An Orphan's War

by Molly Green

  Maxine sent a sympathetic look to the child but Pamela didn’t stir.

  Bobby was already sitting up in bed watching them approach.

  ‘How are you today, Bobby?’ June asked.

  ‘A bit better,’ he croaked.

  ‘Tonsillitis,’ Kathleen said. ‘You’re doing really well, Bobby. Our new nurse and I will soon have you out of here.’

  ‘Are you going to stay?’ Bobby asked.

  ‘I hope so, Bobby,’ Maxine said fervently. ‘If you and the other children will have me.’

  Bobby gave a mischievous grin. ‘I expect we will, won’t we, Matron?’ He gave a terrible wink.

  ‘We certainly will, Bobby,’ June laughed. ‘And now you have two nurses to see that you’re back in class in double-quick time.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Well, I’ll leave you both to it,’ she said. ‘Peter Best will be here any minute.’

  When Kathleen had given Maxine the files to read on the children who had either attended the clinic, or stayed on the ward in the past month, and a few who had seemingly permanent problems, and shown her the storeroom where the various nursing equipment was kept, she announced it was time for a coffee.

  ‘We can make a quick cuppa in what’s laughingly known as the kitchen,’ she told Maxine, ‘but it’s only a cupboard … Come and see.’ She opened a door off the storeroom to reveal a single cupboard above and, below, a small sink flanked by a piece of wooden worktop no more than eighteen inches across, and an electric socket. ‘We’re very proud of our new kettle,’ Kathleen said, brandishing a shiny copper kettle with a protrusion at the bottom. She plugged it into the socket and pressed down the button to demonstrate how it worked.

  ‘I must say, I’ve never seen one before,’ Maxine said, impressed as the kettle took no time at all to boil. ‘The Royal Infirmary and St Thomas’ in London never had anything this sophisticated.’

  Kathleen grinned. ‘So you worked in London as well as Liverpool,’ she said. ‘How did you like it? I bet it was a dangerous place to be, with all the bombing.’

  ‘Liverpool’s had its own Blitz,’ Maxine said. ‘It’s taken the worst beating next to London, so it felt about the same.’

  ‘I’d love to go to London,’ Kathleen said wistfully. ‘Maybe not until the war is over, but when we have time, I want to hear all about it.’ She measured a teaspoon from the bottle of Camp coffee into each cup and poured the boiling water.

  London was the last thing Maxine wanted to talk about. With a pang, she remembered dear Anna and was silent.

  Kathleen gave her a rueful grin. ‘Hark at me going on.’ She handed Maxine a cup. ‘We can’t both leave at the same time, so I suggest when you’ve finished your coffee you go on upstairs to the dining room and meet some of the others. One of them will show you where everything is.’

  ‘Can I bring you anything?’ Maxine said, after she’d drained her cup.

  ‘No, no. I want to have a flick through The Lady while the children are quiet for once. And don’t rush back. June will no doubt need you if the new boy’s arrived. I’ll expect you when I see you.’

  Maxine murmured her thanks and shot up the stairs before Kathleen pumped her any further about her past.

  Upstairs was chaos. Children were rushing to the tables for their favourite seats and devouring glasses of milk and their ration of two biscuits each. Two little girls, twins, by the look of them, were holding hands and giggling, but another child was crying her eyes out. Three women of various ages – Maxine presumed they were teachers – scurried around, trying to maintain some control, and barely giving her more than a glance. So much for being looked after, Maxine thought, smiling to herself. But that was all right with her. She found herself pulled into the queue.

  One little boy with pale skin and ears which stood out like jug handles looked round at her with curious eyes.

  ‘Are you new, Miss?’

  ‘That’s enough, Eric.’ One of the women nearby smiled at Maxine. ‘I’m sure we’ll all be introduced to the new lady in good time.’

  The little boy shrugged and shuffled forward.

  A strangled sob came from behind her in the queue. Maxine turned to see the same sulky girl, Hilda, who’d tried to send her away on her last visit, grasping a young lad’s hand. He was struggling to pull away and she could see the girl’s grip tighten. The child looked to be eight or nine, with lank brown hair badly in need of a haircut and the same expression of despair in his startling blue eyes that Maxine had seen over and over again in the wounded soldiers who were brought into St Thomas’ on a daily basis. It was a bad enough expression on those poor boys, let alone a child. Her heart went out to the lad.

