An Orphan's War

by Molly Green

  Liverpool looked in a sorry state when she arrived at the bus station. If there’d been a taxi at the station she would have taken it, but the rank was empty. The wind gusted around her and flapped her coat, wanting to whip off her hat as she began the twenty-minute walk to her parents’ house. She couldn’t think of it being her home any longer. Bingham Hall had taken the place, even though she didn’t even have her own room. How things had changed, she thought, as she picked her way along debris and masonry from what must have been a recent hit. She tried not to think about who’d been injured, or killed, but concentrated on getting to her father.

  Her mother opened the door, white-faced. ‘So the children have finally managed to spare you for a bit of time to spend with your poor old dad,’ were her words of greeting. ‘Just as well you’re not too late.’

  Maxine bit her tongue to stop a retort. ‘How is he?’ she asked instead.

  ‘Not good at all,’ her mother said. ‘You’d better go upstairs and see him. He’s asking for you. The doctor’s just left. I’ll put the kettle on.’

  Maxine left her mother to it and moments later put her head in the doorway of her parents’ bedroom, dreading how she would find him.

  ‘Dad,’ she said, her voice not quite steady. ‘Are you asleep?’

  ‘Come in, love,’ her father croaked.

  She ran to his bed and knelt so her face was only inches from his own. All her nursing experience told her he was near the end by the grey pallor of his skin, the dull eyes, and the effort of every breath.

  ‘Dad, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘What for, love?’

  She gently pressed his hand, feeling the guilt wash over her. Any longer delay and she would have been too late. ‘For not being here when you needed me,’ she said. ‘And me, a nurse. I should have been looking after you. I feel so ashamed.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be. Those children need you more than me. I’ve had my life. And your mother’s been good. Don’t be too hard on her. She does love you, you know, though she has a strange way of showing it sometimes. And don’t you worry about me. It’s you I’m concerned about.’

  ‘Me? Why?’

  ‘I wanted to see you settled with a good man again before I go,’ he said, his voice fading on the last words.

  ‘Dad …’

  ‘Yes, love.’

  ‘I have met someone. Someone I know you’d approve of.’

  ‘What does he do?’ Suddenly her father’s voice was brighter.

  ‘He’s a Squadron Leader in Coastal Command.’

  ‘Ah.’ An approving smile hovered over his lips. ‘The Cinderella Service.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Coastal Command has never been given the same backing as Fighter Command – or Bomber Command, come to that. They have to fly very low to keep those damned U-boats underwater so they’re forced to go more slowly. That gives the convoy a fighting chance to get across the Atlantic safely to bring back our supplies from America and Canada – we’d starve if it weren’t for the Merchant Navy in particular, and Coastal Command plays a vital part in making sure they succeed.’ He turned his head towards her. ‘You can take it from me – your young man is extremely brave.’

  It was the most she’d heard about Crofton’s job and it made her stomach churn. What must it be like for Crofton and his crew? Trying to sink a U-boat with the Germans trying to shoot back. Feeling overjoyed to get one so it wouldn’t give them any more trouble, yet feeling terrible he and the others had brought about premature deaths to dozens, perhaps hundreds, of young men who probably didn’t want to fight any more than the British. What a dreadful position to be in. She shuddered.

  ‘It sounds terribly dangerous.’

  ‘Most jobs at the moment are dangerous. It’s dangerous to be a nurse in London,’ her father added pointedly.

  Immediately her thoughts flew to Anna. She swallowed.

  ‘How do you know all this about Coastal Command?’

  ‘Same thing happened in the last war. The navy went across the Atlantic in convoys to bring food back to Britain. Goes without saying it’s happening again. But this time you’ve got the RAF involved.’ Her father’s voice had become weaker.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dad, I’m tiring you.’

  ‘I think I will have a nap. But first I want to know something from you.’ He turned his head and caught her eye. ‘Does he love you?’

  Maxine’s heart lost a beat. ‘I think so.’

  ‘Do you love him?’ He gave her hand a light squeeze, almost as though he was encouraging her to speak the truth.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then that’s all that matters.’ Her father gave a deep sigh and managed to turn his head and smile.

