Forgotten Children

by Cathy Sharp

  Alice held her breath as he drove through the darkened streets, narrowly missing a bus pulling out from a stop and an oncoming lorry. She was trembling when he screeched to a halt and told her to jump out.

  ‘Jack, I love you,’ she cried despairingly but he didn’t answer her, simply speeding off into the night.

  Alice ran into the alley at the side of St Saviour’s and stood there trembling. She was afraid to move in case she’d been seen getting out of Jack’s car and she felt like bursting into tears.

  ‘Alice, are you all right?’ Nan’s voice brought her head up and she shook it, unable to speak. ‘You’re trembling. Come on, I’m going back into St Saviour’s for a while before I go home. I’ll make you a cup of tea and you can tell me what happened.’

  Alice didn’t want to go with her, but Nan had her by the arm and was pushing her gently but firmly towards the back entrance of the home. Alice felt too weak to resist. Her mind was in a whirl, fear and shock at what had happened, fear for Jack – and what was going to happen if Jack didn’t write to her again.

  Nan took her into the warmth of her sitting room and put the kettle on a small gas ring to make tea. ‘What happened to upset you like this, Alice?’

  ‘Someone came after Jack. He thinks they were going to kill him and he drove fast to get away from them …’

  ‘Who is Jack?’ Nan asked, frowning.

  ‘My boyfriend. He wants to marry me. We were going away but they won’t let him go because he knows too much about them. He went off and left me here …’

  ‘Oh, Alice.’ Nan looked at her sadly. ‘What have you got yourself into?’

  ‘I didn’t want to at first.’ Tears were slipping down her cheeks. ‘Pa would half-kill me if he knew … but Jack wouldn’t leave me alone and I fell in love with him.’

  ‘Oh, you poor girl,’ Nan said. ‘Dry your eyes. Nothing happened to you, did it? It’s Jack they’re after and not you, so stop worrying.’

  ‘But if Jack doesn’t come back …’ Alice choked back the words that would shame her. She couldn’t tell Nan what a fool she’d been. She couldn’t tell anyone, even her friend Michelle or her sister. ‘I don’t know what to do …’

  ‘Here, drink this; it’s brandy and it will help with the shock. You ought to have something or you’ll be no good to anyone. After you’ve calmed down we should go to the police.’

  ‘I couldn’t do that.’ Alice was horrified. ‘You don’t understand about these men, Nan. If I went to the police they would have me killed – even if they were inside a prison cell. Jack warned me to carry on as usual and tell no one. I shouldn’t even have told you.’

  Nan studied her in silence for a while and then nodded. ‘Don’t think I do not understand, Alice. I probably understand more than you think. Things happened to my daughter that I couldn’t stop … I can’t talk about it, but I do know something of what you’ve been through. I thought there was something wrong recently.’

  ‘I’ve been such a fool …’

  ‘Is there something more you want to tell me?’

  Alice shook her head. She sipped her tea and began to feel better. The brandy had stopped her shaking and the tea was comforting.

  ‘I’m all right now. I’m sorry I was foolish …’

  ‘You’re not foolish at all. Would you like me to walk home with you?’

  ‘No, I’ll be all right.’

  ‘Take the bus … here, let me give you the fare.’ Nan took her purse from her coat pocket. ‘Go on, take it. You can’t walk in the state you were in. Remember I’m always here to help if you need me.’

  Alice thanked her and went back outside. It was cold and there was a bus just coming that would take her most of the way home. She ran to catch it because she couldn’t bring herself to walk home in the dark.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  It was nice being home for a short break, Angela thought as she finished arranging the flowers in the church hall. She’d come down late on Friday so that she could help her mother on the day of the dance and this was the first she’d seen of the arrangements. The people from a local and very popular inn had just arrived to set up the bar and the tables for the buffet. Mrs Hendry never did things by half. The buffet would be high quality and everyone would be given a glass of white wine on his or her arrival. After that the bar would be charged for and a percentage of the profits would be donated to the charity. Mrs Hendry had used the caterers before and said they were always reliable.

