The Girl With No Name

by Diney Costeloe

  This seemed to silence Mr Carver for a moment. Then he said, ‘You do realise that we shan’t be able to close St Michael’s. Even if we send these children away, we shall have to use you to house others when necessary.’

  *

  ‘So, I had to accept that, in return for permission to evacuate the children down to you,’ Caroline told Avril that evening on the phone. ‘I have to keep the place open, so that more children can be put at risk even if we’ve managed to save the present inmates!’ She sighed. ‘I suppose they have a point. There are always going to be children who need a home, and St Michael’s will certainly be needed again.’ She gave a wry laugh. ‘Unless the Luftwaffe gives up and goes home.’

  ‘So, when will they come?’ Avril asked. ‘Will you bring them yourself? It’d be lovely if you could, just to give us a chance to see you for a couple of days.’

  ‘It’s a nice idea,’ Caroline said. ‘I’ll have to sort out all the travel arrangements and let you know, but I hope to have them on the train tomorrow, or the next day at the latest.’

  ‘We’ll be ready,’ Avril promised, hoping as she said it that they really would.

  The day after the committee meeting, she and Marjorie Bellinger visited the homes of those who had offered to foster evacuees last time.

  ‘Not just bringing them up from the station and putting them in the village hall, like last time, then?’ Mrs Marston stood, arms folded, in the doorway, not inviting her callers inside.

  Avril treated her to her best smile and said, ‘Trying to be a bit better organised this time, Mrs Marston. We know the names and ages of the children coming this time, so we know how many places we have to find.’

  ‘You agreed to take a child last time,’ put in Marjorie, ‘so we were hoping you’d offer to take another.’

  ‘Not if it’s another guttersnipe like the last one,’ snapped Mrs Marston. ‘Nightmare he was, with his swearing and shouting and turning his nose up at decent, well-cooked food. Always in trouble, he was, here and at school. My Charlie had to take a strap to him on more than one occasion. Don’t want another one like that, thank you very much.’ She stepped back and began to shut the door, but Avril, with great determination, put her foot in the door so that it wouldn’t close.

  ‘Not a boy, Mrs Marston, but perhaps a girl? There are several girls looking for a home.’

  ‘You take your foot out of my door, Mrs Swanson, and I’ll think about it. Don’t think my Charlie’ll be too keen.’

  Avril removed her foot and Mrs Marston shut the door firmly in their faces.

  ‘Not sure I want them to foster a child if that’s the way they treat them,’ remarked Avril as they walked away.

  ‘I do remember the child concerned,’ said Marjorie. ‘He wasn’t easy. I think we were all glad when his father came and took him back to London.’

  They continued their enquiries, speaking to each person whom they thought might take on a child. Several felt much the same as Mrs Marston.

  ‘Of course, we did have one last time, but it wasn’t really a success. She cried every night and kept us all awake.’

  ‘London kids don’t understand the country, do they. Wouldn’t drink milk cos it came from our cow, they said it was dirty cos it didn’t turn up in a bottle.’

  ‘We had that lad, Bert, but he didn’t get on with our Tommy. Always fighting, they were. We were glad when his mum came for him at Christmas.’

  ‘Wouldn’t mind a girl,’ Janet Tewson in School Lane Cottages said. She was the mother of ten-year-old twin boys and though she’d hoped for a daughter, none had appeared.

  ‘There are two who are good friends,’ Avril told her. ‘Charlotte and Clare. They’d like to stay together. Perhaps you could have them both.’

  ‘Not sure about two,’ said Mrs Tewson, doubtfully. ‘How old are they?’

  ‘Fourteen,’ replied Avril, consulting her sheet. No one knew how old Charlotte was, of course, but it was an educated guess on Caroline’s part.

  ‘Too old,’ came the reply and then, ‘Any little girls?’

  ‘Two,’ said Avril. ‘I expect they’d like to stay together, as well.’

  ‘How old?’

  ‘Polly’s six and Jane’s seven.’

  ‘I’ll take the younger one. Polly did you say?’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Tewson,’ Marjorie said. ‘That’s very kind of you.’

  ‘When’re they coming, then?’ asked Mrs Tewson.

