Forgotten Children

by Cathy Sharp

  Because she didn’t want to promise she would go out with him alone in future, she said, ‘How are you getting on at work? Do you have to work terribly long hours?’

  ‘Yes, sometimes. I did a job for someone you might know this morning. He had a leaking tap and I fixed it for him. I reckon he visits St Saviour’s quite often – Mr Markham?’

  ‘I think Mr Markham comes to teach some of the children?’ Sally had only seen the man in question as she passed him in the corridor and didn’t know much about him.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Keith said. ‘He just happened to say he was going to St Saviour’s and that made me think of you …’

  ‘I think it’s a kind of play therapy that he has developed. Michelle says he thinks that damaged and backward children need remedial teaching – and he is working on the theory that it could be applied to all infants’ schools to help the children to learn. His real job is as a surgeon and he’s brilliant, so Michelle says.’

  Keith shrugged. ‘I only went there because he wanted a plumber in a hurry. He’s got a nice house. I should think he’s well-off – bound to be if he’s a surgeon.’ He took a sip of his drink. ‘That is enough work for now.’ He put down his glass and stood up. ‘Shall we dance now? It’s a waltz. I enjoy waltzing.’

  ‘So do I, even though I’m not much good at it …’

  ‘Oh, listen, they’re playing a Vera Lynn song from the war. I love her records.’

  Sally stood up and gave him her hand. He was really nice and she was glad she’d come, just as long as he knew that they were only friends. She didn’t have time for anything else at the moment.

  NINE

  Mary Ellen dragged her feet as they approached the large, rather forbidding building. She looked all the way up to the tiny attic windows that were shuttered and dark and wondered if that was where they would put her. Would they shut her away somewhere and forget her? She remembered a scandal in the lane years ago, when the body of a young boy had been discovered hidden in the attics of one of the old houses after the occupants of the house had run away and left him there. People said that he must have starved to death and whispered about it in hushed tones. What was going to happen to her after Rose left her here in this horrid place?

  ‘Come on, love,’ Rose said crossly. ‘I’ve got to get to work and if I don’t arrive by ten I might not be allowed to start today.’

  ‘Good, you can come home with me,’ Mary Ellen said, struggling to keep from showing her fear, her voice rising as she begged, ‘Don’t leave me here, please. Rose, I’m frightened …’

  ‘Now you’re just being silly,’ Rose said and tugged on her sister’s arm, half-lifting her from the ground as she forced her up the steps to the front door.

  Mary Ellen could hear a bell clanging inside. It seemed to echo and a chill slithered down her spine. She felt sick and miserable and wished she could run away, run back home to Ma … but her mother wasn’t there any longer …

  ‘Hello,’ a woman said, opening the door to them, a wide smile on her face. She had short light brown hair that looked as if it had a natural curl, friendly chocolate brown eyes and a soft mouth. Mary Ellen thought she looked about Ma’s age or a little younger, but plumper than Ma had ever been. ‘You must be Rose and Mary Ellen. Come in, my dears. Sister Beatrice told me to expect you. I’m Mrs Burrows or Nan to my friends. And I’m going to look after you, Mary Ellen, so we shall be friends, shan’t we?’

  ‘Oh …’ Some of the fear drained out of Mary Ellen. Nan looked nice, exactly like a mother ought to look, and not at all like the wicked monster she’d been expecting. She gave her a wide-eyed straight look. ‘You won’t lock me in the attics and leave me to starve, will you?’

  ‘Mary Ellen!’ Rose cried indignantly and shook her shoulder. ‘Say you’re sorry at once. As if I would leave you here if they mistreated children. I don’t know what gets inside your head.’

  ‘I promise you we shan’t put you in the attics and forget you, and I’m sure we can find you something nice to eat just as soon as we’ve got you settled …’ A look passed from Nan to Rose, warning her not to prolong the parting.

  ‘Go on,’ she said and dropped down to look into Mary Ellen’s face. ‘I have to leave, but I shan’t forget you, love, and I’ll visit when I can, send you things. I’m sorry but there’s nothing else I can do.’