  ‘You’re not going anywhere, you little pest,’ Hilda said to him in a sharp tone.

  ‘Thank you, Hilda. I’ll take him now.’ The matron’s tone was firm as she took him by the hand.

  The girl’s a bully, Maxine thought. I wonder why June keeps her on.

  ‘This is Peter Best,’ June told her. ‘He’s just arrived.’ She looked down at the boy. ‘Peter, this lady is the new nurse. You may call her Nurse Taylor. She started work here at Bingham Hall this morning, so she doesn’t know anyone – the same as you. I’m hoping you’ll be able to help one another.’

  Peter’s expression was blank. He gave a violent sneeze, followed by two more. Maxine saw his nose drip.

  ‘Have you a handkerchief, Peter?’ she said, feeling in her apron pocket.

  The boy shook his head.

  ‘Here.’ Maxine handed him a clean white handkerchief. ‘Use this.’

  He snatched it and blew his nose, then offered it back to her.

  ‘Keep it until the end of the day and then we’ll get it washed,’ Maxine said, an amused smile hovering over her lips.

  ‘Can I leave you with him?’ June asked in a low tone. ‘I had no option but to ask Hilda to show him the dining room and help him.’

  ‘Of course.’ Maxine put her hand on the boy’s arm but he shrugged it off. ‘Keep close to me and we’ll find out what we have to do together. I’m as much in the dark as you.’

  Maxine made sure Peter sat next to her and that he had his ration of milk and biscuits.

  ‘You’re new,’ piped a little golden-haired girl sitting on the other side of him. ‘What’s your name?’

  Peter ignored her and gulped his milk in one go. He set his empty glass down and Maxine noticed his hands shake and his bottom lip tremble. The poor child was terrified. She needed to get him out of the noisy dining room and into one of the empty classrooms. Talk to him quietly. He’d obviously gone through a difficult time before he arrived here. She wondered if Peter’s story was similar to that other little boy June and Bertie had spoken about.

  ‘Peter, if you’ve finished, why don’t you come with me?’ Maxine suggested. ‘I don’t know the building very well yet, but I can show you some of the rooms I’ve discovered and where you need to be after the break.’

  Immediately Peter sprang to his feet and darted towards the door.

  Maxine rushed after him into the Great Hall. ‘Peter.’

  He turned. His face was unnaturally flushed. He sneezed again.

  Maxine bent down to him. ‘That sounds like a nasty cold.’

  She tried to put her hand on his forehead but he twisted away from her, pulling her handkerchief out of his grey shorts.

  ‘I think we’ll get you into the ward downstairs and tuck you up with a hot-water bottle. I’m sure it’s only a cold, but we don’t want it to spread to the other children.’

  She could hear him sniffing as his shoes clattered on the steps behind her.

  All this time Maxine noticed Peter hadn’t uttered one word. Well, it wasn’t surprising what with the way that girl Hilda had treated him.

  As soon as the two of them appeared in the ward, Kathleen came over. ‘Have we another patient?’ she asked, glancing at Peter.

  ‘Yes. He’s our new boy, Peter Best,’ Maxine said. ‘He has a cold, so I’m going to ta
ke his temperature.’

  ‘He can have that bed,’ Kathleen pointed to one in the centre of the room. ‘It’s far enough away for no one else to catch it.’ She put her hand out to Peter. ‘Let’s get you undressed and into some pyjamas.’

  When Peter was tucked into bed, Maxine held out her thermometer.

  ‘Can you put your tongue out for me?’

  Peter did what he was told and she slipped the thermometer underneath. He lay perfectly still, his eyes locked on to the ceiling.

  After half a minute Maxine removed it and held the glass tube up to the light.

  ‘As I thought,’ she said. ‘A little above normal but nothing to worry about. The sooner you rest and keep warm, the sooner you’ll be up. I’ll bring you your dinner later.’

  There was no response.

  She smiled at him. ‘Would you like some orangeade?’

  He shook his head, his mouth firmly shut tight.

  ‘I’m not taking any notice,’ she told him. ‘You need to keep drinking when you have a cold.’

  His blue eyes fixed on hers, giving her the feeling he noticed everything.

