‘Hush now. You’re safe.’
With a flurry of activity, the in-house doctor and two qualified staff took over from her, and Maisie stood back watching a brave, young man cry like a distressed toddler abandoned by their parent.
‘Good work, Maisie. You have the knack of soothing him. Poor lad. He was part of the Dunkirk invasion. Should be thinking of a wife and kids at his age, not how to survive a war. He’ll never recover. We can only help calm him down day after day.’
Maisie knew from that moment on that she’d never abandon those in need. She’d continue working to keep the residents and staff comfortable and give support whenever required. Her path was laid out in front of her. Leave and flounder, or stay and be of use and a comfort.
The doctor settled the soldier and Maisie watched his every move. He was a patient man in his late twenties. Two or three of the nurses had laid bets on who could get a dance with him at their evening events, but he was dedicated to his job and kept himself apart. This had earned him the reputation of being a snob, or worse, but Maisie saw only kindness and dedication – qualities to be admired.
The doctor broke into her thoughts.
‘Have you thought about training in the QAIMNS, Maisie?’ he asked as he washed and dried his hands.
‘Training where?’ Maisie asked.
‘As a nurse, in the Queen Alexandra’s Imperial Military Nursing Service. You have the exact qualities they need. You’re calm and collected even under pressure,’ he replied.
‘Become a nurse? Yes, sometimes I think about it. I’ve often thought about leaving here but I’m drawn to this place now. It was a sad place when I was a child but now it is a home for those in need, and I would find it hard to walk away from the men who deserve our help here. I wonder if it is my destiny, to care for all those who need shelter at Holly Bush House.’
‘It’s admirable, sacrificing your life for another’s,’ the doctor said.
‘Isn’t that what they are doing for me?’ Maisie responded, confused by his words.
‘Point taken. Seriously, think about a nursing career.’
‘I will, thank you, doctor,’ Maisie replied.
Her pleasure at the doctor’s words continued as she thought about the possibility of training to become a nurse. The doctor had made her feel useful, given her a sense of purpose, and it meant a lot more than he would ever realise.
‘Are you sure, Joyce? I’m speechless.’
Maisie looked to Charlie and then back to Joyce. An overwhelming feeling of love for them both caught her unawares, and she rushed to Joyce and embraced her.
‘Yes! Of course I’ll be your bridesmaid! Oh, my word. I’m honoured. You’ve made me so happy. It was quite a day yesterday and today feels more like a birthday. Oh, and thank you for this beautiful notebook. I’ll record my poetry in this from now on, rather than on scraps of paper.’
Joyce and Charlie exchanged a satisfied smile.
‘It’s good to see you happy, Maisie. And Charlie tells me you received a letter from your Canadian chappy. Good for you. Writing definitely has brought good things into your life.’
Joyce wrapped her arms around Maisie in a warm embrace. Maisie valued her friendship and knew Joyce was genuinely happy for her.
‘I am content with my lot now, Joyce. Life is choosing a path for me to follow and it makes getting through this war much easier. I had a lovely letter from Cam, and he’s shared a bit about his life in Canada. I’ve written back but I’m not sure whether I’ll get a reply. He was probably just being polite and keeping a promise.’
Joyce gave Maisie’s arm a gentle reprimanding tap.
‘Don’t be daft. If he wasn’t bothered about keeping in touch, he wouldn’t have written to you. You have a lot to learn about men, Maisie. They do or they don’t, that’s the gist of it with men. Aren’t I right, Charlie?
Charlie’s shoulders shook with laughter and he held his hands up in submission.
‘I suppose so. It’s true, Maize, he wouldn’t bother writing if he didn’t want to.’
‘It would be nice if you could see him again, too. It will happen, you wait and see,’ Joyce said.
Charlie winked at Maisie. ‘She’d like that, I can tell. I bet he’d not say no to another meeting, either.’
‘Stop teasing and take her home,’ Joyce instructed him and gave Maisie a smile of understanding. Maisie knew she’d noticed her embarrassment. Of course, she wanted to see Cam again, but she wasn’t going to tell the world for fear of looking foolish.
She changed the subject.
