by Cathy Sharp
Sister Beatrice gave her a disbelieving stare.
‘Please do not let him bamboozle you, Angela. Boys like that know how to make themselves appear in the right when they are in a tight corner. It is a wonder he hasn’t got pneumonia,’ she said. ‘Those attics must be freezing at this time of year. I cannot understand how he gained access to them. The key to that door was lost years ago, after they were boarded up.’
‘I think Billy found it in the cellar, where the lamp was,’ Angela said. ‘The caretaker uses the cellar to store all kinds of things and he has to go down there to look after the boiler so that is why Billy chose the attics instead.’
‘Had he been honest he would have come to me and confessed.’
‘I think he was frightened in case his brother came looking for him – and then he wanted to protect Mary Ellen. He said he was going to come out after Christmas when all the treats were over and she wouldn’t lose privileges.’
‘Indeed?’ Sister Beatrice frowned. ‘So now I am an ogre?’
‘No, of course you’re not. It’s just that he and you …’Angela’s words trailed away. ‘In the circumstances, could you not allow Mary Ellen to go to the pantomime?’
Sister Beatrice glared at her. ‘You would have me condone lies?’
‘No, not in the general way – but she was only protecting a friend. It’s not as if she did anything for her own gain; in fact she’d been going without food to feed him. I think it was noble of her.’
‘Well, your notions do not accord with mine!’
‘He really did no harm hiding in the attics …’
‘And that could have led to goodness knows what. If that lamp had fallen over and set fire to the attics, it could have been a disaster.’
‘I told Billy it wasn’t safe. He will not be as foolish again.’
‘You have more faith in his common sense than I,’ Sister Beatrice said. ‘You will please leave the running of this home to me, Angela. I am the warden here and what I say stands.’
‘Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to suggest …’
‘Yet you do not hesitate to tell me I am wrong? I have good reasons for what I do, let me assure you. The punishment stands. Neither of them will attend the pantomime.’
‘If that is your final word, then I must accept it. I’m sorry, Sister. I didn’t mean to usurp your position; I couldn’t. Forgive me – but think again about the child going to that pantomime.’
Angela turned and walked from Sister’s office, feeling angry. She’d been forced to apologise because she knew that Sister Beatrice was far more important to St Saviour’s than she was, but she wasn’t sorry for standing up for the children. It was a pity that she had only made things worse, because a small boy and girl would suffer. Yet there was little she could do about it other appeal to the Board, which would mean a showdown and might lead to the Warden leaving her position.
Angela had been sent here to help Sister Beatrice to bring St Saviour’s into a more modern world, not to cause such a breach that one of them was forced to leave. It certainly ought not to be the nun, because her expertise was essential for the children’s welfare.
At the moment Angela wasn’t sure whether she wanted to carry on working here. Sister Beatrice could be very sharp and Angela didn’t like being treated as though she were irresponsible or a foolish child. Sister might be a good nurse and she worked hard for the children, but it wouldn’t hurt her to listen once in a while. Angela might not have her experience of running a children’s home, but she knew instinctively that some children needed encouragement and love, not punishment – and Mary Ellen was surely one of those. Her small, pale face had touched Angela’s heart the first time she saw her, and she wanted to protect her as much as she could.
There were so many children in need of love and care and Angela knew that Sister Beatrice was very necessary to the running of St Saviour’s – but surely there was room for other opinions?
Beatrice glared at the door as it closed behind the younger woman. She was not sure what had made her more angry, to discover that Billy Baggins had been hiding here all the time, or being told that she was in the wrong by a middle-class woman who had no idea what it was like to suffer the conditions prevalent in many East End homes. How dare she presume to tell Beatrice her job?
She snatched up a small silver vase from her desk and went through the motions of hurling it at the door, but it never left her hand because such actions were childish and against her vocation; she would not allow herself to lose her temper. Goodness knows she’d been driven to the verge enough times of late. Angela was so obviously disapproving of her actions and even though she’d apologised she clearly felt herself in the right.
The trouble was that in her heart Beatrice knew some of what Angela had suggested would be good for the children. At first she’d rejected the list of points the younger woman had given her simply because she was not ready for changes. Surely the time-tested ways were the best; children needed to be disciplined for their own good – and yet she’d never enjoyed caning a child and had to steel herself to deliver the punishment. At the convent she’d learned the power of self-discipline, learned that a strong will could overcome personal pain and grief.
It was the right way for her, because she could never let herself remember the past that had shaped and scarred her – but that did not make it right for everyone. Perhaps Angela was correct when she said that sometimes the children had suffered so much that even if they were naughty they deserved love and understanding rather than discipline.
Even so, could she stay here and work side by side with a woman who so clearly disapproved of her and her methods? Angela was determined to sweep away the established disciplines of years and bring in the modern thinking she considered beneficial. Yet Beatrice knew that Angela was not alone in thinking as she did; there was a new mood abroad in the country. You read it in the way the newspapers wrote scathing reports on some children’s homes and the way the Government was still being condemned for having sent children away from their homes without proper planning during the war. Some of the evacuees had been treated appallingly and some were even lost to their parents.