  ‘Tomorrow or the next day. We’ll let you know as soon as we know for sure.’

  ‘She’ll have a ration book, won’t she?’ demanded Janet Tewson, already wondering not only if she’d done the right thing but what her husband, Frank, would say when he got home from the bank in Cheddar.

  ‘Certainly,’ Marjorie assured her and wrote down Polly’s name against the Tewsons.

  Gradually they found homes for all the children on their list, until there was only Charlotte left. Several times they had tried to place her with Clare as Caroline had suggested.

  ‘If you can keep them together, Av, do try. As I told you, Charlotte has extra problems but she and Clare have palled up and she seems much calmer now.’

  No one wanted to take on two teenage girls and there were only a few homes where Avril thought she would be comfortable, but none of these was available.

  Marjorie herself had agreed to take two of the older boys, Fred Moore and Malcolm Flint, both aged thirteen. She knew Peter would prefer to have boys in the house.

  ‘Know what to do with boys,’ he said when she talked to him about fostering. He agreed she could take on two if they were boys and so she’d marked their name against the two oldest, knowing they’d be the hardest to place.

  ‘It’s getting late,’ Marjorie said, looking at her watch. ‘I must get back. I’ll have a think and see if I can think of someone else who might help.’

  ‘Thank you for all your help, Marjorie. I think if the worst comes to the worst we’ll have to squeeze her into the vicarage. It would be easier if she were a boy; still, I expect we can manage something.’

  Marjorie headed off to the manor and Avril turned her steps towards the village green and home. As she reached the vicarage gate she heard someone call her name and paused. Looking round she saw Edith Everard walking towards her.

  ‘I hear you’re looking for foster homes,’ Miss Everard said without preamble. ‘I’ll take a girl.’

  ‘That’s very good of you,’ said Avril in surprise.

  She hardly knew Miss Everard. She was not a church-goer and she kept herself very much to herself. She lived alone in a small house on the edge of the village, coming in only occasionally to buy food at the village shop. Avril had seen her catch the bus to Cheddar some mornings and thought she did some sort of work for the Red Cross, but what it was Avril didn’t know. When they had arrived in Wynsdown, David had visited every home in the parish, including Miss Everard’s, but she had given him short shrift.

  ‘I don’t believe in God,’ she said. ‘And I don’t go to church.’

  David had smiled. ‘Never mind,’ he’d replied. ‘God believes in you.’

  ‘Then he’s more of a fool than even I thought he would be,’ she retorted. ‘I’m sure you mean well, vicar, but please don’t bother me again.’

  ‘As you wish,’ David answered, ‘but if you ever change your mind or there’s anything I can do for you, do please ask me.’ He’d held out his hand and grudgingly, Edith Everard had shaken it.

  ‘I could visit her,’ Avril had volunteered, ‘if you think it would help.’

  ‘No, dear,’ David said. ‘I don’t think it would. Better to leave her alone and see what happens. We can’t force ourselves on her and I think that’s what she’s afraid of.’

  ‘We’re looking for a place for a girl called Charlotte,’ Avril said. ‘She’s about fourteen, and—’

  ‘She’ll do,’ said Miss Everard. ‘When does she come?’

  Avril told her she’d let her know and the tw
o women parted.

  When she told David that they’d managed to find places for every child he was delighted. ‘Well done, old thing,’ he said. ‘Can’t have been easy.’

  ‘The strangest thing is,’ Avril told him, ‘that we hadn’t found anywhere for Charlotte, you know, the girl who’s lost her memory. Well, your Miss Everard accosted me on the green just now and offered to have her. She was the only one we hadn’t managed to place so I was delighted. I thought we were going to have to squeeze her in here.’

  ‘Well, that’s good,’ David agreed. ‘You know, I expect Miss Everard is quite lonely. She’ll probably be pleased to have Charlotte’s company, even if she doesn’t admit it.’

  That evening Caroline rang again. ‘The day after tomorrow,’ she said. ‘We’ll be coming by train to Cheddar. Can you meet us there?’

  ‘You said “we”,’ cried Avril. ‘Are you really coming down too?’

  ‘Yes, just to bring them, then I’ll have to get back.’

