War Orphans (4 page)

Sally squeezed herself into the space beside Joanna, vaguely aware that this might have been her desk when she was a pupil here.

‘Why are you crying, Joanna?' She didn't repeat what Susan had told her but preferred to hear it from Joanna herself.

Joanna kept her face hidden. She liked Miss Hadley a lot but even her soft words failed to heal the hurt in her heart.

Sally had always considered Joanna a smart girl and on the whole well cared for, but that was before her mother had died and her father remarried.

Just of late her hair, her clothes and the spark she'd seen in her eyes seemed to have faded. She'd also noticed she was usually the last to leave the classroom, and the last to leave the playground at four o'clock when the children swarmed like bees towards the school gate and home.

‘That's a girl who doesn't want to go home,' she'd once remarked to Miss Burton, the headmistress.

Miss Burton was a solid figure with a gentle face framed by cotton fine grey hair. A misty look came to her eyes. ‘There are many children with a less than ideal home, Miss Hadley,' she said. ‘I've learned over the years that it's best to keep focused on one's vocation. It's difficult not to get emotionally involved, but one has to try.'

Sally stroked the girl's hair back from her eyes, aware that her attention was above and beyond the call of her profession.

‘Is it really so bad?' she asked gently.

Joanna came out from behind her hands, sniffed and nodded.

Sally felt her heart lurch at the look on the little girl's face. Joanna had seemed markedly different when she returned to school on Monday. Perhaps it was time to have a talk with her parents, even though Miss Burton had warned against that too.

‘I'm warning you. They won't thank you for it.'

Sally pushed Miss Burton's warning to the back of her mind.

‘Tell you what,' she said, placing an arm around Joanna's shoulders. ‘How about I walk home with you and you tell me exactly what the matter is.'

Joanna nodded. Her foremost hope was that Miss Hadley could persuade her stepmother to get Lottie back. If she could do that she didn't care about anything else.

‘Did you bring a coat today?'

Joanna shook her head. The cardigan she was wearing had holes in the elbows and was hand knitted from thin wool. Her dress was of cotton and faded from many washes. Sally wondered whether she actually owned a coat.

‘Never mind.' Sally went to her desk to pack the last of the children's exercise books into her attaché case. She buttoned her jacket, part of a teal-coloured costume that was her daily uniform. ‘The rain's stopped now. Come on. Let's go.'

She held out her hand. The little girl took it pensively, her big blue eyes still moist but her sobs less than they were.

Together the two of them crossed the empty playground. Joanna looked towards the school gate to see if Susan had waited for her. If she'd been alone she would have been disappointed to see that Susan had not waited. Miss Hadley's presence helped her cope with that too.

‘Feeling better now?'

Joanna shook her head.

‘Has someone been nasty to you?'

Joanna bit her bottom lip. Should she tell her about her stepmother?

Sally had enough experience to sense that Joanna was the victim of neglect at home. There were no signs of bruising on
the child's arms and legs, but she didn't doubt that Joanna was victim to some form of cruelty. It did occur to her to ask Susan, but children were often loath to tell tales on their classmates. She tried again, concentrating on school rather than home.

‘Joanna, you must tell me if anyone in school has been nasty to you. I can make it stop.'

Joanna shook her head avidly. ‘No. It's Lottie. They took her away.'

Sally looked down at the bowed head. They were halfway up The Vale and Joanna had only just begun to unload her unhappiness.

‘Who's Lottie?' she asked gently, even though Susan had told her it was a cat. In these situations it was always best to let the child concerned tell what was the matter in their own words.

‘My cat. They took her away because of the war. Elspeth said they had to.'

Sally gritted her teeth. Official notices had been appearing in newspapers and on the wireless besides falling through every letterbox in the country. The directive was explicit: it was best to put your pets down rather than have them starve to death or be upset by bombs. They even offered a ‘humane' gun that fired a bolt into the brain. Goodness knows what other damage these guns could do if they fell into the wrong hands.

