War Orphans (10 page)

Due to her efforts the day before, the hook lifted more easily.

Thanks to the fog, the interior of the shed was darker today. The cobwebbed window didn't help. She vowed it would be her next job once she had fed the puppy. The puppy came first.

It occurred to her to leave the door open for the sake of extra light from outside, but she didn't dare. One of those horrible people who killed pets might be out there. Or even somebody out late to dig the damp ground. She couldn't risk being seen. She couldn't risk the puppy's life.

There was no sign of movement. Her chest tightened.

‘Here, boy,' she called softly. ‘See what I've got for you.'

She untied the handkerchief, laid it flat on the ground and peered into the box where she'd placed the puppy the evening before. The layers of sacks were still there inside the wooden seed box, the puppy was not.

Alarm clutched at Joanna's heart. Had the man who owned the shed and worked the allotment come back and discovered him and handed him to those who would kill him?

Tears sprang to her eyes. She'd lost Lottie. Finding the puppy had given her something to hope for. It would be so unfair if he was gone too.

Despair and anger mixed in equal proportions. She had nothing and nobody else, only her father and he'd gone off to fight in the war.

The pottery dish used to place beneath a plant pot to retain water was still there. She remembered filling it to the brim. The pain in her heart shifted. There was less water now. Had the puppy found it?

She looked around the shed, seeing dim shapes leaning against the wooden walls, the hoes and other implements hanging from hooks and piled on the shelves. Nothing had changed since yesterday.

Her attention strayed to the dark and dingy corner of the shed to a pile of sacks and a bucket. Something moved.

He was still here! Her spirits soared. She went down on her knees, a small piece of fatty meat quivering between her finger and thumb.

‘Here, boy. Here.'

She stayed on her hands and knees, her attention riveted on the furthest end of the shed.

‘Come on. See what I've got for you.'

Nothing happened for a moment, but suddenly, sensing the smell of food, the black spot that was his nose quivered. The nose was followed by a muzzle, which in turn was followed by two bright eyes.

The puppy regarded her warily. She smelled similar to the man who had tossed him and his siblings into a sack and then into the cold water. The little creature shivered at the thought of it. But his nose continued to twitch. One paw stepped forward, then a second.

The smell of food was so tempting. He hadn't eaten for over twenty-four hours and the fear he'd felt on hearing his mother yelp, then the cries of his siblings as the sack had been smashed against the wall, were still fresh in his memory.

The human he saw before him was smaller than he'd been used to. Following a second sniff of the air he perceived she
didn't smell quite the same. She also spoke softly, urging him not to be afraid. But fear still made his blood race. The instinct to survive was strong, but the gnawing in his stomach was impossible to dismiss. He was hungry and the meat smelled so appetising.

He took a third hesitant step, then another. Nothing bad happened so he darted forward, snatched the piece of meat from her fingers and darted backwards.

He watched the girl from a safe distance as he swiftly chewed and swallowed. His milk teeth were sharp enough for him to chew. The meat had tasted good. He licked his lips. The small human was yet again holding out another piece of meat.

The smell was so enticing and he was still so very hungry.

Taking a hesitant step forward, he snatched it and swallowed, too hungry to chew before doing so.

‘You shouldn't bolt your food,' the little girl said to him. ‘You'll get a tummy ache if you keep doing that.' He sat down and regarded her with his big soulful eyes, his long ears hanging like golden pads from his head. ‘Here you are. There's plenty more where this came from.'

The girl held out another piece of meat. This time he was less hesitant. Nobody had hurt him and he heard no cries of fear from other dogs.

When she wasn't speaking there was only a great silence, except when a steam train went by which set the old shed rattling and shaking.

When he'd first woken it had frightened him, but now the little girl showed no sign of being afraid and was feeding him, so he took no notice, accepting it as just a noise and not an intrusion into this dingy shed.

Joanna was elated, delight shining in her eyes. She couldn't stop smiling.

The puppy was getting braver and braver. Three or four pieces of meat and he was close to her now, willingly taking more from her outstretched hand.

When it was gone she let him lick her fingers. By now he was used to her and showed no fear.

‘There. That was good, wasn't it?'

His velvet brown eyes regarded her solemnly and when his stumpy tail wagged happily, she knew she'd won him over.

‘Shh,' she said, her finger in front of her lips. ‘You have to be quiet while I get you some water.'

The watering can she'd used to fill his dish was empty and there was no supply inside the shed. She realised she would have to go outside and dip the can into the water butt.

The puppy attempted to follow her as she headed for the door.

‘No,' she said firmly. ‘You have to wait here while I get you some water. I won't be long.'

The puppy sat on his haunches and whimpered, its big eyes fixed on her.

Joanna crept outside carefully, pulling the rickety door behind her so the puppy could not follow.

The water butt was quite tall and only three-quarters full despite all the rain they'd had. It was hard to reach the water and there was no tap to make the job any easier.

Joanna pulled a stone close to the butt and stood on that, stretching her arms over the side of the butt until the can was immersed enough in the water so some could trickle in.

The watering can was made of galvanised steel and very heavy, so she had to use both hands to heave it out and carry it back inside.

The puppy had not moved from where she'd last seen him. He was shaking slightly but on seeing her stopped immediately and got onto his feet, his stump of a tail wagging enthusiastically.

‘Hey,' she laughed, feeling happier than she had in months. ‘You nearly tripped me up. Let me put some water in your dish then we can play, you little puppy, you!'

The puppy lapped at the water as it splashed from the water can and into the dish. Once there was enough, Joanna placed the watering can back where she'd found it.

In order to keep the water clean she laid a sack over the top so it wouldn't become a bath for spiders.

‘There,' she said happily, getting back down on her knees. ‘Would you like to play?'