  ‘It’s all new to you, as it is with me,’ Maxine touched his arm, ‘so I’m hoping we can help one another, as Matron said. Do you think we might?’

  The boy looked at her without blinking. His eyes and nose were both running and she found him another handkerchief.

  ‘You’ll be safe here,’ Maxine said. ‘I promise.’ She gestured for Kathleen to go into their little back room, and followed. ‘Kathleen, can I leave you with him for the time being? I’d like to try and get my bearings and meet the teachers.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Maxine looked towards Peter’s bed. ‘I’m a bit concerned that he hasn’t said a word since he arrived. Nothing at all.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Kathleen said. ‘I should think he’s probably just worn out.’

  Thank goodness Kathleen was an understanding and sympathetic nurse, Maxine thought. But Hilda … she was another matter.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘Would the teachers and Nurse Taylor please come to my office as soon as you’ve eaten,’ June announced after Grace that evening at dinner.

  Maxine intended having a private word with June about Peter, but maybe it was a good thing to be introduced to the teachers first.

  Charlie brought in some extra chairs and somehow they all squashed inside Matron’s modest office.

  ‘I’d like to introduce you to our new member of staff, Nurse Maxine Taylor,’ June said, smiling round at everyone. ‘We’ve had some difficulties getting the right person, but I think Maxine is going to fit in really well with us, so please make her welcome.’ Her eyes fell on Maxine. ‘I’m sure you’ll be happy here with us.’

  ‘Thank you, Matron, I’m sure I will,’ Maxine said.

  ‘Barbara Steen. We’ve already met,’ the art teacher said, smiling broadly.

  ‘Athena Graham – English and Mathematics.’ A young woman, her strawberry-blonde hair in a smooth shining Victory Roll, grasped Maxine’s hand and pumped it up and down. ‘Very pleased to meet you.’

  ‘And this is Judith Wright, our temporary history teacher, though we’re trying to persuade her to stay on.’ June nodded to a stocky middle-aged lady with long tweed skirt and cropped non-descript brown hair with a side parting, firmly pulled back by a tortoiseshell hair slide.

  Judith nodded, but there was no welcoming smile like the others. ‘How do you do?’ she said.

  June came from behind her desk and stood with her back against it. ‘I’ll leave it to you, Maxine, to tell Kathleen about this meeting, so let me start. I want to put you in the picture about Peter Best. He has a German father and an English mother.’

  Maxine heard an intake of breath from Judith Wright.

  ‘But the father is Jewish, presumably,’ the history teacher said, ‘and they must have changed their name to “Best” to sound English.’

  Maxine gave her a sharp look. There was something in Judith’s tone that rankled.

  ‘I imagine that’s the case,’ June said. ‘We don’t know much about him except that the boy came here from Germany just before the war with his mother, but she became ill and died, so he was sent to his grandmother’s. Then one day this summer he came home from school to find the house a pile of rubble, poor little chap. His grandmother was inside at the time. She was killed instantly. He’s been with foster parents since then, but they can’t keep him any longer, so Dr Barnardo’s agreed to take him in.’

  ‘Peter doesn’t look Jewish.’ Judith’s eyes swept round the room as though looking for affirmation from the others. ‘He’s got blue eyes, for one thing.’

  ‘I wouldn’t really know about that,’ June said, giving Judith a steady look, ‘but I expect he takes after his mother.’ She paused. ‘As you all know, Dr Barnardo’s creed is to accept every child of every religion and race and colour – and treat them equally.’

  Maxine noticed Judith purse her lips.

  ‘Do we know if the father is alive?’ Barbara asked.

  ‘We haven’t any precise details about him. He was probably sent to the concentration camp, the same way Joachim’s family went,’ June said soberly.

  Maxine’s blood ran cold at the thought.

  ‘Look, I don’t want to make a big thing of Peter coming from Germany,’ June went on. Maxine noticed her eyes linger on Judith Wright a fraction longer than the others. ‘Because we don’t want the boy to go through the same bullying that Joachim went through. The children quickly realised he was foreign because he didn’t speak perfect English, but Peter does, apparently, though we haven’t heard anything from him yet.’

  ‘I’ve tried to get him to talk,’ Maxine said. ‘But he just shakes his head. It’s as though he can’t trust himself to say anything, so he keeps quiet. Poor little lad. I’m glad we know something about his background so we know how to help him.’