  Rose handed over Mary Ellen’s parcel tied up in brown paper and string. Making a grab at her big sister’s sleeve, Mary Ellen tried to hold on to her, but she shrugged away, her face set. ‘Please …’ Her mind formed the word but no sound came out as Rose strode away. Mary Ellen felt abandoned, her eyes stinging with tears, but Nan was reaching for her hand, talking to her in a cheerful voice. Mary Ellen choked back her sob. She wasn’t a cry-baby!

  ‘I don’t know if you’ve been told what happens, Mary Ellen?’

  ‘No …’ She looked up at the motherly woman, her tummy clenching with nerves as she battled against the need to cry. ‘Only that I have to stay here …’

  ‘Well, I am going to admit you as one of our children,’ Nan said. ‘First of all we give you a little wash and some different clothes to wear …’

  ‘Rose washed me this morning and I’m wearing my best skirt.’

  ‘Yes, and a very nice skirt it is,’ Nan said, ‘and much too good for playing with the other children. All our girls and boys wear a uniform, you see, because when we go out it makes it easier to know that you all belong to us … and some children are not as fortunate as you, Mary Ellen. They do not have nice things of their own to wear so they might feel upset if they saw you in such a smart skirt.’

  ‘Oh …’ Mary Ellen digested this for a moment, then, ‘Are we often allowed to play?’

  ‘When you’re not at lessons or mealtimes, yes, there is time to play games or read books and do puzzles.’

  Mary Ellen felt a flicker of interest. ‘I can read words and I like puzzles, but I only had one and some pieces got lost.’

  ‘We have lots of puzzles and books with pictures in as well as words. You are allowed to look at them, Mary Ellen – but I’m sure you are going to make lots of new friends and …’ Nan stopped as a very pretty lady with blonde hair came towards them. ‘Oh, you must be Mrs Morton.’ Nan turned back to her. ‘This is Mary Ellen. I believe you spoke to her sister Rose the other day?’

  The pretty lady smiled and looked down at Mary Ellen, then held out her hand to her. ‘How nice to see you, Mary Ellen. I’m Mrs Morton and I’m very pleased to meet you.’

  Mary Ellen felt shy and gravitated towards Nan’s side, eyeing the newcomer speculatively. She’d never seen anyone so posh. Her dress was much smarter than even Rose’s Sunday costume, and she spoke in a funny, posh way, but seemed nice; her hair was soft and the colour of the dark honey Ma had used to give her for tea when her pa was alive, and her eyes were a kind of blue that Mary Ellen couldn’t describe, except sometimes the sky looked that way. She was like a princess rather than the wicked witch she’d expected. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad living here for a while.

  ‘Mrs Burrows,’ Angela said and winked at Mary Ellen, a twinkle of laughter in her eyes as she looked at Nan. ‘Sister Beatrice told me you were back. I do hope you are feeling better?’

  ‘Oh, much,’ Nan replied. ‘It was just a bit of flu but nasty for a couple of days and the doctor told me to stay in bed until I was properly over it. We must have a talk and get to know each other later, and do call me Nan. I have to look after Mary Ellen for a while, but we might have a cup of tea in my room – in an hour, say? Mary Ellen might like a drink and some cake at that time too?’

  ‘Oh, I should enjoy that,’ Angela said and Mary Ellen thought she looked really pleased. ‘Will that be all right with you, Mary Ellen?’

  Grownups didn’t ask children if things were all right for them. Some of the shadows lifted and she felt better than she had since Ma told her she was ill, and she gave the woman a fleeting smile. ‘Yes, please,’ she said. ‘I think it would
be nice …’ She looked up at Nan. ‘I’m ready to be washed now if you like.’ Angela gave her another wink and went on up the stairs ahead of them. Mary Ellen held tightly to Nan’s hand and climbed after her. She wasn’t frightened now, but she still wished she could be at home with Ma, helping her with the baking or hanging washing on the line in the back yard – but Nan had said there was time for play and Mary Ellen wanted to make friends. She wanted that more than anything, except to see Ma looking happy and well again.

  ‘If Sister Beatrice finds out you’ve been playing truant, Billy Baggins, you’ll be in for it,’ Alice warned him. She’d grabbed him as he came sneaking into the home by the back door hoping to snatch his tea from the dining room and disappear again before anyone saw him. ‘You’re trusted to go to school in the mornings and come back at lunchtime but that’s the second day you’ve skipped lunch, and you’re late back – so where have you been?’

