Christmas for the Halfpenny Orphans

by Cathy Sharp

  He was the kind of man she might have liked in other circumstances, but she wasn’t convinced by those lingering, meaningful looks. He was trying to make her feel she could trust him – and on another level he seemed to be implying that he found her attractive – but Angela’s instincts were usually reliable and they were telling her to be wary of this man. His flirting and his intimate smiles were intended to draw her in, but there was a voice inside her warning that underneath all the charm he was quite, quite ruthless.

  ‘Three more children have gone down with the vomiting bug,’ Wendy said when Angela visited the sick ward the next morning. ‘I was afraid it might spread. If too many children go down with it, we shall need to close one of the dorms and use it as a sick ward.’

  ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t get that bad,’ Angela said. ‘The new nurse will be starting next month, so that should help. I’m sure some of the carers will put in extra hours if we need them, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that …’ She turned as the door opened and someone entered. Tilly had not put on an apron to cover her uniform of pink gingham, which made Angela frown. ‘Haven’t you been told not to come in here unless you put on a gown that you can remove when you leave, to stop the spread of infection?’

  ‘Sorry, I needed to speak to you and forgot. I’m not going to touch anything,’ Tilly said. ‘I thought you should know the police brought in two children a few minutes ago. By the look of them they need a good bath – and a nurse will have to check them over. Nan has them in the bathroom now. She sent me to inform you and I was told you were here, Mrs Morton.’

  ‘All right, Tilly. I just wanted you to understand that we must try to keep this horrid infection from spreading,’ Angela said. ‘Please wash your hands in the rest room and then tell Nan I’ll be there in a few minutes.’

  ‘Do you want me to look at the new children?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘No, I think Michelle is due in shortly. I’ll have a look at them myself …’

  ‘But you’re not a nurse – are you?’

  ‘I did have some first aid training, during the war, and I helped look after wounded men on the wards, in emergencies. We were so short-staffed during one air raid that the nurses couldn’t cope …’ Angela sighed. ‘This is where we miss Sister Beatrice so much. She would have been first on the scene, making all the necessary decisions. Now I’ve got to work out where they can go – usually we keep new arrivals in isolation for a couple of days until we’re sure they’re not carrying some kind of infection.’

  ‘I’m afraid the isolation ward is filled with my tummy bug cases,’ Wendy said. ‘Don’t you have a room free in the new wing?’

  ‘Yes. I was keeping it in case we had some urgent admissions – but I suppose that is where we shall have to put them. If Michelle comes in, please tell her about the new arrivals.’

  Feeling harassed, Angela went off to greet the new children and help Nan check them over. When she arrived, she discovered that Nan was busily scrubbing the hair of one small boy. The smell of strong disinfectant told Angela that the children had probably been carrying lice.

  ‘And who have we here?’ Angela asked as a small thin face appeared through the neck of one of St Saviour’s shirts. Apart from some nasty scabs on his mouth, the boy looked angelic; his cheeks were pink and shiny and his blond hair bright after Nan’s thorough scrubbing.

  ‘This is Jimmy Ross,’ Nan said, smiling gently down at him. ‘And this is his brother Robert. Jimmy is nine and Robert is seven – and their mother has been taken into hospital after an accident. They’re hungry – they’ve been on their own for five days and had hardly anything to eat.’

  ‘Me dad went off to find work six months ago,’ Jimmy sniffed, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. ‘He said he’d come back wiv a pocketful of money, but he ain’t nivver come. Dot next door, she give us a crust nah and then, but she can’t feed us ’cos she’s got five bleedin’ nippers of ’er own.’

  ‘Jimmy, that’s not nice language now, is it?’ Nan reproved but her eyes were bright with laughter.

  ‘Nah, sorry, missus,’ Jimmy said. ‘Me ma would clip me ear if she heard me – but it’s what Dot said.’

  Jimmy obviously had plenty to say for himself, and something in his manner reminded Angela of Billy Baggins when he’d been rebelling against the routine at St Saviour’s the previous year.

  ‘We’re going to put Jimmy and his brother in the new wing,’ Angela said to Nan as the head carer gave him a nudge and told him to finish dressing himself. ‘Did you notice any signs of fever? Or any obvious bruises … anything untoward?’