  Angela had invited several of the nurses and carers from St Saviour’s, offering them the tickets for free as a reward for all their hard work, but only Michelle and Sally had taken her up on her offer and they were coming down that day and would stay at her home overnight.

  Angela wandered over and introduced herself to the caterers, studying the menu with awe: tiny pastry tarts filled with smoked salmon or cream cheese with chives; game pâté on squares of toast, and cold asparagus wrapped in thin brown bread – wherever did they get that at this time of year? Out of a jar perhaps, or was it imported? Harrods often had out-of-season imported foods that no one else would think of selling. Also prawns in a rose sauce in flaky pastry cups, special game pies, venison and herb tartlets, and local cheeses with fresh bread and butter and pickles.

  Just looking at the smart menu made her mouth water. It was an age since she’d tasted anything as good, not since she’d gone to London – except for the times Mark had taken her out, of course. Even then, she hadn’t had half the choice there was on her mother’s enticing menu. No wonder people with money thought it worth the price of the tickets! Yet even though the food made her feel hungry, a part of her was revolted at the thought of all the money squandered on luxuries like this. Remembering the shortages they’d all endured for several long years, and the homes the St Saviour’s children came from, where they were fortunate to have a bit of bread and dripping, she felt angry. Where was the justice when some people had so much and others had nothing? It made her feel ashamed of the things she’d taken for granted all her life, and determined to do more to help those in need.

  Yet she was a sane, sensible woman and she knew that she couldn’t expect everyone to have her own sense of social justice and fair play. Reading the menu again, she was amazed. How on earth did the caterers make a profit out of what her mother was charging for the tickets? Angela realised that her mother had pulled out all the stops to make this a special affair and had gone to so much trouble with all these tasty morsels that made her feel hungry just at the thought of them.

  Angela thanked the caterers, and then went to put on her warm red coat. She was just leaving the hall when a car drew up and Mark Adderbury waved to her. He was casually dressed in slacks and an open-necked shirt under a tweed jacket, very different from the smart suits he wore in London.

  ‘Are you on your way home? Mrs Hendry told me you were here – may I give you a lift?’ He got out to open the door for her, and Angela paused to glance round at the quiet country scene, so very different from the grime of Spitalfields, before she slid into the passenger seat, appreciating the smell of leather.

  A wry smile touched her mouth as she realised that she had conflicting emotions: Mark was one of the well-off people she’d been angry about earlier, but he used his money and his time to help others less fortunate. Yet that didn’t stop him enjoying a nice car or a pleasant home, and good food too. Perhaps this need inside her to help the people who were in desperate straits sometimes led her to be too harsh. Her mother was undoubtedly a middle-class snob, who admired people with money – but she’d worked very hard to make this event a success and Angela would be sure to thank her properly for that.

  ‘It should be a good do this evening?’

  ‘Oh yes, I think so,’ she said, glancing at him as he started the car. ‘You are coming, I hope?’

  ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Mrs Hendry’s charity affairs are always worth attending. Your mother has the knack for this sort of thing, Angela.’

&nbs
p; ‘Yes, she really does,’ Angela acknowledged. ‘You should see the menu for the buffet. I’m used to piles of sandwiches and fruitcake without much fruit in it, and mostly pastry sausage rolls, if we’re lucky. It made me feel ravenous just to see what they have planned for tonight.’

  ‘Your mother’s dinner dances are famous,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you out for lunch if you like – treat you to something special?’

  ‘Sorry, I can’t. I’ve got masses more to do at home and I can’t leave it to my mother; she’s done enough as it is … and she’s looking a bit tired, I thought. Mother has invited you to her drinks party before the dance, hasn’t she?’

  ‘Yes. I imagine you will be busy helping with that,’ Mark said, a little sigh escaping him. ‘I was hoping I might get you to myself for a while.’

  ‘Lunch tomorrow?’ she said on a teasing note. ‘I can catch the later train back to London.’

  ‘Why don’t I drive you back? We can stop for lunch at one of my favourite restaurants on the way.’

