The Runaway Children

by Sandy Taylor

  ‘Can we go out, Nell?’ said Olive.

  I turned away from the window. ‘We have to stay here – we can’t let anyone know we’re home.’

  ‘Cos of Albert?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I’ll suffocate from lack of fresh air.’

  ‘No, you won’t.’

  ‘I will, I think I’m suffocating already. Have my lips turned blue, Nell?’

  ‘Your lips look perfectly fine.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about that, Nell.’

  ‘Come over here and I’ll open the window.’

  ‘Good idea, Nell, it might save me life.’

  I opened the window and we leaned out as far as we could.

  ‘That’s better,’ said Olive. ‘I think I’ll live.’

  ‘You should go on the stage,’ I said.

  ‘Nah, me and Aggie are going to buy a shop.’

  ‘What sort of shop?’ I asked, grinning.

  ‘A bread shop – me and Aggie like bread.’

  ‘Well, I wish you both luck,’ I said.

  ‘We don’t need luck, Nell, we’ve got God.’

  ‘And who better to have on your side than God,’ I said, smiling.

  Eventually Mrs Baxter returned. ‘No luck,’ she said, taking off her coat and hanging it behind the door. ‘But as the welfare lady said, so many people left London around that time that it had become hard to keep track of them all.’

  ‘What can we do then?’

  ‘I’m goin to ask round the neighbours and see if anyone saw them, but if that draws a blank, I don’t think there’s much more we can do, Nell, other than wait. I’m sorry, love.’

  ‘Thanks anyway, Mrs Baxter, it was good of you to try.’

  ‘I’ll scoot round the neighbours in the morning. You never know, duck, someone might have seen them.’

  We put Olive to bed early – we’d had a long day and she looked fit to drop.

  Once she was asleep me and Mrs Baxter settled down in front of the fire and I asked her what had happened.

  ‘There’d been a raid on the docks, so people had already started to leave the flats before the siren went off. Everyone helped everyone else. I have never been so proud to call myself a Londoner.’

  ‘And didn’t you see Mum at all?’

  Mrs Baxter shook her head. ‘Everyone was running for the shelters and I ran with them. I didn’t see your family, Nell, I’m sorry.’

  ‘But you think they got out?’

  ‘I hope they did, that’s all I can say.’

  I sat looking into the fire.

  ‘How long ago did it happen?’

  ‘I reckon it must be six months ago now, and the council have only just got round to clearin it up.’

  So that’s why Mum never answered any of my letters, I thought.

  ‘It must have been awful.’

  ‘It didn’t feel real at the time. It was only afterwards that it sunk in, what had happened. We were numb. People were stood in the yard, looking at what had been their homes. We’d lost everything, it was heartbreaking.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Baxter.’

  ‘Mr Baxter got over losing his leg and I’ll get over this.’

  ‘What about me and Olive? Where are we going to live?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that, Nell. If you stay here they’re sure to put you both into care, or send you away again. I’m leaving London; I can’t bear to look at the ruins of my old home every day, it hurts too much. I’m going to stay with my sister in Eastbourne until the war is over. You and Olive best come with me.’

  ‘Won’t your sister mind?’

  ‘No, she runs a guest house so there’s plenty of room. It means you’ll have to get a job though, Nell, to help pay for yours and Olive’s keep, but you’ll be safe there. There’s no point in trying to find your family now. Anyway, you’ve been through enough by the sound of it.’

  ‘You don’t know the half of it, Mrs Baxter,’ I said.

  ‘How about we have a nice cup of tea and some bread and dripping, and you can tell me all about it?’

  As I drank the sweet tea and ate the bread and dripping, I told Mrs Baxter everything that had happened to us since we left Bermondsey. I told her about Auntie Beth and Uncle Dylan and how kind they’d been to us. Then I told her about the horrible farm and why I’d killed Albert.

  ‘I’d ave killed him an all, dirty bugger,’ said Mrs Baxter.

  ‘I didn’t mean to – at least, I don’t think I did.’

  ‘You did what you had to do, Nell, and you saved your little sister – that’s reason enough for me.’