  ‘I agree,’ June said, glancing at her. ‘The boy is still in shock, so if it’s all right with you, Maxine, I’m putting you in charge of him. You’re a nurse so you’ll know best how to handle him, and I’m hoping he’ll learn to trust you.’ She gave a slight smile. ‘However, I don’t think it will be an easy task.’

  ‘I’ll be very happy to look after him,’ Maxine said quickly. ‘He’s in the ward at the moment with what appears to be a heavy cold. Kathleen got him ready for bed and I’ll go and see him after the meeting. We need to find something he can be part of when he gets better, so he can make friends with some of the other boys. Maybe a singing afternoon that they can all join in.’

  ‘That’s an excellent idea,’ Barbara said. ‘We used to do that sort of thing often before the Fierce One came.’

  ‘So we will resume them,’ June smiled, turning to Maxine. ‘The Fierce One was the matron when I first came here.’ She looked round at the small group. ‘What a shame we’ve lost David. He would have helped the children with the songs and played the piano.’

  ‘I could probably manage to accompany some simple songs,’ Athena said.

  ‘The job’s yours.’ June beamed. ‘Maxine, would you please tell Kathleen what we’ve talked about and report any progress or otherwise with Peter back to me?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Maxine replied.

  ‘Any other questions?’ June’s eyes sharpened as they fell on Judith Wright. Everyone shook their heads. ‘That’s all, then. Any problems concerning Peter, please see me – and if I’m not around, then Maxine.’

  Maxine told Kathleen in the small nurses’ room the little they knew about Peter.

  ‘Have you got any words out of him?’ Maxine finished.

  ‘Not a dicky bird. He’s in shock, no doubt about it. But he’ll come round. He’s asleep now … went off straight away. Tired out, poor little blighter. But when he’s recovered – we’ll let him take however long he needs – I think the sing-song is just the ticket.’

  Peter stayed in the ward four more days as he began cough
ing and complained of a sore throat. He did what he was told but clammed up when Maxine gently asked him how he felt, and did he want to talk about his mother and grandmother.

  ‘Leave me alone!’ he shouted once, then bit his lip so hard Maxine had to wipe away the blood spots.

  It was sad they were the first words he’d uttered to her.

  When Peter was over the worst of his cold and ready to go to classes, Maxine saw Bobby was sitting up in bed reading Beano. She brought a chair over and sat by the side of him.

  ‘How are you feeling, Bobby?’

  ‘All right, Nurse.’ He kept his eyes on his comic.

  ‘Can you put your comic down a minute?’ Maxine asked. With an exaggerated sigh, Bobby laid it on one side. Maxine lowered her voice. ‘Have you spoken to Peter yet?’

  ‘I asked him this morning if he was better and he just said yes. I don’t think he wants to talk.’ Bobby looked directly at her as he asked, ‘Is he an orphan?’

  ‘His mother and grandmother died, so he’s come to us.’

  ‘Oh.’ Bobby went quiet for a few seconds. ‘Where’s his father? Is he dead too?’

  ‘We’re not sure, but I’d rather you not question Peter about that at the moment. He’s only eight. He’s had a lot to contend with. All I know is that he’s had a very difficult time.’

  ‘Yeah, well all of us here have had a difficult time,’ Bobby said, picking up his comic again.

  Maxine could see it was going to take a huge effort to win the children round.

  ‘You should be well enough to go back upstairs soon,’ she said, as she stood up.

  Bobby nodded and carried on reading.

  Day by day, Maxine was beginning to get the feel of the orphanage. Everyone had been too busy to take her round the whole building, more sprawling than she’d first imagined, but she’d enjoyed wandering on her own. Although it was large, it somehow felt homely.

  She put her head round the door of the laundry to say hello to the two girls who called out their names through the steam – Lucy and Mabel. She knew now where all the classrooms were on the ground and first floors, the children’s dormitories on the second floor, various bedrooms for the live-in staff on the third and the nursery at the top, together with some other doors which were locked. For storage, she guessed. There was the staff common room and the warm and welcoming kitchen where Bertie always invited her to sit and have a cup of tea if she wasn’t too busy. But her favourite room was the library. With its timber vaulted ceiling and gallery, it housed the largest collection of books she’d ever seen.