‘You didn’t say when you were getting married.’
Charlie shuffled his feet and looked to the floor. A flush rose from his neck to his cheeks. Joyce brushed her hand over her hair and fiddled with her gloves.
‘Before you leave, I assume,’ Maisie said.
‘Um, yes. Sometime before then – before November anyway,’ Charlie said.
Maisie smiled at Joyce. ‘It will be hard for you when he goes, but my door will always be open for a chat.’
Patting her shoulder, Charlie smiled. ‘I knew I could trust you to be her friend when I’m gone.’
A silence fell between them. They all knew Charlie had meant ‘when he left Southampton’, but the word ‘gone’ resonated around them, leaving them in no doubt that the war could so easily take him from them forever.
Maisie’s heart went out to Joyce. She knew very little about romance and love but she could see that what her friends shared was special. The glances between them, the soft smiles, were not those of two ordinary friends. A twang of envy shimmied through her. Maisie wanted someone to look at her like Charlie looked at Joyce. No sooner did the envy come than she kicked it back and reprimanded herself. Joyce had earned those loving eyes watching her every move because she gave the same glances and loving tenderness in return. Cam sneaked a kiss, and although Maisie hoped it would lead to a romance, she was not naïve. She’d witnessed nurses cry over soldiers who came and went from their lives sometimes taking with them a girl’s dignity and respect when they were left with the consequences of a one-night stand.
‘Right, you two lovebirds, I’m heading back. I’ll walk across the common; it will do me good. You spend some time together.’
All the way home, Maisie composed her next letter to Cam, and one to Pat. She formed a short poem in her head and couldn’t wait to transcribe it into her new notebook. Paper was precious, with every scrap needed for the war effort, and that made the gift from her best friends even more special. It would not be wasted.
Life at Holly Bush was generally calm and as she worked, Maisie could hear laughter and peace ooze throughout the building. For one brief moment, the war didn’t exist. She thought about the pending wedding, and what she would wear, and of life after the war and all the losses that so many had endured. As she meandered through to the kitchen with a pile of tea towels, she heard a wailing sound from outside the kitchen door; it sounded like a wounded animal. She opened the door and saw the patient from the previous day crouched on the floor. He was dressed only in his pyjama bottoms, which she noticed were soaking wet. Her heart broke for him when he leaned back screaming with his hands clasped over his head. Maisie looked at his forlorn and bewildered face that was contorted with pain. Another member of staff tried desperately to coax him inside, but he lashed out in fear. Maisie grabbed a dressing gown and fresh pyjama bottoms from the pile of clean laundry and draped the dressing gown around the man’s shoulders.
‘Fancy a walk, soldier?’ she asked, offering a smile to the exhausted-looking nurse in front of him.
‘Nurse is going to take a break and we’ll get you into these dry trousers and have a stroll around the gardens. Do us both good. A bit of fresh air. Sound good to you?’
Maisie bent low and lifted the man’s chin so he faced her. Dark rings looped his eyes and his pallor lent a ghostly shade to his skin. She hated to think what he’d been through to suffer so much in his mind. She touched his elbo
w and with gentle pressure raised him to an upright position. She gave soft encouraging instructions for him to remove his wet clothes and put fresh ones on and, after a few short struggles, he was dressed and leaning on her arm. She’d worry about washing him after he’d calmed down. They stood side by side watching the chickens scamper up and down their enclosure. The soldier twitched and jerked at loud noises, but eventually they managed to walk the perimeter of the gardens, twice. Colour formed in his face as the warmth of burning energy pinched his cheeks, and his interest in flowers became a verbal event after she pretended not to know the names of some; it was evidence that he’d once been a keen gardener. An idea formed and by the time they’d returned to sit and enjoy the company of the others, Maisie knew what she had to do to help the man, whose name she had learned was Billy. The courage of taking charge of the children after Norah died had instilled a new confidence in herself. No longer did she feel misplaced within the walls of Holly Bush House, and thanks to the urge to support Billy she actually felt more at home, rather than waiting unsettled for a result of some kind. Her daily routine had purpose and a positive outcome for another person. Her whole being had a sense of belonging and an even greater need to offer comfort to tortured souls.