  Then I told her about mad Clodagh Price and how we’d had to escape.

  ‘Blimey, Nell!’ she said. ‘I guessed you’d been through it, but I hadn’t realised it had been that bad.’

  ‘If I’d known what was ahead of us there’s no way we would have left Bermondsey. But do you know what, Mrs Baxter? Even though some of what happened to us was awful, I’m not sorry we went. I think we both grew up in ways we never would have if we had stayed at home. Before we left, Olive had just been my little sister, but she became my best friend; I never realised what a brave little girl she was. There were times when she seemed older than me and I depended on her. I’m so proud of her.’

  ‘It doesn’t surprise me, Nell. There’s always been something special about that little girl.’

  ‘I realise that now.’

  ‘Your poor mother would have been worried sick if she’d known. It made her so happy to know how well you had settled at the vicarage and then how much Olive loved the farm. You didn’t tell her how bad it was, did you?’

  ‘I didn’t want her worrying.’

  ‘You’ve gone through so much, Nell, and then to get home and find the flats had been bombed…’ She shook her head. ‘You poor girl.’

  Mrs Baxter picked up a poker and rattled the coals. Warm air rushed into the room.

  ‘Do you think they’re alive, Mrs Baxter?’

  ‘All we can do is live in hope, ducks, that’s all we can do for now.’

  ‘How will Mum know where we are if she comes home?’

  ‘I’ve let Mrs Ryan know where we’re going.’

  ‘Can we trust her?’

  ‘Her husband’s no better than he should be and her boys are a nightmare. Mrs Ryan knows how to keep a secret – she’s been keeping them most of her life. She’ll swear she knows nothing on the life of her poor departed mother if she has to.’

  ‘And my dad?’

  ‘No word yet, but as they say, no news is good news.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘We have to keep our spirits up, Nell, that’s all we can do for now.’

  ‘It’s Eastbourne then, is it?’ I said.

  ‘A nice dose of fresh sea air will do us all the world of good.’

  ‘Is it anywhere near Brighton, Mrs Baxter?’

  ‘Right next door.’

  I thought of my friend Lottie and smiled.

  ‘I’d like to say goodbye to Mrs Ryan, would that be okay?’

  ‘I’m sure she’d be tickled pink to see you, Nell. You know where her flat is.’

  I walked along the corridor to Mrs Ryan’s flat and knocked on the door. Her face broke into a huge smile when she saw me standing there.

  ‘Come in, come in,’ she said.

  The tiny flat was full of stuff: there were piles of it on the floor, on the chairs and sliding off the table.

  ‘Don’t mind the mess,’ she said, dumping an armful of clothes off the couch and onto the floor so that I could sit down. ‘I keep trying to tidy it up but it just doesn’t seem to want to be tidy, so I’ve decided it’s not worth losing any sleep over.’

  ‘Well, I think it’s very cosy,’ I said.

  ‘So do I,’ said Mrs Ryan, looking around the room.

  ‘And that’s all that counts, isn’t it?’ I said.

  We didn’t speak for a bit, then Mrs Ryan said: ‘I’m sorry you lost your home, love.’
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  ‘I still can’t believe it’s gone,’ I said. ‘We were really happy there but I’m more worried about my family than the flat.’

  ‘Of course you are.’

  ‘Do you think they got out? Mrs Baxter feels sure that they did.’

  ‘I agree with her, Nell. We had plenty of warning that the planes were on their way. Mr Ryan was on holiday at His Majesty’s pleasure and I was here with my Tommy. He’s a bit of a rogue is Tommy, but I was so proud of him that day, Nell. He helped the wardens get the old people to safety with no thought for himself. I saw him in a whole different light. There might be some good in him after all.’

  ‘I always liked your Tommy, Mrs Ryan.’

  ‘Oh, he’s likeable enough, when he’s not being a little git.’

  I grinned, knowing all Mrs Ryan’s sons were little gits but she’d kill anyone who hurt them.

  ‘So if all the old uns got out, I’m sure your Tony would have got your mum and little Freddie to safety.’