  It was still her father. Even though he lay there breathing harshly, the love in his eyes was just as tender as ever. Her heart went out to him. He’d stuck up for her in his quiet way many a time when her mother had been unreasonable. He’d been proud of her and encouraged her. He’d tried to be a good father and was only stopped by the steel hand of his wife, who constantly complained that he spoilt her. But Maxine loved him as she never had, never would, her mother.

  She heard her mother’s footsteps and sprang up to open the door, then stepped back, startled. It wasn’t her mother at all. Standing there was Mickey, wearing what looked like a smug grin.

  ‘Hello, Sis.’ He bounded in and planted a wet kiss on her cheek. She immediately wiped it away with her fingers, swallowing the feeling of revulsion. His grinning expression dropped for a second or two before it appeared again, broader than ever. ‘Surprised to see me, eh?’

  ‘You didn’t tell us you were out,’ Maxine retorted. ‘It’s been so long, I hardly recognised you.’

  ‘Whereas you haven’t changed one bit, Sis,’ he smirked. ‘Still the same old sarcasm.’

  She ignored the flicker of anger threatening to rise, and instead asked, ‘When did they let you out?’

  ‘I expect you’re just being polite.’ Mickey lit a cigarette and drew in deeply. ‘I’m sure you’re not really interested, but I got out a couple of months ago.’ His gaze alighted on the bed in the corner. ‘How’s the old man, then?’

  ‘The old man hasn’t gone yet, if that’s what you think,’ came a thin yet firm voice.

  ‘Just joking, Dad.’ Mickey brushed Maxine aside to reach his father’s bed. He pulled up a chair.

  ‘I’ll leave you two together,’ Maxine said coolly. ‘We haven’t seen sight of you for I don’t know how long, so you’ll have a lot of catching up to do. But first, Mickey, will you put that cigarette out? It’s bad for Dad.’

  She threw him a glare – she couldn’t help it. Her brother made her flesh creep. Not surprising that he’d only turned up when Mum had managed to get hold of him to let him know his father was so ill. The way he treated Maxine and their father had always been abysmal. Dad as though he was an old man who’d lost his wits, and herself as though she was a silly, empty-headed girl who ought to be looking for a husband to keep her firmly in hand and have babies, which was all women were good for, he’d said more times than she could count. Their mother was a different matter. He always turned on the charm with her, getting his own way, ever since he’d been a nasty little boy. She shuddered at the memories and closed the door quietly behind her, feeling sorry for her father who had to face such a remnant of a son.

  ‘Isn’t it wonderful Mickey’s home?’ her mother said as soon as she walked downstairs.

  It wasn’t a word she would use to describe how she felt, but Maxine knew it was pointless to say so. Her mother adored Mickey and always had an excuse for him whatever he did and however long he stayed away, in prison or not.

  ‘I’m glad you’re pleased,’ was all Maxine said in a tight voice.

  Her mother gave her a sharp look but Maxine pretended not to notice. ‘I’ve made Mickey a cup of tea,’ her mother went on, ‘but he’s bound to be hungry. If I’d known he was coming, I’d have made him his favourite meat pie. A
s it is, I don’t know what I’m going to give him.’ She stirred three teaspoons of sugar in Mickey’s cup, saying defensively, ‘I’ll forgo my sugar today to give my son a treat.’ Without meeting her daughter’s eye, she said, ‘You have your tea, dear, while I pop out and see if there’s anything left at the butcher’s.’

  Maxine knew this was her cue to offer to go but she was so annoyed with Mickey that she kept her lips pressed tightly together. There’d been no mention of how her mother would obtain the extra meat ration but she was obviously more worried about Mickey’s demands than she was her husband’s health. Maxine was turning over these thoughts when there was a knock on the front door.

  ‘That’ll probably be the postman, Maxine,’ her mother called as she was taking Mickey’s tea upstairs. ‘Can you get it?’

  Maxine opened the door and her jaw dropped in astonishment for the second time in ten minutes.

  ‘Hello, Maxine.’

  ‘Crofton! What are you doing here?’

  ‘I wanted to see you.’ He gave an apologetic smile. ‘I hope I’m not intruding.’

  ‘How did you know where I was?’ Her heart was pounding in her ears.

