The Little Runaways

by Cathy Sharp

  No, she couldn’t and it was ridiculous to feel as if he’d let her down. She’d enjoyed her evening with Nick Hadden, but even that bothered her a little, because she was afraid that Nick might be getting serious. She wasn’t ready for anything more than friendship with anyone just yet.

  Angela laughed. She was being foolish. There were far more important things to think about than her personal relationships. Including the auction of the bits and pieces she’d reserved from that bequest to St Saviour’s; which, now that she’d finally got a date when the church hall was free, was set for the following week.

  ‘Angela, may I come in?’

  Sally popped her head round the door, looking rather like an expectant robin with her bright eyes and inquisitive expression; wearing her pink gingham uniform, her short reddish-brown hair curling about her face, she was a pretty girl. Angela smiled. ‘Yes, of course you can.’

  ‘We hadn’t talked in the staff room recently, so I thought I would pop in. It’s your auction for St Saviour’s next week, isn’t it?’

  ‘On Tuesday. I thought I would do an evening auction so that more people could come.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help? Stick tickets on things, make lists – whatever? Andrew is away at a conference for his work then and Tuesday isn’t one of my class nights so I could come and help out if you like?’

  ‘Yes, to both kind offers.’ Angela beamed at her. ‘I’m listing everything by numbers now and need some help attaching the tickets – you could come and help and we can drink coffee and moan about the world.’

  ‘I should love to,’ Sally said. ‘And on the night?’

  ‘I’m going to need people watching the stuff once it is set out. When the buyers pay I’ll need someone there too, because I’m conducting the auction. I asked a professional but he wanted too much. I can do it myself, I’m sure.’

  ‘As good as he can, I’ll bet,’ Sally assured her with a big grin. ‘I’ll come over this evening, how about half seven?’

  ‘Lovely,’ Angela agreed, and settled back to her work, pleased with life once more. If Carole resented her for some reason that was her affair. Angela had made friends here and she wasn’t going to bother her head over the nurse’s strange looks.

  ‘Miss Angela,’ Nancy called to her as she was leaving the dining room after tea that evening. ‘I wanted to thank you for my sewing kit and the material you gave me. I made a new dress for Sunday outings. I’m allowed to wear it if I go to church, Sally says.’

  ‘Yes, and for outings with family. Have you any family, Nancy? Anyone who lives away and could be written to, someone who might visit?’

  ‘No, miss. Pa had no family I’ve heard of, and all Ma’s family and her special friend, Auntie Molly, were killed in the war. Ma was devastated when they all got killed: it was the reason she started to drink so much.’

  ‘I’m truly sorry, Nancy.’ Angela was appalled by the girl’s plight. That wretched war had done so much damage, ripping whole communities apart and destroying families. ‘Would you like to come out with me one day – perhaps to the pictures or tea at Lyons’ Corner House?’

  ‘Could Terry come too, miss?’

  ‘Of course, but we have to ask Sister for permission first. I’ll see if I can arrange it soon. I take Mary Ellen and Billy Baggins out for a treat sometimes, so I see no reason why I shouldn’t take you and Terry.’

  ‘That would be something to look forward to, miss. Terry is so unhappy here. He wants to go home. He knows he can’t really, but he gets muddled when he’s upset and keeps asking for Ma.’

  ‘It was a terrible thing to happen, Nancy. It must have upset you too.’

  ‘Pa deserved what happened to him.’ Nancy’s eyes glittered with anger. ‘But Ma didn’t. I wish she was still here – but you can’t bring someone back when they’re dead, can you? You can’t change things even if you want to.’

  ‘No, you can’t,’ Angela agreed seriously. ‘Take care of your brother, Nancy. Family is very important and I know how much you care for him.’

  ‘He’s all I’ve got, miss. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to Terry.’

  ‘I’m sure nothing will happen.’ Angela felt a rush of sympathy for the girl. Her protective instincts came to the fore. Nancy needed a friend, someone to fight for her. ‘I think I’ve seen Terry with Mary Ellen and Billy at tea, haven’t I?’

  ‘Yes, miss. He likes Billy, and says he’s decided to be a soldier when he is old enough. I told him he should go to school and he says he will if he can go with Billy.’