  ‘Lovely,’ Angela said. ‘Yes, I shall enjoy that far more than trying to squeeze a hasty lunch in today.’

  ‘That is a date,’ Mark said, drawing to a halt in front of her father’s modern red brick house. It had large gardens all round, though at the moment they looked a little forlorn. ‘I shall see you this evening – don’t work too hard.’

  ‘Oh, I enjoy it,’ Angela said as he opened the door for her to get out. ‘I shall enjoy this evening all the more because you will be there, Mark. I have you to thank for my job at St Saviour’s and I’m so grateful.’

  ‘Getting on better with Sister Beatrice now?’

  ‘I think I understand her a little better. We had a long discussion after I apologised for speaking out of turn and Sister has been thinking about some ideas of her own, which she will no doubt tell you when she’s ready …’

  ‘Well, keep trying. We need both of you at St Saviour’s, Angela.’

  Angela turned to wave as he drove off. She was trying very hard to keep the truce with Sister Beatrice but there was a slight feeling of tension between them and one of these days it was going to boil over.

  Michelle and Sally had arrived and were unpacking in their room. Angela smiled as she saw the tasteful flowers her mother had arranged, the clean towels, fresh individual soaps and flannels that had been put out for them. Everything was as perfect as Mrs Hendry could make it, and most of it she’d done herself, because she only had a daily for the rough work and a cook when she was entertaining.

  Sally turned as she came in. ‘Your parents have a lovely home, Angela. I’m not sure I’d want to work in London if I lived here.’

  ‘It is nice but I was bored. I hope you will be comfortable here.’

  ‘It is very nice,’ Michelle said and smiled. ‘We’re both looking forward to this evening.’

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t manage tickets for your boyfriends but they were all gone. I only managed to wangle two in the end.’

  ‘I don’t really have a boyfriend,’ Sally said and laughed, though her cheeks were flushed and her eyes did not meet Angela’s.

  ‘I haven’t got anyone special either,’ Michelle said.

  ‘Is there anything we can do to help Mrs Hendry?’ Sally offered and Michelle nodded agreement.

  ‘I’ll ask her after lunch, but I expect she will say you’re here to enjoy yourselves and tell you to walk down to the river and explore for a couple of hours – and you are here to relax. You both work extremely hard at St Saviour’s and that’s why I offered free tickets, because all this is as much for you as the children.’

  Angela walked away, leaving the girls to hang up their dresses for the evening. She herself intended to help prepare canapés and polish glasses ready for their guests that evening, but her mother would never allow guests to help.

  ‘Well, your mother has done herself and you proud, my love,’ Mr Hendry said, coming up to Angela as she stood by an open window, surveying the crowded room. It was filled with prosperous men and their wives and daughters, all of them wearing expensive gowns and diamond rings on their fingers, the scent of French perfume heavy on the air. ‘I think everyone is enjoying themselves – including the friends you invited down.’

  ‘Yes, they’ve both been dancing most of the time.’ Angela had noticed that Sally had drunk lemonade all night, though Michelle seemed to enjoy the wine and punch cups on offer and might have been just a little merry.

  ‘What about you? Too tired to dance with your old man?’

  ‘Oh, Daddy, of course I’m not,’ Angela said and put down her lemonade. She too had steered clear of both the wine and the heady punch cups. ‘I should love to dance with you.’

  He took her hand and led her onto the floor just as the band struck up for another waltz. Smiling, Angela followed his lead. Her father was a good dancer and he’d taught her when she was fourteen at one of her mother’s charity events.

  ‘I’ve missed you, my love,’ he said, smiling down at her. ‘Are you happy up there? If not you can come home and help me in the office again.’

  ‘Thank you for asking but I love my work. It’s the children, Daddy. Some of them tug at your heartstrings and you want to scoop them up and protect them from all harm.’

  ‘Yes, children have a way of doing that to you,’ he murmured. ‘It’s the way I feel about you, even though you’re grown up and you’ve been married. You see, you will always be my little girl. When we lost your brother you became all the more precious to me.’

