by Cathy Sharp
Nan smiled as the children talked naturally. She was usually right about the kids and she’d thought that pair were sound enough underneath, even though she knew that Sister Beatrice had her doubts about the boy. They’d discussed him over a cup of tea once or twice. Mary Ellen could be stubborn too, but the two of them were much alike and would look after another misfit, and perhaps take her under their wing. Nan thought there was a lot of good in Billy, but he’d got a bit of a chip on his shoulder, didn’t take to authority.
Satisfied that the three children were getting on well, she walked away, leaving them to get to know one another.
‘Nan’s nice,’ Marion said as they watched the motherly figure walk from the room, looking worried. ‘I was so frightened when they brought me here to St Saviour’s, but she cuddled me and made me feel better. She’s like my ma used to be when she was alive.’
‘I can’t remember mine much, but I know she was warm and nice,’ Billy said. ‘Me ma and me pa are both dead – but I’ve got a bruvver.’
‘I’ve got a sister and a mother,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘My pa was lovely. He used to cuddle me and kiss me, so did Ma once, but she’s ill now so she can’t. One day she’ll come back from the hospital and I’ll go home.’
‘I ain’t got a home to go to now,’ Marion said and sniffed, the tears hovering.
‘Yes, yer ’ave,’ Billy grinned at her. ‘You live ’ere wiv us. We’re yer family now. Me and Mary Ellen. We’ll look after yer.’
‘Ta,’ Marion said, looking shy. ‘It’s nice havin’ friends ter talk to. Will you come and visit me in the ward sometimes?’
‘’Course we will,’ Billy said. ‘’Sides, you’ll be out soon enough and then you’ll sleep in the dorm wiv the other girls.’
‘I’m tired. I should like to go back now,’ Marion said and looked round. ‘Where did Sally go?’
‘I think one of the carers came and fetched ’er,’ Billy offered. ‘If you want ter go back to the sick ward we can take yer. I reckon I can push that chair of yours, and Mary Ellen can help me.’
Mary Ellen agreed that she could and the two children experimented with taking off the brake and testing how hard it was to push. Billy was big for his age and strong, and Marion was light; he was soon wheeling her from the dining room, boasting how easy it was.
‘You’re as light as a feather,’ he said. ‘But we’ve got to go up in the lift ’cos I can’t get yer up the stairs.’
‘’Course you can’t,’ Marion laughed. ‘Sally brought me down in the lift. I know how it works.’
They turned towards the lift and pushed the button to summon it. However, it took a while to manoeuvre the wheelchair into the small cubicle and Billy was looking hot and bothered by the time he managed it. Marion pushed the button inside that took them whizzing up to the first floor, where the sick ward was situated, and after banging the chair against the sides of the door opening a few times, Billy got it out and they set off down the corridor.
‘I’m sorry,’ Marion apologised, because he was breathing hard. ‘We should have waited for Sally. It’s too hard for you to push me all the way.’
‘Nah, ’course it ain’t,’ he said. ‘I can make you go faster if you like.’ He gave the chair an almighty shove and let go and it flew off down the corridor, taking all three children by surprise and making Marion cry out in fright as it hurtled towards a trolley left outside the door of the sick ward.
‘I’m going to crash,’ she yelled as Billy ran after her, trying vainly to catch up with the chair before it went into the trolley and either overturned that or Marion. ‘Help me …’
Billy made a desperate bid to stop the crash just as the door opened and someone came out. That someone saw what was happening and rushed forward, putting herself in front of the chair so that it rammed into her and stopped, avoiding what might have been nasty since the trolley was loaded with glasses. She gave a little scream and yelled in pain as the child tipped over onto her and they both crashed down to the floor.
Billy’s heart sank as he arrived in time to right Marion’s chair and pull her off Sister Beatrice. He saw at once that the chair had caught the older woman’s leg and he thought she might be hurt because she rubbed at it beneath the horrible old dress thingy she was wearing.
‘I might have known,’ Sister Beatrice said, looking at him balefully as she got to her feet and straightened her habit. ‘What did you think you were doing, Billy Baggins? You have no right to be here – and certainly not in charge of a wheelchair. If Marion’s leg has been damaged it will be your fault.’