  ‘Well, that’s an improvement.’ Angela was pleased with the news. It must mean that Terry was getting over his trauma; if he was prepared to go to school with his new friend and had decided to be a soldier when he grew up, he was feeling a little better. ‘I’m so pleased, Nancy. I’ll see if there’s a war film on – not too violent, naturally, but there are some funny ones with soldiers in.’

  ‘You’re very kind,’ Nancy said, ‘but I shan’t tell Terry until Sister gives permission, because I don’t want him to be disappointed.’

  ‘Let’s keep our fingers crossed.’ Angela smiled reassuringly and gave Nancy’s hand a squeeze.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  ‘Guess what? Miss Angela is taking us out this Saturday,’ Nancy told her brother excitedly when Angela gave her the news that Sister Beatrice had given permission. ‘We’re going to the pictures to see a film about soldiers or something – and then we shall have tea at Lyons.’

  ‘So what?’ Terry kicked at the ground moodily. It was wet and slushy, because the snow had melted during the day and there was no longer enough of it to build a snowman. They were in the small garden at the back of St Saviour’s and he’d expected to see Billy but his new friend had gone to school and Terry had been told that he couldn’t go with him until things were arranged. ‘Can Billy come too?’

  ‘It is just us this time.’ Nancy felt annoyed because she was looking forward to it. ‘She asked us special, Terry, and you should be pleased. You’ve never been to the pictures and nor have I since Auntie Molly died in the Blitz.’

  ‘I ain’t goin’ if Billy can’t come,’ Terry said stubbornly. ‘I ain’t sure I want ter be a soldier no more. I might be a tram driver.’

  ‘Oh, Terry …’ Nancy caught back a sudden sob because his moodiness seemed too much on top of everything else. There seemed nothing she could do to please him. ‘Please don’t be like this, love. I really want to go.’

  ‘I want Billy ter come,’ he said angrily and glared at her. ‘I hate bein’ ’ere, Nance. I shan’t go to them pictures unless Billy comes too.’

  ‘I can’t ask Miss Angela to take Billy too.’

  ‘Then I ain’t goin’. Yer can go without me. I want ter go home.’

  ‘All right, I will go,’ Nancy said, tears in her eyes. ‘Why do you have to spoil everything? We can’t go home, it’s gone – burned to the ground. You know what happened, Terry.’ She knew that this would upset him, but she couldn’t help herself for once.

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t remember,’ Terry said, his eyes now dark and anguished. ‘I don’t want ter know. I want Ma …’ His voice rose in a trembling whimper. ‘I want me ma …’

  ‘Stop going on about her all the time, and don’t be a baby,’ Nancy snapped, disappointment making her sharper with him than she intended to be. Terry let out an outraged cry and flew at her, kicking at her shins. Nancy grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, and when he tried to bite her, she slapped his face. ‘Just you stop that, Terry. I’ve let you get away with a lot but I won’t stand for this – if you don’t stop I’ll never look after you again – I mean it this time.’

  Terry stopped yelling and stared at her in shock. For a few seconds resentment and bitterness, even hatred, flashed in his eyes, but then almost as quickly the tears started. He rubbed at his eyes with dirty hands, leaving smears on his cheeks.

  For a moment, the suspicion that Terry was turning on the waterw
orks popped briefly into her mind, but when she saw the pitiful look on his face, Nancy’s remorse was instant. ‘Here, have my hanky, love. I didn’t mean to be cross, but you upset me. I was looking forward to Saturday.’

  Terry stared, sullen and silent for a moment, then he sniffed and offered her crumpled hanky back. His eyes were dark with suspicion. Looking at him now, Nancy felt as if a shadow had passed over her and shivered as her neck grew icy. Terry had always trusted her implicitly before this, because she’d always been on his side against their father, but now she’d slapped him and threatened him, and she knew he was turning this new situation over in his mind. Nancy regretted the little surge of temper that had made her strike out at him.

  ‘I know it’s hard for you here, love, but I’m your sister and we’ve got to stick together, see. Billy is your friend, but I’ll always be here for you, and friends come and go.’

  Terry’s voice was toneless when he answered her. ‘All right, I’ll go with yer, Nance. It’s just that Billy’s me friend and I ain’t ’ad a friend before.’

  She could only hope that their disagreement would be forgotten and he would go back to being her devoted shadow, and yet she had a feeling that her brother was drifting away from her somehow. Nancy didn’t mind if he was getting pally with Billy Baggins, because it might mean she could do things on her own and with other girls of her own age, go back to school perhaps – but she had a little flicker of unease.

