Shaking a teacloth open, Maisie stared at him, then laughed.
‘Really? Why stay? Well, for one thing, because it’s the only home I’ve ever known.’
Charlie jumped from the chair and stood in front of her. ‘Open your eyes, girl. They get money from you for food and board, don’t they?’
Maisie nodded.
‘How many times have you been to the cinema and used that allowance? Four times? They’re cheating you, Maisie. Don’t shake your head, it’s true. Think about it.’
‘You’re probably right, but where do you suggest I go, Charlie? How do I find an alternative life?’
Charlie pushed a stack of chairs against the wall, their screeching feet on the floor making Maisie wince. Her head ached from lack of sleep and the constant nagging of Norah.
‘Well, all I’m saying is get away as soon as you can. Have fun.’
‘I do. I come here, to be with friends. This is fun.’
‘Yes, and we appreciate that, but it isn’t a life for a girl like you. You should be dancing on a Saturday night,’ Charlie said, before unlocking the hut door to let in a stream of tired, dirt-streaked faces in of sustenance.
‘If only, Charlie. If only.’
Looking around the room at the many people who worked tirelessly to fight fires, rescue people from the rubble, and support the city in so many ways, it was hard for Maisie to feel sorry for herself. These people never had time for self-pity; they fought demons every second of every day. They fought the enemy by surviving – and by helping people like herself to survive. She refocused her mind and started serving tea to those who deserved her attention. Charlie had a point about going out and having fun, but Maisie’s free time was precious, and she chose to spend it where she received gratitude and friendship.
Since Norah’s promotion, more and more of the orphanage’s staff had left and Maisie had no choice but to take on the extra workload. Norah lounged around the office pretending to be busy with administration and other important tasks, but Maisie suspected she took advantage of the privacy to sleep. For all Charlie’s encouragement about leaving, Maisie knew she had to stay a while longer for the sake of the children. This was her duty and contribution to the war effort – keeping orphans safe, making sure they didn’t experience the bullying and cruelty she had.
No sooner had Maisie stepped back into the orphanage later that day, than the sirens sounded out around them again. She sighed. There was no respite from the war and its restrictions. The constant attacks were taking their toll on everyone and no matter how many times the bombs dropped, the fear was the same.
Maisie rushed to the children and gathered them about her. She heard the voices of the other staff and children from the other houses making their way to the shelter.
‘Get them moving faster, Reynolds!’ Norah shouted from over her shoulder.
Maisie noted the woman carried a flask but no child. Unlike Maisie, Norah always put herself first.
Increasing her pace, Maisie bustled about her small group giving words of encouragement for them to run and see if they could catch Matron. Their little legs wobbled as they ran, and her arms ached with the weight of Deedee and another tiny baby.
The children screamed at each shuddering thud and flashing light around them. They ducked beneath the bombers much like mice under the shadow of an owl or hawk.
Another blinding light flashed across the courtyard and appeared to bounce away from the gardens. Maisie continued to urge the frightened children to run and followed on behind them, but their walking speed never increased. They were toddlers in the new stages of walking and were not able to run, even when it was for their lives. Maisie inwardly cursed Norah, but was grateful to see another member of staff run to the aid of the little ones. Norah stepped to one side to let them pass just as another white flash of light blinded them, and Maisie heard Norah mutter the Lord’s prayer. Even the hard-hearted feared death. Another flash lit their pathway and this time the explosions were closer to home. Too close.
As they reached the entrance, a woman rushed forward and took a child from Maisie. From the corner of her eye she spotted a dark shadow on the ground ahead.
‘Norah! Quick Jane, take Deedee. Norah’s fallen over.’
Maisie ran to the static mound and found Norah’s body twisted on the floor. She knelt by her side and encouraged her to get back up on her feet. Norah gave no sign of moving and when Maisie tried again, she knew there was nothing she could do for her.
A woman in charge of one of the other houses ran to Maisie’s side. ‘You need help? Oh, there’s a sorry sight. Where’ll we put her? What’s the plan?’ the woman asked in a rushed voice.
