Читать книгу An Orphan in the Snow - Molly Green - Страница 12

The next two days slipped by quickly as June tried to take everything in and work through Matron’s list. Daisy and Doris came out of the sick ward but they didn’t join in with the younger children’s favourite game of hide-and-seek or practise with the skipping rope, and June noticed they left half their food. She wondered how long they’d been at Dr Barnardo’s, and the reason why they’d come. She’d ask Matron. She’d also ask Matron if she could see a list of every child’s name and date of birth, and who their parents were, if known, and how the child had come to be at Dr Barnardo’s. It was important to know everything possible about each child and Matron was bound to keep a book with those sorts of details.

She decided to waylay Matron immediately after the children went to their first class of the morning.

‘Matron, it would help me a lot if I knew the different backgrounds of the children and I wondered if I could have a look at the records—’ She broke off when she saw Matron’s frown. ‘Just to acquaint myself,’ she added hurriedly.

‘I don’t see that’s necessary at all, Miss Lavender. They’re confidential.’

‘Yes, I understand, but surely not to the people who work with the children. It’s difficult to know how to handle them when I know nothing about them. They’re all individuals with different stories and I feel I’d be able to help them far more if I knew them better.’

‘You will know them better when you’ve been here longer, I’m sure.’ Matron’s voice and body were stiff with annoyance that she was being challenged.

‘No, they don’t say much about the reasons why they’re here. Not the orphans anyway. The evacuees sometimes tell me about their mums and dads. They have their own problems of homesickness, but the orphans are the ones who I believe need more attention. And sometimes the evacuees taunt the others. Only the other day I heard Arthur say to Jack, “I’ve got a mummy and daddy and you haven’t. I’ll go home soon and you’ve got to stay here forever.”’

‘Bates is always playing up.’ Matron pursed her lips. ‘He’s a troublemaker.’

‘Yes, he can be difficult.’ June sighed inwardly. She didn’t feel she was getting through to Matron at all. ‘But I don’t think he’s deliberately being horrible. I’m trying to show him his remarks are hurtful, but I have to tread carefully not to make him worse. If I knew more about him—’

‘Yes, yes, you’ve already told me,’ interrupted Matron pulling the chain of her watch out and looking at the time in a pointed manner. ‘Well, Miss Lavender, I’ve enjoyed our little chat, but I must get on. I believe you are down to darn their socks this afternoon, am I not correct?’

‘Yes, but—’

June’s words were lost as Matron turned on her heel and marched off, her shoes clacking on the wooden floor.

How was she going to find out about the children? A few of them had told her snatches, all of them sad stories, but several of them refused to discuss it. The boys were more secretive than the girls, and bit back their tears. She longed to take them in her arms and comfort them the way a mother would, but she daren’t. Matron had said only yesterday that displays of affection didn’t sit well at any Dr Barnardo’s home. Made the children weak, she’d said. They’d have to go out in the world as soon as they were old enough and needed to be independent. They’d thank her one day.

‘Are you coming to the dance, Junie?’ Iris asked, when the two girls were in the common room that evening after supper and the younger children were tucked up in bed. June had read them a story and was pleased to see they were all listening to her intently. When she asked who usually read them one, the answer took her by surprise.

‘No one, Miss.’

‘No one ever reads to you?’

‘No, Miss.’

‘Did you enjoy the story?’

‘Oh, yes. We’d like a story every night. Can we?’

‘Can we?’ Two children jumped up and down on their beds.

The others followed, all calling out, ‘Can we, can we?’

‘You’re not too old?’

‘No,’ they all chorused.

‘Well, all right, so long as you behave,’ June said, smiling. The children had settled down instantly. ‘And if I’m not ill or too busy, I’ll read you a story every night.’

‘Will you really, Miss?’ Peter’s eyes had shone with delight. ‘That’d be grand.’

Now Iris broke into her thoughts with talk of the dance.

‘I’m working,’ June told her, annoyed with herself for wondering not for the first time if Flight Lieutenant Andrews would be there, and trying to pretend her heart didn’t give a tiny leap each time. ‘And I don’t want to ask Matron any favours when I’ve only been here such a short time.’ June leaned towards the nurse. ‘Iris, can I ask you something?’

‘Sure.’

‘How long have you been at Dr Barnardo’s?’

‘Oh, dear, I thought you were going to ask me a really tricky question.’ Iris leaned back in her chair and laughed. ‘Let’s see. It must be coming up two years.’

‘Do you like it here?’

‘It’s as good as anywhere,’ Iris said. ‘Better if we had a nicer matron – a proper one who actually works. The Fierce One’s a harridan and lazy with it. That’s why she’s got you here. She can push all the jobs she doesn’t like on to you. She’s been here forever and thinks she owns the place. And she’s got no kids of her own – not that I have’ – Iris threw June a grin – ‘but she doesn’t have the first clue that the kids need affection and individual attention, and it’s just as important as their food and a roof.’ She pulled a packet of cigarettes from her handbag and plucked one out. ‘You’re changing the subject, Junie, and I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m going to have some fun. And you’re coming with me.’