‘I’m sorry about your leg …’ Billy mumbled, eyes down.
‘It’s all right,’ Marion said quickly. ‘I didn’t hurt my leg, Sister. It wasn’t Billy’s fault. I asked him to push me faster and he slipped and let go of the chair by accident.’
Sister looked at her through narrowed eyes, then back at Billy. ‘It hardly matters who was at fault, you should not have been in another child’s care. Where is Sally?’
‘She took me down to tea and then got called away,’ Marion said. ‘Please do not be cross, Sister Beatrice. I wanted to come back. It wasn’t Billy’s fault – or Sally’s. I should have waited until I was fetched.’
‘He knew he should not have brought you up, let alone used the lift.’ Sister frowned at him. ‘Since it appears you are all equally to blame I shall not cane you this time, boy – but you, and you, Mary Ellen, will lose all privileges for the next two weeks. Now leave Marion to me and go back to your dorms or wherever you are supposed to be.’
She glared at them as for a moment they both stared at her defiantly, then turned and walked off, their heads in the air. They could hear her scolding Marion as she took her into the sick ward and closed the door.
‘Miserable old witch,’ Billy muttered. ‘I’ll get even with her one of these days. You see if I don’t.’
‘Don’t let her upset you,’ Mary Ellen advised. ‘Who wants to go to the rotten old church do on Saturday anyway?’
‘They’re havin’ a slideshow,’ Billy told her. ‘I heard it was Mickey Mouse cartoons but I don’t know fer sure.’
‘I’ve never seen Mickey Mouse, excepting in a comic,’ Mary Ellen said, feeling and looking a bit regretful. ‘She’s mean, that’s what she is, but at least she didn’t cane you.’
‘That’s ’cos Marion spoke up fer me. I’m goin’ ter sneak back later and talk to ’er, see if she’s hurt, though I reckon it was Sister wot took the brunt of it, but I’ll ’ave ter wait until the coast’s clear. Angela might be on duty tonight. She won’t split on me. She’s a good ’un.’
‘Yes, she is,’ Mary Ellen agreed. ‘Sounds a bit posh when she talks but I like her. She’s got laughing eyes. Mind you don’t get caught, Billy. If Sister catches you out again, she’ll have your guts for garters.’
‘’Ere you, watch yer language,’ Billy mocked and winked at her. ‘She’ll give you wot for if she hears you say that an’ all.’
SEVENTEEN
‘I believe Markham’s stories have done some good,’ Mark Adderbury said to Angela as they left the sick ward together that evening. ‘I wasn’t sure they would, but I’ve seen a definite improvement in both Marion and Johnny as far as their attitude is concerned. His health isn’t getting any better but at least he seems more cheerful, and Marion is a ray of sunshine. Jessica is perfectly normal apart from a spinal condition that makes her legs weak but she’s over her fever now and will be up and back in her wheelchair before long.’
‘I think her father is having her transferred to a special home for disabled children in the country now that he is back from the Army. He only put Jessica here on a temporary basis, and obviously cares for her, but he’s a busy man and can’t look after the child himself so she’ll be going into a permanent home, because her mother died recently. That was the reason she was brought here, you know: her aunt couldn’t cope with looking after her. Jessica wasn’t ill-treated but she felt rejected when her aunt wouldn’t
have her. We shall be losing her shortly – but the other two have settled in well.’
‘Yes, I think they are both happier now. Marion has accepted what happened to her and is no longer puzzled by it. She knows her father was drunk and she understands that his violence is something he is unable to control – but she doesn’t burst into tears every time one of us speaks to her. I think Markham’s stories have something to do with that …’
‘The children love him.’
Mark smiled warmly. ‘I enjoyed our drink the other evening, Angela.’
‘Yes, I did too.’
‘Is everything all right now?’
‘I don’t think Sister truly approves of me but we’re treating each other with cool politeness at the moment. I’m afraid we’ve had words again – but I do not approve of using a cane on a child, Mark. I’m sorry but I made my views clear.’