  ‘Oh, Dad. I’m glad I’m precious to you, but I wish you hadn’t lost Steven.’

  ‘At least he was spared the horror of war. Besides, you are enough for me – my special person in all the world.’ He squeezed her hand and smiled down at her. ‘That’s why I want to look after you.’

  He was still a very attractive man with silvered hair at the temples and a distinguished air, but there were slight signs of strain in his face that she hadn’t noticed before. She wondered but then he smiled at a friend and the look had vanished.

  ‘I love you too, but I don’t need protecting now. I have to go out into the world and fight dragons for myself.’

  ‘And for some of those children?’

  ‘Yes, particularly one little girl and boy at the moment. I’m worried about him, Daddy. He’s gone missing and I’m not sure why. Sister Beatrice thinks he ran away because he’d been naughty, but Mary Ellen is sure it’s something different; but won’t tell me why, though I think it may be something to do with his bully of a brother.’

  ‘If you’re worried you should go to the police.’

  ‘We have but Sister is anxious not to cause too much fuss in case they think Billy ought to be sent elsewhere –’

  ‘I could put you in touch with a lawyer who would help if it comes to that.’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ She looked up at him. ‘Are you all right? Nothing wrong?’

  ‘Of course not, why do you ask?’

  She shook her head. ‘No reason, just asking …’ she murmured as their dance ended.

  Angela was about to seek out her mother and ask her if she needed any help when Mark Adderbury came up to her.

  ‘That is a wonderful dress, Angela. Red always suits you.’

  ‘I bought it before the war,’ she said and laughed. ‘But thank you for the compliment.’

  ‘You haven’t danced with me yet this evening,’ he said. ‘Do you have a spare dance for an old friend?’

  ‘Of course I have,’ Angela said. ‘I had to dance with all those businessmen Mother had invited to meet me. I’m after donations for my fund for the children and so far it looks promising. I might get even more than the dance itself will raise if they all keep their word.’

  Mark led her into the quickstep and there was little time for small talk, because it took all her concentration and breath to keep up with the pace of the intricate steps. By the time they’d finished she was laughing, out of breath and warm. She smiled up at him, wonderi
ng at the look in his eyes. Just for a moment there was something that made her catch her breath … but then it had gone and he was his normal caring and calm self; the man who had helped pull her through the months of sorrow and despair.

  ‘I must go and dance with those St Saviour’s girls,’ Mark said. ‘I shall see you in the morning, Angela.’

  She smiled, watching as he walked away to speak to Michelle, who was standing with a glass in her hand. Sally was dancing with someone. Angela looked again and realised it was Mr Markham. She hadn’t known he would be there that evening; Mark must have sold him the ticket. He and Sally seemed to be getting on well. Sally was laughing and gazing up at him, her eyes bright with excitement – and was that something more? Angela was surprised and then pleased, because they looked so right together. Her mother might say the two were worlds apart, but Angela didn’t agree. If they loved each other – and from what she could see she was guessing they did – then let the world say what it liked. Angela was just glad the girl she liked so much was enjoying herself.

  ‘Well, are you satisfied, Angela?’ her mother’s voice said from behind her. ‘I really don’t know what you expected from this evening – but I’ve done my best for you. Just do not ask me to do it again. I’m really not sure I could raise the enthusiasm for such an event twice.’

  ‘Don’t spoil it, Mum, please.’ Angela turned to look at her mother, who had come up to her unnoticed, and frowned. ‘It’s a lovely evening, Mum. You’ve done us proud. I know you don’t approve of me working at St Saviour’s but it is something I wanted to do and I am grateful for this evening.’ Angela noticed that her mother looked a little flushed, which was unusual for her.

  ‘Well, I wanted it to be special.’ Her mother stared at her. ‘You’re looking thin. Why don’t you come home and settle down? There are several perfectly eligible men here this evening. I’m sure you could find someone if you tried – and stop all this charity nonsense. You’re letting yourself down, Angela, and us. If you want to help others, I could give you some work writing letters and raising money for the vicar’s latest project overseas.’