  ‘But you stay the night first?’

  ‘Yes, thanks, Avril, of course I will. Can’t wait to see you.’

  When Avril contacted Marjorie the next day she told her that she had now placed Charlotte, so that every child coming would have a place to go.

  ‘Where is she going?’ asked Marjorie.

  ‘Believe it or not, to Miss Everard.’

  ‘To Edith Everard?’ Marjorie sounded less than overjoyed. ‘Is that a good idea?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ asked Avril in surprise.

  ‘Well, she’s not a very...’ Marjorie searched for the right word, ‘sociable person.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ answered Avril testily, ‘but she offered without being asked and I said yes.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure it’ll work out all right,’ Marjorie said. ‘Now tell me the arrangements.’

  Avril contacted all the foster parents and told them their new charges would be arriving the next afternoon. ‘They’re coming on the train to Cheddar,’ she said, ‘and we’ll bring them up to Wynsdown on the school bus. They’ll only have had a sandwich on their journey down, so they’ll need supper when they get here. If you could rustle up something for the first evening, you’ll have their ration books after that.’

  Avril spent the next day preparing the vicarage for its new inhabitants. She spring-cleaned the two unused bedrooms, moving a portable electric fire from room to room, trying to warm them. She made up beds with clean sheets, looked out towels and hung blankets over the windows as blackout curtains.

  She bought some corned beef from Andrew Fox and made a corned beef hash with potatoes from the crop she’d stored in the garage and picked some winter cabbage from the garden.

  ‘I hope they’ll like it,’ she said doubtfully to David when he came in at lunchtime for a sandwich and some soup.

  ‘Course they will,’ he assured her. ‘What? Not like your famous corned beef hash?’

  ‘Silly ass,’ Avril said affectionately. ‘Eat your sandwich.’

  ‘You going to Cheddar to meet the train?’ David asked.

  ‘Of course. I’ve asked Sam to wait with the school bus for the extra children, and we’ll all come up here together.’

  ‘Will you all fit in?’

  ‘It’ll be bit of a squash,’ admitted Avril, ‘but Sam says we’ll manage.’

  After lunch Avril rode her bicycle through the lanes into Cheddar gorge, speeding down to the village below. She went to the school where she found Sam the bus driver sitting in his bus on the main road.

  ‘As soon as they get here I’ll bring them along to the bus,’ she promised.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘I’ll wait. I’ve explained to the parents in the other villages, so they know we might be late today.’

  Avril rode on to the station and there she waited impatiently on the platform for the train that would bring, not only the evacuees, but her beloved sister. At last she saw a puff of smoke wafting into the sky and then she saw it, the train emerging from the cutting, chuffing and wheezing under the bridge and into the station with a whoosh of steam and a squeal of brakes.

  As soon as it stopped doors began to open and Caroline jumped down on to the platform. She waved to Avril, but her attention was taken up by the children she’d brought with her.

  ‘Out you get,’ she cried, ‘and stand over there so I can make sure we’ve got everyone.’ The children piled out on to the platform. The older children carried two cases each, one of their own and another belonging to a younger child.

  Caroline did a quick head count and when she was sure she hadn’t left anyone on the train, she waved to the guard. ‘Got them all!’ she called. He blew his whistle and the train drew out of the station, leaving them all wreathed in steam.

  Avril ran over to Caroline and gave her a hug. ‘Oh, Caro,’ she cried, ‘it’s so good to see you.’

  Caroline returned her hug and then said, ‘Right. Where to now?’

  Avril led them out of the station and along the road to where the bus was waiting. There were several children already sitting in the bus, ready to go home.

  ‘Are we all going to get in there?’ Caroline asked doubtfully.

  ‘No problem, miss,’ said Sam and he stuck his head in through the door. ‘Now then, you kids, squash up there and make room for this lot.’

  With a good deal of grumbling the children moved up to make room and eventually everyone was aboard. The last thing to be hoisted on board was Avril’s bike and once that was safely in, Sam started the engine and the bus chugged its way up the hill towards the higher Mendip villages.