  ‘Come on, let’s be friends again, Terry.’ She put her arm around her little brother but he was stiff and unresponsive. Ice prickled at her nape. Terry could be the most devoted boy in the world, but if he took against someone … well, she just prayed that neither Billy, or indeed herself, got to see any more of his dark side.

  ‘You’re not really mad at me, are you?’ Billy asked as he sat next to Mary Ellen at breakfast that morning. ‘You know you’re me best mate, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m your friend, Billy.’ Mary Ellen looked at him with hurt in her eyes. ‘But you’ve spent more time with Terry than me lately. I know I’m a girl and he’s more of a mate for you, but I thought we were best friends …’

  ‘You spend time with Marion and other girls, and that Betsy. I don’t like her because she’s always snivelling over something. ’Sides, Terry needs a mate. You’re still me best friend, but I have to be with Terry sometimes; it’s only fair – he ain’t got any others.’

  ‘Don’t say any more; they’re coming now, Nancy and Terry.’

  Nancy sat down with them. ‘We were a bit late. You don’t mind if we sit here? Where’s Marion and Betsy?’

  ‘Marion has been moved to a new dorm so she’s sitting with the girls from there,’ Mary Ellen said. She wasn’t going to tell Nancy that Marion had refused to sit with her if the brother and sister were going to keep joining them.

  She looked about her at the rows of crowded tables, all covered with gingham-pattern oilcloths so that any spills could be easily wiped up. The sound of children’s voices chattering made the room noisy. Nan was with some of the younger ones, helping them with their breakfast, and Sally was talking to a group of older girls and boys.

  ‘I don’t mind her, but I don’t like him,’ Marion had complained to Mary Ellen the previous evening after tea. ‘He pinched Betsy and made her cry just now. She didn’t say because she’s afraid of him. She says he looks at her funny and she doesn’t want to sit with him any more.’

  ‘If you don’t sit with me I’ll be stuck with just them for company, because Billy likes him – even though I don’t much. He should know what Terry did to Betsy to make her cry.’

  ‘If you tell on Terry he may start on you,’ Marion said. ‘We’ll still be friends, Mary Ellen, but I shan’t sit with you and Billy if they’re going to – and nor will Betsy.’

  Mary Ellen felt a kick on her leg and looked at Terry. He had a malicious smile and his eyes dared her to say something. Well, he might have frightened Betsy but Mary Ellen wasn’t afraid of him.

  ‘Don’t kick me, Terry,’ she said. ‘It isn’t nice – and no one will want to sit with you if you do things like that. I know you pinched Betsy yesterday and that’s what made her cry. She’s frightened of you, but I’m not – if you do it again I’ll tell Sister Beatrice.’

  ‘You’re a snitch,’ Terry taunted. ‘Good riddance to that little cry-baby Betsy. Who wants to sit with her anyway? Me and Billy don’t need her or you – do we, Billy?’

  Billy stared at him sternly. ‘Don’t talk to Mary Ellen like that, Terry. She’s me friend too. I like yer, mate, but Mary Ellen and me are best friends.’

  Terry stared at him for a moment, surprise turning to displeasure and then anger. He kicked out at Mary Ellen beneath the table again, more sharply this time, and she gave a cry of pain.

  ‘You little beast! I shall tell on you.’

  ‘I hate yer,’ Terry cried, and suddenly threw his bowl of porridge all over her. ‘I’ll get yer fer what yer done …’

  ‘Terry, stop that,’ Nancy cried as he jumped to his feet. ‘Come back here and apologise to Mary Ellen …’

  Terry didn’t listen as he rushed from the dining hall, not pausing to look back at her even though she called his name loudly. Her cheeks flushed bright red, because the children were all staring as Billy tried to help Mary Ellen wipe away the clumps of porridge that clung to her skirt and blouse. Nancy looked at Mary Ellen, tears sparkling in her eyes as she tried to explain.

  ‘I’m so sorry. It’s just that he’s never had a friend before and he doesn’t understand that you have to share friends …’

  ‘He’s rude and spiteful,’ Mary Ellen said, feeling more angered than frightened by Terry’s outburst. ‘You’re all right, Nancy, but no one likes Terry. I tried to be nice to him, but he doesn’t want to make friends.’