Maisie turned to her and stared in disbelief. The woman stood with her legs squarely planted and her hands on her hips. Another plane droned overhead, and Maisie wasted no time in realising what the situation required. She had to take charge. There was no Norah to ensure their safety and standing in front of her, Elsie gave no sign of taking control. It occurred to Maisie that they were all used to receiving daily orders and during her years in their company they were never required to make the decisions. No amount of standing around would make Elsie do anything different. Taking a deep breath, Maisie realised it would be up to her now. This was her opportunity to show them she was not one of the children, and Maisie Reynolds might be young, but she was capable. This was her time to step up and make them see her for a change. It often felt as if they moved around her as they would a piece of furniture, knowing it was there but not really noticing its presence. Well, now, no more. Keeping her voice calm but firm, she touched Elsie’s arm.
‘We’ll move her over there, to …’ Maisie was going to add, to safety, but realised the foolishness of her words. She pointed to the smaller building to their right. It was used to store old beds.
With difficulty, they lifted Norah’s body, flinching at each flashing light as they came, and placed her body onto a damp mattress in a dank room. Maisie shivered with the cold and shock.
‘That’s that then. It looks like a stray incendiary. There’s bad luck for you.’
Maisie, amazed at the matter-of-fact way that Elsie spoke, just nodded.
‘We’d best go rescue the others. The kiddies are a handful at the best of times,’ she said, but before she’d finished speaking Elsie had disappeared.
Maisie turned back to look at Norah, reassuring herself that she was definitely dead, then turned and left the room. As much as she disliked Norah, dying as she had was not what Maisie would have wished for anyone.
Loud chattering noises from inside the basement shelter were a welcome distraction and Maisie settled into a seat. After a while, she noticed the four staff in the shelter were chatting to each other and completely ignoring the children, several of whom were shaking with fear. Using the same commanding voice she’d used with Elsie, Maisie spoke over the noise of the children.
‘Might I suggest we try and get them settled? Calm them down a bit? Lessen the noise perhaps?’ The noise of children never bothered Maisie, but the sounds of their sobs did; these women had a duty of care, and she was going to ensure they carried it out. No more slacking when it came to the safety and wellbeing of the children. None of the women seemed to have the foresight to understand their situation, to realise that there was no one in charge, so Maisie tested the waters with her suggestion. All four women broke off their chatter and began moving amongst the children, patting heads and muttering words of reassurance. Maisie couldn’t believe her eyes. An eighteen-year-old girl had made four women more than twice her age listen. Could she do this?
‘Jane, Elsie, the two of you get some sleep, and I’ll wake you in a couple of hours to take over from,’ Maisie pointed to two women sitting side by side, ‘Lil and Mo. There’s a large bag of darning on the end of the bench – Norah told me to put it in here this morning – so we’d best get it done.’
Again, she stared in amazement as the women carried out her instructions. She took
up a small pair of socks herself, one with a hole in the toe and stretched it onto the small darning mushroom. She sat back, fighting off her own drowsiness. Now was not the time for her to fall asleep.
For seven hours they huddled in their safe space, occupying the time with naps and nursery rhymes. The room smelled of body odours and mould, and Maisie hugged Deedee to her chest during feeding time, crooning soothing words over her head. Maisie dreaded the day when the baby would be adopted or moved on to safety, though she knew it would be for the best. Holly Bush was no place for a child to grow up – Maisie knew it firsthand – and the war only made matters worse. She recalled being locked in the shelter as a punishment even before the war, when it had been used as a storeroom. She’d managed to avoid entering it again until Matron had made her clear it out in readiness for the start of war. It had been a cruel and endless task of clearing and scrubbing. Once, the door had closed on her and she had stood frozen with fear. Her heart had pounded and bile had threated to rise. The ghosts she’d imagined as a tiny child had returned. Even now, when the room was filled with people, the flickering shadows on the wall taunted her. If it wasn’t for the war, she’d not be sitting there recalling some of the darkest days of her life. Maisie longed to be one of the names on the evacuee list she’d seen that morning, to find somewhere safe and start afresh, but there were children in the shelter who would need her now more than ever. The children who weren’t listed for adoption, waiting for their turn. In the days to come, Maisie vowed, she would write down the qualities of each child before they were packed away for fostering or onto another orphanage. She wanted to be the one who wrote something of their character in the hope it would lead to a better life.