Not understanding, the puppy eyed her expectantly. There was something interesting in her tone of voice so he waited to see what would happen next.

She rolled up a piece of newspaper into a ball and for a while she rolled it across the floor, the puppy chasing it then bringing it back, enthusiastic for her to do it again.

Eventually he made the decision not to give it back to her and proceeded to tear it into pieces.

Joanna immediately remembered an old tennis ball she had at home. That would be her first present to him.

Replete with food and tired out from play, the puppy snuggled up against her, his chin resting on her thigh. She heard him make little comforting grumbling noises before he fell asleep.

Joanna continued to stroke his head, thinking how lucky she was to have found him. As long as nobody came to this shed and she could bring him some food, the puppy would survive.

Suddenly aware of how dark it was getting, Joanna knew she had to go home. Elspeth used any excuse to punish her and being home late – although really she couldn't care less – was too good an excuse to miss. Unless she was out, of course, then she wouldn't notice. Elspeth, it seemed, always had somewhere to go. Joanna hoped that she would be out by the time she got home. It would give her the opportunity to find food for the puppy.

‘I have to go now,' she whispered to the puppy as she gently lifted him into the wooden seed box that was now his bed. ‘But I'll be back tomorrow morning. I swear I will.'

Breakfast, if I can. And lunchtime, she thought. And after school. Somehow she had to try and feed him first thing in the morning and immediately after school. This would mean leaving him enough at breakfast time to last him through the day.

Stealing food from home would be difficult. Half the time she didn't get enough to eat herself. But she had to try.

Nothing was going to be easy, but this puppy was hers and he had nobody else in the world.
Like me
, she thought. God had sent her this puppy to replace Lottie and she was going to look after him.

When she got outside she could barely see her hand in front of her face. An evening fog in November was bad enough, but the fact that all the streetlights were out because of the blackout made the night darker.

The only reason that Joanna could find her way home at all was the fact that she was familiar with the path she was walking on and the area she lived in. All the same, the dark shapes of sheds and the scurrying of night creatures was a little unnerving.

She did her best to ignore them, fixing her mind on the little creature she had saved from the river. He was dry now and his flesh was warm, his little tummy round and hard with food.

She found herself smiling at the thought of him, snuggled safely in his box beneath the wooden workbench. She would do her best to take him some breakfast and later on save something from her school dinner. She hoped it would be liver tomorrow. Her puppy would like liver . . .

Her puppy. She rolled the words over in her mind before saying it out loud.

‘My puppy.'

She felt she was walking on air. The puppy had come to her via dreadful circumstances but she determined they would become good friends. Like Susan and Paul, and like them he had to have a name.

She had no doubts the puppy was a boy. She knew enough about boys to know that, so it had to be a boy's name.

She considered her father's name, Thomas Henry Ryan. Naming the puppy after him would make him feel less distant. She pulled a face as she considered her options. Thomas? She didn't want to call the puppy Thomas. That would just be too
confusing once her father
was
home. Neither did she want to call him Henry. That was too formal. But for her father, the man who had once given her a cat and had been kind before Elspeth had come along, she decided on Harry. Yes, she thought, smiling into the foggy night. His name would be Harry!

Seb Hadley twisted a thick knitted scarf around his neck and reached for his overcoat. He heard the irritation in his daughter's sighs, but did not meet her eyes, fearing that if he did she would lose her temper and tell him to stay at home.

No matter how much he tried to persuade her that she needed protecting in case the Germans decided to bomb the country within the next hour, she still refused to let him accompany her to school.

‘Anything could happen. It's just in case.'

‘What do you mean by “just in case”?' she'd asked him. ‘It's a dangerous world. There's no knowing what might happen. You could get run over by a bus.'

‘I know all about safety first. Look left, look right and look left again,' she'd replied impatiently.

‘You might get taken ill.'

When he'd said this she hadn't snapped the obvious, that she was feeling and looking perfectly well. Like him a pall of sadness seemed to fall over her. Her mother had dropped dead while out shopping. There'd been no sign of her being ill, in fact she'd seemed a picture of health. Apparently a blood vessel had burst in her head. The doctors said she would not have known anything about it.

‘And then there's the Germans.'

‘Ah,' exclaimed Sally, somewhat contemptuously. ‘The Germans! Dad, I really don't think Hitler has a plan in place to bomb Victoria Park girls' school. I don't think the park itself is a target either.'

The corners of her father's mouth turned downwards. She immediately regretted her sharpness, but this really was getting too much.

‘Dad,' she said, touching his arm. ‘You have to let me live my own life. Mum wouldn't want you fussing over me like this and neither do I.'

Grace Hadley's death had left her husband a changed man. Seb Hadley was a few years older than his wife and just a few months off retirement when she'd dropped dead. He'd fully expected to die before her. It had come as a terrible shock when she went first.

The protectiveness he'd had for his wife shifted on to his daughter. He'd always loved Sally, of course, but now his love became stronger. She was all he had in the world.

Fear that something might happen to her dominated his life. She was all he had left, and although he knew it irritated his daughter no end, he couldn't stop himself from being over-protective. It was hard to accept that he should occupy himself. What was there to do without Grace? Who else could he dote on?

Her jaw clenched so she wouldn't let out what she was thinking, Sally buttoned her coat and grabbed the briefcase full of pupils' homework that she'd brought home the night before.

She didn't ask her father if he was coming with her. She knew he was and there was nothing she could say or do to stop him.

Their walk to school was silent as it always was on those days she couldn't dissuade him, Sally seething with inner thoughts, her father resolute in his determination to protect her.

For the most part she accepted his company, though refused to let him collect her from school.

‘Collect me! I am not a curly haired tot from the infants' school,' she'd snapped at him. He'd given in, probably because she did sometimes have meetings after school or join the horrendous queues for food.