The Orphan Sisters: An Utterly Heartbreaking and Gripping World War 2 Historical Novel

by Shirley Dickson

  The boss looked horrified. ‘Come, come, Mrs Milne. It pays to remember that all our sons are called upon to make sacrifices… some with their lives. Trevor’s job is vital. Coal is an essential part of winning the war.’

  Trevor bristled. ‘Ma, stop meddling. I can handle me own affairs.’

  The boss gave him a look of respect. ‘Spoken like a man, Trevor. Meanwhile…’ he turned to Etty, ‘it’s time for Mrs Newman and I to take our leave of the proceedings. If we can be of service… be assured you only have to ask.’

  About to move away, his wife planted a hand on his arm. ‘Roland… you said you’d ask.’ Mr Newman looked puzzled. ‘About her sister’s bairn.’ She turned to Etty. ‘Who will take it in?’

  Mr Newman’s brow corrugated. ‘And I told you, dear, it isn’t our affair.’

  Trevor’s guts clenched when he saw Etty’s expression. He guessed what was coming.

  ‘Victoria has no one but me.’ Etty’s voice was firm. ‘I won’t have her brought up in an orphanage.’ She looked directly at Trevor. ‘Dorothy would want me to bring her daughter up.’

  ‘How can you think such a thing?’ Ma intervened. ‘It’s not fair on Norma. She’ll have to share everything.’ She turned to Trevor. ‘Tell her, son. It’s pure selfish, if you ask me.’

  All eyes on him, Trevor caught his wife’s red-rimmed eyes imploring his.

  ‘Nobody’s asking you, Ma.’ Trevor moved alongside Etty and put an arm around her. ‘The decision is up to Etty and me. If that’s what my wife wants then that’s how it’s going to be.’

  Mr Newman, standing next to them, clapped Trevor on the back. ‘That’s the ticket, lad. It’s admirable taking on another man’s child. When this war is won, Newman’s will be on the lookout for reliable men… I’ll count on you.’ He looked shamefaced. ‘And that means fronting the parlour.’

  Trevor nodded.

  Life wore on. Etty slept, looked after the kiddies, existed.

  Bertha tried her best and called regularly. ‘How about we go to the flicks?’ she suggested. But Etty didn’t want make-believe, she needed reality, the incentive to get on with life.

  May often called and took the children out for a walk. She’d return and have a cup of tea and, as if silence was the enemy, she talked non-stop. Billy was never mentioned and Etty was glad because she didn’t need a reminder of her disloyalty to her friend. The shame never left her.

  Sometimes Etty’s mind strayed to what might have been; the life Dorothy had planned for them all in the country. The fresh air, green fields, with her family living just yards away, was the idyllic life she’d always wanted. But now with Dorothy gone, the dream was shattered, Etty was broken-hearted – and life just trundled on.

  Today – washday – started out like any other ordinary Monday. Etty dragged the tub from the washhouse into the yard and filled it with buckets of heated water from the boiler.

  A baby’s reedy cry rippled in the air. Victoria had woken in the back bedroom and wanted a feed. Etty hung the nappies out on the line, white flags of achievement the neighbours judged you by. The nation was at war; an aerial attack might happen any minute, but if your nappies weren’t blindingly white as they flapped on the line – then, according to housewife law, you’d failed as a mother.

  It started to rain, light drizzle at first, before a cloud burst. Etty turned her face towards the heavens. She wanted the saying to be true – that all those brave boys at the front, the old man beneath the blanket, Dorothy, had left this earth and found a better place.

  As Victoria’s plaintive cries increased, Etty dragged her mind back to the present. She hauled the tub back into the washhouse and slamming the door, hurried indoors. She proceeded into the bedroom, taking Victoria from her cot and laying her on the couch in the kitchen.

  Folk were sorry for her loss, Etty reflected, as she made up a bottle in the scullery, but they soon forgot. And rightly so; they had their own problems and sorrows to contend with.

  As she cooled the bottle under the tap, Etty thought of the film, Goodbye, Mr Chips. How naïve she had been to believe such romantic fantasy – a made-up story contrived to have a satisfactory ending. Real life wasn’t like that.