When the all-clear siren sounded, a great squeal of delight from the children filled the room. Instructions were bellowed out by the adults and once again it fell to Maisie to bring order to the situation.
‘Take all the children back to their own houses and feed them. I’ll deal with the babies and toddlers in the main house. I’ll make a call about Norah to the police station, and we’ll take it from there. Is that all right with everyone?’
The other women nodded in agreement and Maisie could see the relief on their faces. The burden of Holly Bush was not theirs; someone else had stepped into the breach and let them off the hook. She doubted they even cared about her age or capabilities, but they were not Maisie’s concern; the children were her priority.
Back in the kitchen, the warmth of the gas stove flames underneath the kettle filtered across the room, but Maisie was convinced she’d never be warm again. She rubbed her hands together and blew into them. She’d busied herself feeding the children and putting them to bed for a nap and, to her joy, they’d settled down to sleep. This had given her time to freshen up and make the telephone call which could not be put off any longer. Norah’s husband would be expecting her home in an hour.
‘What a start to December. How about you, Maisie? How are you dear?’
Startled by the sudden appearance of Mo, but mainly by the fact that anyone had taken her feelings into consideration, Maisie glanced at her and gave a slow nod.
‘Tired, as we all are, but managing. I’ve just got to make that telephone call and then I can relax a little. Will you keep an ear out for the little ones upstairs please?’
Half expecting the older woman to take over and say she’d make the call, Maisie’s heart sunk when the woman headed for the stairs. It was now her place to restore order to Holly Bush House and for the sake of the children, she would do all she possibly could.
‘Of course, dearie. You carry on. You’ve a lot on your plate. Losing Norah must be such a shock. You’ve known her all your life, poor lamb.’
Thoughts tumbled around Maisie’s head, and none were charitable. She could not shake off the fact that she felt nothing but relief at the death of Norah.
Is there something wrong with me? Why am I thinking like this? Am I going mad?
The kettle let out a hiss of steam and Maisie walked to the stove. She went through the motions of mashing tealeaves and poured out a cup of tea.
‘Thanks. Here, take this up with you. I’ll be in the office.’
She turned back to the teapot and poured herself a cup, taking it to the office and placing it on the desk. Composing herself, she telephoned the police station to explain their situation.
After the call, she went upstairs to relieve Mo in the nursery.
‘I spoke with the police about Norah. I wasn’t sure who needed to know. The undertaker will come when they’re free. Norah’s husband will be informed. It was definitely a stray bomb; the target was the spitfire factory and docks … again. A tragic accident. We’ll have to make a few—’
Mo jumped to her feet and stretched her arms above her head interrupting Maisie.
‘Right, that’s me done. The little ones are still asleep, so catch a nap for yourself. I was going to tell Norah today that I’m not coming back. I’ve got a cleaning job in the hospital, better hours and pay. As she’s not around, I’ll tell you. Good luck, Maisie. You’re going to need it by the bucket load. You handle the babies well enough, so I’m sure you’ll cope.’
Caught unawares by Mo’s statement, Maisie took a moment to think – this was not the right time to lose another member of staff.
‘The little ones rarely wake, and the only baby for overnight milk is Deedee. I just hope they get a replacement for Norah soon, especially now you’re leaving. I don’t suppose you could—’
Mo raised her hand. ‘Not a chance. I’ve had my fill of little boys running riot. It was bad enough bringing up my own. I took this as a temporary job. I’ll come by for my wages at the end of the week; you should have them ready by then.’
She smiled and waved goodbye. Maisie stared at the children and envied their lives: sleep and eat. What she’d give to have that life again. Or would she? Had she ever had a life where she slept as soundly as these little ones?