Cam’s friendship had settled her mind, she no longer wanted to go running off to find a new home, a new job. Holding Billy in her arms made her realise that her life was right where it was meant to be, caring for those who needed it, and waiting for a man who might return to steal another kiss. She hadn’t planned to be the girl-in-waiting, but as she glanced across Billy’s face and looked at Holly Bush through his eyes, she saw the grounds in a different light. They’d comforted her during her sad times and she’d planted roots of her own there. Plus, if her twin was ever going to look for her, this was where he’d look first, she felt sure of it. It was also where Cam knew to find her.
For now, this was where Maisie felt she needed to be.
Dressed in his new Engineers uniform, Charlie stood with Joyce who wore a smart green suit with a jaunty hat laden with the last of the brightly coloured flowers from Holly Bush gardens. Beside them, in a simple dress of cream and green floral printed cotton, Maisie smiled for the camera.
The flowers in Joyce’s modest bouquet were tied with a length of ivy, and in her own hair, Maisie had formed a small spray with a white rose as the centre feature. Maisie had taken great pleasure in arranging the flowers and figuring out what would be ready in time for the wedding. Billy had settled into a potting shed they had created from an old garden lean-to and he quietly nurtured some of the more neglected parts of the grounds. His nerves settled more day by day, and his attention to detail when cleaning the tools put Maisie’s cleaning skills to shame. When she asked him to be in charge of producing pretty wedding flowers for her friend, his joy was apparent and his enthusiasm tenfold.
‘All done,’ Charlie’s dad announced, and the newlyweds abandoned their formal poses to mingle with their guests, leaving Maisie standing alone.
She looked around the room at the guests all sporting their Sunday best and smiling as if the war didn’t exist. And for that day, it didn’t. All talk about Germany invading Russia was soon quashed by Charlie’s mother and those who wanted to continue their conversations took them outside. Inside, the room became stifling so Maisie went into the garden for air and to enjoy the warmth of the sun. The perfume of bruised lavender wafted her way and Maisie sought out the shrub, teasing her fingers along a stem and inhaling the cleansing fragrance. Voices chatted excitedly around her and a comforting feeling of wellbeing enveloped her. It was the perfect day. The smiles on Joyce and Charlie’s faces beamed with happiness.
‘Well, well, well, it is her. I’m sure it’s her; red hair like that can’t be found anywhere except this corner of the world. Holly Bush Orphanage, Shirley, Hampshire, to be precise.’
A well-groomed sailor strode Maisie’s way, his smile beaming out friendship. Although much taller and broader than when she last saw him, Maisie recognised him immediately.
‘Simon!’ Maisie cried and with no hesitation, ran full pelt into his arms.
‘Hello, Maisie.’ Simon held her tightly and twirled her around.
Easing herself back, she stared at him. The teasing of facial hair hinted at a moustache across his top lip, and his hair, still white, was clipped close to his head.
‘What are you doing here at Charlie’s wedding?’ she asked.
‘I’m not at Charlie’s wedding, I’m at Joyce’s. To be precise, I’m at the wedding of the sister of my best friend … if that makes sense.’
‘Her brother invited you? I didn’t know you knew the family,’ Maisie said.
Simon nodded. ‘Me and a couple of other lads from the ship. We’re on shore leave for a couple of days, and when he mentioned the wedding and invited us along, I jumped at the chance. Free beer is always welcome. I was going to pay the old place a visit tomorrow. Is it still standing? Never thought in a million years you’d be here, and still with a gorgeous head of hair. Less frizzy, but not faded one bit!’ He lifted a curl with his finger and Maisie heard him expel a soft sigh. ‘How’ve you been? What’s my Maisie been up to all these years?’
Hooking her arm through his, Maisie felt a warmth inside she’d not felt for years. Happiness. Contentment. Excitement. All rolled into one. Simon was back.
‘We’ve a lot to catch up on. Come on, let’s get that beer for you,’ she said.