Sally swallowed hard as she thought about her next move. She couldn't possibly upset Joanna by telling her the truth that household pets were being put down in their thousands. Others were being abandoned and left to die in out-of-the-way places.

‘I hear they're being found places in the country away from cities,' said Sally. It was just one of the euphemisms for being put to death, the fate that would befall most of them.

Joanna looked up, a desperate look in her eyes that made Sally's chest tighten. ‘Will there be other cats in the country?'

‘Lots. She'll have lots of friends there.'

Sally almost choked on the lie but told herself it was necessary. It was the only answer she could give without exposing Joanna
to the absolute truth: Lottie was probably already dead. And Joanna was upset enough as it was.

Joanna got out her key at the garden gate.

Without asking, Sally already knew this meant nobody was at home – or at least that was what she thought.

‘Goodbye, miss.'

‘I'll come to the door with you.'

A scared look came to Joanna's eyes. ‘No. You'd better not, miss.'

‘Just to the door. I'm not going to come in,' Sally added brightly.

She remained on the doorstep while Joanna stepped into the tiny hallway. A set of stairs arose on the right-hand side. Numerous coats and hats hung in a space behind the door at the bottom of the stairs.

Looking both cowed and embarrassed, Joanna pushed open the living room door. From where she stood, Sally saw a blonde-haired blowsy woman sitting in an armchair. Red fingernails held a magazine. Judging by the glossy paper it was an old issue. Since the outbreak of war both the quality of paper and size of publications had decreased phenomenally.

‘About bloody time. Get and put the kettle on. I could do with a cup of tea, you lazy little cow!'

On seeing Sally she sat bolt upright.

‘Who the bloody hell are you?' Her tone was nasal, raspy from tobacco smoke.

‘Elspeth, it's my teacher. Miss Hadley.'

For a moment the woman in the chair seemed to freeze. Once she'd recovered she threw an accusing look at Joanna before turning her attention to the slim young woman standing on the doorstep.

‘Oh,' she said, pasting on a deceitful smile. ‘If I'd known we were having an important visitor I would have laid on cocktails and put on me best frock.'

Smoothing her dress and fluffing up her hair she came to the door knocking Joanna aside with her hip in the process.

‘What do you want?' Her manner was less than polite.

Miss Burton had advised Sally to always adopt a professional veneer – even a superior one – when dealing with some parents.

‘It's the only way to deal with latent aggression. Show weakness and you won't stand a chance.'

With Miss Burton's advice ringing in her ears, Sally held her ground. ‘Are you Joanna's mother?'

‘Her stepmother.'

‘Is her father here?'

‘No. Thanks to that bloke Hitler he's gone off to serve his country. He needn't have gone. He was in a reserved occupation up at the aircraft factory, but wanted to go off and do his bit. Stupid sod. He left me with the kid.'

It crossed Sally's mind that any sane man would prefer to leave a woman like Elspeth and go off to fight. The downside was that Joanna was also left behind. Did her father know how his daughter was being treated? Obviously not, she decided.

‘Joanna was very upset in school today. In fact, she hasn't been her usual bright self for a while.'

Elspeth folded her arms over her large breasts. The neckline of her dress was cut very low and showed her ample cleavage.

‘So what? Her dad's gone to war. She's upset.'

Sally took a deep breath. ‘It's not only that, Mrs Ryan. It's her clothes and general appearance. She's a lot thinner than she used to be.' She said all this very quietly but firmly and only once she'd ensured that Joanna was out of earshot. The poor child had enough to cope with by the looks of her stepmother.

Elspeth Ryan stiffened. ‘Look. I've only got so much to keep her on. Army pay.'

‘You don't work yourself?'

‘Certainly not. If a man can't keep his wife and family then there's no point in being married. Not in my book!'

Sally pointedly cast her gaze over the peroxide-blonde hair, the red fingernail polish, the dress with its scattered flowers and lace borders. The state of the house was much the same as Joanna: dirty and neglected. Elspeth shone in the midst of it like the brassy piece she was.

Sally decided the time was right for her to lay down the law, to be professional and non-emotional.