  I nodded. ‘I have to think that, don’t I?’

  ‘You do, girl, you do.’

  ‘So you didn’t see them afterwards?’

  ‘It was mayhem – everyone was running for the shelters. I wish I could put your mind at rest, Nell, but I’m as sure as I can be that they’re all right.’

  ‘It must have been terrible, Mrs Ryan.’

  ‘You just don’t think it’s going to happen on your doorstep, but I suppose being right next to the docks it was bound to happen sooner or later. The saddest thing is that a whole community has been lost – even if they rebuild Rannly Court it will never be the same.’

  ‘Do you think they will rebuild it?’

  ‘Who knows, who knows?’

  ‘Mrs Baxter told you the police were after us, didn’t she?’

  ‘She did, and your secret’s safe with me, girl, you can depend on that.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Ryan.’

  ‘You’re very welcome, Nell.’

  I leaned back against the chair and closed my eyes. I suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired – I could have stayed in Mrs Ryan’s messy little flat all night.

  ‘Best get yourself off to bed, ducks. You look all done in.’

  I stood up and stretched. ‘I think I will.’

  ‘Rest assured, the only person I’ll give your whereabouts to is your mum when she comes back – and I’m sure she will come back, Nell.’

  I walked across and kissed her cheek. It was warm and soft and she smelled of lavender.

  ‘Enjoy the seaside, Nell,’ she said, smiling.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Mrs Baxter’s sister was called Mrs Wright and she was lovely; she welcomed me and Olive with open arms. The guest house was called Sea View, which I thought was pushing it a bit as the only way you were likely to see the sea was by hanging out of the attic window with someone holding onto your legs.

  ‘I don’t think it matters, do you?’ said Mrs Wright. ‘I mean, two doors down is called Downs View and you’d have to stand on the roof with a pair of binoculars to see the Downs. I think Sea View sounds nice, don’t you? Actually, seeing the sea is neither here nor there – it’s the expectation that you might that counts.’

  I smiled at her. ‘I think you’re right,’ I said.

  Sea View was a tall building on three floors. It was painted white; parts of it were peeling off, leaving yellowy patches on the walls.

  ‘It’s the salt that does that,’ explained Mrs Wright. ‘Not much point keeping painting it cos the sea always wins in the end.’

  There didn’t seem to be any evidence of a Mr Wright and he was never mentioned. When I asked Mrs Baxter about him, all she said was: ‘Mr Wright turned out to be Mr Wrong and in my opinion she’s well shot of him. He got his just deserts in the end though, but I’m not one to speak ill of the dead, so enough said.’ Then as an afterthought she added, ‘Miserable, philanderin git!’

  I didn’t like to ask what exactly his just deserts were but they seemed to make Mrs Baxter happy.

  Me and Olive shared a pretty bedroom at the top of the house and we each had our own bed with matching blue eiderdowns. It reminded me of the vicarage in Glengaryth.

  I often thought about that little village, how happy we’d been there. I thought about how lucky I was to have met my lovely friend Lottie. If we had stayed there all through the war, how differently things would have turned out. I could wish that we had never gone to Hackers farm, that I’d never met Albert, but then I’d also never have met Jimmy. I wondered where he was now – still at the farm or off to seek his fortune? – but wherever he was and whatever he was doing, I knew that he would be thinking of me as I was thinking of him. We hadn’t known each other for long, but it was long enough to realise that we had grown to care for each other. It had been the beginning of something sweet and wonderful.

  I wrote to Yann to let him know we were safe and to tell him what had happened to us. I got a letter back to say that he missed us both and so did Henri. He wrote:

  I plucked up the courage to visit my neighbour. I was right, he is a widower and lives alone. We walk the dogs together and we play cards and drink too much beer. I have you and Olive to thank – you made me want to step out into the world again. Maybe one day you will visit me. Until then stay safe.

  With love from your good friend

  Yann

  * * *

  I wondered if I would ever see him again.

  The ocean was everything I thought it would be. Stretching far out towards the horizon and touching the sky. Me and Olive leaned on the old railings and stared out over the grey water as it rolled towards the shore and tumbled over the pebbles.