‘Message from Matron,’ Kathleen said, flopping down in the chair next to June. ‘She wants to see you in her office – NOW!’ she barked in Matron’s strident voice. Barbara, who was crocheting a bedspread, chortled.

June’s heart dropped. Iris had warned her that Matron didn’t usually call you into her office unless it was something serious. Her usual habit was to waylay you in front of as many people as possible to criticise you – her way of feeling superior, she supposed. But if she wanted to give you a real dressing-down, that’s when she sent for you.

June went straight to Matron’s office and knocked.

‘Enter.’

June turned the handle and opened the door to Matron’s office. The room was so full of smoke she could hardly make out the figure sitting behind the desk. Matron had an accounts book open and was reading the figures, but June had the distinct feeling the woman didn’t understand them from the way she was flicking the pages back and forth. June cleared her throat in a pointed way. Matron looked up.

‘Oh, there you are, Miss Lavender. You can be seated.’

June sat with her hands quietly folded in her lap, determined not to be intimidated by the woman. She drew in a deep breath, wondering what was coming.

‘Hilda Jackson has put in a complaint about you which I take very seriously indeed.’

Lizzie.

‘You interfered with one of her special charges, Lizzie Rae Dixon.’

June opened her mouth.

‘No, Miss Lavender. I would prefer not to hear any excuses. Hilda has explained exactly what happened. The child needs special attention and Hilda has been assigned to give it to her. She did not take kindly to your interference and I will not tolerate such behaviour. You are not to go up to the nursery again, do you hear me?’

‘Matron, I didn’t interfere, as you call it. I just—’

‘Silence!’ Matron slapped her hand hard on her desk. ‘I will also not tolerate such rudeness. I shall be keeping a close eye on you, so watch your step in future, Miss.’ She snapped the accounts book closed. ‘You are dismissed.’

June bit her lip in fury to stop herself making a retort. How dare Matron speak to her as though she were a naughty child. If she’d only let her tell her side of the story. How Hilda did the complete opposite of giving the little girl attention and love which the child was crying out for. Leaving her completely on her own while she went down to the dining room and ate her own dinner, and then bringing a plate back for Lizzie. The child could get up to anything in those twenty minutes. No, Hilda was not the right person to be put in charge of her. But how on earth was she ever going to convince Matron? But whatever Matron threatened, June was determined she was going to try to talk to Lizzie again. To break through that wall of silence.

The only place Lizzie would go outside the nursery was into the kitchen with Cook. That was the best place to talk to her, June thought, because at least Bertie had shown the child kindness. But she couldn’t risk Matron’s temper if she went to see Lizzie in work time. No, she’d leave it until her next day off. Then she could do what she liked. Go into the kitchen and have a cup of tea with Bertie if the cook wasn’t too busy and maybe Lizzie would be there. Even so, it wouldn’t be easy. The child was suspicious of everyone, it seemed, with the possible exception of Cook.

June fell into bed, exhausted by the children. It was as though they sapped all feeling, all strength, until her head spun. But at least she now knew their names. The worst of it was she already had favourites. She’d been determined not to. It wasn’t fair on the others. But who could resist little Betsy with her skin the colour of treacle and her dark-brown eyes which she used in a comic fashion when she wanted to make you laugh? June couldn’t help smiling at the vision. And Harvey with his mocking grin and legs that showed recent scars, which could only have come from someone beating him. He bragged he could play any tune you asked for on the mouth organ, and so far he’d never wavered. Then there was quiet little Janet, a shy plump child with an extraordinary vocabulary for an eight-year-old. She’d sit for hours making tiny books and writing and drawing in them.

The children took her mind off painful memories. But June always came back to Lizzie.

Once or twice June had been tempted to remind Iris about the dance, but decided her friend would immediately tease her that she was looking for a man. She momentarily closed her eyes. A certain face whose image refused to go away. A strong face with the bluest eyes that crinkled when he laughed. The cleft in his chin like Cary Grant’s. The shiny hair, the colour of a tawny lion. You see, it’s happening right this minute, she berated herself, trying to push his image away. She was being ridiculous. Their encounters would have meant nothing more to him than a brief exchange of pleasantries. Actually, that first time on the train was more of a battle. She couldn’t help smiling at the memory, and Iris, who was collecting the dirty supper dishes, caught the smile and grinned back.

‘Penny for them.’

June went pink.

‘Ah, I thought so,’ Iris said, nodding sagely. ‘It’s the RAF chap. Well, the only way you’re going to see him again is if we go to the dance on Saturday. The girls in the kitchen aren’t going as it’s an officers’ do and they don’t feel comfortable with them, even though they admit they look gorgeous in their uniform. But they prefer the soldiers.’ She gave June a sharp look. ‘What’s the matter? You’re very quiet all of a sudden.’