  A door slammed and she heard Trevor’s voice talking to Norma, in her playpen in the kitchen.

  ‘Where’s Mammy, then? I can’t smell any dinner, can you?’

  Something cracked inside Etty like ice on a frozen lake. She was only going through the motions, she thought. This was no ordinary day – there’d never be another ordinary day as she knew it. Dorothy was dead.

  She went into the kitchen, cooled bottle in hand. Trevor started talking about collar studs.

  ‘I can’t find them anywhere,’ he said, ‘the boss was none too pleased when I arrived without a collar and tie.’

  Pandemonium had broken loose in Etty’s mind and all he could think about was collar studs.

  ‘It pays to look smart and keep in the boss’s good books,’ Trevor continued. ‘He’s talking about expanding the business… and you know what that could mean?’

  You made a mistake, Etty thought, and from that day forth your path was mapped out. Now she had the responsibility of two children, which she didn’t feel ready for. She thought of her own mother. Was life so tough, bringing two children up on her own, that she discarded them like rag dolls? Etty could never do that to her beloved daughter and niece.

  Dorothy had forgiven Mam but Etty knew her sister was wrong. Life was about options and what you chose made the person you became.

  Mam, selfishly, chose wrong.

  Trevor looked at her in a peculiar way and it occurred to Etty that he too might feel as trapped as she.

  ‘What could expanding the business mean?’ she asked, in a shaky voice that didn’t sound like her own.

  ‘That I could be a respected partner at Newman’s… we could be somebody.’

  Suddenly, the magnitude of what had happened hit Etty – and the floodgates opened. Tears spilled from her eyes, down her face, dripping off her chin.

  ‘Dorothy’s gone.’ The words wrenched from her.

  ‘I know.’ Trevor hurried over and buried her in his arms.

  ‘I… miss her… dreadfully.’

  ‘I know that too.’

  ‘There’ll never be anyone like her. We were a team.’ She sagged against him and he squeezed her tight. Upturning her face, he wiped away the tears with his thumbs.

  ‘Etty… I’ve been waiting for a bit to say this… I’ve wanted to tell you but I didn’t think you were well enough to ask… but I have to speak out now.’ He hesitated, nervous to go on. ‘We settled for a marriage of convenience but that’s not for me any more––’

  ‘Trevor, I know what you’re going to say.’ She sniffed back the tears. ‘And it’s all my fault… I should have told you from––’

  ‘What I want to do is set the record straight… To take our wedding vows again… only this time just the two of us, with a man of the cloth present. Because despite how I’ve behaved, I do love you.’ He lifted her chin so that she saw the tenderness brimming in his eyes. ‘I didn’t realise how much until I thought I’d lost you. You’ve set me free.’ He grinned and his handsome face relaxed. ‘Imagine me being this soppy a romantic before.’ Then, his expression grew serious. ‘Can we start over again? Can we be a team?’

  Startled, she asked, ‘Why the change of heart?’

  ‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you. There is no change… you’ve always been the one I wanted since I first clapped eyes on you the day we met on the trolley.’ He cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘Sometimes I didn’t like you, but Etty… I’ve never stopped loving you.’

  As Etty stood nestled in his arms, she recounted scenes from the past. How he had married her knowing she carried another man’s child, forgiven her when she wouldn’t tell him who the father was, how he sided with her against his mother, and how he had risked his life to save darling Dorothy.

  What amazed her w
as how much Trevor had changed to outright declare his feelings for her. Her heart melted with love and joy.

  ‘I’ve got ambitions for our lives,’ he told her.

  Etty struggled for a moment as the past caught up with her, taking her back to being the orphan girl from Blakely who froze and couldn’t handle emotion. But then she’d always had Dorothy by her side. As if lightning struck in her mind, Etty’s thoughts grew crystal clear and she realised the happiness she now shared with Trevor was because of Dorothy. They shared the same upbringing, the same betrayal by their mother, yet her sister was never rebellious or mistrustful. It was Dorothy’s influence on her life, her honest and loving nature, that helped Etty become the optimistic person she’d become today.

  But Dorothy was here no more and though her loss was hard to bear, Etty was thankful for the short life of her beloved sister. And from now on she would try to be the trusting and open person Dorothy always encouraged her to be.

