by Cathy Sharp
‘Now, Mary Ellen, I want you to tell me the truth – have you seen Billy today?’
‘No, sir,’ Mary Ellen lied, crossing her fingers behind her back. She could feel the heat rushing through her because she hated having to lie, but she must for Billy’s sake. ‘What makes you ask, sir?’
‘Well, it may be best to tell you. Billy will not be in trouble if he comes forward and tells us what we wish to know. We’re looking for his brother and when we find him we’re going to arrest him for several crimes. If Billy helps us in our investigations he will be doing a service to the community.’
Mary Ellen was so tempted, but she held her silence. She couldn’t tell on Billy, because the police might take him away – he might be arrested for his part in the crimes. She was torn between wanting to confess why Billy had done what his brother ordered him to do and keeping his secret. She believed that Angela and perhaps Sister Beatrice might stand up for him … but he would think she was a snitch and a traitor, and Mary Ellen knew what happened to people who told tales. She didn’t want that to happen to her, because it would break her heart if Billy turned against her. Besides, she wasn’t sure you could trust the police. Her pa had always thought they were sly and stupid so perhaps she couldn’t believe this one when he said Billy wouldn’t be in trouble if he told his story. She could pass the message on but she wasn’t going to tell.
‘I haven’t seen Billy for a long time, sir.’ Well, she hadn’t seen him since breakfast so that was a long time, wasn’t it?
‘Well, if you do, I want you to tell Sister Beatrice. Billy need not be afraid; we shall protect him. His brother won’t be going anywhere for several years once we get him.’
‘Yes, sir; if I see Billy I shall tell him he should come to Sister Beatrice.’
‘Very well, I’ll be on my way, Sister – Mrs Morton. This is very important, Mary Ellen. Arthur Baggins is a bad lot. We suspect him of a lot worse than theft and we should like to send him down the line for a long time.’
Mary Ellen was so uncomfortable that she couldn’t look at him, let alone answer.
‘Just a moment, Mary Ellen,’ Sister said as she turned to follow him out. ‘I want a word with you myself.’
Mary Ellen looked up at her, quaking inside as she saw Sister’s stern look.
‘Well, now you can just tell me the truth,’ Sister said as the door closed. ‘I know you lied to the police constable – so why? I think you have seen Billy recently so why won’t you tell us?’
‘I haven’t seen him,’ Mary Ellen said in a voice not much above a whisper but she couldn’t look at Sister, because she felt so awful. She didn’t like Sister Beatrice much, because she was mean to Billy, but she did know she was right. The police needed to know everything, because it was the only way they could do their job and put a bad man in prison.
‘Please do not lie to me, Mary Ellen. I ask you again, have you seen Billy since he left St Saviour’s?’
‘No, Sister …’ Mary Ellen was close to tears and the words hardly discernible.
‘I shall not ask again, but I warn you: if you do not give me the truth, I shall punish you in a way that you will find unpleasant.’
Mary Ellen hung her head, refusing stubbornly to answer, her insides tying themselves in knots as she waited for Sister to fetch her cane, but all she did was to stare at her in silence. Mary Ellen felt that she couldn’t breathe, but as each second ticked by so her determination not to betray Billy grew.
‘Very well, you leave me no choice. You will not go with the other children to the pantomime on Saturday. That is your punishment. You may go now.’
Mary Ellen looked at her, the tears burning behind her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She dreaded the cane but would have accepted it rather than seeing the treat she’d looked forward to for weeks being withdrawn.
How could Sister be so cruel? She wanted to fly at her, to tell her she was mean and nasty, but instead she just raised her head and looked at her in silent misery, and then she turned and walked from the room.
The injustice of her punishment burned inside her as she went back to the dining hall. Most of the children had gone but Marion was still sitting there guarding the plate of food.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked but Mary Ellen just shook her head, because it hurt too much to talk about it. She’d been counting the hours until the pantomime, hardly able to contain her excitement as the weeks passed, and now it was only a few days and she couldn’t go. Sister Beatrice was just horrid, and it wasn’t fair.