‘I’m not sure I’ll feel comfortable with a load of posh officers.’

‘Posh?’ Iris threw back her head and roared. ‘You should hear some of them. Granted, they might talk hoity-toity but believe me, we’re just as good as them any day of the week.’

‘All right, you’ve convinced me,’ June said, grinning. ‘And maybe one of these days I’ll surprise you and take you up on that offer of a cigarette. I’ve never tried one but everyone else seems to enjoy it. Maybe it’s time I did something different.’

She didn’t know what made her say this. Smoking was something that had never appealed, but in her new job at Bingham Hall she badly wanted to fit in.

Her eyes gleaming with mischief, Iris gave June a sly nudge. ‘That’s my girl. We’ll give it a go this evening. I’ll get Gilbert to light the fire early in the common room so we’ll be nice and cosy and can have a girls’ natter. There shouldn’t be anyone in there tonight as they’ve nearly all signed up for Barbara’s new evening art class.’

June changed her mind a dozen times as to whether she should go with Iris to the dance or not. She really didn’t have anything to wear such as a party dress, as she hadn’t envisaged needing one. And even if she had, she didn’t have the coupons or the money to buy something that wasn’t practical – something she’d hardly ever wear.

‘You’re coming, and that’s all there is to it,’ Iris said as they sat in the common room drinking a cup of tea.

They were on their own except for Athena, who had her head in a book and didn’t seem to be taking any notice of their conversation.

‘What will you wear?’ June posed the question to Iris, half dreading her friend would come up with something really glamorous.

‘I’m going to wear my navy spotted dress with white collar and cuffs. I bought it before the war so it’s not new, if that’s what you’re thinking.’ She turned her sapphire-coloured eyes to June. ‘You don’t need to worry about wearing sequins for the dance. The chaps are just grateful to see any woman, whether she’s in uniform or just come off the land smelling of manure with corn sticking out of her hair and a bag of turnips in her arms.’

June couldn’t help laughing. ‘Gosh, they must be desperate.’

‘I think some of them are.’ Iris’s expression was suddenly serious. ‘These boys really see life – and it’s often extremely unpleasant with your friends getting injured and blown up at any time. So a dance means more to them than we’ll ever know. They always seem optimistic that they just might meet the girl of their dreams. Even if it’s only someone who’ll write to them when they’re abroad to stop them going mad. Can you imagine their lives – flying around trying to shoot down Germans and desperately trying not to get killed themselves?’

‘I can’t.’ June felt sick at the idea. Murray’s face flitted across her mind. She’d been curt with him when he hadn’t deserved it and it made her feel thoroughly mean. He’d only been trying to be nice and she’d cut him off – more than once. Was it because she liked him and didn’t want to let herself become interested in anyone who might be killed at any moment? A shudder ran across her shoulders.

‘… and I don’t suppose your Murray is any different.’

June gave a start as she heard Iris say his name.

‘Junie, have you heard a word I’ve been saying?’

‘I’m sorry, Iris. I was miles away.’

‘Thinking of Murray Andrews, were we?’ Iris’s eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘I daresay he’ll be at the dance.’

June’s heart skipped the next beat.

‘’Course I wasn’t,’ she answered crossly. ‘I was thinking of what you said about all of them. It must be awful.’

‘Well, they’ll soon have a load of Yanks to see to,’ Iris said. ‘It will give them something to grumble about. I’ve heard their uniforms are much more attractive than our boys’, and they’ve got more money too. And they’re very generous with their gifts, so I’m told – nylons and chocolate and all sorts of luxuries we can’t get.’

Athena looked up from her book. ‘Can’t you two talk about something else besides men?’ she said. ‘It’s getting on my nerves.’

‘Can’t think of anything more fun,’ Iris retorted. ‘You’re always so quiet, Athena. Have you got a boyfriend?’

‘None of your business if I have or not.’ Athena snapped her book shut. ‘I’ll leave you two alone. You’ve obviously got private stuff to talk about.’ She rose up.

‘Don’t know what’s got into her.’ Iris frowned at the disappearing figure.

‘How long has she been here?’

‘Not that long. There’s a rumour her fiancé jilted her at the altar and that’s why she’s so touchy.’

‘Oh, how dreadful,’ June said, full of concern for the young woman. ‘But if he can do that, she’s well rid of him, I should think.’

‘Yes, but there’s no need for her to be so bitter and twisted. There’s plenty of women who’ve had worse – their men killed or injured in this bloody war. You just have to get on with it.’ Iris wrapped one of her dark curls around her finger and let it spring back.

‘We could ask her if she’d like to come with us,’ June ventured.

‘I’ve asked her two or three times. She always declines.’

‘Maybe I’ll have a go. If she’s unhappy it might do her the world of good.’ June looked across at Iris. ‘I know how I would’ve felt if it hadn’t been for you and Bertie. Perhaps she just needs a friend to talk to.’