  ‘I had to pry it out of your nice matron.’ He hesitated. ‘I’ve only got the rest of the day and tomorrow … well, you know I can’t say any details, but I won’t be around. When I explained the situation to June, I think she decided to take the risk and tell me your address. Would I be allowed in?’

  ‘Oh, of course.’ She felt her face warm as she opened the door wider, her emotions running wild. It was wonderful to see him but now there was no escaping him finding out about her brother.

  He walked in, dwarfing the narrow hall.

  ‘Come on through,’ she said, her brain racing.

  Her father was upstairs dying, her wayward brother had made his first appearance in years and her mother was fussing over him as though he were the prodigal son … and now Crofton was here. It had been a long week since June’s wedding and it was heaven to feast her eyes on him but she almost wished June hadn’t told him where she’d gone. There wouldn’t be any privacy to talk.

  ‘June mentioned your father is very ill,’ Crofton said, removing his cap. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Well, at least he’s awake and still speaking. Mickey, my brother, arrived just now and is upstairs with him.’

  ‘I’m glad you’ve got some support at such a difficult time.’

  If only …

  She couldn’t bring herself to agree, and merely showed him into the front room. She noticed the aspidistra on the windowsill was dying. Probably because her mother hardly ever allowed visitors in, she thought grimly. She made herself smile. ‘Let me take your coat.’

  He unbuttoned it and handed it to her and she draped it over one of the leatherette armchairs, inhaling the scent of him.

  ‘Please do sit down.’

  ‘I realise I’ve come at the wrong time but—’

  ‘It’s all right – though everything’s a bit fraught at the moment.’ She swallowed.

  He caught her hand and held her gaze. ‘Can I help with anything?’

  ‘Not really.’ She drew in a breath. ‘It took me by surprise, that’s all, seeing you standing there on the doorstep. But I’m glad—’

  ‘Who are you talking to, dear?’ Her mother appeared at the door and took a step back as though in alarm at seeing a strange man. Maxine dropped his hand as Crofton sprang to his feet.

  ‘It’s all right, Mum. It’s a friend of mine.’ Her mother bustled into the room. ‘Mum, this is Crofton Wells, Crofton, my mother, Edna Grey.’

  After a short hesitation, Mrs Grey held out her hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘Maxine’s never mentioned you.’ She threw her daughter an accusing look.

  ‘Very pleased to meet you, Mrs Grey.’ Crofton smiled and stepped forward to shake her hand.

  ‘How long have you known my daughter?’ her mother said, making the question sound like a demand, and withdrawing her hand after the briefest acknowledgement.

  Oh, no. Surely she wasn’t going to interrogate him.

  ‘Several months, Mum,’ Maxine said quickly before Crofton could answer.

  Crofton caught her eye and gave the faintest wink. ‘If it’s all right with you, Mrs Grey, I’ve come to take Maxine for a spot of lunch. I’ve only got the chance of a few hours before I’m sent away. But of course I quite understand if she doesn’t feel she can leave her father.’

  Mrs Grey hesitated. Her eyes narrowed and Maxine knew she was trying to weigh up the situation. Who exactly was this man? Was her daughter keen on him?

  ‘I suppose it will be all right,’ she said eventually. ‘I would normally ask her father, but he’s too ill, so I shall have to take the responsibility.’

  For goodness’ sake, Mum, we’re not living in Jane Austen’s day, Maxine thought irritably. She was about to make a snappy retort when Crofton broke in.

  ‘I’ll take good care of her,’ he said. ‘I promise to bring her back by …’ he studied his watch, ‘three o’clock.’ He tilted his head towards her.

  ‘It will have to do,’ Mrs Grey said, ‘though if anything happens to her father, I don’t know what I’ll do in the meantime.’

  ‘Mickey’s here, Mum,’ Maxine reminded her. ‘And I’ll be back before you know it.’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course. But Mickey doesn’t have the medical knowledge you have, dear, so don’t be too long.’ She gave Maxine a sly glance. ‘Would you bring a bit of brisket back for our tea as we won’t have eaten.’

  Why did her mother always manage to make her feel guilty?

  ‘We’ll do our best,’ Crofton put in quickly.

  ‘I’ll get the coupons then.’ Maxine’s mother disappeared to the kitchen.