‘I’m not sure I approve of that either.’ Mark frowned. ‘I didn’t know Sister used the cane?’
‘She has more than once on Billy Baggins quite recently. I asked her to stop the practice and we disagreed. It is something I feel strongly about, Mark. I hope to persuade her against using the cane – but if she feels she has the right I must ask the Board for their ruling. I do not think I could continue here if they supported the practice.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, because in principle they may well do so, and the Bishop is almost certain to agree with her, because he is all for strong discipline. It would be a pity to fall out over such an incident, Angela. I dare say she thought the boy needed to be taught a lesson. She is an excellent warden and wonderful with the children as a rule. You must try to make friends with her … perhaps if you were able to speak to her as a friend, you might try to persuade her to put the cane away in a deep, dark cupboard. I might have a word one day, just casually, suggest that it is not helpful for a child’s mental state. She does listen to me sometimes, but only now and then.’ Mark laughed, hesitated, and then, ‘I’m staying in London over the weekend. I wondered if we might go out to the theatre and supper afterwards … perhaps tomorrow evening at about seven.’
‘Yes, why not? Will you call for me here – and shall I dress formally?’
‘Oh, we’ll go somewhere really nice, so yes, do dress up for it – and I’ll call for you here if you wish.’
‘Yes, that will be perfect,’ she agreed and gave him that lovely smile of hers. ‘I must leave you now. I have to speak to Nan before she leaves for the evening …’
‘Yes, of course. It was nice talking to you, Angela. I’m going to pop in on Sister Beatrice before I leave. There are some things we need to discuss. Remember what I said, Angela. No point in making an enemy of Sister?’
‘No, of course not,’ she said, a flush in her cheeks. ‘I shall look forward to tomorrow evening.’
Mark turned to watch as she walked away. He was thoughtful as he approached the Warden’s door, wondering if he might have been a little impulsive in tailoring this position for Angela. She was just right for the work she was doing, but it would be unfortunate if the unease between her and Sister Beatrice caused them to lose their excellent Warden: they couldn’t do without Sister Beatrice – and yet he knew that they needed Angela’s efficiency and her drive if they were to bring the home up to the standard required of them for the future.
He stood outside the Warden’s office and knocked just as he heard a loud crack of laughter and realised that Sister Beatrice had company. If he were not mistaken that was Father Joe, the Catholic priest who devoted so much of his time to the children of the East End, not just here but in the mean streets that wound their dirty web about the home and its vulnerable inmates.
‘Come in, please!’
Mark entered and saw that he was correct in his assumption that Sister’s visitor was Father Joe. There was a bottle of pale sweet sherry on her desk and two glasses still half full. Clearly, they had settled down for one of their long and bantering evenings spent arguing over their various beliefs.
‘I hope I do not intrude?’ he asked as Father Joe rose to his feet. ‘Please sit down, sir. I’ll sit here, if I may?’
‘Of course,’ Sister Beatrice said and smiled. ‘How fortunate I am to have two visitors this evening. Would you like a glass of sherry, Mr Adderbury?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ he said and then frowned as he saw her move awkwardly to fetch another glass. ‘Have you hurt your leg?’
‘Oh, it was that Billy Baggins,’ Sister said carelessly. ‘He pushed Marion’s wheelchair too fast, slipped and let go apparently. She would have careered into a trolley loaded with glass had I not stepped out in front of her just in time. She could not stop and came into me, knocking me down and landing on top of me – but at least I broke her fall and her leg was not further damaged, thank goodness.’
‘Well, as long as you’re not badly hurt. If he is too disruptive I could see about getting him moved somewhere more suitable.’
‘I’ve offered to talk to him,’ Father Joe said. ‘I know the lad and his family – the father was a drunken brute but he’s dead now. Billy isn’t a bad boy, but a little wild and cheeky. He needs to be given duties to make him more responsible. If you send him to a house of correction he will get worse, the wrong punishment will make him resentful, whereas with a little patience I think we might rescue him from the devil. There’s a lot of good in him, it just needs coaxing out …’
‘You’ll have me believing he’s a saint next,’ Sister said wryly.