Mary Ellen couldn’t have eaten a thing. The food would have choked her so she took two large clean handkerchiefs from her pocket and tipped all the cake, sausage rolls, and sandwiches into them, folding them neatly to slip into her bag when she reached the cloakroom.
‘Why don’t you want your tea?’ Marion asked, staring at her.
‘I’m in trouble with Sister,’ Mary Ellen said, blinking back her tears. ‘I can’t go to the pantomime on Saturday – you mustn’t worry, Marion. I’ll eat this later.’
‘That’s not fair,’ Marion said indignantly. ‘I don’t want to go if you can’t.’
‘You must,’ Mary Ellen urged her. ‘You can’t give it up just for me – and you can tell me all about it when you come back.’
Marion also had tears in her eyes. ‘Sister is wrong. You haven’t done anything wicked, Mary Ellen. I know it. She is being mean to you and it isn’t fair.’
‘Sister Beatrice is doing what she thinks right,’ Mary Ellen said, desperately trying to hold back the tears of disappointment. She wished she could share the secret with Marion, but if she did that, her friend might give her away – or even worse, she might be blamed too when it all came out, as it might one day. ‘You must go and bring back a programme to show me at tea.’
Marion promised she would, but when Sally came to fetch her she was resentful on Mary Ellen’s behalf and refused to smile as she was wheeled away.
Mary Ellen hurried to the cloakroom and added the food to the other things she’d acquired for Billy, which included a packet of toffees from the shop where she’d bought his orange squash. It was a good thing she hadn’t wanted her tea, because he was bound to be starving, and knowing she was under suspicion with Sister Beatrice might make it difficult to take food to Billy every mealtime. She was going to have to watch her opportunity and slip away. Most of the children would have gone into the games room to play before supper and she couldn’t keep Billy waiting any longer. He would be thinking she had deserted him.
Angela looked at Sister Beatrice as the door closed behind Mary Ellen. She’d kept her silence during the interview with the police constable and what happened afterwards, but now she felt compelled to speak.
‘Was that truly necessary?’
‘What do you mean?’
Sister looked angry and Angela knew she was treading on thin ice, but she had to speak out. The look on that child’s face had struck her to the heart and she knew how much Mary Ellen had been looking forward to going to the pantomime.
‘Could you not just have given her a few lines or something? To take away the best of the Christmas treats – it is very unkind to say the least.’
‘It is not for you to question my judgement, Angela. This is not the first time Mary Ellen has lied to me. I do not approve of liars, even if you do.’
‘If Mary Ellen held back something she did it for a friend,’ Angela said. ‘I think she was hiding something, as you do, and Mary Ellen is certainly tense and upset over Billy. I do agree that she isn’t telling us everything – but punishing her in such a manner is not likely to gain her trust. She isn’t to blame for whatever Billy has done. Why should she bear the punishment?’
‘Because I will not have the children lie to me. Had she chosen to tell me the truth I should have sorted it out. Billy need not be in trouble with the police if he will come forward and do the right thing – but does he even know what that is? Some of these children learn to lie at their mothers’ knees and it is n
ot acceptable here. This place is run on trust. Yes, I do see that she is upset for her friend, and had she chosen to confide in us, we could have helped them both.’ Beatrice looked anxious, uncertain. ‘Believe me, it gives me no pleasure to punish her but I cannot condone this kind of behaviour. Sometimes I make mistakes, but in this instance I believe I am right. What I do is for the good of all, Angela. Discipline must be maintained or we shall have chaos. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You’ve never known what it is like to have your trust utterly betrayed – to learn firsthand what lying and cheating can do.’
‘No, perhaps I haven’t,’ Angela said. ‘But I’ve known grief and I saw real grief in that child’s eyes. She hasn’t much to look forward to in life. How can you take away something so precious?’
‘You make too much of it,’ Sister Beatrice said coldly. ‘Have you no work of your own? Did you not say that it is better to take away a privilege than smack a child? Now, if you will excuse me, I have a great deal to do personally so I would appreciate it if I could be left in peace.’