  ‘Is that all right with you, Maxine?’ Crofton enquired. ‘I’ll honestly understand if you want to stay here.’

  ‘I think Dad’ll be safe for a couple of hours. I’ll go and fetch my coat and hat.’

  She was back in a flash, not wanting to stay a moment longer. The house felt as if it was closing in on her now that Mickey had come home.

  ‘Here you are,’ Mrs Grey said, handing Maxine the ration book. ‘Get what you can if Mr Jackson hasn’t any brisket.’ She glanced at her daughter. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen if anyone needs me.’

  Maxine put the ration book in her handbag, but just as they were leaving Mickey thundered down the stairs.

  ‘Maxine. You’d better go up. Dad wants to speak to you … alone.’ Mickey’s voice was coated with annoyance. He caught sight of Crofton. ‘Oh, who are you, then?’

  ‘Crofton, this is my brother, Mickey.’

  Please, Mickey, for once in your life, try to act like a normal brother.

  ‘I’m surprised my dear sis has actually acknowledged she has a brother,’ Mickey scowled.

  Maxine stiffened. ‘Mickey …’ She tried to catch his eye but he was focused on Crofton.

  ‘Crofton Wells.’ Crofton put his hand out but Mickey ignored it. Crofton shrugged and let his hand fall back.

  ‘Yep, I’m the brother. But it don’t count when our dear dad’s got Daddy’s girl here. No time for me, as usual.’ He glared at Maxine. ‘Go on, Sis. Daddy will be impatiently waiting for his favourite.’

  Flushing at his remark, Maxine glanced at Crofton.

  ‘Take no notice of my brother.’ She paused. ‘I won’t be long.’

  ‘Take as long as you need. I’ll still be here.’ Crofton gave her one of his special smiles, immediately lifting her mood, but not before she saw Mickey roll his eyes.

  Reluctantly she left Crofton with her embarrassment of a brother.

  ‘Dad?’ she said as she entered her parents’ bedroom.

  ‘Maxine.’ Her father took hold of her hand. ‘Who’s that downstairs? I heard a man’s voice.’

  ‘It’s Crofton Wells. The man I told you about. He’s asked if he can take me into town for some lunch.’

  ‘You go with him, love.�
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  ‘Will you be all right for an hour or two? He’s being sent away tomorrow.’

  ‘Course I will. You enjoy yourself. No one knows what’s going to happen these days. Anything could change from minute to minute. I only wish I was fit and young enough to do my bit.’

  ‘You did your bit in the last war, Dad.’

  He stroked her face with his hand. ‘You’re a dear girl,’ he said. ‘I just want you to be happy. I’d like to meet your young man.’

  ‘Maybe when we’re back and you’ve had a rest,’ Maxine said.

  ‘I hope so.’ He paused and then took in a rasping breath that turned into a cough. Maxine held a glass of water to his mouth and gently tipped it. He swallowed.

  ‘Don’t worry, love. I’ll still be here when you get back – much to your brother’s disappointment.’

  ‘Has he upset you?’

  ‘No more than usual. He asked if my will was up to date. Cheeky devil.’ He winked at her. ‘I never answered him. Just looked vague. He thinks I’ve gone doo-lally. It is up to date as a matter of fact, but I’m not having him prying into my affairs. He never bothers to come and see us unless he thinks there’s something in it for him. I’m not giving him the satisfaction.’

  She couldn’t answer him. She knew he was right. Bending her head to kiss his paper-thin cheek, she heard him sigh. This time when he spoke his voice was weaker.

  ‘Even your mother doesn’t know where I keep it,’ he grunted. ‘Anyway, you go down and see that young man of yours.’

  His eyes flickered and closed. She’d tired him. He needed to rest. She watched him for a minute or two, his chest rising with each irregular painful breath. Then in front of her eyes it became more shallow – quieter. Had he simply fallen asleep? In her panic she couldn’t discern his breathing at all. Her heart in her mouth, she desperately reached for his hand but his pulse was still there, quite strong. He opened his eyes.

  ‘I’m all right, love. Just having a nap. Don’t you worry. Come and see me when you’re back from lunch and bring your young man … Christopher, was it?’