  ‘Terry’s not all bad,’ Billy said, feeling the need to come to Terry’s defence, ‘but he shouldn’t have kicked you, Mary Ellen. I’m sorry he took against you. Shall I go after him?’

  ‘No, please, I’ll talk to him later,’ Nancy said. ‘I’m sorry … He never used to be like this, honestly. It’s only started since the fire …’ She choked back her tears. ‘Perhaps I’d better go.’

  At that moment, Sally approached their table, alerted to the fracas by the clattering of the thrown porridge bowl and the cutlery.

  ‘What happened here?’ she asked just before Nancy had a chance to go after her brother. ‘Why did Terry throw porridge over you, Mary Ellen?’

  ‘It was just a silly joke,’ Mary Ellen said, and Nancy looked at her gratefully. ‘I’m sorry we made a mess, Sally.’

  ‘Well, you’ll have to change your things before you go to school. I’ll clear this up,’ Sally said, and walked away to fetch a cloth.

  ‘Thanks for not telling on him,’ Nancy said. ‘Perhaps I’ll just leave him to calm down and then he might apologise to you.’

  ‘You spoil him. If he doesn’t behave himself, Sister will hear about it and then he’ll be in trouble.’

  ‘Yes,’ Nancy agreed. ‘That’s what worries me – in case someone tells her.’

  ‘Sally won’t,’ Mary Ellen assured her. ‘And I won’t, but you must tell him to stop being so naughty, Nancy.’

  Nancy bit her lip, but didn’t answer.

  Nancy found Terry in their room, sitting staring at the wall, when she got back. She tried to speak to him but he wouldn’t look at her and she could see that he’d been crying. Dropping a kiss on the top of his head, she stroked his hair.

  ‘Mary Ellen won’t tell on you, love. She’s all right, but you mustn’t kick her or pinch Betsy. You have to make friends here if you want to settle in and be happy.’

  ‘I want ter go home ter Ma.’

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you?’ she said in anxiety and exasperation. ‘Ma’s dead – she died in the fire with Pa. You know that, Terry.’ She felt a surge of emotions as she remembered that awful night, but what was the use? Nothing could change what had
happened.

  ‘No …’ He looked at her in bewilderment. ‘You pulled me away from the door … it was on fire and I wanted to get Ma out but you said it was too late – and you dragged me down the stairs and outside. If you’d let me open the door Ma could have come too …’

  ‘We couldn’t get near it for the flames, don’t you remember? Besides, the door was locked. Pa always locked it so we couldn’t go in when … when he and Ma were sleeping …’ Nancy choked as the tears built inside her. ‘Don’t you think I wish it was different? Anything would have been better – even what Pa used to do to us …’ Tears burst from her and suddenly she was crying as if her heart would break. It was all her fault and her secret weighed heavily on her – but she couldn’t have known what would happen. ‘I wish they were both still alive …’

  ‘No, it’s better that Pa is dead,’ Terry said, and for a moment the look in his eyes chilled her, then his face puckered and he put his arms about her and pleaded, ‘Don’t cry, Nance. I won’t kick her no more … I’ll be good fer you, Nance. I promise. It don’t matter about Billy comin’ to the pictures. He ain’t me friend, he’s hers. It’s just you and me, Nance – just you and me …’

  Nancy had gone somewhere. Terry wasn’t sure where. His mind was hazy most of the time now and things got so muddled up that he wasn’t sure what had happened to them. Nancy would be back. She would never leave him, she was his Nance; she was always there, always ready to comfort him; it was the one thing he could rely on in this strange world in which nothing made sense any more.

  He knew that he hated that girl, the one who had her long hair in plaits. Mary Ellen, Nancy called her. She was a snitch and she’d threatened to tell on him – but she mustn’t. If she told they would lock Terry away … He shook his head, because she couldn’t know his secret. Even Nancy didn’t know everything – a little giggle left Terry’s lips because he’d punished Pa for hurting him and doing those things to Nance what made her cry.

  Terry stared into the darkness that seemed to take over his mind these days. He’d punished Pa and he could punish that girl; she’d taken Billy from him and he wouldn’t forgive her for doing that – maybe he’d burn her too if he could get some paraffin, but even if he couldn’t he’d find a way to punish her, and the other kids that laughed at him … Terry would make them sorry one way or another.