Angela bowed her head and left without another word. She was so angry that she might have said something that would make it impossible for her to work with the other woman. Having made her protest against the injustice of the punishment there was no more she could do if she wanted to stay here. She had begun to think more kindly of Sister Beatrice and to make allowances for her harshness at times. The older woman had hinted at a hard life, of suffering that she could know nothing of – but Angela had known the depths of despair herself and yet was still able to care for the children, to understand their point of view. It was arrogant of Sister to dismiss her as having no notion of suffering.
Angry and frustrated that there was nothing she could do to help the child, Angela went in search of Mary Ellen. Perhaps she could talk to her, ease her disappointment a little by telling her of other treats planned – though she feared nothing would equal the pantomime.
Entering the dining room, Angela saw that all the tables had been cleared and the children had gone. She would try the large room that the younger ones gathered into to play games and do puzzles or read books before going to prayers and then bed. It wouldn’t be easy to find the words to comfort Mary Ellen, but she must try.
Sally, who looked worried, stopped her on her way from the dining hall.
‘I wanted a word,’ the carer said. ‘Marion tells me that Sister Beatrice has cancelled Mary Ellen’s trip to the pantomime?’
‘Yes, that is true. The police came asking after Billy Baggins. Mary Ellen said she hadn’t seen him, but Sister thought she was lying – and that was her punishment.’
‘That’s a bit unfair, isn’t it?’ Sally said. ‘Mary Ellen is always good with the small children. If Billy is in trouble, it is his fault, not Mary Ellen’s.’
‘I’m not sure that he would be in trouble if he came forward, but we do not know where he is. Sister is sure that Mary Ellen knows – and she hates lies. In general I agree with her, but in this case …’ Angela shook her head. ‘Have you seen Mary Ellen? I wanted to talk to her – to discover why she won’t tell.’
‘Mary Ellen is very loyal. She would never tell on her friends.’
‘Yes, I think that is what the problem is – but in this case it might be better all round …’
‘Well, if I see her before I leave I’ll come and tell you. Shall you be in your office?’
‘Yes, for a while – but I’m going to look for her first.’
‘Let’s hope you find her. We don’t want her running off as well.’
Angela nodded her agreement. Mary Ellen was just the independent sort of child who might decide to run off if she felt she’d been unfairly treated.
THIRTY-ONE
Sally looked up from the book she’d been reading to the little ones as the door of the schoolroom opened and Andrew entered. She smiled, her heart giving a little hop, skip and jump as she saw the answering smile in his eyes. She was almost sure she was in love with him now, and when he smiled like that she believed he loved her, really loved her. Her mother and sister had both warned her not to take his attentions seriously, but surely her own heart was a better judge?
‘I hope I do not disturb you? I wanted a word with you if you have time?’
‘Yes, of course. Children, you may play with the toys for now and we’ll continue the story tomorrow.’
The children got up, running to be the first to the toy cupboard, pushing and quarrelling in an effort to get their favourite before someone else snatched it. Sally walked towards the other end of the long room where it was quieter, before turning to her visitor, keeping her voice light because the children were listening, and asked, ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I thought you might like to know how Jimmy Noakes was getting on. The young boy who was injured in that nasty accident.’
‘Yes, I remember. His father came to see me at home yesterday evening. He told me his son was coming out of hospital soon and thanked me for helping the boy before you arrived – and for taking the bike back to his employer.’
‘Ah, that was well done of him, because it was kind of you to go out of your way to help the lad.’
‘It was the least I could do. Mr Noakes seemed to think that his son was recovering well, is that correct?’
‘Yes. We managed to patch up his leg, and apart from a few bruises elsewhere he was lucky. Had he suffered a head injury he might have lost his life or been brain-damaged. As it is, he will be back to normal in no time.’
‘I’m so pleased. It was fortunate that you came along when you did, Andrew.’