Sitting in the office with the door open and one ear trained for the sound of a baby’s cry, Maisie sat staring at the worksheet for the days ahead.
With Norah dead, a new rota needed to be drafted and the council informed. She explained to the remaining three staff members that they were now one down, and someone needed to be with the undertaker when he came. With no volunteers, which didn’t surprise her one bit, Maisie found herself in the unenviable position of signing official papers and paying her respects to a woman she had despised. She tried to explain that legally she was not considered adult when it came to official duties because she was still only eighteen, but the undertaker wasn’t interested. So long as he had a signature to release the body, he was happy. He’d got several hundred more to deal with, thanks to the endless bombing raids.
Once Norah’s body had been taken away, Maisie gathered the remaining staff to discuss all that needed to be done. To make their job more manageable with such a skeleton team, she suggested moving all the children into one house. But Maisie began to grow more and more disheartened by their lack of willingness to engage with the children. Unlike during her own childhood, these children were now free of two cruel dictators and Maisie was determined to improve things. She took it upon herself to write out a routine for the day for the twenty remaining children and their carers. At first the women grumbled when Maisie explained what she’d like to happen each day, but once they noticed an hour’s break for each of them, they relented. Neither Gloria nor Norah had granted the requests for longer breaks. They had kept to the fifteen-minute morning and afternoon regime. She also reminded the women that a temporary matron would probably arrive any day and they’d revert back to the old routine, so they’d best make the most of hers.
Pleased with her efforts, Maisie took herself upstairs to check on the children. The room was cold – freezing cold. Breath vapours rose from the mouths of the children and something snapped inside Maisie. For years the conditions in the orphanage had favoured only the residential staff – mainly Mat
ron – and the bedrooms with their high ceilings were cool even in summer. The children had been through a tough night and Maisie decided to leave them to sleep rather than follow the usual rigid routine. Chills wouldn’t leave her body, and she shivered. A short nap in the warmth was all she craved. She tiptoed from the room and into Gloria’s old bedroom next door. A welcome rush of heat where the coals still glowed out a golden warmth in the hearth wrapped itself around her like a warm blanket. With a shovel and coal scuttle, Maisie transferred the hot coals into the fireplace in the small dormitory. The warmth soon spread, and after she’d dragged her mattress into the room to keep watch over the children, Maisie fell into a more relaxed state and finally settled into a guilt-free sleep.
CHAPTER 5
‘Do you really dish out the orders, Maize?’ Charlie asked as he blew into his cup of Bovril, his hands wrapped around the tin mug for warmth.
‘I do,’ Maisie replied, and winked as she sipped her own drink.
They stood in the kitchen of the orphanage, enjoying a rare visit together. Charlie had sent a message saying he hoped all was well and Maisie had invited him to visit when he could.
It had all come about when a member of the council telephoned the house and asked if she would be happy to remain in charge of the orphanage with its few remaining staff until someone new was found to take over. The man had gone on to say that he understood if she refused but would be grateful if she’d take into consideration their desperate situation in the city. Finding a new manager and the capacity to train them in the running of the place at short notice, and for such a short time, was more than they were able to achieve at present. Maisie, with her newfound confidence and wanting to be of use, did not hesitate to agree. The man on the telephone had also told her to keep a record of all spending and to add her name to the salary book; she was to draw her own salary, which would be whatever Gloria or Norah had recorded for themselves. He couldn’t remember the exact sum but felt sure it would be a satisfactory wage for a girl of her age and she deserved it with such commitment to duty. He’d asked if she understood the workings of the ledger, and although Maisie had never seen it, she’d replied that she was more than capable of working it out. Mathematic problems were a passion of hers. She’d crossed her fingers when telling the white lie; although she enjoyed mathematics, she much preferred English lessons. She mulled over the words ‘commitment to duty’ and a warm glow of pride shimmied through her body.
The Forgotten Orphan: The heartbreaking and gripping World War 2 historical novel Page 4