‘No, I’ll not be doing that.’ Father Joe looked serious. ‘But I see the good in all God’s creatures, Sister, and if I can fetch it out of him so much the better.’
‘Well, you can try,’ she conceded. ‘He makes me want to give him a good birching on his backside sometimes, but so far I’ve kept it to three strokes on the hands. I was told about the violent father – and the no-good brother, who is being searched for by the police apparently, but we are here to do what we can to save these children, not to make their lives a misery. I shall listen to your advice, Father, and try to control him by other methods. By all means do what you can with him, Father Joe, but forgive me if I venture to think he will lead you a merry dance.’
‘There’s many a tune played on an old fiddle.’ The priest tapped the side of his nose. He looked at Mark, raising his brows. ‘If it’s private speech you’re wanting with the good Sister here, I can leave you together?’
‘Not at all,’ Mark said. ‘I thought I would pop in and say hello after visiting some of the children. I was wondering what we’d planned for them this Christmas – and whether we are holding any fundraising events.’
‘As for the fundraising, I’ve left that entirely to Angela,’ Sister Beatrice contributed. ‘She said something about a Christmas party at the church hall, and seems to think that she will hold a bring and buy sale a couple of weeks before, with raffle tickets, a tombola and other stalls, in the church hall again. She has already obtained free tickets to a pantomime for the children and staff – and, I think she said her mother was having a small dance one weekend at their home in the country, which will fund future projects. Her parents live in your village, I believe?’
‘Yes, they do. I hadn’t heard about the charity dance yet, but if Mrs Hendry is organising it, it should raise quite a bit. She has a lot of wealthy friends.’
‘I dare say.’ Sister Beatrice’s lip curled as if in distaste.
Mark hid his smile. It seemed that the antipathy was not all on Angela’s side.
‘I think we should have a big tree in the house with presents – and Father Christmas to give them out to all the children and staff.’
‘That would be a rather large expense.’ Sister frowned. ‘None of them have been used to such extravagance and I’m not sure it is a good thing.’
‘Yes, but I intend to meet that expense myself – and to play Santa Claus,’ Mark said. ‘I also think we should have carols, nurses and staff going from room to room and singing to the children. Lots
of mince pies, sweets and cakes – if we can get hold of what we need. I have a few friends who may be persuaded to chip in with a jar or two of mincemeat and some extra sugar. I shan’t ask where they got them of course, though I suspect the black market, but what I don’t ask I don’t know …’
‘You will spoil them,’ Sister Beatrice said, and Mark thought she sounded disapproving. ‘These children do not have much to look forward to when they leave us. If they are lucky perhaps an adoption into a good family, and a reasonable education, but in most cases it will be an apprenticeship or work in one of the factories – and living in lodgings until they can afford a home of their own to rent. If we give them ideas beyond their station they may find the real world hard.’
‘All the more reason to give them some good memories. I think we all agree that the children need to have more innocent fun in their lives now that the war is over. We’ve all been through a terrible time and if we can we should spoil them a little at Christmas. St Saviour’s needs to be a home they are happy in, a place they think of fondly even if life is hard once they leave. If we make it too hard they will only run away as soon as they’re fourteen or so. It is happening at homes all over the country. Surely we can do better here?’ Mark said, and appealed to Father Joe. ‘Don’t you agree, Father? Shouldn’t we try to make this a home rather than just an institution?’
‘Spare the rod and spoil the child?’ The priest was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Providing the true meaning of Christmas is brought home to them, I see no reason why they shouldn’t have a bit of pleasure while they can. After all, we’ve all been under a shadow. I don’t think a few treats will endanger their immortal souls – do you, Sister?’ He was smiling as he spoke and her stern features relaxed a little.
‘I can see I shall be out-voted,’ Sister Beatrice said, a reluctant smile in her eyes. ‘But if we are to have carols I think those children that can sing should learn their own and perform for the rest of the inmates and the staff, earn their treats by working for it … You like music, Father Joe. Perhaps you’d take it on?’