  She would start by telling Trevor what he really meant to her.

  ‘Trevor…’ her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. ‘I don’t blame you for not liking me as I’ve been trouble since we first met. I want to say how sorry I am but also how thankful I am that you’ve put up with me.’

  The happy surprise in his loving gaze helped her go on. ‘I thought you wanted us to separate and I knew that wasn’t what I wanted. I realised, you see, just how much I love and depend on you.’ She felt her lips tremble as she laughed. ‘So, yes, I’d dearly love to marry you again… only don’t tell anyone… I just want it to be us.’

  As Trevor took her into his arms, everything clarified for Etty. The light became brighter, sounds sharper and her heart burst with love and pride. She stood on tiptoes and gave her husband a lingering kiss.

  As the clock chimed the hour, she broke free. ‘Blimey. I must feed Victoria,’ she gasped.

  ‘I’ll get her bottle,’ Trevor said.

  Norma grizzled in her playpen and her daddy, swooping her up in his arms, tousled her blonde curls.

  Love for them all burst like a colourful firecracker in Etty’s chest.

  ‘You’ll do, Mr Chipping.’ She smiled lovingly at her husband’s puzzled expression.

  Epilogue

  May 1945

  Etty closed the door on the display of red, white and blue bunting that hung merrily across the street, and showed the woman into the kitchen.

  Mrs Gruber declined to sit on the couch and instead sat on a high-backed dining chair. Her hair was silvery and thin, and she wore round spectacles. Though frail, Etty would know her anywhere. To see Mrs Gruber after all this time was a wonderful surprise but the meeting caught Etty off guard and she welled up at the sight of the old woman. So much had happened since that far off day when she’d been but an innocent small child, giving Mrs Gruber an excited wave through the butcher’s shop window.

  ‘Mrs Gruber, I can’t tell you how lovely it is to see you.’

  ‘For me too… my dear child, I’ve been longing to find you. But please… call me Olga.’

  Etty hauled Victoria, a shy two-year-old, onto her knee and Norma, now four, stood at her side staring in wide-eyed curiosity at the visitor.

  ‘Two girls,’ Olga said, her German accent apparent. She smiled. ‘How fortunate you are.’

  Etty nodded to Victoria. ‘She’s Dorothy’s daughter.’

  The old woman’s eyes glistened with tears. ‘I read about your sister’s death in the newspaper. That’s how I found you. As I read the article, it mentioned a Dorothy Calvert and her sister Etty Milne, and that you both were brought up in an orphanage, so I thought you must be the family I was looking for. The article even said you both lived in Whale Street.’

  ‘You recognised us from the article?’ was all Etty’s dumbfounded mind could think to say.

  ‘I hoped it would be you. I think the article is a good way to commemorate the end of the war. Such an apt title, “The Folk Of Shields’ War”. Sad stories but uplifting too… though I was distressed to read Dorothy’s.’ Olga smiled sadly at Victoria. ‘This is the dear child she risked her life for. Now, like you, she is an orphan too.’

  Etty stiffened. ‘I’m not an orphan, Olga. The truth is… Mam abandoned Dorothy and me when we were little. That’s why I agreed to share Dorothy’s information with the reporter. I hoped Mam would read the article and feel remorse.’

  ‘My dearest, for years I hoped we would have this meeting, so I could put the record straight about your mother.’

  ‘Pardon me if I’m rude, but I’m not interested to hear. I spent too many years broken-hearted. You do know she went back to live with her family?’

  ‘That may be so… but please, hear me out.’

  Other than being downright discourteous, Etty had no option.

  Olga brought her hands together and laced her bony fingers. ‘The day your mother took you away—’

  ‘You waved through the window.’

  Olga smiled and nodded. ‘I told Kurt – my husband, you remember him –something was wrong. Why had your mother shut up shop when I could look after it? Kurt said it was none of our business and he was right.’ Perplexity crossed her face. ‘I never saw you girls or your mother again.’

  Typical of Mam, Etty thought bitterly.

  Norma, bored now with the visitor that didn’t pay her any attention, fidgeted. ‘I want to play outside,’ she whinged.