  We couldn’t walk on the beach because it was out of bounds but I knew that one day I would stand at the water’s edge with Lottie and together we would run into the cold water. I was content to wait for that day.

  ‘Why does it stop when it reaches the edge?’ asked Olive.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, why doesn’t it just keep going and cover the town and the shops and Mrs Wright’s guest house?’

  ‘I dunno,’ I said. ‘I’ve never seen the sea before, have I, so I don’t know how it works.’

  ‘I’ll ask Miss Timony, she knows everything,’ said Olive.

  ‘Good idea,’ I said.

  Miss Timony lived in Sea View permanently – not just for her holidays but all the time, every day.

  ‘She’s a retired headmistress,’ said Mrs Wright, ‘and she has neither kith nor kin. I owe her everything.’

  I didn’t know whether I was supposed to ask what exactly she owed her, so I waited for her to continue.

  ‘When the war came, Nell, people weren’t interested in coming to Eastbourne for their holidays anymore. You see, they couldn’t go on the beach or the pier, so it lost its appeal. My guests got fewer and fewer, until all I had left was Miss Timony and a few travelling salesmen. It got to the point where I knew I would have to sell up. I felt bad telling Miss Timony that she would have to find other accommodation because I knew that she was happy at Sea View.’

  ‘She’s still here though?’ I said.

  ‘She is indeed. And do you know why?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘She suggested we run the place together, with her as a sort of sleeping partner, and I have to say the arrangement has worked very well. She said she was doing it for purely selfish reasons because she was settled here but I think it was out of kindness. Eastbourne is full of hotels and guest houses, most of them more modern than my one, you know, more mod cons and such. She could have had her pick, but she did that for me. Sometimes it’s the kindness of strangers that surprises you most.’

  I nodded, thinking of Yann and all he had done for two young girls who needed his help. Yes, the kindness of strangers could indeed surprise you.

  Eastbourne had been badly bombed – in fact, we learned from Mrs Wright that it was the most raided town along the Sussex coast. Lots of children h
ad been evacuated there but as more and more bombs fell on the town it became apparent that it was no safer than London and they were sent further into the countryside.

  ‘Oh, Nell,’ said Mrs Baxter. ‘Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to bring you here.’

  ‘We had nowhere else to go, Mrs Baxter, and like you said, we would have been taken into care. You did the right thing.’

  ‘I hope so, Nell.’

  ‘You did,’ I said, kissing her cheek, ‘and we love it here.’

  ‘As long as you’re happy, Nell.’

  ‘Oh, we are.’

  We had known very little about how the war was going when we were in Wales, but Mrs Wright took it upon herself to give us daily updates every morning at breakfast. On Tuesday, 21 March, she told us that eighty-two German fighters were destroyed and forty-three US bombers were lost. ‘But,’ she added, ‘sixteen were saved and landed safely in Switzerland, so that was nice, wasn’t it?’

  The next day she told us that Germany had invaded Hungary and she was going down to the church to light a candle and pray for ‘those poor unfortunate people’.

  We learned of the successes and the losses; we were spared nothing. It was easy to tell when the war was not going in our favour as Mrs Wright forgot to cook tea because she was on her knees down at Holy Cross church.

  Me and Olive had taken to walking round Eastbourne, getting to know it. So much of the town had been damaged and many of the shops were boarded up. One afternoon after our walk, Mrs Wright informed me that Miss Timony would like to see me in her room.

  I ran a comb through my unruly hair and went upstairs.

  The first thing I’d noticed about Miss Timony’s room was the number of books she had. They were stacked in untidy piles against the walls. They slid off tables, they occupied footstools, they covered the floor, they bulged out of bookcases and they surrounded Miss Timony’s armchair. In fact, there was very little else in the room. No ornaments, no clock, no plants, nothing. Just hundreds of books. Yann would have loved it.

  ‘Ah, my dear,’ she said, when I tapped on the door and went in. ‘I was wanting to speak to you, if you have the time.’