  Billy stared up at her truculently, wondering if he could get away with lying but he knew Alice had two young brothers at home and she didn’t let much get past her. Deciding to tough it out, he squared his shoulders and put on a defiant air.

  ‘I couldn’t do the daft sums and it was a test so I give it a miss – went down the river and got talkin’ ter a man on a barge. He were unloading wood in the dry dock and I give ’im a ’and. Paid me sixpence, ’e did …’

  ‘Indeed?’ Alice glared at him wrathfully. ‘I suppose you think that’s clever, Billy Baggins, but let me tell you it will get you nowhere. Unless you want to work for pennies when you grow up? Without schooling you’ll never get a decent job – and maths is important.’

  ‘Wot do you know? Arfur says learnin’ never done him no good …’

  ‘You have to learn or you’ll be as ignorant as that brother of yours. Hand over that sixpence. I’ll put it in the swear box for foreign aid and you can buckle down to trying harder at school.’

  ‘Shan’t,’ Billy said. ‘’Sides, I can’t. I spent it.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. Hand it over this minute or I’ll tell Sister Beatrice.’

  ‘I don’t care what you tell that old battleaxe! I’ll run away if she canes me …’

  ‘You are a wicked boy,’ Alice said and grabbed him by the shoulders. ‘I’m going to take you to Sister now.’

  ‘No, you can’t make me …’ Billy yelled and tried to pull away from her. Alice lost her temper and cuffed him round the ear, not hard but enough to make him sing out again.

  ‘I hate yer!’ he yelled and kicked at her ankle but missed it.

  Alice shook him but an icy voice stopped her hitting him again.

  ‘What is the meaning of this disgraceful scene?’ Sister Beatrice sailed down on them in awful majesty, causing Alice to shiver in her shoes and look apprehensive and Billy to glare at her as if she were the devil himself.

  ‘You do not hit the children, Alice Cobb, nor do you shake them. You were given the guidelines when you were first employed. I expect you to read them and abide by them. If a child needs discipline you send them to me and I will deal with the culprit as I see fit.’

  ‘Yes, Sister. I’m sorry, Sister – but I was trying to bring him to you and he wouldn’t come.’

  ‘Then you should simply report the incident to me, and leave me to deal with it. Aren’t you on the tea roster this afternoon?’ Alice nodded, twin spots of bright colour in her cheeks. ‘Go along then and leave the boy with me if you please … and you may come to see me in my office before you leave this evening.’

  Alice looked scared, as well she might. Being called to Sister’s office could be an unpleasant experience and she’d been warned once already for not sticking to the guidelines. She shot Billy a look of venom and walked off with her head down.

  Billy stared up at Sister Beatrice, his cocky manner a little deflated as her sharp eyes surveyed him. He’d also been warned that the next time he caused trouble he wouldn’t get off lightly. Last time he’d merely been sent to bed without supper, but that hadn’t bothered him, because he got three meals a day here, which was more than he’d ever had in his life.

  ‘What have you to say for yourself? What did you do to make Alice so cross with you?’

  ‘Nuffin’ …’ he said and sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

  ‘Have you no handkerchief? You must learn a few manners, Billy. What are we going to do with you?’

  ‘Dunno,’ he muttered and hung his head. ‘Send me orf somewhere?’

  ‘I really do not wish to do that, Billy.’ Sister shook her head. ‘I suppose I could cane you – and next time I shall, but I think Alice was as much at fault here. I think detention when the children go to the church fete next Saturday should be sufficient punishment. Yes, you will remain here and miss the treats in store for you all.’

  Billy sniffed hard and set his lip. He’d been looking forward to the fete, because it was always good fun if you had a few pennies to spend on the stalls – and the donkey rides were free to St Saviour’s children.

  ‘As for Alice, well, I shall have to see.’ Sister made this remark to herself rather than to him, but Billy was alarmed by the severity of her expression, because he knew he’d provoked the young woman.

  ‘’Ere, you ain’t gonna give ’er the push? It weren’t ’er fault. She got on to me for playing truant, that’s all …’

  ‘You’re speaking up for her?’ Sister’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  ‘She nags all the time but she ain’t that bad.’

  Sister looked at him intently for a moment. ‘Go to tea then, child. I dare say you are hungry.’