Was she perhaps letting the sin of pride cloud her judgement? Her hand closed over the silver crucifix she wore at her breast and she murmured a silent prayer asking for the strength to know what was right – and to accept it, even if perhaps it meant she had to adjust her own thinking.
Remembering that she’d been so very worried about Billy, Beatrice wondered at her own intransigence and honesty forced her to admit that if Angela hadn’t gone straight into battle over the children she might have been more lenient; it was a sad thing that she’d allowed the younger woman to get under her skin in this way.
Could she adjust sufficiently to work with her? Beatrice wasn’t sure but the alternative was perhaps even worse. St Saviour’s was her home and the children were her children, the reason that made her go on with her life. To give it up now because of that upstart … no, it wasn’t to be borne!
THIRTY-THREE
Angela was sitting in her office on Saturday morning when the phone rang. Answering, she heard her father’s voice. ‘Hello, Daddy, how are you?’
There was a slight hesitation, then, ‘I’m all right. I was just ringing to ask if you were still coming home for Christmas.’ Something in the way he spoke sounded like a plea to Angela and her heart caught. He’d sounded unlike himself … vulnerable.
‘Yes, I’m coming down Christmas Eve after the carol service – and I’ll stay until the afternoon of Boxing Day.’
‘Good …’ Was that relief in his voice? ‘We shall both be pleased to see you, my love. Your mother has been planning a special lunch. I mustn’t tell you, because it is a surprise – but I didn’t want her to go to all that trouble and then be disappointed.’
‘No, I shan’t disappoint her. I’m looking forward to it.’
‘So am I,’ he said. ‘Bye for now, love.’
‘
Are you all right?’ She was anxious, because instinct was telling her he was keeping something back. ‘Is anything wrong, Dad?’
‘No, not at all, never better,’ he affirmed and yet she sensed that it was an effort, his hearty voice put on to reassure her.
Angela replaced her receiver, slightly uneasy. Even if something was wrong, her father wouldn’t tell her on the phone. It made her frown, because he was usually so cheerful. She was about to ring him back when her phone rang once more.
She picked it up and relaxed as she heard Mark’s voice. He hadn’t rung her since they went to the theatre, for which he apologised now.
‘I’ve had such a lot on, a rush of private patients on top of my hospital work. I think this time of year always brings on bouts of depression,’ he said and laughed deprecatingly at himself. ‘Do you have time for dinner one evening soon – next Monday?’
‘I’d love to, Mark – that’s the 15th isn’t it? After that things will start to get pretty hectic here with all the preparations for Christmas. I have a lot to tell you. We’ve found Billy – you remember the lad who went missing? He was forced to work for his rogue of a brother and got mixed up in that fire at the boot factory. But I’ll tell you on Monday.’
‘Yes, you do that,’ he said. ‘By the way, are you going home for Christmas?’
‘Yes. I thought I’d go down on Christmas Eve, after the party here.’
‘Good. I’m going then so I’ll drive you – if you’d like?’
‘Lovely. I shall look forward to it – and I’ll see you on Monday.’
Angela smiled as she replaced the receiver. Mark was such a good friend and she missed him when they didn’t meet for a while.
She sat staring into space for a few minutes, thinking about the past year or so during which she’d gradually been learning to live with her grief. John’s death had left a gaping hole in her life and an ache in her heart she sometimes thought would never leave her – and yet since she’d come here Angela had begun to feel things more sharply. She thought about the children she saw every day, the new arrivals looking frightened and pale when she and Nan admitted them, and the gradual blooming of roses in their cheeks as good food and security helped them recover from terrible experiences. Most of them had been half-starving; they had never been as well fed in their lives as they were here – and Angela was determined they would grow up in a place that would make them smile when they were older and looked back.
The new building was still a shambles. Sometimes the noise of hammering penetrated Angela’s office and she felt like asking them to stop for a while, but the sooner the new dorms were ready the better. Mark had taken her ideas to the Board and they had agreed to keep the size of the rooms down to six pupils, making two for the boys and three for the girls rather than two huge ones. Mark had told her some of the Board had grumbled about the extra running costs it might incur, but Angela had got her way. That was one big tick on her list but she had a long way to go. The next step was to discuss the idea of team leaders with Sister Beatrice …
It was a pity they’d had words over Billy Baggins and Mary Ellen again. Particularly the girl. Angela sighed and tried not to think about the child’s woebegone face. She pulled on her thick coat and picked up her bag, preparing to leave.
Saturdays were actually her time off, and she usually spent the morning shopping and then helped out at St Saviour’s in the afternoons. This morning she intended to spend her time buying Christmas gifts for her parents, the staff at the home and small things to put on the tree for the children.
Mark Adderbury would be putting up the tree one day the following week and she knew he intended to give out gifts on Christmas Eve at the party. The children had heard whispers and were growing very excited, but Angela could not forget the look of misery in one child’s eyes because she was to be denied something that meant more to her than anything else.
It was so cruel of Sister Beatrice to deny Mary Ellen this chance, which might never come again, during her childhood anyway. Angela had wangled the tickets from a friend this year, but she might not be able to do it again next year – and if she wasn’t here … her thoughts came to an abrupt end, because she had to be sensible. She couldn’t overrule Sister Beatrice. Mary Ellen could not go to the pantomime and that was the end of it, but … supposing another treat was substituted?