  Avril and Caroline sat in the front and at first there was a strange silence behind them as the children assessed each other. Then the noise began to grow until they could hardly hear each other. Sam raised his voice above it all.

  ‘That’s enough noise from you lot,’ he bellowed. ‘Shut it!’ And for a very short while there was quiet again. They reached the first village and several children got out, leaving more space. The remaining children immediately spread out.

  ‘Don’t want to sit next to them vaccies,’ Avril heard someone say, and looking round was surprised to see it was Stephen Morgan, one of the original ‘vaccies’.

  When they reached Wynsdown the bus pulled up as usual on the village green and all the children scrambled out. Caroline assembled her group, who were looking nervously about them, and under Avril’s guidance led them into the church hall.

  There, already waiting, were most of the people who had agreed to foster a child.

  Avril had her list with her and as Caroline called a child’s name, she called the parent.

  Marjorie was there and led her two boys away to the manor. Janet Tewson took Polly Elliott’s hand and picking up her suitcase, led her across the green to her new home in School Lane.

  At last there were only the Dawson children and Charlotte left standing in the hall. ‘You’re staying with us,’ Avril told the Dawsons. She turned to Charlotte. ‘You’ll be staying with Miss Everard,’ she said. ‘She’ll be here as soon as she can, but the evening bus from Cheddar doesn’t get in for another half an hour, so I said I’d take you home with me and she’ll collect you from the vicarage.’ She saw Charlotte look uncertainly at Caroline and said in a low voice, ‘She does understand what I’m saying, doesn’t she?’

  Charlotte had understood, but she was nervous about being left with no one she recognised. She’d hoped that she and Clare would be in the same place, but Clare had been hurried off by a harassed-looking woman with her hair tied up in a scarf who’d said, ‘Hurry up, dear, Mr Prynne will be home for his tea shortly.’ Clare had turned to wave, and then disappeared out of the door, encouraged by Mrs Prynne bumping the suitcase against her legs.

  She watched the other children being collected and taken away, until she was left standing alone as the Dawson children gathered round the woman who seemed to be in charge. Somewhere in the back of her mind she felt that this was familiar, that she’d done all th
is before, but try as she might, she had no idea where or when. Then Miss Morrison came over and smiled at her.

  ‘My sister says the lady who you’re going to live with, Miss Everard, is very nice. She lives by herself, so I’m sure she’ll be more than glad of your company. We’re all going over to my sister’s house now and Miss Everard will come and fetch you when she gets home from work.’

  They left the hall and Avril led them in through the vicarage gate. As they reached the front door it was flung open and David Swanson was there to greet them.

  ‘Welcome, welcome to Wynsdown,’ he cried. ‘Come along in and we’ll soon get you settled.’ They trooped indoors and David took them into the kitchen.

  ‘Here we are,’ he said. ‘Now then, who are you?’

  The boy stepped forward and said, ‘Please sir, I’m Paul and these is Frances and Valerie.’ He pointed to his sisters who were hiding behind Miss Morrison’s back. ‘But we call them Fran and Val... if that’s all right, sir.’

  ‘That’s excellent,’ replied David. ‘Fran and Val they shall be. Now, I’m Mr Swanson, but everyone calls me “vicar”, so I think you’d better call me “vicar” too.’

  ‘Please, sir, what do we call her?’ asked Paul nervously, pointing to Avril who was standing watching her husband take charge. ‘Do we call her Mrs Vicar?’

  This was greeted with laughter which made the boy flush red with embarrassment, but the vicar said, ‘I think that’s the perfect name for her. Mrs Vicar! Good idea, Paul. Well done.’ He turned to his wife. ‘Now, Mrs Vicar, I think you’d better show them where they’re sleeping, don’t you?’

  Avril swept them off upstairs and Charlotte was left waiting in the kitchen with the vicar and Miss Morrison. She could hear excited voices upstairs as the Dawson children were shown their bedrooms and wished she was going to stay in this warm, welcoming house. The vicar told her to sit down and she perched on one of the chairs by the table. He and Miss Morrison were chatting together, both eager to catch up on what had been happening and Charlotte let her thoughts wander as she so often did these days. She remembered the advice given to her by Sister Miller: ‘Just let things float to the front of your mind.’