  ‘Both of them look healthy enough, though a bit underweight,’ Nan said. ‘I know Wendy is busy, but I think Michelle will be in soon. They can’t go into the isolation ward, but they should be all right in a room of their own over on the new wing. Michelle will take a look at them later.’

  ‘I sometimes think we need two nurses on all the time,’ Angela said. ‘The budget doesn’t quite run to it, but we are stretched when we have children down with chills and bugs.’

  ‘Yes. If Beatrice were here it would be all right; she was always ready to step in, day or night. She hardly ever took time off – and that makes all the difference.’

  ‘She is certainly missed,’ Angela said. ‘I could probably take their temperatures, if that would help.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve already done that,’ Nan said cheerfully. ‘I’m pretty certain this pair are healthy. I think their mother looks after them when she can – but they’ve been neglected for a few days, or a week or two at most.’

  ‘Ma ain’t well,’ Jimmy said. ‘She’s bin ’avin’ ’eadaches and they reckon she had a turn and fell in front of the bus. I don’t know if she’s hurt bad – the police didn’t tell us nuffin’ until Dot told ’em we wus on our own … then they said Ma was sick and we couldn’t see her ’cos we’re only kids.’

  ‘I’m afraid a lot of hospitals are like that, Jimmy,’ Angela said. ‘They don’t let children on the wards. It’s unfair, I know, but they think it might upset your mother.’

  ‘More like she’ll fret over us if she don’t see us,’ he said, turning his head as his brother emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a thick towel. His hair was wet and once again there was a strong smell of disinfectant shampoo. ‘All right, Nipper?’ Jimmy asked.

  ‘That rotten old stuff stings somefin awful.’ His brother scowled. ‘Bleedin’ cow, she rubbed me skin until it felt as if it would burn!’

  ‘Shut yer mouth, Bobby,’ his brother said. ‘They don’t want none of that language ’ere. We’ve got ter behave ’till Ma comes to get us.’

  Bobby sniffed hard and rubbed at his eyes. ‘I want me ma. I want ter go ’ome.’

  ‘If you know which hospital your mum is in, I will visit her,’ Angela said. ‘Then I’ll come and tell you how she looks and what she says.’

  ‘Would yer really, miss? She’s in the London.’ Jimmy looked at her hopefully. ‘I’ll keep the nipper right if yer go and see me ma.’

  ‘You have my promise,’ Angela said, and exchanged glances with Nan. ‘You know where to put them? I need to get back to my office.’

  She was leaving the room when Michelle arrived, looking sheepish and apologising for being late. ‘I missed the first tram and had to wait for the next. I’m sorry to let you down.’

  ‘It’s only that we have a bit of a crisis. Is something wrong at home, Michelle?’

  ‘My youngest brother was sick this morning so I had to take him to the doctor – I think he’s got the bug that’s going round. I’ll work a bit later this evening if that helps?’

  ‘No, it’s all right. But don’t make a habit of being late, please.’ Angela smiled at her and went out. Michelle was one of their best nurses and she couldn’t scold her too much, but it was difficult running St Saviour’s with the minimum of staff. Sister Beatrice did so much in the background and everyone, including Angela, took it for granted. It was hardly surprising that Sister hadn’t wa
nted to give in to her illness. She was in the habit of thinking herself indispensable and, if the truth were told, she was.

  Returning to her office, Angela discovered that she had a visitor, her door wide open. A man was standing by the window. He turned and smiled at her as she entered, offering her his hand.

  ‘I’m sorry to have intruded but one of your carers said I should wait inside for you. She didn’t think you would be long – and you haven’t been …’

  Angela kept her annoyance to herself. Nan and Tilly were the only carers on that morning so it had to have been Tilly who had told him to wait inside. She’d been warned never to enter Angela’s office unless invited, but obviously didn’t think it important that a stranger should follow the same rule; Angela would have to have a few words with her. Tilly needed to start being more thoughtful if she wanted to go on working here.

  ‘I was overseeing some new arrivals. We’re rather busy at the moment, Mr …?’