Throughout the remainder of the day, Maisie hung on every word Simon said. His guardians had lost interest in him when he’d struggled to cope with learning a trade. They’d encouraged him to leave home and he’d taken work where he could and lived in hostels. The outbreak of war had given him the opportunity to settle into something more worthwhile. After relaying his life story, Simon listened to Maisie’s.
‘You never left?’ he asked. ‘That’s quite something, Maisie. Why are you still there?’
‘I want to help the poor broken men who have been brought to us to learn to live again. I’ve helped one man already and his flowers are the ones here today at the wedding. I try not to get too attached but when they’re crying in your arms, it’s hard not to comfort them. It’s the least I can do.’
During the wedding breakfast, Simon, filled with beer, staggered around with his friends declaring his love for Maisie. Shocked by the change in him, but flattered by his attention, Maisie accepted the sloppy kisses he dropped on her cheeks or forehead. She sipped from his glass and enjoyed the intimacy of the act. She noticed Joyce frown her way a couple of times, but Maisie chose to ignore her and enjoy the attention for a change.
The wedding celebrations finished before the blackout to enable everyone to get home safely. With Charlie and Joyce spending one night together at a hotel before he left to join his unit, Charlie’s mother had arranged for Maisie to be driven home by one of the home guard before he went on duty.
‘Don’t leave me Maisie. Stay, talk with me. Don’t leave me lonely,’ Simon pleaded.
‘I have to go, Simon. Rules and regulations. You know how it is. They still exist at Holly Bush,’ Maisie said and tugged her hand free from his firm grip.
Simon continued to make a fuss about her leaving, but when Joyce’s brother pointed to a full crate of beer and suggested they head back to the house of some friends, Maisie knew her time talking about their past was over. She said her goodbyes and watched as Simon sauntered out of Charlie’s home without looking back.
The intimate moments of sipping from a beer bottle, of holding hands, of Simon tucking flowers in her hair, were hers alone. They were a fabrication of her past and they were suffocating her present. For a fleeting second, she felt a pang of guilt for sharing those moments with Simon, and not giving Cam a second thought. Simon’s presence had brought both happiness and conflicting emotions. He was rough and ready in his handling of her, and his bullish ways were in stark contrast to Cam’s gentle ones. Cam had never known her as a little girl, he’d never w
itnessed her tears of frustration because no one loved her, but Simon had and today, she realised, he’d taken advantage of that. Cam treated her with delicate respect, and he teased her gently, properly, never going too far. Maisie knew in that moment that her heart was set at Cam’s door. She wanted to be treated as the woman she had become, not the twelve-year old girl clinging desperately to a scrap of human kindness. If their paths crossed again, she’d put Simon back into the box of her past and not encourage him into anything more intimate.
CHAPTER 15
‘That’s right, an inch apart.’ Billy’s voice was soft yet authoritative. He found new confidence in teaching her how to grow their produce as they worked through a tray of vegetable seedlings.
The warmth of the summer sunshine touched Maisie’s shoulders as she bent to plant out the small plugs under his guidance. Working with Billy, Maisie set aside all thoughts of war. They had both settled into a peaceful working relationship and Maisie’s appreciation of the outdoors grew. Her mind took in the tranquil moments and she penned them into her precious book when she was off duty.
The sound of tyres on gravel distracted her. She looked up to see Charlie’s father pull up in his truck, and Charlie jumped out and ran to her.
‘Quick visit. Came to say goodbye, Maize. Joyce sends her love and says see you Sunday for tea at her mum’s.’
Charlie scooped her into his arms and held her tight. It was the most affection he’d ever shown her, and Maisie found it hard to speak. His going to war meant it was the first time she’d have to wave off someone who was dear to her and a pang of anxiety spread through her. Trying not to show her upset, she wiggled her way free.
‘Put me down, you silly thing.’
Charlie stared her in the eye and his face took on a serious expression, one she rarely saw him wear.
‘Thanks for looking out for Joyce … for my wife.’
‘Your wife. It sounds so strange, and yet, so right. I’ll look after her, don’t worry yourself. Stay safe, and don’t stand upright. You’ll be an easy target at that height.’
The Forgotten Orphan: The heartbreaking and gripping World War 2 historical novel Page 12