  ‘Thanks, Sister,’ Billy said and ran off before she could change her mind. His stomach was growling with hunger now and he was looking forward to warm scones and butter with lashings of strawberry jam, and a slice of ginger sponge with custard or perhaps a piece of plum cake.

  Entering the long dining room, which was noisy and filled with children from little toddlers to boys and girls of nearly fifteen, he was met by the sound of their voices as they filed in an orderly line and selected what they wanted from the loaded tables. There was always plenty of good thick bread and marge and usually a cake or some sort of tart with treacle or jam, also tomatoes and cucumber when they were in season, sliced to make into sandwiches, and three days a week there would be hard-boiled eggs cut in halves, or sardines, which were good for you, but not many of the children chose them. On Sundays as a special treat they had Spam and pickle sandwiches or very occasionally some Canadian pink salmon out of tins. Salmon was something Billy had never even seen until he came here; his nanna was more likely to give him bread and dripping or a bit of stew and dumplings if he were lucky. He wasn’t sure what he felt about the salmon and sniffed at it doubtfully the first time it was offered, until he took his first bite of a sandwich and then he grinned and wolfed it down, though he still reckoned his nanna made the best stews.

  Billy made his selection. He’d missed all the scones, which were popular – and that was that rotten Alice’s fault – but he took two thick slices of bread and marge and two big spoonfuls of jam, a slice of seed cake and half a banana. It was so long since Billy had had a banana that he almost didn’t recognise it, but there was one piece left so he grabbed it and then looked round for a space to sit, letting his eyes roam the tables to see who was already there. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the girl sitting by herself at a table in the corner. Mary Ellen here, and looking as if she wanted to burst into tears! Armed with his loaded plate and a glass of orange squash, he made a beeline towards her. She looked up as he approached and her expression lightened.

  ‘When did you get here?’ he asked and sat down on a spare chair without asking. He looked at her plate and saw she’d only got a buttered scone and some jam. ‘Is that all you wanted?’

  ‘Rose brought me this morning,’ Mary Ellen said and gulped, her bottom lip trembling. ‘I didn’t feel hungry, because … I don’t like it here …’

  ‘Nor me fe
r a start,’ Billy said, beginning to spread jam thickly on his bread and marge. ‘I ain’t got no mates ’ere and I wanted ter run orf, but I promised me nanna I’d give it a try.’

  ‘I promised Ma I would try, but it’s horrid,’ Mary Ellen sniffed, tears suspiciously close. ‘I’m in a room with two girls older than me and they don’t like me – they look down their noses at me and don’t answer if I speak to them.’

  ‘They don’t know yer,’ Billy said. ‘If they did they would like yer – you’ve got ter give it time, Mary Ellen.’

  ‘I know.’ She gave him a wobbly smile. ‘I feel better now I know you’re here, Billy. You’ve got a banana; I didn’t see them. It’s ages since Rose brought one home from the shop.’

  ‘’Ere, you ’ave it,’ Billy said generously and transferred it onto her plate. ‘You need ter eat somethin’, Mary Ellen.’

  ‘Ta, Billy,’ she said and offered her plate. ‘You have half of this instead.’

  ‘Fair exchange,’ he said and spread jam on the scone and scoffed it down, speaking with his mouth full. ‘I wus in trouble wiv Sister just now. Alice give me a clip round the ear for playing truant. I hope she don’t get the push fer it – she’s a nagger but she’s all right really.’

  ‘I’ve met Alice,’ Mary Ellen said, munching her half of the scone. ‘Nan told her to help me wash and bring me some fresh clothes. Nan’s nice. I told her my clothes were clean, but she said everyone has to wear the clothes they’re given unless they go out for a day with family. Trouble is, our Rose won’t have much time to visit me. She’ll be busy all the time.’

  ‘We all get taken out on trips sometimes,’ Billy said gloomily. ‘There’s an outing to the church fete this next Saturday, but I can’t go …’

  ‘Why not?’ Mary Ellen was indignant on his behalf.

  ‘Because I played truant and then I cheeked Alice so Sister did it to punish me. Alice said Sister would cane me, but she didn’t – she says next time I shall catch it. I’d rather she caned me and let me go to the treat. They do all sorts of stuff there: you’ll love it, Mary Ellen. There’s games and cartoon shows from a projector and a special tea with ham and jelly and ice cream sometimes.’