  ‘Forgive me.’ He extended his hand. ‘I’m Yarwood – I believe Henry Arnold told you I would call.’

  ‘Oh yes; I had thought you would telephone first …’

  ‘I’m sorry. I was in the general area and thought I’d call in to see if it was convenient, but if—’

  ‘No, no, it’s good of you to call,’ Angela said quickly. ‘I’ll take you to see Sarah. She plays with the under-fives, even though she is actually eleven. She likes dolls, you see.’

  ‘Why don’t we go and observe them? Henry allowed me to read the report my colleague did for you. I must tell you, I respect Adderbury – he’s a good man – but I understand this is a delicate matter in the circumstances.’

  ‘Yes, thank you. I’ll take you to the playroom. If you’re with me the children will accept it as normal; they’re quite used to my popping in and out, and I occasionally take visitors to see them – it helps with the fundraising. We always need money, you see, and if people see the children they are more inclined to give. I’ll point out Sarah to you; she’s the most beautiful child, but quiet and sad.’

  ‘In that case I doubt she’ll need pointing out,’ he said.

  They made their way to the playroom where Nancy was sitting with a group of children, reading them a story. Several others were playing with toys; Sarah was sitting apart from the others, nursing the doll with the cracked face. She seemed to be far away, crooning to herself.

  ‘Yes, I see,’ Mr Yarwood said. He did not immediately go towards Sarah, but stood for a while listening to Nancy read her story and smiling over it. He then proceeded to a small boy playing with a wooden train, pausing to ask a question, and then moved on to Sarah, crouching down to speak to her.

  Angela tried not to watch. She nodded to Nancy to continue reading and went to look at some of the work the children had been doing. After several minutes, Mr Yarwood stood up, touched Sarah briefly on the head and walked back to Angela, stopping once or twice to speak to other children who had chosen to play rather than listen to the story. He then nodded to Angela and they left the room together, walking in silence towards her office.

  Closing the door, Angela turned to him. ‘From what you were able to observe, do you feel in a position to give an opinion?’

  ‘From my observations, I am perfectly certain the child is neither violent nor an imbecile,’ he said, looking thoughtful. ‘Tell me, was their mother French?’

  ‘Because of the lullaby?’ Angela nodded. ‘It’s odd, isn’t it? Some of the words are not quite correct, but the tune is perfect – and I think it is an old French lullaby.’

  ‘Yes, that is my own opinion. The French has been slightly corrupted, as though whoever taught Sarah did not quite know it herself.’

  ‘I believe their mother may have been French, but she died in childbirth so she could not have taught them anything. From what I can gather, the woman who looked after them did not care for Sarah.’

  ‘I wonder …’ He shook his head. ‘This is merely a theory that I’ve come across in my work, Mrs Morton – but it’s possible the lullaby may have been something that the twins’ mother sang to herself when she was carrying the children. You say she is dead – is there anyone who might know more?’

  ‘Their father has gone away to sea and their aunt, Miss Jane May, is a most unpleasant woman.’

  ‘I should like to speak to her nonetheless,’ Mr Yarwood said. ‘I’ll need to speak to Samantha, too. I’ll ask Miss Sampson to arrange it with the aunt. As regards Sarah, I agree with everything Adderbury says. She should remain at St Saviour’s and attend a special school for a few hours once or twice a week; there is certainly no need for her to be shut up in a mental institution. I shall endorse Adderbury’s report and send you a copy of my own.’

  ‘Please let me know if you discover anything more about the girls. I was curious about the song too. It seems to comfort her.’

  ‘Yes, and that is good. I think she’s had more to bear than most – but we must see if there is a way to unlock her mind …’

  ‘Do you think it possible?’

  ‘If we could find the key, it might well be possible,’ he said. ‘Adderbury was puzzled because she seems to understand what is said to her yet cannot form words or opinions without help. It’s a mystery, Mrs Morton – and I like solving puzzles.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Yarwood.’ Angela offered her hand, completely won over by his open manner. ‘It was good of you to give up your time.’