  Etty didn’t see the harm, as long as the yard door was locked. Olga watched as she took the two kiddies and their toys – a wind-up monkey, colourful balls and a miniature tea set – into the backyard.

  When she returned to the kitchen, Olga held a letter in her hand.

  ‘From your mother,’ she said. ‘I received it three weeks after you left.’

  The impact of Mrs Gruber’s words left Etty feeling woozy and dizzy.

  ‘Mam wrote to you… after she left us?’

  ‘I’ve guarded the letter all these years… Eleanor would want me to keep it safe because she would want you, her little Esther, to read it.’ She pushed the letter into Etty’s hand.

  As she saw the spindly writing on the aged brittle paper, Mam became real to her again. Not the person Etty had formed in her hardened mind over the years, but softly spoken and smiling, cocking her head at a sympathetic angle as she listened to little Esther’s woes.

  Carefully, in case the folds might tear, she unfolded the yellowed paper.

  My dear Olga,

  I know you will be concerned as to my whereabouts but I am in a safe place, though unwell. As we discussed of late, I’m not a businesswoman and my previous life as a vicar’s daughter gave me no training or knowledge in this area. Since my darling Harry died, the responsibility of running the store has become too great. I have no energy to deal with the situation and the shop is going downhill. I have no money coming in, and life has been a struggle.

  I now know why. I suffer from consumption. Yes, my dear, tuberculosis. However, I knew immediately when I found out about my illness what I should do. Quarantine myself from my little ones. I have returned to the shire to live with family and they propose to send me to a sanatorium, an institution quite close that has the best recommendation. There is talk of a procedure to collapse my infected lung to let it rest and start the healing process. I cannot go into the details as to why the girls are not permitted to be with me. Suffice to say I have had an altercation in the past with father over who I chose to marry.

  Have no fear, the girls are well catered for. Though I’m heartbroken at leaving my dear Dorothy and little Esther, as they are too young to understand, the guilt is relieved in knowing I’m doing what’s best at present for my dear children until I can return for them.

  I shall inform you where they are later. I trust you aren’t offended, as I know you would be an exemplary guardian, but it is for the best, as you and Mr Gruber have your own lives to contend with.

  I miss my children already but I think of them every waking moment. I know that
the thought of being reunited with them will get me through this.

  I am well looked after, with good provisions and my location is in the country where I have plenty of rejuvenating fresh air.

  My strength is failing and I must sleep. I shall write soon and give you more details.

  Your good friend,

  Eleanor

  Etty stared at the letter, the words blurring. Reality dawned… Mam didn’t abandon Dorothy and me… She had had no other choice but to leave them. She had intended to return for them.

  Slowly but surely, Etty experienced a joyous surge of happiness that burst into the very core of her being. If only Dorothy were here to share this precious moment.

  ‘I did try my best to find you and went to see your Aunt Lillian,’ Olga told her. ‘But she was no wiser than I.’

  Etty didn’t trust herself to speak but she knew she must hear the full story. ‘Did our mam write again?’

  Regretfully, Mrs Gruber shook her head. ‘A few weeks later, Kurt saw an obituary in the Gazette. It stated Eleanor’s name and that she had passed peacefully away in her sleep at Woolley Sanatorium.’

  Mrs Gruber fished in her handbag and brought out a scrap of notepaper. ‘I lost the original cutting when my possessions were taken from me but I made notes in case I needed to relate them to you.’

  She screwed up her eyes and read from the paper. ‘There was mention of an operation but, in the end, Eleanor was too weak to survive. She was described as a regular worshipper at the parish church in Rookdale who helped her father, the Reverend Elroy Stanton, when she was younger with his pastoral duties since her mother had died.’ Mrs Gruber shifted uneasily in her chair. ‘There was no mention of a husband and children. It ended by saying she was a devoted daughter and loving sister and would be sadly missed.’

  So, Mam was afraid to tell her father about his grandchildren – it all made sense now. Her mind whirred. Her mother, after all, was dead.

  Olga continued. ‘When I read in the article that you and Dorothy were placed in an orphanage I knew it was my duty to Eleanor to find you and make the facts known. My dear girl, the anguish you must have suffered over the years… thinking your mother had deserted you.’