‘I was wondering whether you would have dinner with me soon. Please, Sally. I know we’ve been on a casual footing, just drinks or a coffee until now – but I want us to start going out properly. I suppose I’m asking you if I can court you – isn’t that the right term?’ His eyes teased her, the laughter in them making her pulses race with excitement. She wished they were somewhere else, because she wanted to feel his arms around her and his lips on hers.
Sally swallowed hard, her heart beating so fast that she felt short of breath and did not know how to answer him. Common sense told her that she was out of her depth and it would be best not to start something that could only end in disappointment for them both. Yet her heart was telling her this feeling was right and special and she wanted it so much … so very much.
‘I have my nursing classes tomorrow evening and I can’t afford to miss one because there are exams coming up. I’m sorry …’
‘And I am busy for most of next week,’ he said and looked disappointed. ‘Christmas is looming and I’m not sure … but we’ll fix something soon, because I’m quite serious in wanting to court you, Sally.’
‘Yes, it’s what I want too,’ she said softly. ‘I shall look forward to seeing you again soon. I shall see you at the children’s Christmas party shan’t I?’
‘Yes, of course. I couldn’t miss that. I may be able to pop in sooner and perhaps I’ll know by then what my arrangements are and we can fix up something.’
‘Yes …’ Her breath caught in her throat when his eyes lit with pleasure and she felt that she had suddenly taken a leap into space. She had no idea where this was going, but she wanted to know him better. ‘Yes, I should like that …’ She smiled dreamily as she watched him leave.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, Sally realised it was almost time to take the children to wash their hands before lunch. It was the pantomime the next afternoon and they were all anticipating it eagerly. Recalling that Mary Ellen had been denied the privilege, Sally felt saddened. The girl had been looking forward to it so much and it didn’t seem fair to punish her like that, even if she had lied to protect her friend.
Angela said Sister thought Billy was hiding and Mary Ellen was helping him, but Sally couldn’t think of anywhere the lad could successfully hide. All the rooms were in constant use, because there were more than fifty children in residence at the moment. It was too cold fo
r him to hide in a garden shed; he would be frozen if he did that, because the frost was deep each night even though it hadn’t snowed yet. Sally knew he wasn’t hiding in the cellar, because Angela had been down there twice to look. If Billy was hiding at St Saviour’s he must have found a very good place that neither she nor Angela could discover.
Billy was frozen all over. He kept moving his hands and feet to instil some warmth into them, but he was still very cold despite the thin blanket Mary Ellen had somehow managed to smuggle up to him under her coat. The old house was heated by a boiler in the cellars and the heavy cast-iron radiators kept the rest of the rooms at a comfortable temperature, but because the attics had been sealed off, not much heat found its way up to him.
He was hungry too, because he’d been up here for days now and Mary Ellen couldn’t always get enough food for him. She did her best and brought him bread and butter, cake, a hard-boiled egg and now and then some cold meat or a sausage roll, but she couldn’t bring hot food and his drinks were water, lemonade or orange squash. He thought constantly of steak and kidney pie, mashed potatoes and sponge pudding with lashings of hot custard, and longed for a cup of creamy cocoa.
Billy had managed to wash off the coal dust that had covered his hands and face after his adventures in the cellar, but his clothes still stank of the smoke from the fire. Mary Ellen hadn’t been able to sneak into the boys’ dorm to bring him clean, and though she’d brought one of her own woollens to help keep him warm, she couldn’t get his shirt or trousers.
In the early hours of the morning, he crept downstairs to the kitchen and emptied the chamber pot he’d found in the attics down one of the toilets. Every time he was sure he would be caught. Once, a carer had come through the back kitchen to the toilet and tried the door, but Billy had locked it. He’d heard her mutter something and go off again, his heart beating as he escaped back up the narrow stairs to his hiding place. It was beginning to seem more like a prison than a sanctuary.
There were mattresses but they were damp and smelled fusty and he’d caught a chill the first night he was up here. He kept wiping his running nose, conscious that he was dirty as well as cold and miserable. Mary Ellen had tried to persuade him that he should come down and confess everything to Sister Beatrice, but he was frightened of being sent away.