  ‘I shall make no charge, even though Henry Arnold offered a generous fee,’ he said with a smile. ‘If there is ever any other matter in which I can be of service, please do not hesitate to ask.’

  Angela thanked him again and saw him to the door. She was feeling much better as she went back to her office. With Mr Yarwood on her side she was confident that the Children’s Welfare officers could be persuaded to allow both twins to live at St Saviour’s.

  She supposed that she ought to be grateful to Henry Arnold for introducing her to his friend, but that still didn’t excuse his arrogant manner or the way he imagined he was always right – let alone the way he’d blamed Mark for what had happened with Terry …

  If she didn’t know better, she could almost have accused him of being jealous of Mark Adderbury’s influence at St Saviour’s. Yet why should he care enough to try to discredit a man Angela liked?

  TWENTY

  ‘Staff Nurse Michelle,’ Dr Kent said, approaching the desk where she was writing up her notes. ‘I’m glad you called me in to look at young Matty. He seems physically well, but it sounds as if he has some kind of nervous disorder. It may be epilepsy, as you suggested, but there are other disorders that affect the nervous system.’

  ‘Do you mean a muscular disease?’ Michelle looked at him anxiously and handed a box of used dressings to Tilly, who had been cleaning the ward. ‘Take these and dispose of them in the proper way; they have to be burned in the cellar.’ She looked again at the doctor. ‘As far as I know, he’s only fitted once.’

  ‘Sometimes the symptoms are slight, hardly noticeable at first,’ Dr Kent said. ‘It may be very serious, Michelle.’ She flinched with shock and distress as she understood what he meant. ‘I can’t be certain without further tests.’

  ‘But you think it’s to do with the nervous system?’

  ‘I suspect it may be, yes.’ He touched her hand in sympathy. ‘I know, it’s always so much worse when it’s a child, but if we’ve caught it in time, we may be able to at least control the progress of his illness. There are some good people at Great Ormond Street – as you know, they’ve always relied on charity to keep going, as you do here.’

  ‘It’s a wonderful place, but all the same I can’t bear to think of Matty having to go there.’ Michelle couldn’t stop the tear that trickled down her cheek. He hesitated then reached out and offered his hanky. She took it and smiled, resisting the urge to weep. Sometimes being a nurse was too damned painful! ‘The children they treat are so ill …’

  ‘It’s the best place if he has something
nasty, Michelle – and the sooner they get to work, the better his chances.’

  ‘I’ll prepare him for the ambulance,’ she said, and would have moved away, but he laid a hand on her arm, holding her steady.

  ‘I was hoping perhaps you might be able to go with him, Michelle?’ His eyes held her, making butterflies flutter in her stomach. Yet in another moment, he’d released her and his gaze was no longer locked with hers. Perhaps she’d imagined that temporary connection.

  ‘Wendy is due back from her break in half an hour. I could go with him then.’

  ‘I shall arrange it,’ he told her with a smile.

  Michelle looked at him uncertainly; something in the way he’d looked at her when he offered his hanky had made her catch her breath. It had been a long time since she’d felt this attracted to a man and she was trying to resist it.

  ‘Thank you – we’re rather short-staffed with Sister Beatrice away, you see. And with so many children sick with that bug, I couldn’t leave without someone to cover.’

  ‘I do understand …’ He hesitated, then, ‘I should like us to meet away from work – could we do that? Perhaps this evening … if you’d like to go for a drink?’

  ‘Yes, why not?’ Michelle said, and her heart raced with excitement. In that moment she noticed a few silver hairs amongst the gold at his temple, but they only served to make him more attractive in her eyes. In his mid-thirties, he had an air of having known suffering and conquered it, a worldly manner that some of the younger men she’d met didn’t have. ‘I’ll speak to Wendy when she comes back from her break in five minutes and I’ll have Matty ready to leave when the ambulance arrives.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he murmured, and his smile warmed her. ‘Shall we meet near here – at that rather nice pub at the end of Halfpenny Street?’

  ‘The Lion and Lamb?’ Michelle nodded. The pub had received a direct hit during the first year of the war and had only recently reopened. ‘I shall come straight from work. At about seven? Will you have finished surgery by then?’