of knickers underneath. And a distinct smell of tobacco.

Iris laughed. ‘You’re obviously the neat type, Junie,’ she said. ‘I can’t keep anything in order in my own room but I’m completely the opposite when I’m working. Fussy as a housewife with her front doorstep, that’s me. And I never want to be one of those – housewives, I mean.’ She laughed again. ‘Here. Sit on the end of the bed. It’s more comfortable than the chair.’ She hauled a pile of papers and a pair of slippers off the only chair and dropped into it.

‘Don’t you want to get married one day?’ June ventured a little tentatively. She wasn’t used to asking personal questions of people she hardly knew, but Iris was different.

‘What? Tied down to some man who expects you to wait on him hand and foot. Then a load of snivelling kids to bring up single-handed because he’s gone all day.’ She glanced at June’s disbelieving face. ‘I’m put off having my own when I see my friends’ brats. No, thanks. Definitely not for me.’

‘But you’re here working with children.’

‘True. But these kids are different. They’re a challenge. They don’t have a normal home. This is all they know, poor little blighters. I don’t mind them.’

‘So tell me about Lizzie,’ June said, relieved that Iris was just as nice as she’d first thought.

‘It happened a couple of months ago. Lizzie was at her grandmother’s house for a few days and while she was away her house was hit in a bombing raid and caught fire. It was terrible.’ Iris’s voice began to quiver. ‘The fire engine got there too late. They all died. Her brother, who was only seven, and both parents.’

A shiver ran down June’s back making her gasp. She could feel tears pricking at the back of her eyes, imagining Lizzie, not even four, trying to understand where her mummy and daddy and brother had gone.

‘Since she came here the poor little kid hasn’t spoken a word.’ Iris searched in her bag for her packet of cigarettes, took one out and offered it to June, who shook her head. Iris put it between her own lips and flipped a silver lighter until it flared, then inhaled deeply before she let it out in a stream.

June felt the smoke catch the back of her throat and she tried not to cough.

‘What about the grandmother?’ she asked.

‘She used to come and see her once a week,’ Iris said. ‘But she’s getting old. Said she couldn’t bring up the child on her own. It was too much responsibility. And it was her son who died in the fire, and her grandson. She’s beside herself with grief. It was just too much for her. You can’t blame her.’

‘And Lizzie doesn’t even talk to her grandmother?’

‘Not a word. She stares at her as though she doesn’t even recognise her. It breaks Mrs Dixon’s heart. She hasn’t been to see her lately. I don’t think she can bear it, poor thing.’

‘Can we go and see Lizzie?’

‘I don’t see why not. C’mon, let’s go now while the kids are having their nap.’

The two girls ran up the flights of stairs and Iris took out a bunch of keys from her pocket, unlocked the door and pushed it open. Apprehensive of what she might see, June noticed Lizzie curled up in a corner like a frightened animal, clutching a ball of wool.

‘Hello, Lizzie, it’s Nurse Iris come to see you. I’ve brought Miss Lavender.’ Iris caught June’s arm and gently propelled her forward.

Lizzie curled up even smaller if that was possible, her eyes staring, her expression blank. She had three fingers in her mouth.

‘Take those fingers out, lovey, and say hello to Miss Lavender.’

‘Hello, Lizzie.’ June stepped a few inches closer. Lizzie tightened up, letting the wool fall on to the floor, her hands covering her eyes. ‘Lizzie, do you remember I came into the kitchen yesterday and said hello to you? Can you take your hands away so I can see your pretty face?’

The little girl moved her hands a fraction so June could just see part of her eyes.

‘Maybe tomorrow you’ll let me see you properly,’ June said.

‘Here – what’s going on?’

June turned at the harsh voice from the door. A girl of about 16, built like an ox, stormed in. Lizzie began to cry.

‘Hilda, this is Matron’s assistant, Miss Lavender,’ Iris explained. ‘I’m introducing her to Lizzie.’

‘You can see you’ve frightened her,’ Hilda squealed. ‘If you don’t leave this minute I’ll report you to Matron – both of you.’

Lizzie cried even louder.

‘You need to watch yourself, Hilda,’ Iris said, irritation with the girl colouring the words. ‘I may be putting in my own report – and it won’t be to Matron, either.’

‘She’s not the right person to be in charge of Lizzie,’ June said, when they were downstairs again. ‘Lizzie needs someone gentle and understanding and encouraging. I don’t think she’ll ever get that from Hilda.’

‘You’re right. She was only here a few weeks before Lizzie arrived so I don’t know her that well, but I’m not keen, I must say.’ Iris turned to look at June directly. ‘What do you think, June? Do you still think we should force Lizzie to play with the others? Have her meals with them?’

‘Maybe not right away, and I don’t think we should force her to do anything, but little by little I think we should include her in some games, and if all goes well, let her sit with us at mealtimes.’

‘I agree. She’s such a dear little poppet … must be lonely as hell. Pretty little thing too.’

‘It doesn’t really matter if she’s pretty or not,’ June said, her eye on Matron’s door. ‘She should be treated kindly and lovingly. She’s just lost both her parents and her brother. She hasn’t anything more to lose – except her voice,’ she added soberly. ‘That’s what’s so terrible. She can’t communicate with anyone.’

‘Any suggestions?’

‘Not yet, but I’m going to make it my mission to help her.’