‘If you feel you can't keep her, then I can make a recommendation for her to be evacuated.'

Elspeth shrugged. ‘Do what you like.'

‘Fine. Then you won't mind if I get in touch with her father and explain to him that Joanna is being removed from a home where I suspect neglect. Only you can say what his response might be to that!'

‘You cow!'

Recognising she was in the ascendant on this, Sally carried on. ‘Of course, sending Joanna away will mean a cut in your husband's army pay, which I'm sure will decrease the allowance that he sends to you . . .'

Elspeth's expression turned panic-stricken.

‘You wouldn't dare!'

‘Oh yes I would! And if I don't see an improvement in that child's health and general well-being, that is exactly what I will do. First things first: does she have a winter coat?'

Mrs Ryan's features stiffened before she answered, less stridently this time. ‘She did, but grew out of it. I can't keep up with her.'

‘You should buy her one. See that you do.'

She could have offered to find a coat among parents' donations of items of clothing their own children had grown out of, it was sheer cussedness that she did not.

Elspeth's nostrils flared and red pricks of colour dotted each cheek. She prided herself on being able to stand up to authority, but this young woman with her flawless complexion and
shoulder-length auburn hair had boxed her into a corner. Tom had always been good where money was concerned. Half the time he'd hardly been left enough for petrol in his motorbike. The sooner she got rid of this woman the better. With that end in mind she made an effort to look as though she were eating humble pie. ‘All right. I'll see she gets a new coat and stuff. Is that all?'

‘No. It's not.' Sally glanced down the hall to see that Joanna was busying herself in the kitchen. She lowered her voice anyway. ‘She was crying today because her cat was taken away. I know it's a very hard time for everyone, but pets being destroyed is enough to make anyone upset. I've told her the cat has gone to stay in the country until the war is over. For now she seems to believe that. It might be a good idea if you reassured her too.'

Elspeth chewed the inside of her cheek as she looked over her shoulder, aware that Joanna had taken the opportunity to make herself a jam sandwich. She was saving that last bit of jam for herself and had intended giving Joanna dripping tonight. Not that there was much left of that either.

Mouth full of jam sandwich, Joanna returned, gazing in adoration at Miss Hadley, the only person she'd ever seen face up to her stepmother.

Elspeth pasted on a false smile. ‘There's biscuits in the tin if you want some. Help yourself, love.'

Joanna winced at the touch of her stepmother's hand as though expecting a slap rather than a pat.

Sally was shocked. She knew the look of a frightened child when she saw it. She had the measure of Elspeth Ryan, who was keeping Joanna short of food while making sure that she herself had all the comforts she could get. But there was nothing she could do and she was loath to get the local children's officer involved, at least for the time being. Taking a child into care was never an easy decision.

‘Enjoy your biscuits, Joanna. I'll see you in school tomorrow.'

She refrained from reassuring her that her cat was probably very happy wherever she'd been taken. It wouldn't be true, and it might help Joanna get over it more quickly if the cat wasn't mentioned.

When she got home her father was sitting in his chair staring at the fire. He hadn't done anything about preparing dinner. So far she'd been patient, but she was tired and her patience was running out.

‘I thought you might have put the potatoes on,' she said as she unbuttoned her coat, trying not to sound as though she were nagging.

‘I'm not that hungry.'

‘Oh, Dad.' She draped her arms around his shoulders, her cheek resting against his. ‘You've got to eat something. Bangers and mash. That's what we've got tonight.'

‘I told you: I'm not hungry.'

Her tone became firmer. ‘Well, perhaps you could work up an appetite by digging up your dahlias and planting vegetables? That's one sure way of taking care of us both.'

His face showed a glimmer of interest, but it was short-lived. Sally sighed. He needed somebody or something else to fill his life, but no matter what she suggested he showed no interest.

‘You could do with company of your own age,' she said to him.

He looked at her askance. ‘I'll have no other woman! Me and your mother were like two sides of a coin. That's the way a good marriage should be!'