The idea came to Angela as she was passing a cinema showing a Walt Disney cartoon. The pictures of Mickey Mouse and Bambi posted in glass cases outside made her linger, and temptation raised its ugly head. Sister hadn’t said the child could not have any treats, just that she could not go to the pantomime with the others. Supposing Angela took her to the Disney film instead and then to tea at Lyons’ Corner House?
She ought not to do it. Angela knew that, because it would be flinging Sister’s authority in her face, not an actual flaunting of her wishes but a defiant action that would make her furious … but with Angela rather than Mary Ellen.
Angela knew she was taking a great risk but for some reason Mary Ellen had touched her heart, making her want to protect and care for the vulnerable child. Many of the children at the home were sad cases, but none of the others seemed to be in trouble all the time.
On the bus back to St Saviour’s, Angela still hadn’t made up her mind to do it, because she knew that it would be wrong to flout Sister’s wishes. She was punishing Mary Ellen for lying to her and the child had been wrong, but her reasons were unselfish and loyal and Angela felt that Sister could have relented this time.
She went up to her room and placed the parcels on the bed ready for wrapping later. Angela seldom went anywhere in the evenings, preferring to stay at home and listen to a concert or a play on the wireless or read a book. If she had her own flat she could have her gramophone and her baby grand piano sent up from the country, which would provide her with endless entertainment, also more of her clothes, books and other treasures, which she missed. She might feel as if she had a home again then, but so far she hadn’t found a flat she liked well enough to take on a lease, perhaps because she was so uncertain about staying at St Saviour’s. Had she got on better with Sister Beatrice the job would have suited her – better than any other she could think of. She would be sorry if she had to leave, but there were other charities, other places she might find work with children if she tried. Yet she liked it here, was making friends …
And then there was Mark Adderbury. Angela suspected that Mark thought of her as more than a friend, but she wasn’t ready to contemplate a relationship with a man yet: far from it. Much as she enjoyed their time together, Angela was still too raw inside, too much in love with John to think of … no, she couldn’t imagine being another man’s lover or wife.
‘John, my love …’ A wave of longing overtook her as she remembered the first time they’d met at that Young Farmers’ ball. He’d looked so handsome in his dark suit and white shirt, his silvery blond hair waving back from his forehead, and his disconcertingly blue eyes. ‘I loved you so very much. So much …’
John had swept her off her feet, claiming every dance with her, refusing to give her up to anyone and then taking her off to walk by the river. She remembered removing her shoes, sitting on the edge of a grassy bank and dangling her feet in the cool water. He’d kissed her and the feeling was so heady and sweet that Angela had known instantly this was different. He was the one she’d waited for all her life.
She’d been a virgin when he married her and carried her off to the sea for a brief honeymoon. John’s lovemaking had been all that she’d dreamed of, making her come to life, as if she’d been a sleeping princess in her dark tower until that moment – but her happiness had lasted such a short time. John had only weeks of training before he was sent abroad; twice he’d returned to her on a brief leave and then … the telegram that told her he wouldn’t come home again.
No, she couldn’t think about that or she would let in all the grief and pain that she’d conquered. She treasured her short marriage an
d she could not think of giving herself or her heart to another man. Mark was a good friend, a wonderful listener, and she was eternally grateful to him for all he’d done for her – but she didn’t want more than friendship from him or anyone else.
Dismissing Mark from her thoughts, she returned to the problem of Mary Ellen. Billy wasn’t going to the pantomime either, but he couldn’t have gone anyway, because his cold had turned worse and he’d been running a fever. Sister Beatrice would no doubt have banned him if he’d been well, because she would have had no choice in the circumstances. Billy was confined to the isolation ward until he got better, but Mary Ellen would be alone while all the others went off to the theatre.
Angela left her room and went in search of Sally, to make sure she had the tickets and money necessary for the children’s treat. She and Nurse Anna, Nan and Jean, one of the newer carers, were getting ready to assemble the children ready for the pantomime.
‘Are you coming with us?’ Sally asked, but Angela shook her head.
‘I’m sorry. I can’t manage it,’ she said. ‘You can cope without me, can’t you?’
‘Cook asked if there was a spare ticket. If you’re not going, could she have yours?’
‘Of course.’ Angela hunted in her jacket pocket. ‘Yes, here it is. You’ve got all the others?’
‘Yes. And the five pounds you gave us for ice creams and sweets.’
‘Good.’ Angela smiled at her. ‘It is so kind of you all to give up your time off to take the children.’
‘We’re all looking forward to it,’ Anna said. ‘Come along, Michael … Ruth, put your coat on, all of you must wear a coat. Hats for the girls and caps for the boys, please.’ She mustered the crowd of excited children into some sort of order, checking that everyone had gloves, hats and scarves to combat the bitter weather.
Angela left the girls to it. She need not worry that they would find so many children difficult to manage, because they all adored Nan and did whatever she told them. With Cook there would be five of them to make sure the children didn’t get lost or run across the road in their excitement.